The Six Flags:Great Adventure amusement park is not far from where I teach and every spring it seems to inspire at least one debate among students about what is the most dangerous/scariest ride at the park. The students invariably argue for the latest Hollywood-inspired, Superhero-themed, testicle tingling roller coaster to come down the pike, but on those rare moments when I find the energy to raise my head above The Daily News sports section I cast my vote for the Log Flume.
Immediately the little snots scoff until I explain that the most recent Batman/Superman/Green Latern thrill ride, while higher, faster and twistier, is the brain child of a think tank of Ivy League engineers using computer generated models incorporating the latest magnetic and metallurgic technology to create a risk-free run. The Log Flume, on the other hand, is a 100 foot pile of cheap plywood and Sputnik-era fiberglass thrown together in the 1950's by surly, half-soused Eastern European Teamsters that sways in a stiff breeze like it was designed by the same team behind the Tacoma Narrows Bridge disaster. Fact is if anyone's gonna die it's on The Flume, baby, mark my words.
But what kids today just can't comprehend is that the biggest thrills in life often come from what is unknown. Similiarly in our last wrestling post we indicated that today's brand of televised Pro Wrestling is far more exciting on a match to match basis than the days of yore, but the one thing it lacks is that sense of mystery.
You see prior to the explosion of cable TV, You Tube and the 24/7 Wrestling Observer/Figure 4 Weekly/ Pro Wrestling Torch internet news cycle there were only two ways to keep abreast of the day's grappling greats. The first was to watch the stars of your regional territory on the local station's weekly TV taping that featured a parade of squash matches interspersed with interviews and the occasional black and white arena highlights shot from the floor on a shaky, hand-held camera like some kind of low-brow Zapruder film that made The Blair Witch Project look like Citizen Kane. And the second was the Wrestling Magazine, a pulp periodical filled with sensationalized, National Enquirer-style stories jammed between advertisements for Sea Monkeys and X-Ray Specs that left your hands covered in more cheap ink than Michael J. Fox replacing a toner cartridge.
The only time the twain would meet was every 2-3 months when a new set of heels and a coupla of babyfaces cycled through your area with a new crop of styles, gimmicks and specialty matches that added a dash of spice just when things got stale. Sure there were no Sin Cara's or Rey Misterio's in the group, but what these guys lacked in aerial ability they made up for with the tease. And let's face it once you know that another "619" is always a click of the mouse or flick of the TiVO remote away you tend to get jaded. Kinda like the way Mr. Pibb tasted great at the Piggly Wiggly on those family vacations to Florida, but once you could get it at the local Wal-Mart it became just the bad Dr. Pepper ripoff it had always been.
So in a followup to our semi-heralded "When The Men Were Men And The Masks Were Crimson" article here's another sampling of the heroes of yesterday who tempted us just enough that we'd fork over our allowances and suffer the Pen Pal sections and Charles Atlas Dynamic Tension ads just to see how the other half lived.
1. Kamala, The Ugandan Giant- Kamala's real name is James Harris, but when I googled "James + Kamala + Harris" the first page that came up was that of the current Attorney General of California...Kamala Harris. Considering this is a state that elected an Austrian Bodybuilder/B-Movie Actor as Governor I figured anything is possible. The thought of which blew my mind worse than the "Kool-Aid" I drank from that wine sack at a Hot Tuna concert in '92 or the time a friend bet I couldn't get the name of Tennessee Tuxedo's sidekick without looking it up and I spent an entire week showing History Channel videos in class too frazzled from racking my brain to formulate a lesson plan.
But fear not Californians as your Kamala Harris is a woman. So should you commit a major felony in state you won't be confronted at the prosecution table by a 400 pound black man from Mississippi wielding a spear in one hand and slapping his crescent moon painted belly with the other-though that might be interesting just to see the look on the occasional Mob Boss' or embezzling Politician's face.
No, our Kamala maintained a safe distance from Law School going straight from picking fruit in the orange groves of Florida in his late teens to training with the coconut-headed Bobo Brazil in the 70's. He spent his early career working in England as the Mississippi Mauler, but returned Stateside to try his luck in the Jerry Lawler/Jerry Jarrett run Memphis territory in 1978.
There as Sugar Bear Harris he had a less than awe inspiring debut which led to Lawler describing him as, "unathletic and weak on the stick (microphone)" which is kinda like a football coach saying of his team, "we're small, but we're slow." Still size sells in wrestling and so instead of giving up on Harris Lawler and Jarrett decided he should adopt an African Savage gimmick.
Jarrett came up with the name after reading about a Dr. Kimala in National Geographic, then Lawler had Harris shave his head, don a loin cloth and paint his face and body with various astrological symbols that look like they were copied directly out of Goodnight Moon prompting many a wrestling fan to ponder the question...Jerry Jarrett reads National Geographic?
With a manager to handle interviews Harris as Kamala only had to grunt, slap his belly and look intimidating as he delivered a repertoire of punches, chops and stomps that could make The Great Khali look like the illegitimate love-child of Kurt Angle and Billy Robinson. Still this was good enough to make him a top heel in Memphis, Mid-South and WCCW before Vince McMahon came calling in 1984.
