Okay, so let's try a thought experiment. If I
asked you to picture the ultimate survivor in
the wrestling business, someone who has seen
literally every side of the industry that comes
to mind. I mean, naturally, you probably think
of the big TV stars, right? Right. The guys that
are on posters for 40 years. Exactly. The household
names. But today, for this deep dive, we are
going to look at a map of wrestling history that
is... completely different. We're going to pull
on a thread that starts in the golden era of
Montreal wrestling. Oh yeah. Drags us through
the absolute torture chamber of the heart dungeon
in Calgary. really weird with a character named
Frank Einstein, and we will get to that, I promise.
And it somehow ends up on international television
in 2024. It is a wild trajectory. We are looking
at a career that essentially serves as the connective
tissue for Canadian wrestling. We really are.
We're talking about Karl the Duck. Now, I'll
be honest, before digging into this stack of
research, I knew the name, but I didn't realize
just how much ground this guy has covered. It's
expansive. It really is. Yeah. And our mission
today isn't just to look at his win -loss record.
It's to figure out how a guy manages to stay
relevant, active, and physically capable in a
business that usually chews people up and spits
them out by age 35. Yeah. And that is the key
theme here, survival. Right. Karl Leduc is the
definition of a wrestling survivor. He didn't
just exist in these different eras. He adapted
to them. He went from the territory days to the
corporate expansion of the 90s to the indie boom.
And he's still standing in the ring today. which
is incredible. And just to give you an overview
of where we're pulling this from, we've got a
ton of biographical data, career statistics,
and specific legacy details surrounding Leduc's
life. A really solid foundation of sources. Yeah,
and just looking at the sheer variety of his
career. You were spanning from the mid -90s,
WWF, all the way to teenage wrestling in 2024.
That is a massive spread. Most guys from his
rookie class are probably selling insurance or
dealing with bad knees on the couch right now.
Or they've completely disappeared from the public
eye. But to understand how LaDuke lasted this
long, you really have to look at the foundation.
You can't build a skyscraper on quicksand, and
you can't build a 30 -year wrestling career without
a serious origin story. So let's go back to the
beginning. September 24th, 1974. Montreal. Karl
LaDuke is born. And right away, he's not just
a random kid. He is born into the business. He
is. He's the son of Paul LeDuc. Now for those
of us who didn't grow up in Quebec in the 70s,
give us some context. How big of a deal is the
name LeDuc in that world? Oh, it's royalty. In
Quebec, wrestling was, and honestly still is,
a cultural institution, almost like religion
or hockey. The Leduc family was absolutely integral
to that scene, so Karl grows up with this intense
pressure. Because he isn't just Karl. Right.
He's Paul Leduc's kid. Yeah. And that opens doors,
sure, but it also puts a massive target on your
back. You really have to prove you belong. Exactly.
And he didn't take the easy route to prove it,
did he? I mean, he could have just stayed in
Montreal and had his dad teach him the ropes
in a nice, comfortable gym. He could have. It
would have been the logical safe choice. But
he didn't do that. No. He did the exact opposite.
He packed his bags and went west. He went to
Calgary. To the Heart Dungeon. The infamous Heart
Dungeon. I see this term thrown around constantly
in wrestling documentaries. The Dungeon? It sounds
cool, like a marketing term, but looking at the
notes here, it was a literal basement. It was
the literal basement of the Hart family home.
Wow. Low ceilings, wood paneling, mats that hadn't
been cleaned in decades, and just a permanent
smell of sweat and mildew. So not exactly a state
-of -the -art performance center. Not at all.
It was a torture chamber. And his trainers were
Stu Hart and Bruce Hart. I mean, Stu Hart is
legendary for being a tough guy. But the research
mentions something very specific here. Oh, I
know what you're going to say. It says, Carl
was filmed in the documentary Hitman Heart, Wrestling
with Shadows. Which, by the way, is arguably
the best wrestling documentary I ever made. I
highly recommend checking it out if you have
it. But he wasn't just standing in the background
holding a towel. The notes say he was being stretched
by Stu Hart. Yeah. OK, pause. When we say stretch,
are we talking about, like, intense yoga calisthenics?
I really wish it were yoga. Right. No, in wrestling
jargon, stretching is a euphemism for submission
wrestling designed to inflict maximum pain. Ouch.
