Jump to content
DVDVR Message Board

WRESTLERS OF THE DAY: THE HARRIS BROTHERS

RIPPA

By RIPPA
in ...OF THE DAY

 Share

Recommended Posts

RIPPA

RIPPA

Posted
  • Author
Posted

God - Fuck Ron And Don Harris

 

My rage might have unintentionally started a "GUYS I HATE" run...

 

God Bless Lance Russell and Jimmy Hart

 

 

EDIT - Before anyone says it - I am now actively avoiding the Ron and Don. I might start posting clips of that Harris Brothers band.

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites
Matt D

Matt D

Posted
Posted

Fine.

 

This instead:

 

 

Only for Dutch's story:

 

Part 1:

 

WrestleMania 11...My First Wrestlemania

WrestleMania 11 was my first WrestleMania when I went to the WWF in the mid 90's. Even though it was my first, I realized that it could possibly very well be my last because that was, and still is, the curse of the wrestling business.

Insecurity in not knowing what the next day has in store for you. The wrestling business breeds insecurity no matter where you are on the card. First match, mid card...main eventer. When it came to insecurity, it knew no boundaries.

I signed a two year deal with the WWF when I first went there but found out later, that almost 100% of all the contracts written by WWF in those days, heavily favored the promotion more than the talent. Even though you could make big money, it wasn't guaranteed. Again, this was in the day before WWF went public and became a corporate entity. Going public made the WWF/WWE change their business model and it is more talent or performer friendly today than what it was when I was there but don't miscontrue what I said. Contracts still are written that favor the promotion much more than the individual talent. 

Whereas wrestlers today in the WWE are on guaranteed salaries, that caveat didn't exist when I first went there. The only thing that was guaranteed was a set number of guaranteed 'appearance dates' per year which meant next to nothing really. This may come as a shock to those who are under the impression that everybody made killer money in the WWF but most wrestlers who signed a deal with WWF in those days were only guaranteed "dates per year" instead of "money per year" and, at the bottom of the pay scale. The "dates per year" clause was used mostly to move guys off the roster without having to go through the trouble of just outright releasing them. 

Once, I had an attorney look at my contract as I was telling him that this was a standard WWF talent document. He asked me why would anyone 'sign' such a document? I had no answer really other than to say that WWF controlled the only game in town and you either played ball on their team or guess what? You didn't play at all. Simple. That's why it is imperiative that pro wrestling have competition because if one company dominates the field, its not good for talent or for fans. Hear that TNA? 

But back to my story. WrestleMania 11 was shaping up to be a good one and before I sat down to write this, I Wikipediaed WM11 to see what was said about it. I always Wikepedia stuff to see if I agree with it. If not, I edit it myself which lasts for about two hours before its changed back to what it said originally. I've often wondered about people who monitor Wikipedia. Do they have jobs or do they just sit around and guard whats been written? But then again...I should wonder about people like me who change Wikepedia to reflect what I want it to say. One time...I tried to change my name to the correct spelling and was told that I didn't have sufficient evidence to prove I was right. 

The reviews on WM 11 were mixed. One said it was the Worst WrestleMania of all time..now that's a little strong I must admit...and another one said it was what saved WWF which is equally as strong but in the opposite direction. Let's split the difference. The show was OK. Debate settled.

At WM 11, I was managing Jacob and Eli Blu, who in reality were twin brothers Ron and Don Harris. My ring name was Uncle Zebekiah and how I ever ended up with such a name, I'll never know. The origin or the birth of the name was never claimed by anybody in WWF creative. I can see why. Who would want to speak up at a creative meeting..."Hey, Vince....I gave Dutch the Uncle Zebekiah name.!!! WTF? I dare to say that whomever invented that name kept it close the vest. 

