Dusty: Reflections of Wrestling's American Dream (11 page)

“The most impressive thing about Dusty was here was a guy that truly had a handicap—he had a speech impediment and a lisp—and at times he was difficult to understand. But when he got in the business, he realized he had to be on TV, so he used it to his advantage. He had to work on it because talk was so important. He had the ability of talking the fans, manipulating them into the arena. He was one of the greatest talkers in the business and people emulated him—like ‘Superstar’ Billy Graham and Austin Idol—and they went on to be successful.”

—T
ERRY
F
UNK

When this big, fat, African American woman fell about ten feet from a balcony at a show in Atlanta at the city auditorium, and they asked her what happened, she said she was trying to get a glimpse of “The American Dream,” Dusty Rhodes. Well, right there it tells us why so many people came out to see me. They weren’t there to see me do a hurricarana, or a flying drop kick or a flying elbow off the top rope. They were there because during my interview I told them I was going to kick somebody’s ass they didn’t like, and in the process they knew I would throw the bionic elbow, do the flip, flop and the fly, and shake my ass with as much attitude as I possibly could.

“He was natural … it wasn’t forced. Dusty didn’t need to have one bit of wrestling ability; he didn’t need to. People came for entertainment. He was showbiz. A performer that had few equals.”

—”S
UPERSTAR
” B
ILLY
G
RAHAM

Dick Murdoch was in Jackson, Mississippi, with me one time and he asked me about this whole thing with the people of color and all, asking me how I could go out and act like that and I told him that if not for them, if not for the people of all races, colors and creed, there’d be no “American Dream,” Dusty Rhodes. I knew where my bread was buttered.

So Hoyt, what does he do? Here comes “Captain Redneck.” Now you’ve got to remember, before being given that name, Murdoch was the original “Captain Redneck,” period. But he understood a lot of things and he knew he could draw money with that persona, because the fans loved to hate him since they knew he was a fucking racist … even though he really wasn’t, as I mentioned earlier. I think everybody’s got a little black, a little Indian and a little white in them.

By now I was doing interviews that were so compelling it was almost like I was a reverend delivering a sermon and my parishioners were the fans. One of the guys in the office, I forget who, said I sounded like Jesse Jackson in my delivery, and the people were into it. They bought it, man.

“When Lyndon Johnson died, Dusty gave a eulogy on TV like a minister or something. To this day, it was one of the best interviews I’ve ever heard.”

—R
EGGIE
P
ARKS

It didn’t matter that I borrowed some of the jive from those who were street-smart, and I don’t mind saying that, because later on people would borrow from me … what mattered was that the fans of all colors, black, white, brown, yellow, and red were my people, and I was their hero.

“Did I imitate Dusty? I took a lot from Dusty. I was influenced by him and (Muhammad) Ali. Dusty and I rubbed off on each other. Dusty, Jimmy Valiant and I fed off of each other.”

—”S
UPERSTAR
” B
ILLY
G
RAHAM

So you see, I just had this knack. By saying the right thing at the right time, I could talk the people into coming out to the arena. You’ve got to remember, there are concepts that you have to be sensitive to, and I was always aware of what I was doing. Sure, I had to push the envelope sometimes, but I knew how far I could go, and I knew I had the people in the palm of my hand and so did everyone in the office.

There’s no better way to illustrate this than how we set up my match with Bearcat Wright in the world-famous Fort Homer W. Hesterly Armory in Tampa.

Bearcat was one of the first African American heels at a time in the business when others of the same creed and color were considered strictly babyfaces; Sailor Art Thomas and Bobo Brazil out of the Detroit territory are two who come to mind. But Bearcat was different. He was a nasty heel. People did not like him at all. Unlike Ernie “the Big Cat” Ladd, or Big Red as I called him, who had been to Florida and despite being a heel the fans loved—and I want him to know that I loved him too, as he was a great interview—they just hated Bearcat … he was a sleazy, sleazy guy.

