Article and photos by Seeger Gray
A bilingual profile of Daniel Cano, a chef who's stepping back from the ring after 17 years of wrestling as a luchador in the Chicago area.
The luchador Primo Loko prepared for his final Chicago Style Wrestling battle royal like it was any other – by cooking up a feast.
Daniel Cano whirled from dish to dish, chopping chicken he’d marinated for a week and spontaneously dipping strawberries in white chocolate and cookie crumbs. Coolers and trays wrapped in plastic stacked up in his home in the afternoon before the show.
He said he’s cooked for his “wrestling family” for free for years, a way of giving thanks.
“For me, wrestling was always a safe haven,” Cano said. “I earned the title chef. I earned the title pro wrestler. So I like to live up to it every time.”
But the afterparty Cano was planning was also a bittersweet farewell to Chicago Style Wrestling and a step back from being a luchador – for his health and his career.
Cano’s wrestling journey began when he was a child growing up in Cicero, Ill.
“Everybody pretty much was a fan in my family,” Cano said. “Me and my grandfather, our favorite match was the battle royal.”
He jumped at a chance to step into the ring in 2006 at a Windy City Pro Wrestling “fantasy camp” – a three-day boot camp for aspiring professional wrestlers to develop both their physical skills and their personas.
When his original plan for a character fell through, Cano recalled getting the idea for Primo Loko from mass deportations in Chicago’s Latino neighborhoods.
“They were throwing busloads of people on buses and shipping them off to Mexico,” Cano said. “I was like, ok, I got it: I’m going to be an immigrant, I’m going to be Primo Loko. And my thing is I’m coming back to America, and I’m going to earn my citizenship by beating the shit out of everybody at Windy City Pro Wrestling.”
For a bit of humor, when asked if he’d been deported to Mexico, Primo Loko would reply, “What? I’m from Canada!”
Cano has been a luchador since 2006, all while working primarily as a chef. Sometimes, his two careers go hand in hand.
On Oct. 22, Cano catered a meet-and-greet with five luchadores before their matches at Cicero Stadium for IMPACT Wrestling.
“They asked if I would be able to cook that Latin-style menu. So it was more than just a fan meet-and-greet. It was something I worked my whole life for,” Cano said. “It was just so cool to celebrate the history of lucha libre.”
“When they called me, I didn’t know who was coming. But then when they put the flier out, they announced it on social media, I saw they were bringing in Konnan and Juventud. I couldn’t believe it,” Cano said.
While not all of his catering work is for wrestling organizations, Cano said the jobs he finds through connections in wrestling are particularly meaningful.
“In one year, I got to cater for WWE, AEW and IMPACT Wrestling. And that’s a hell of an accomplishment for me,” Cano said.
Chicago Style Wrestling is smaller than those national wrestling organizations and wasn’t paying Cano to cater. That didn’t stop him from going all out for one last feast.
In the afternoon of Nov. 17, hours before the show began, Cano arrived at the American Legion Post 974 in Franklin Park, Ill., a frequent venue for Chicago Style Wrestling shows.
He set up some of the non-perishable dishes and decorated the back room with Christmas lights, wrapping paper and candy canes. Then he brought the early holiday cheer outside.
Cano’s love for lucha libre has kept him wrestling since 2006, but at 41 years old, he said he’s “been ready for a couple years to stop doing this.”
Cano has struggled with concussions over the years, though he said none happened while wrestling. However, he said head injuries have made him more nervous about being in the ring.
“I can’t hear out of my right ear. And in wrestling, you’ve got to be able to hear everything. You’re communicating while you’re wrestling,” Cano said.
He said people with concussions don’t always know when to call it quits, a problem that remains in the professional wrestling world.
“A lot of wrestlers have had more than I have, and they’re still on TV wrestling. I don’t know how,” Cano said. “I have learned that every head injury I’ve had after my first concussion, it’s gotten worse and worse and worse.”
“I’m getting to an age where I don’t mind sharing my story, because, well, maybe someone can learn from it,” he said.
Cano didn’t spend much time in the battle royal that evening. Primo Loko entered a ring packed with wrestlers, grappled with a few and was soon thrown over the ropes. He walked off, waving to the crowd with his head held high.
“I was just trying to live my dream. That was my goal, to be in one battle royal in front of a big crowd,” Cano said. He estimates he’s fought in at least 50 by now.
But it wasn’t goodbye just yet. While other matches continued, Cano rushed home to pick up the rest of the food for the afterparty.
As the show wrapped up, wrestlers, friends and family trickled into the back room of the American Legion Post 974. One asked Cano, “Why do you spoil us?” before filling his plate.
With more cooking gigs coming up, including for AEW the week after the battle royal, Cano said he sees his step back from wrestling as the beginning of a new chapter. He said he might eventually consider wrestling again, but he wants to focus on finding more stable work as a chef and prioritize his health.
“I learned in culinary school, as long as you’re still alive, you can always do better. And that’s why I strive every day to be just the best me. No pressure, no stress,” Cano said.
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