Anyway, the back story was that I was their uncle, who had somehow had an epiphany one night after drinking a half gallon of moonshine whiskey in the Appalachian Mountains about leading my two 'brain addled' nephews out of the hills of West Virginia to the big lights of NYC and the WWF. In other words, we were playing some dumb ass hicks from the sticks and more or less, playing the stereotypical hillbilly folk that the movie, Deliverance, made famous. I didn't mind playing the role as long I wasn't the one being stretched across that log like what happened to Ned Beatty in the movie. If you didn't see the movie...well it was pretty much assumed that Ned got buggered by some hillbilly guy while stretchered out over a fallen tree stump. The lines, "squeal like a pig" took on a different meaning after seeing that movie.

The storyline was, that Jacob and Eli were like the mentally challenged young banjo picker boy in the movie and I was their uncle who took advantage of their size and lack of mental acuities to make money off them. Or I guess that was the story. Nobody really ever took the time to fill me in on the whole mess. I just made it up as we went along. I never did ask WWF creative what they had in mind...because they didn't have anything in mind it was clear from the beginning.

When the WrestleMania card was released, it came as a complete surprise when we learned that we were on the card. How did we get on a WrestleMania card? We certainly hadn't done much on TV to get us there but we weren't arguing. We were glad to have been included on a WrestleMania. This was our FIRST WRESTLEMANIA and our opponents were Lex Lugar and Davey Boy Smith. Man, I could just see a 5 STAR match coming out of that one!!! With the high flying abilities of Lex and Davey combined with the fluid and athleticism of Ronnie and Donnie...it was a match that would have to be seen to be believed.

WM11 was scheduled for Hartford, Connecticut which was in the WWF's backyard so to speak. Hartford couldn't have been more than a 30 or 45 minute drive from WWF Headquarters in Stamford. WM 11 was getting a lot of mainstream publicity due to one of the feature matches which pitted former NFL All Pro Lawrence Taylor against Bam Bam Bigelow. Bigelow and Taylor had previously been involved in an ringside altercation on RAW during one of Bigelow's matches which set the stage for the match at WrestleMania. Taylor, who was being portrayed as just a visitor at ringside, somehow got involved in a shouting and shoving match with Bigelow and before it was over, Bigelow ended up pushing Taylor on his butt back into his chair. Taylor was a HUGE football star having played with the Super Bowl winning New York Giants and that fact wasn't lost on ESPN who gave the match between Taylor and Bigelo mainstream coverage. 

The card looked solid and I looked forward to going to a WrestleMania which was considered then, and even to this day, the BIGGEST WRESTLING PPV in the world. This was late in my career and I had always said that before I finish my days in the ring, I would like to work in the WWF and see two things. Center ring in Madison Square Garden and be on a WrestleMania card. I accomplished both before I stepped out of the ring. 

About a week before the event, WWF scheduled a publicity exhibition which was to be held right in the middle of Manhattan...in TIMES SQUARE. I was called by WWF, along with Jacob and Eli Blu, to attend this event which was timed perfectly to garner as much attention on WM 11 as possible and would be carried LIVE to the New York City metro area on one of the LOCAL NETWORK channels. Plus with Lawrence Taylor attached to it, it would be slammed all over ESPN and all the national networks and newspapers were invited to pick up the story. That's one thing about the WWF major networks and newspapers in the NYC area. 

On this event in Times Square would be Shawn Michaels, Kevin Nash as Diesel, Razor Ramone, Jeff Jarrett, RoadDog, Billy and Bart Gunn, Lex Lugar and Davey Boy Smity plus myself and the Blu Brothers. I don't want to sound like a complete mark here but going to a WrestleMania and standing in the middle of Times Square with your image on the big JumboTron in the Square rates pretty high on the highlight scale for me.

We were flown to NY the night before our scheduled appearance in Times Square and housed in a hotel right in the middle of Manhattan. You know...being in Manhattan and in an expensive hotel, you would think you would be in the lap of luxury. Well, news flash. Just because the room cost $350 per night....it was far from luxurious. Truth be known, the room was just a room and IMO, the actual value of the room, just as a room, stood at about $35. I don't know why WWF chose that hotel because it sucked. The only redeeming value in the hotel accomodations was that it was in Manhattan. By rights, the hotel should have paid us to stay in that dump. I mean, it wasn't really all that bad but it damn sure could have been a lot better. 