In the fast booming, comic book character environment of the new WWF Kamala took off immediately. Flanked by various managers (Freddie Blassie, Skandor Akbar, Harvey Wimpleman, King Curtis)and "Handler" Kim Chee, played by Brooklyn Brawler Steve Lombardi dressed as a cross between Crocodile Dundee and Groucho Marx's Captain Spaulding, Kamala rose straight to the top of the bad guy pecking order headlining PPV's in feuds with Hulk Hogan, The Undertaker and Jake "The Snake" Roberts.
Following the Roberts' feud Kamala moved on to the USWA where he held their version of the World Title 4 times beating Lawler, Koko B. Ware and "Hotstuff" Eddie Gilbert along the way. When the WWF opened a talent sharing program with USWA Kamala tried to generate another run under the McMahons, this time as a babyface, but at 42 and having showed his hand to the fans there once already the bloom was apparently off the big, fat rose in a manner of speaking.
From there Kamala kicked around the Indies for a bit before settling down to get married and write music. In a refreshing surprise the latter does not fall into the Rap genre that so many athletes-wannabe-musicians seem to gravitate toward, but instead is a cross between old school country and Dixieland Jazz. You can see a video for his song "She's Gone For Good" at his website theugandagiantkamala.com where he also sells CDs, Jungle Skirts and child-proof spears at a nominal cost. Good luck, big man!
Kamala and Steve Lombardi...the African Explorer...2. Magnum TA (Terry Allen)- Considering I've been known to fly into a profanity-filled tirade when the Zamboni driver misses a sliver of ice at a professional hockey game it's safe to say my tolerance for frustration is a tad bit lower than Magnum TA.
You see in 1986, fresh off a historic victory over Tully Blanchard in the first ever "I Quit" match and with two US Heavyweight Title runs behind him, Terry Allen's sky rocketing career ended at a point that would've caused me to put my head in the oven faster than Sylvia Plath. For according to reliable sources TA was just months away from a program that would culminate in his winning the NWA World Title when he wrapped his Porsche around a telephone pole in Charlotte, N.C. and suffered injuries that would instantly end his in-ring career. Even worse reports indicate that Allen was not speeding or under the influence, but simply hydroplaned on a wet patch causing him to lose control of the vehicle.
Given the nickname Magnum TA by Andre The Giant, who thought he resembled Magnum P.I. star Tom Selleck, Terry Allen was a 1980's Trailer Park Hearthrob on par with Eddie Rabbitt and the guy who sang lead for the band Alabama. With a 70's porn star moustache and a mullett so outrageous it could best be described as "bible class in the front/Lollapalooza in the back" TA took the Atlanta-based Crockett Promotion by storm during a Goldberg-like run in the early 80's complete with a documented TV winning streak that featured victories in as little as 10-, 5- and even 3-seconds.
He won his first US Title in 1985 beating Wahoo McDaniels and immediately began feuding with Blanchard and his valet Baby Doll. On the way to their groundbreaking match at The Great American Bash Allen was given a title shot against NWA Champ Ric Flair in which he acquitted himself well enough to be considered for the belt down the line.
Unfortunately things moved slowly in those days and Allen would spend nearly a year battling Ivan and then Nikita Koloff before plans got under way for his title march. Before that, of course, Porsche met pole and though he made a miraculous recovery just to be able to walk again he would never work another match. He briefly tried his hand at announcing, but after all the trauma flecks of gray had him looking more like Sam Elliott than Tom Selleck and his heart wasn't in it anyway.
Today Magnum lives in his home state of Virginia where he runs a small hedge fund and owns several telecommunications towers. The 'stash is now gone and his trademark mullett while still long in the back has receded up front to the point that he's tiptoeing along the less than flattering "Ben Franklin Line". Nonetheless he is happily married to, of all people, Tully Blanchard's ex-wife and raising 6 kids like a heterosexual Robert Reed. So here's all the best to a man who is a shining testament to human will.
Magnum TA in all his Mullett-y goodness3. "Outlaw" Ron Bass- The "Rules of the Cartoon Kingdom" are pretty straight forward. Somes examples include all humans shall have 4 fingers/toes per hand/foot no more, no less; all owls must wear Graduation caps; any character sneaking up on another shall be accompanied by the plucking of violin strings; and, of course, facial hair = bad/clean shaven = good.
With a few exceptions Pro Wrestling throughout its history has adhered to this latter dictum and "Outlaw" Ron Bass, for one, took this maxim to heart. Throughout his well-traveled career the black-hatted Bass kept his well waxed handlebar moustache ever at the ready just an "I'm about to tie a damsel to the railroad tracks" twist away from defining his heel persona for even the slowest witted of wrestling fans.
And just like his facial hair and Cowboy hat Bass was a no-nonsense type in whatever region he was working. A mid- to upper-card professional bad guy who knew his role and performed it well. Sorta the Matt Stairs of the Squared Circle.