Yeah. Stu Hart's philosophy was that if you wanted
to be a pro wrestler, which is scripted, you
first had to know how to handle yourself in a
real fight. That makes sense. So he would take
these young guys down to the basement and apply
joint locks, bend their limbs in completely wrong
directions and grind their faces into the mat
until they screamed. And Stu was an older man
by this point, right? He was, but he was made
of steel. The man had grip strength that was
unreal. And the fact that Leduc is documented
enduring that, literally screaming in pain while
Stu Hart twists his ankle, I feel like that tells
you everything about his mental toughness. It
really does. It wasn't about learning how to
fall down safely. It was about learning how much
pain you could tolerate without quitting. So
it's basically a hazing ritual that gives you
a PhD in toughness. Precisely. If you can survive
Stu Hart's basement... A match in front of a
hostile crowd is a vacation. I bet. That training
instills a level of grit that you just don't
see in modern training centers where everything
is padded and safe. It explains why 30 years
later, Leduc is still able to go. He was hardened
in the fires of Calgary. So he survives the dungeon.
He's got the pedigree. He's got the toughness.
Now we fast forward to 1996. A big year. The
WWF, which is now WWE, comes calling. This is
the big time. This is the global stage. It is,
but you have to look closer at the data. It's
a very weird, specific kind of big time. Yeah,
I'm looking at the dates here. August 2, 1996.
The venue is the Molson Center in Montreal. Right.
Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but the Molson
Center was brand new at that time. That was the
shiny new replacement for the Montreal Forum.
It was a massive deal for the city. And the notes
say, Carl LaDuc wrestled the first ever wrestling
match in that building. Yeah. That is a heck
of a trivia fact. He christened the place. Think
about the pressure of that. You're the local
boy. It's the biggest wrestling company in the
world and the biggest new arena in your home
city. You're setting the tone for the whole night.
You are the very first impression the crowd gets.
And he delivered. He defeated Justin Hawke Bradshaw.
Which is significant. Because Bradshaw became
a huge star later on. Yeah. JBL world champion.
But here, Luddock beats him. Right. Bradshaw
was six foot six, a big Texas brawler. For the
WWF to book the local kid to beat their big monster
tells you they completely understood the value
of the Leduc name in Montreal. They knew the
crowd would just go crazy for it. Exactly. But
then the timeline gets really interesting. The
very next night, August 3rd, they're in Quebec
City. Leduc is in the ring again. But this time
he's facing Owen Hart. Now this is a dream match
for Pyrrhus. Totally. You have the Dungeon graduate,
Leduc, against the favorite son of the Hart family,
Owen. And Leduc loses this one. Yep. But then
the next night in Ottawa, August 4th, he beats
Bradshaw again. It's like a sandwich. Win -loss
-win. It's classic booking psychology. How so?
Well, in Montreal, Le Dirk is the hero. He has
to win to send the crowd home happy or get them
excited early. Right, because it's his hometown.
Exactly. In Quebec City, Owen Hart is also a
massive fan favorite because of the Hart family
connection across Canada. And Owen was a much
higher ranked star on the roster. OK, so Le Dirk
takes the loss there. He does the job, as they
say. He takes the loss to elevate Owen. Then
in Ottawa, they give him his win back against
Bradshaw. It seems like he was being used very
strategically. I'm looking at the rest of his
opponents beating Aldo Montoya, losing to the
Sultan. But the notes highlight something really
crucial here. What's that? It says he worked
for the WWF only when they were in Quebec and
Eastern Canada. Yeah. So was he not a full -time
employee? This is what we call a territorial
use of a star. In the old days, wrestling was
divided into regional territories. By the 90s,
the WWF had gone global. But they still used
that old logic sometime. Oh, I see. They knew
Karl Leduc sold tickets in Quebec. Did the fans
in Arizona know who he was? Probably not. Exactly.
So why fly him to Phoenix? They used him as a
special attraction for his specific region. That
makes so much sense. It's super efficient. You
plug him in where he's a celebrity, and you leave
him home where he's unknown. It's a mutually
beneficial arrangement, but it also pigeonholes
him a bit. He was the king of Quebec, but breaking
out of that box to become a national U .S. star
is a whole different challenge. Well, he certainly
tried to break out of the box or maybe he just
tried to blow the box up because this leads us
to what is possibly my favorite part of this
entire deep dive. I think I know what's coming.