The Times Square event was scheduled for early in the morning...around 8AM or so. I had breakfast in that hotel at around 6AM which, for most wrestlers, that's when they're going to bed, not getting up. It was a regular breakfast...scrambled eggs, sausage, bagels, orange juice..nothing really special or out of the ordinary...except for the freakin PRICE!!! The breakfast ended up being $22.95 without the tip added in. This was 15 years ago too. I thought to myself...this was bullshit. Here I was paying an outrageous price and a McDonalds was sitting right across the street with the McDonald's Super Deluxe Breakfast begging me to come in. Of course, even the McDonalds Super Deluxe breakfast was much higher than normal due to being in Manhattan but it was nowhere close to the robbery that the 23 dollar breakfast victimized me for. Here's a fact and a bit of useless information that you probably won't know but how many McDonalds are in Manhattan? If you know the answer, email me at [email protected] and tell me. Or you probably know the answer if you saw the documentary SuperSize Me. Well, I guess there is something to that location, location, location thing I always heard about real estate. 

Not only was the food expensive, did I mention that it sucked? I could have gotten a better breakfast in a homeless shelter. I imagine that if people can afford those prices, their thoughts aren't on food. This whole hotel and food thing sucked. The room sucked, the service sucked and even the TV sucked. It was also right at the end of March and colder than a banker's heart, the room's heat didn't work properly and I couldn't wait to get out of this hotel. I was only in that hotel for one night but it already felt like I had spent a week there. 

Since we all stayed at the same hotel, Vince McMahon included, right after breakfast, we all were transported via tour bus to Times Square where there was a ring already erected with all the WrestleMania signs all over it. The motive behind doing this Times Square meant that it would get a ton of coverage in the sports pages. Times Square was the perfect place to stage this event as it is estimated that 1.6 million people pass through Times Square each day with over 275,000 people actually working there. So, getting people to stop for 10/15 minutes at at time while it was being broadcast LIVE wouldn't be a problem.

As we drove through the heavy traffic in Manhattan that cold morning...it was a HUGE RUSH for me. This was my first time in Manhattan, the home of Madison Square Garden, the Empire State Building, and the World Trade Center Towers. Little did any of us then but 6 years later on September 11, 2001, the Towers would be the centerpiece of world history and a complete change in how all of us lived our lives. Thinking back on that now gives me chills. 

This was the first time I had ever been in traffic in Manhattan because I had never really been in the city before. I had been on the outskirts of the city...like in Newark or in Rutherford, NJ at the Meadowlands Arena. The traffic was unbelieveable and when I looked out the window, I couldn't help but notice...a sea of yellow. It belonged to the Yellow Cab Company and every other vehicle seemed to be a taxi. 

Up to this point, I didn't know what was scheduled for us on the event. I knew that all the wrestlers had taken their work bags with them so they could change into their ring gear for the appearance. Right before we got to Times Square and parked the tour bus, Pat Patterson, who was one of the bookers and still works with WWF today, sat down beside me on the bus and gave me the rundown on what I and the Blu Brothers would be doing that cold ass morning.

Actually, for such an important event, I was surprised that there wasn't more of a concentrated effort at coordination. Pat just came along and sat down like it was just another day at the office. Pat told me what we were doing that day was simple. All they wanted us to do was get into the ring....with Davey Boy and Lex and cut a promo on them. Davey Boy and Lex would cut one back and we had three minutes to get it done. Then Pat stopped talking. I looked at Pat and he looked at me and I said, "that's it"? 

Pat said, "yep, that's it". I then asked Pat was there anything specific he wanted me to say? 

Pat looked at me like I'd spit on the Pope and nonchalantly added... "well, its WrestleMania and its a pretty big event...you know, like the biggest PPV in the world and since you've been in this business for 20 years, and you know what to say." Then he laughed and just got up and walked to the back of the bus to talk to Shawn and Diesel and Bam Bam. 
I always loved Pat because he and I used to travel together years earlier in Florida and he taught me a lot about the wrestling business. But what Pat had told me was that he realized I knew what to say and he was right. If I had been a rookie, then Pat would have probably given me the interview. But, I wasn't. Thats one of the things from the past that I fear is gone forever...the ability to ad lib an interview on the spot. Today, they would have given me 5 pages of dialogue that they would want me to deliver verbatim. I liked it much better in the old days where you played off the crowd and they let you know if they liked your interview...on the spot. 