Outside of a few tag title runs with partner Black Bart the Outlaw's most famous run was a WWF feud with Brutus Beefcake kicked off by Bass "juicing" Beefcake with his spurs during a TV taping-an extremely rare occurence at that time. That Bass was then able to carry the then green as grass Bruti all the way through to a PPV level Hair vs. Hair grudge match is enough to make the back breaking efforts of Paul Simon and Darryl Hall practically pale in comparison.
Perhaps the big Outlaw's best move, however, was knowing when to walk away. He stepped aside in 1991 before mounting injuries could get the best of him, moved to Florida, played golf and finished up his B.A. at Arkansas State University. These days he shows up at the occasional Reunion or Independent show and is nice enough to "friend" even the snarkiest of Sports Entertainment bloggers on his FaceBook page-a true professional through and through.
The Outlaw "dragging" Brutus Beefcake through another quality match.4. Superstar Billy Graham (Wayne Coleman)- I've always maintained that among the several women who have spent the night at one of my humble abodes I've never heard a complaint in bed. Of course, it's hard to hear from the top bunk...but I think my point is clear.
And that point is that in matters of the ego it's easy to fool oneself into believing things are better than they may appear. Case in point was the website of Superstar Graham (now apparently defunct) which seemed to credit Graham with being the inspiration for every wrestling persona from Hulk Hogan to The Rock to the Gobbeldygooker and then some.
Now don't get me wrong Mr. Coleman was a fantastic performer whose physique and mic work were slightly ahead of their time, but in no way was he the Lewis and Clark of wrestling style the site credits him as being. Even the Superstar himself has admitted his sing-song, rhyming catchphrases borrowed a great deal from a young Cassius Clay/Muhammad Ali and his flamboyant ring wear and arrogant persona owe more than a passing nod to 1950's greats like Gorgeous George and "Nature Boy" Buddy Rogers.
But in the wrestling biz personality and charisma puts asses in the seats and Graham had that in enough abundance to be tabbed by the McMahons as successor to aging WWF Champ Bruno Sammartino. No Stan Stasiak, he held the title for a Heel record 296 days in 1977-78 before dropping it to the up and coming Bob Backlund. During this period Graham is credited with having headlined 20 Madison Square Garden shows with 19 resulting in full houses for a then unprecedented 95% sell out rate.
By the mid-80's years of pounding and steriod abuse had taken a toll on The Superstar. He retired in 1987 and began a series of hip surgeries that would reduce him to a shadow of his former self. Still at a time when Barry Bonds could still fit into a non-custom designed batting helmet Graham courageously went public with his steriod use and came out against the Pro Wrestling culture that fostered such abuse. Although such talk did not endear him to Vince McMahon, Jr. Graham was still elected to the WWE Hall of Fame in 2004.
Alas, even this did not end well for the outspoken Coleman who fell out again with McMahon in '09 upon being fired from a WWE consultancy position. He subsequently sold his HOF ring on EBay and in 2011 demanded his name be removed from the index of Hall of Famers due to the inclusion of a "bloodthirsty animal like Abdullah the Butcher" in the latest induction class.
Sadly Superstar, who received a liver transplant in 2004, was diagnosed with cirrhosis in March of 2011 and given a rather grim prognosis. He presently lives in Arizona with his wife Valerie and his 2006 autobiography, Tangled in the Ropes, has gotten generally positive reviews while selling respectably. He may not have been the original innovator of the self-aggrandizing, flamboyant, over-the-top wrestling persona, but he brought various elements together to create a memorable character and career that will never be forgotten.
Superstar Graham vs. Dusty Rhodes sometime before Doctors isolated the cause of the AIDS virus.I've got some stuff on Roddy Piper, I've got some stuff on Superfly Snuka and I've got a case of Molson Golden somebody gave me at a Graduation Party...guess who wins? I've also accumulated some detritus related to Buzz Sawyer, Billy Jack Haynes, Baron Von Raschke and the Master of the Green Mist The Great Kabuki so stay tuned. There's also a potential New York Yankee article in the works...we'll keep you posted. As always were on Facebook here I believe http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/pages/Bowling-Til-It-Hurts/144323018970626 and on Twitter at "sprtcom102" because I believe I drunkenly passed out on the keyboard the night I opened that account and those are the characters that came out. Until next time I'll be lying on my bed hands folded thinking of ways to make all of you happier...Godspeed.
I think my arteries hardened just looking at this.
Bernardo Vanzetti (left) and Nicola Sacco (right). Looking at this picture maybe Sacco was wise to just go with robbing the shoe company payroll after all.
Beats the Hell outta Jim McKay. Though it's probably best she wasn't covering the Munich Olympic kidnappings.
Holly in her finest Lane Bryant winter wear.
Jacobsen doing her best Foster Brooks impression at the Mike & Mike Roast
A tooth fetishists fantasy...and a Google search yields 363,821 pages so apparently there are folks like that out there.
Wendy Nix, who I like to think of as shy, demure and just a little bit vunerable...at least until the glasses come off.
Hey, I never said she wasn't smokin' hot, did I?
I've always been at the forefront of the push for School Uniforms...I mean these kids are under enough pressure dammit...