I started to notice at the Armory that there was always a group of black teens who yelled all sorts of shit at him, including the “N” word.

“You’re a nigger! You’re a real nigger!” they’d yell at him.

Holy shit, I thought, this could be powerful. So I went to Eddie Graham and I told him I was going to say the “N” word during a TV interview.

Remember, my ego told me I could do just about whatever I wanted to do.

So I did. I called Bearcat Wright a nigger during one of my interviews. I said that my black, white, green, yellow, whatever brothers know when somebody’s not really true … we know when somebody’s faking. It aired right on WTOG-TV, Channel 44 in the Tampa Bay area.

Then it was his turn, and during his interview to promote the upcoming card at the Armory, he said I wasn’t the only one who thought that of him.

“What do they yell at me in the armory?” he asked.

What did they—the fans—call him in the armory on Tuesday nights? Nigger!

With apologies to Kevin Costner and his
Field of Dreams,
I knew that if I said it, they would come. And they did. They came via Interstate-4. They came via Interstate-75. Back then the Tampa police chief would try to keep the African American fans in the balcony. So many fans turned out to the Armory that night to support me, segregation was not going to be possible.

It was a gamble that paid off. If I wasn’t as over as I was and I didn’t have the power I did, I would never have gotten away with it. If anybody else had even tried to do it, they would have incited a riot. But then again, nobody else was “The American Dream.”

But that wasn’t the only time we were able to talk people into the arena.

When we ran the Bayfront Center in St. Petersburg, we usually opened the doors at two o’clock for an eight o’clock show because the building always had a low proportionate attendance as it was a lot bigger than the Armory … but not for this show. Terry Funk and I talked all kinds of shit back and forth to build it up. When the doors opened at 2 p.m., there were 2,000 people waiting outside.

Just before the show started, an announcement was made: “Ladies and gentlemen, we have just set a new attendance record here at the Bayfront Center.”

The new record broke the previous one set by
The Lawrence Welk Show.
That’s right, Lawrence fucking Welk. He always had a big show in the building … we held the new indoor record … un-fucking-believable.

I remember asking Duke Keomuka who was part of the office, “How is it?”

He looked at me and said, “Not bad.”

Not bad? Horseshit! This fucking announcement stated we broke a record and the office shrugs it off, trying to make it less than what it was; that would be their mentality, though. They always protected the office.

I said, “Duke, you set a fucking record.”

That night Andy Hardy, the local TV news guy and a good friend of Gordon Solie, had a helicopter shot of the Bayfront Center on the six o’clock news and it looked like 10,000 people had been turned away from the show instead of 2,000. From the sky, the building looked like it was the Super Bowl.

“Give Dusty a minimal amount of TV time and he can create a promotion.”

—B
LACK
J
ACK
M
ULLIGAN

If that ain’t having power, buddy, I don’t know what is.

It’s the stuff like this that irks me nowadays sometimes when I see these guys who write for the Internet and they’ve only come on board from yellow finger until now and even afterward during the stunt wrestling era and they know nothing about what happened before … they haven’t got a clue as to who really had power in the business and most importantly, why. They’ve not really studied their so-called profession.

The industry of pro wrestling is not what they think. The ones who believe they are on the inside are really just standing on the banks of some raging river, looking across it … and that my friends, is risky business.

So all these guys think the power and icon shit started with yellow finger. Bull fuck. It’s been around a hell of a lot longer than Hogan, or any of us for that matter. In Texas, Fritz von Erich had it. In New York, Bruno Sammartino had it. In Detroit, the Sheik had it. In Minneapolis, Verne Gagne had it. Going back to when I was a kid, I know Lou Thesz had it. Before him, I’m sure “Strangler” Lewis had it. And if you go back far enough, I’m sure George Hackenschmidt had it. The fact he was the world champion like 100 years ago and we even know his name today, proves that he had it, because 100 years from now people will still know the name “The American Dream,” Dusty Rhodes. Power, respect, believability, longevity … what the fuck is so hard to understand?