It was late March and the temperature hovered around 28 degrees. All the guys got dressed on the bus and we all stayed there until it was time for us to go out. When we stepped off that bus that morning...the cold slapped the hell outta of you. Ron and Don were both wearing their trunks and their vests but they were shivering because it was about 28 degrees that morning. I couldn't help but think...what idiots go out on LIVE TV in freezing weather at 8AM in the morning dressed for the beach? Well, I have an answer for you. WRESTLERS!!! That's who. I always liked the Caribbean islands in the winter time and I've never been a fan of cold weather and that day didn't change my preferences. There was stiff wind blowing, which of course made it colder. But at least, I was dressed so I wasn't so cold. What made it colder was that the tall buildings surrounding Times Square block all the sun out which made it seem colder if that's possible.

As we got closer to the time that we had to appear in the ring, a couple of securtity guys came and got us and took us across the street where we awaited our turn inside a little tent so to speak which had a monitor installed so we could see what was going on in the ring.

I looked at Ron and Don as they walked across the street and normally those big bastards really stood out in the crowd but on the streets of Manhattan, they fit right in. Actually, after seeing some of the mutants in the crowd that morning, the wrestlers looked more normal that the people who just stopped by. Looking around, there were a few crackheads, some homeless people, a man preaching the end of the world and every nationality in the world was represented there that day.

We watched the telecast on the big screen high above Times Square. The tent blocked out the wind a little bit but not the cold. As we waited in the tent, I don't know how many people were there but it was jammed. I'd say at least 4,000 people were jammed on that little rectangular section around the ring and the streets were packed too. New Yorkers were making a lot of noise at 8AM in the morning.

Since this was a LIVE BROADCAST carried on a major station in NYC, it also had commercial breaks. So the show had to be on time. During the commercial breaks, the next group of wrestlers would get into the ring. Since I was going to the ring, I didn't have my glasses on and that became a problem especially when I didn't know where I was going. My vision became a huge problem later on.
There was media from around the world there that day coming from as far away as the UK, Australia, Canada, Germany, Japan and Brazil with tons of photographers and camera people everywhere. I remember Taylor and Bigelow opening up the show because their match was the one that would have the most interest, especially with the NY crowd. It was a great interview with the crowd being totally involved in it. Both men ended up being pulled apart and I remember looking up and seeing it all on the huge JumboTron that sits high above Times Square. I have to make a statement here. Even though I was cold and freezing...and miserable...I couldn't help but think that this was one of the greatest things I'd ever done. How many people, I thought to myself...get to do stuff like this? In the middle of Times Square with the world media looking on...being on my first WrestleMania and having your image splashed on the big screen was going down as one of the highlights of my career. Little did I know that one of the highlights of my career would turn out to be one of the most embarrassing. 

Shawn Michaels and Diesel went next and did their thing and the crowd knew everybody, knew their stories, knew the angles. The crowd was LOUD especially for a 'breakfast' gathering. Ronnie, Donnie and I all stood and watched the show from the tent but it was much easier to watch it on the JumboTron. When Shawn and Kevin Nash finished, the show went to commercial break and then it was our turn. 

Our handlers, who I had never seen before, were really rushing us to get us there. We literally had to push people out of the way to get to the ring. As I stepped into the ring, the crowd looked at us...a wild looking cowboy type with a hat and a vest with two giant looking wild men...and they hopped on us with the typical New York insults. Go home, ya bums. Geat outta heah. Ya suck. Wow...what a tough crowd but as they say...if you can make it in New York, you can make it anywhere and the thing is, they're right. 

We stepped into the ring and waiting for us were Lex and Davey Boy Smith. The announcer told me and I can't even remember who he was but he walked over to me and said, "Vince said make this quick. We're long." 

