She’s talking about her husband, Walter “Killer” Kowalski, a legendary arch villain who drew sellout crowds to the old Boston Garden back in the day when his Claw Hold was, we were told, the most terrifying weapon in wrestling.

If you grew up around here, Killer Kowalski was a name you knew.

“The Claw Hold was the most devastating weapon in the history of wrestling,” Middleboro’s Bobby Temple, 64, a Dorchester native, recalled. “No one in the world could stop it. Then along comes Pepper Gomez, who reportedly had a cast iron stomach, daring Killer to climb to the top rope and come down on him with a knee drop, just to show how the Claw Hold would have no effect whatsoever on that stomach.

“So Killer climbs to the top rope, but instead of landing on Pepper’s stomach, he gives him a knee drop to the neck and keeps the championship belt, leaving Pepper screaming for a rematch. Oh boy, those were the days.”

For 30 years Kowalski reigned as a figure to be feared, but, following his retirement in 1977, a different Killer emerged.

Charity events used him to raise needed funds, and students at his wrestling schools came to appreciate his counseling and guidance, and old friends found him faithful, such as promoter Abe Ford, whom Kowalski showered with devotion through the illnesses that claimed Abe’s life.

The reputation he had in the ring could not have been more at odds with the reality of his life.

“My husband is a very kind man,” Theresa said.

Widowed twice, she wasn’t looking to walk the aisle again when she met him 10 years ago in Malden Square, where he had a school.

“I was in Jack’s Music Store, across the street,” she recalled. “Jack had pictures of all these people I’d never heard of: Bruno Sammartino, Chief Jay Strongbow, Killer Kowalski. I said, ‘Jack, who is this man called Killer?’

“The next thing I knew, Killer was giving me an autographed picture. That’s how it started.

“The more I found out about him, the more odd that nickname seemed. He never smoked, never drank; in fact, he was a vegetarian. And he was very serious about his religion. Really, I found him to be a wonderful guy.

“Two years ago, as I’m driving him home from lunch, he said, ‘I think we should get married in a church’ I almost drove off the road! He had been a bachelor for 79 years. We had to send a copy of our marriage certificate to his brother Stan up in Ottowa before Stan would believe it.”

But now their life together is limited to daily eight-hour visits where the Killer, 81, is confined to bed by legs that no longer support him, knees thay have bones rubbing against bones while a pacemaker keeps his large heart beating.

“I’ll tell you what he’s like,” Joan Spartichino, the facility’s weekend manager, said yesterday. “I’m one of the nurses who work on his unit. I went in to talk with him the other evening while his wife was sitting there.

“He grabbed me by the hand, and I kept leaning closer and closer to hear what he was saying until I finally realized he was praying.

“I have a 43-year-old son who’s a police officer, and all he knows about Killer Kowalski is the Claw Hold. But I can tell you, this is one sweetheart of a guy.”

In putting on a happy face, however, Kowalski’s now playing his most difficult role of all.

“It’s a frustrating time for him,” said Theresa, 79. “We just can’t find a doctor who’ll operate on his knees because of his age and the pacemaker. I think the world ought to know that when you reach your 80s and are in need of surgery, it’s not all that easy to get it. So sometimes his spirits are down.

“We spend the days talking about everything, and I’ll try to bring something special from the house to eat. But what really cheers him up are the cards and letters he gets. Right now, I’d say they’re the best medicine of all.”

If you’re interested in dispensing a bit of it, the address of the Everett Nursing Home is 289 Elm St., Everett, 02149.

Here’s hoping you are.

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