It’s very simple. When you have power in pro wrestling, when you are so over with the fans, they become your people, and once they are yours, the
promoters can’t do anything but let you do whatever the hell it is you want to do. This is all part of what made me who I became during the “Me Decade” … “The American Dream Decade” … and in a way it carries right on through to today.

It happened at the Atlanta airport recently. One of the skycaps who has been there for about 30 years said to me, “What happened to you, man? You’re getting too old to make a comeback.” He was talking about the fact that I had started working with TNA and being on their
Impact
TV show.

He said he saw this deal on TV where Ron “The Truth” Killings went out and got hit with a guitar by Jeff Jarrett. Well, he didn’t like that at all.

So on the very next TNA
Impact
show, I was sitting at the announcer’s table, and this time I had the guitar wrapped around my neck by Jarrett, and “The Truth” came out to save me.

So when I went back to the airport and asked him, “How was that? Was that okay for you?” he said he thought it was cool that a brother saved me, but added that I “needed to get him,” meaning I needed to kick Jarrett’s ass because of what he did to me.

This was one of my fans who remembered … respected me … and believed.

If there ever was a John Wayne of pro wrestling, I’m him.

“When Dusty got into an angle, you believed everything that came out of his mouth. He had the lisp going … he was a great worker and he had great psychology.”

—”S
TONE
C
OLD
” S
TEVE
A
USTIN

Throughout the ‘70s and ‘80s not only did I meet many great wrestlers who came through Florida, but I met many in my travels and many were those whose names the modern-day fans may have either forgotten, or never even heard of. Kind of like an eight-track player, it was hot when it was new, but now…

This was a time when pro wrestling was starting to mold itself into what was about to become sports entertainment and the stunt wrestling of today.

Some of the guys I worked and drew money with or who just stand out in my mind came in all shapes and sizes. These were men like “Superstar” Billy Graham, Bugsy McGraw, “The Canadian Freight Train” Jos LeDuc, Ox Baker, Wahoo McDaniel, Buddy Colt, and Ray Stevens just to name a few.

While I probably won’t get into detail about all of these guys, there have been some over the years who stand out more than others as they have been associated with me most through our feuds. They are in no particular order, Terry Funk, Kevin Sullivan, Harley Race, Abdullah the Butcher and the Four Horsemen of Tully Blanchard with Baby Doll, Ole Anderson, Arn Anderson, and Ric Flair.

Throughout the years I’ve had my own personal favorites for a variety of reasons, and a little bit later in the book I’m going to get into some details about some of these people when I lay out my Starrcade Prime fantasy card for you.

But for right now, two of the people who set the standard for being the ultimate babyface and heel in the business were both out of Detroit; Mark Lewin and Ed Farhat, better know as The Sheik.

Mark, who I mentioned earlier when I talked about going to Australia for the first time, as a worker was unbelievable, and he is who I patterned myself after when I made the switch to babyface. You were drawn to his in-ring presence. His command of the squared circle as a ring general was phenomenal. His timing was immaculate and his connection to the people, the way he “sold” being hurt, the way he made his comeback to fight the villain was brilliant. He was brutally handsome and he could make people cry or draw any emotion out of them he wanted just by the way he looked at the crowd. Jose Lothario was a very close second. So I studied Mark and I added to his style. Another person I saw a lot of Lewin in was Hogan, whether yellow finger realized it or not. When he sold 75 or 80 percent of his matches to guys like Roddy Piper or Paul Orndorff and built them up, and then he’d start making that Superman comeback, in a lot of ways it was like Lewin. The shake of the head, the glance to the crowd and then boom, he’d explode and fire back on the heel and draw that emotion from the crowd so he could whip the guy into the ropes, put his boot to their face and drop his leg on them for the one, two, three … ring the bell. Just like my flip, flop and the fly, and I’d drop the big elbow instead of a leg.