Long...meant we were over on time and since the segment was scheduled for three minutes...but now, we were being asked to cut it short maybe down to 2 minutes or less. But I wasn't sweating it...this was something that wrestlers deal with on a daily basis. This would be a piece of cake. I'll say something to insult the crowd and then say something to insult Lex and Davey and then they'll say whatever BS they want to say and out we go. The key word was 'fast'. And that's exactly what happened. 

When the interview opened, the crowd exploded because they had been prompted to make a lot of noise and they did. It looked great on the JumboTron because I couldn't help but look at it. The announcer came to me first and of course, I popped on NYC and their Yankee accents and then I turned it to WrestleMania and the match with Lex and Davey Boy. It was a great visual seeing Ron and Don stare down Davey and Lex in the middle of Times Square. Then Lex and Davey had their say and the segment was over. 

As soon as the segment was over...the announcer and the referees were shouting for us to hurry to get out of the ring. We must have gone too long in our segment but I didn't think so. Or the commercial break was short but whatever the reason, I was hurrying to leave. As I stepped out of the ring, all I could hear was hurry and get out. Usually ring steps are built to fit around the ring post as a 90 degree angle but for some reason, the steps weren't positioned around the corner post. They were just pushed up against the ring which left the 'corner hole' open. Ron and Don stepped off first and as I stepped off the ring apron, yep, you guessed it, I misjudged the step and fell completely into the open part of the steps.

I need to stop here and explain the structure of ring steps. Rings steps are built triangularly to fit around a corner ring post at a 90 degree angle. Thats the key word here...fit 'around' the ring posts. Quite naturally, if the ring steps are just pushed up against the sides of the ring...it has a huge hole in the middle with nothing there. So with that said, as I tried to step off the ring apron onto the steps, I misjudged my step and WHAM!!! I fell right down in the section of the steps that should have been around the corner post. The New York fans, who I had just blasted on my interview, thought that was one of the greatest things that they've ever seen. Seriously, I thought I had broken my ankle and I had to be literally lifted out of the hole and carried back to the bus.

My right leg was all the way into the hole and my left ankle felt like it was broken. Since Ron and Don were freezing, they didn't even look back at me and left me there as they sprinted for the warmth of the bus. I'll never forget the New York crowd getting on me but I was in too much pain to notice. I was in pain and since I was holding up the show....the security guys yanked me out of my situation and carried me across the street and I might add, not too gingerly either. 

When I got back to the bus...after being carried by security...Ron and Don looked at me like WTF? Where have you been? I told them that I had damn near killed myself and they had left me. Both of them started laughing and I would have laughed too but the pain was too much. Let me tell you a little about how heartless wrestlers are. Nobody on the bus...Ron and Don included asked me how I was. Actually, the only person who did ask me was Vince himself. 
That's all we had to do that day and the bus took us straight to the airport where we all boarded our flights back home. WrestleMania weekend was coming up and we would be busy. When I arrived home, I immediately went to the ER and had the ankle X-Rayed. They told me that it was broken but there was nothing they could do for it and that I needed time for it to heal. 

Problem was...I didn't have time. WrestleMania was coming up in 4 days...and if I had to limp to the ring...I was going to be there. 

 

Part 2:

As I wrote about in Part 1, my participation in WrestleMania 11 was compromised when I suffered an injury to my ankle when I misjudged a step while exiting the ring in the WWF publicity event in Times Square in NYC. I didn't know it at the time but I found out later that I had sustained a hairline fracture in my ankle and even though it hurt like a SOB, I didn't want anyone to know it. If someone in WWF knew that I had a hairline fracture, they would have yanked me off the show. In those days, if you didn't work, you didn't get paid so I couldn't afford to NOT WORK. If someone asked me why I was limping along, I just told them that I just had an ankle sprain. I didn't want anything to jeopardize my WrestleMania appearance and even if I had to crawl to the ring, I wanted to be on WrestleMania 11.