Segment three, the stampede era and the identity
crisis. Oh, yes. So after the WWF stint, the
sources place him back in stampede wrestling
in Calgary in 1997. and then again in 1999. Right
back to his roots. Stampede is the Hart family
promotion, but in 1999 he returns and he is not
Karl the Duke. He adopts a new persona. Prepare
yourself. The name is Frank Einstein. Yes. Frank
Einstein. I have so many questions. Is it a pun
on Frankenstein? Is it Francois Einstein? Was
he a genius monster? What was happening here?
This is the beautiful absurdity of late 90s wrestling.
It's wild. You have a guy who is a legit tough
guy, six foot three, 250 pounds, dungeon trained.
But just being a tough guy sometimes isn't enough
to get noticed. You need a hook. You need a gimmick.
You need a character. You know, Frank Einstein.
It sounds like a cheap Halloween costume. It
does, but think about it. It is memorable. If
you look at a poster and see Frank Einstein,
you're going to ask, who is that? That's true.
It sticks in your brain. It's campy, sure, but
wrestling thrives on camp. I guess so. And to
be fair, it wasn't a total flop. He actually
found success with it. The sources list a championship
accomplishment during this Frank Einstein phase.
That's right. He held the Stampede International
Tag Team Championship. With a partner named,
and wait for it, Dick Reigns. Frank Einstein
and Dick Reigns. It sounds like a buddy cop movie
from 1988. It really does. But jokes aside, holding
a title in Stampede Wrestling is a legitimate
honor, right? Even if the name was silly. Oh,
absolutely. The lineage of those belts includes
The Dynamite Kid, Davey Boy Smith, Bret Hart.
Yow, so heavy hitters. Getting your name in that
history book validates you as a worker. It means
the promoters trusted you to carry the show.
It proves that behind the silly name, he could
actually go in the ring. The notes also mention
a brief detour, his only appearance in the United
States in 1998 for Music City Wrestling in Nashville.
Which is interesting because it shows he was
testing the waters south of the border. Nashville
was a hotbed for wrestling back then. But just
a one -off. Yeah, the fact that it was a one
-off suggests it didn't click. Or maybe he just
realized his bread and butter was back home in
the north. Which brings us perfectly to the next
phase of his life. He's done the torture dungeon.
He's done the WWF cameo. He's been the monster,
Frank Einstein. Now post 2000, he comes home.
He becomes the guardian of Quebec wrestling.
This is the shift from talent to cornerstone.
He stops chasing the road and starts building
the foundation. He returns to the Quebec independent
circuit. The list of promotions here is extensive.
Northern Championship Wrestling, the Canadian
Wrestling Association, the International Wrestling
Syndicate. All vital indies. But the big one
is the FLQ. The Federation Lute Quibiquas. Which,
according to the notes, he has co -owned since
2001. And this brings us full circle to the beginning,
right? Because this was his father's promotion.
He is literally taking over the family business.
And we really need to pause on how hard that
is. Why is that? Independent wrestling promotions
go out of business every single day. It is a
notoriously difficult industry to make money
in. I can imagine. For LaDuck to keep the FLQ
brand alive and running for over 20 years, that
requires an insane amount of grunt work. We're
talking booking venues, setting up rings, dealing
with no -show wrestlers, advertising. He's not
just a wrestler anymore, he's a businessman.
A custodian of the culture. Exactly. And part
of keeping that culture alive is... making sure
there's a next generation. He becomes the educator.
This is where the return on investment from the
Hart dungeon really kicks in. You don't get trained
by Stu Hart and keep that knowledge locked away.
You pass it on. You have a moral obligation to
pass it on. We have some notable students listed
here. The big one that jumped out at me is Eric
Young. Huge name. For those who don't know, Eric
Young has been on TV for decades. TNA champion,
WWE, NXT. He's known for being one of the most
versatile guys in the world. And knowing that
Karl Leduc trained him makes perfect sense. Well,
so. Eric Young is known for being able to do
comedy, serious wrestling, hardcore matches.
He can do it all. Leduc had that same versatility.