By being in the wrestling business for so long, I knew from experience to "NEVER TAKE YOURSELF OUT OF THE GAME." Never. That's an old saying in wrestling. Plus my pride wouldn't allow it. I had been in the game for too long and since this was my first WrestleMania, I fully realized that it could be my last. That prophecy turned out to be self fulfilling as I never did appear on another WrestleMania card. But the knowledge and experience that I had behind me at that point prepared me for that. Wrestling is a temporary business and at this point in my career, I had already lasted longer than I thought I would or should have. 

The incident in Times Square had happened on a Wednesday morning and I now found myself on my way home as I made my way through La Guardia Airport. La Guardia is always crowded...it's New York City and everything is crowded in New York. As I limped along, I felt defeated. I knew something was wrong with my ankle and I had already called my wife and told her that I had to go to an ER immediately upon landing. As with all HUGE airports, the concourse was usually as far away as it can be and my trip was no exception. My gate was two left turns past hell and down a mile. I knew I should have had the ankle looked at in New York and I should have requested airline assistance to make my gate but I didn't want anybody associated with WWF to see that I needed it. 

My ankle was swollen and and warm. I knew what that meant. Warm is not good. Warm signals infection and I damn sure didn't need that. If I had known then what I know now, I wouldn't have gotten on the plane. Flying in a pressurized cabin with an injury such as mine is highly dangerous. What can happen is called deep vein thrombosis which can cause a blood clot that could result in a heart attack. But like they say, ignorance is bliss and I made it home. But my ankle was throbbing and I was determined to make it to WrestleMania 11 which was in 4 days. 

I arrived home and as soon as I landed, my wife picked me up and we headed straight to the ER. 4 X rays and two hours later, plus a tetanus shot, I emerged from the ER with a prescription for anti-biotics and 30 Vicodins with the news I didn't want. I had suffered a hairline fracture and a severe ankle sprain...and all the doctor told me was to stay off of it. Damn, I can't believe doctors go to school for 6 years just to give instructions like that. Hell, common barnyard sense tells you to stay off an injured ankle or leg. I knew that and I didn't have to go to medical school for 6 years to come up with that prognosis. But always remember one thing about doctors...half of them finished in the bottom 50% of their class. 

In just a few days, I had to pick up and leave again to head back to Hartford. I couldn't believe that I had worked for 20 years and never really got hurt in the ring and then for this to happen. To tell the truth, it wasn't my fault and whomever placed the steps out of position should have taken responsibility but I knew nobody would. Not only was my ankle hurting like hell but my little gonads weren't in the best shape either. Little did I know then but my embarrassing escapades weren't over yet. 

So here I was taking Vicodins like candy which actually made me feel pretty good. On a side note, I had heard for years that wrestlers took all kinds of pain medication and all that but truthfully, this was the first time I'd ever taken a painkiller. After taking them, I wanted to kick myself in the ass for not being an ADVOCATE FOR THEM. I am not against the use of drugs, I am against the ABUSE OF DRUGS. Drugs were invented for a reason. I had never taken pain killers before but I could see quickly how they could become addictive For the first time in my life, I had an injury that was serious and I was taking pain killers to keep moving. 

WrestleMania was three days away so I would only have something like 36 hours at home and then I was right back out there. Nobody knew the extent of my injury because I was fearful that WWF would pull me off the card. I really needed more time but time was a luxury that I didn't have so I had to get up and go. The reason I had to go to Harford early on a Saturday morning was I had to attend an official WWF FanFest function Saturday night, which was dinner and a show with SUPER WWF FANS who paid a premium price to get to sit and talk to the talent that was on the WrestleMania 11 card. There would be people there from all over the world. The UK and Europe would be heavily represented there as would Australia and South America. With the WWF, when they say they are global, they mean it.

What my purpose was for that night was that I along with Ron and Don would sit at the same table as the WWF SUPER FAN participants and more or less hob knob with them for an hour or so. The only way I could have gotten out of the gig was to tell tWWF management that I was injured but that was the one thing I didn't want them to know.

Usually, I like talking to fans but at that particular moment, I would have rather taken a bullwhipping at sun-up than to sit down with a bunch of people, that I've never seen before in my life and be forced to talk to them. Hell, I didn't even want to talk to Ron and Don so why would I want to talk to them.

But one thing about Vicodins...they take away the pain and make you more talkative. I don't know what I said that day but whatever it was, it had to be good because I was in a talkative mood. 

For the first time in years, my wife actually went with me to a wrestling event. I wanted her to go because she was the one who always told me that one day I would make it to WWF. So I wanted her to be there when I made the show. She hadn't gone with me since the days in Louisiana where we worked so much and the only way we could spend any time together was to actually go with me on trips. I flew in on a morning flight and she flew in later in the day. She caught the shuttle to the Hilton or Sheraton or whatever hotel we were staying. WWF always picked up the hotel for the talent on PPV weekends. One thing that was good about the Hartford Hotel was that it was connected to the Civic Center and a mall too. So my wife felt right at home. 

I ended up going to the WWF FanFest that was held at the hotel we were staying at that Saturday night and sat around and talked about a bunch of bullshit wrestling stories. Well, I talked about some bullshit wrestling stories. Ron and Don didn't know any. So, it was more or less left to me to entertain this panel of Mensa candidates that were at our table. Seriously, sitting around a table talking to people that you don't know is an awkward experience. Some of the questions you get are along the lines of, "Hey dude....is the Undertaker a good guy?" 
No, he's a f'n asshole. Next. What do they expect you to say? Now I'm not trying to be geographically biased here but I'm from the Deep South and the people around our table were all from New York and Boston. Hell, half of them thought I was speaking in a foreign language as they had trouble understanding my southern accent. Truth be known, I couldn't understand half of what they were saying either. Since I was taking Vicodins, the conversation was basically pointless to begin with. I just started talking about a bunch of crap that meant nothing and went nowhere. Did I say that Vicodins make you talkative? This was back in the days of the early Smark movement but before all those yahoos left the table, I had convinced them that we were all hillbillys from West Virginia who had just left their banjos in the room along with our wives who were all barefoot. I could see I was getting through to them as I watched them blosson from imbeciles to idiots all in the span of an hour. 

I hate hate and I won't tolerate intolerance but I think the people at the table sort of prejudged us. Prejudge is the root form of 'prejudice'. I've found out that when people find out you're from the Deep South, as all of us were, they automatically draw the stereotypical conclusion about you. One is that you're a racist and usually, another one is that you're sleeping with your sister. I always hated that one. I've never slept with my sister. At the time, I'd only been dating her for a couple of months. As you can tell, I had a glorious time.

My ankle had started feeling a lot better but started throbbing shortly after arriving at the function when one of the WWF FanFest guests, who was a big fat bastard from Boston, stepped on my foot as he was trying to sit down. He was so fat that he should have bought two tickets because I knew his big fat ass couldn't sit comfortably in one chair seat. The bastard had to weigh over 400 hundred pounds and would have fit in with all the other fat asses on The Biggest Loser. Bastard. It never fails to happen that when you have one part of your body injured, somebody or something is going to touch it the wrong way. The activity seemed to drone on forever and I tried to be a gracious and friendly representative of the WWF even to that obese idiot who stepped on me but I was in pain. But I soldiered on through it. Damn, I was f'n glad when that bullshit ceremony was over. 

After the function, my wife and I had dinner in our room. It was all I could do to make it back to the room. Of course, my room was at the farthest end of the hallway. I kept telling myself that all I had to do tomorrow was walk 150 feet down a carpet covered entrance way to the middle of the arena floor of the Hartford Civic Center in front of 16,000 fans and stand there. That's it. All I had to do was stand there. Actually, I thought it was one of the greatest things ever. In probably under 10 minutes, it would all be over and I would have accomplished a long held dream...to participate on a WRESTLEMANIA card but most importantly, pick up a helluva pay day. Hallelujah. I hoped that my ankle would get through it.