He could be the serious shooter in the dungeon
or the Frank Einstein character. That makes a
lot of sense. He passed that adaptability directly
onto Young. He also trained Alex Silva, another
notable name. And then in the summer of 2021,
he makes it official. He opens the Leduc Pro
Wrestling Academy in Montreal. And I love the
specific wording the source uses here. It says
he resurrected the heart dungeon philosophy.
That sounds terrifying for the students. It probably
is, but it's necessary. As the business gets
more athletic and high flying, some of the grit
can get lost. The actual toughness part of it.
Exactly. Leduc is ensuring that the old way,
the... Respect the business, protect yourself,
make it look real, doesn't die out. He's bringing
that Calgary basement mentality to a warehouse
in Montreal. I can only imagine the screaming.
Stretch him. Oh, yeah. But here's the thing that
really surprised me. Usually when a guy opens
a school, it means he's retired. He's the old
coach with the whistle. Right. But Karl Ledeck
isn't done. This brings us to the final segment,
the modern surprise. This caught me off guard,
too, I got to say. We are talking about 2024.
The event is TNA Wrestling's Countdown to Slammiversary.
TNA is a major international company. They're
in Montreal for a big show. And who walks out?
Carla Duke. And he doesn't just wave to the crowd.
The notes say he competes in a dark match, battle
royal. OK, jargon check. Dark match. Does that
mean they turn the lights off? Is it a secret
fight club? No. Not quite. A dark match is a
match that happens before the TV cameras start
rolling. It's for the live crowd in the arena
only. Okay, so why do they do that? It's usually
used to warm up the audience, get them cheering
and excited before the main broadcast starts.
So the pressure is really on to get the crowd
loud. Exactly. And who better to get a Montreal
crowd loud than the local legend? And he wins.
He wins the battle royal. Think about the physical
reality of that. He is 51 years old at this point.
Wow. The source lists him at 6 foot 3, 251 pounds.
That is a lot of mass to move around. Especially
after taking bumps for 30 years. Your knees,
your back, your neck. Most people can't get out
of bed without groaning at that age. He is the
rowing people over the top rope. It's incredible.
It validates everything we've talked about today.
The dungeon training gave him the physical base
to survive. The territory days taught him how
to work the crowd so he doesn't have to do backflips
to get a reaction. That's the worker aspect of
the business. He knows he doesn't need to do
a 450 splash. He just needs to be Carla Duke,
look at the crowd, throw a solid punch, and they
love it. That is wisdom. So let's zoom out here.
What does this all mean for you as a listener?
When we look at Carl LaDuke, we aren't looking
at the guy who main -evented WrestleMania ten
times. No. We are looking at a guy with his own
action figure in... the big box stores. But we
are looking at something arguably more important
for the actual ecosystem of wrestling. We're
looking at the backbone. Exactly. He represents
the working class hero of the industry. He's
the guy who bridged the gap. He took the traditions
of the 70s and 80s, the Hart family wisdom, the
Quebec territory pride, and he carried them on
his back through the 90s, the 2000s, and delivered
them safely to the 2020s. He's like a time traveler
who kept a flame lit. From getting stretched
by Stu Hart to training Eric Young to popping
the crowd in 2024. And it leaves you with a really
provocative question to think about regarding
how we define success in this business. Legacy
versus fame. Right. We usually measure a wrestler's
worth by their bank account or the number of
televised championships they held. But does the
true value of a wrestler actually lie in those
things? Or does it lie somewhere else? Exactly.
Does it lie in the students they train, like
Eric Young? Does it lie in the specific local
culture they keep alive, like the FLQ in Montreal?
That is a fascinating point to end on because
without guys like Karl Leduc, the local scenes
die. And if the local scenes die, where do the
big stars come from? You don't have an Eric Young
without a Karl Leduc. You don't have a vibrant
Montreal wrestling scene in 2024 without someone
doing the dirty work in 2001. Leduc might not
be the face on the global poster, but he is the
concrete foundation that the poster stands on.
And frankly, anyone who can survive being stretched
by Stu Hart and is willing to call himself Frank
Einstein. deserves a standing ovation in my book.
A true survivor. What a ride. Thanks for joining
us on this deep dive into the career of Carla
Duck. We'll catch you on the next one. Keep asking
questions.