I thought I would get a good night's rest but no, karma must have pulled its truck up in my driveway because at 1AM in the morning, my wife and I were awakened by a fire alarm. I limped to the door and looked out and heard a voice over the loudspeaker advising all guests to stay in their rooms. Famous last words, I thought. Bullshit, I'm wasn't staying in my room. My wife and I threw on some clothes and we took off to the lobby which was something like 19 floors below us and since we couldn't take the elevator, it was by...yep, you guessed it, by stairwell. We made it to the lobby 15 minutes later and we weren't the only ones who didn't pay attention to the announcement to stay in your room. The lobby was packed. There was a small fire on the 12th floor and we passed fire department personnel on the way down. So you can imagine how my ankle was feeling at this point. 

WrestleMania 11 had a lot of entertainment celebrities on the card like Pamela Anderson who would escort Diesel to the ring in his WWF Championship match vs. Shawn Michaels. Shawn, not to be outdone by the big Diesel, was scheduled to have as his escort, Jenny McCarthy, who would accompany him to the ring as well. I met both of these ladies before the show. I saw Pamela Anderson's breasts enter a room at 4:10PM and 3 minutes later, at 4:13PM, the rest of Pamela's body came through the door. And I thought Dolly Parton had big kaboobs. She was very friendly and outgoing as was Jenny McCarthy. 

Early on WrestleMania Sunday, I got up late around 11AM, due to the BS Chinese fire drill we had experienced the night before, and ordered room service only to be told that brunch was over. God damn, can anything go right this week, I thought? I thought that brunch extended until 1pm but they told me that they had a fire incident the night before that affected their schedule. I had a meeting that I had to go to at 12 noon for the run through talk with Davey Boy and Lex and Ron and Don. We were scheduled to meet in the arena to go over the match. The arena was attached to the hotel which was attached to the mall and it was a long walk. Damn...I thought...is there anything close in this town? My ankle was still hurting and everything I was doing involved me walking long distances to get there. So I had to walk from the hotel through the mall to the arena down to the floor area to the dressing room. The Hartford Civic Center was a beautiful building and as I entered, all the workers and technicians were all busy at work preparing the arena for WrestleMania 11. 

At 12 noon, we all met in one of the dressing rooms of the Hartford Civic Center on the floor level to find out what was going on in our match. This should take, at the most I thought, about 30 minutes. Then I could get my wife, eat and be at the arena at 3PM for checkin. Tony Garea was our agent . He walked in and uttered these famous words. in his proper English accent.

Tony started out by saying, "Guys, you're on first...go about 8 minutes...Lex and Davey Boy need to go over. Come up with a finish and I'll be back later." That took all of 45 seconds. Then he left. I guess he went to grab a cup of tea. Wow I thought, I wonder how long it took Tony to come up with that brilliant finish. 

Of course, losing the match wasn't a problem. We expected that. What turned into a problem was not how we were going to LOSE but rather, how Lex and Davey Boy were going to WIN. I had never much dealt with Lex before but I had heard that he could be difficult. How difficult, I would find out. 

After Tony left, they started talking. And talking....and talking...and then they talked some more. It was only a 8 minute match so how much talking and planning needed to go into it, I thought. I was used to walking into a dressing room and saying...OK....let's lock up...get a little heat...I'll miss something big...you make a big comeback...wham, wham, wham...and then...WHAM. Got it? Good. Let's go. Many times when I first started, you never got a chance to even see your opponent until you saw him in the ring for the match. But I know WrestleMania is different but still, 8 minutes is 8 minutes. 

How hard is that, I thought? But they kept talking and 1PM rolled around, no detailed finish. 1:30PM, no finish. I was starting to get a little irritable due to not eating and my ankle was starting to throb a little thanks to the Human Fat Farm stepping on my foot the night before. Everytime Ron and Don would bring something up or suggest something...Lex would counter with, "Why would Lex do that?" Or he would say, "Lex wouldn't do that." WTF? In Davey's defense, he was amiable and agreeable to most anything. It was Lex was blocked most of our input. 

They kept on talking. I didn't say much because it was their match and they needed to work it out since they were the ones who would be working it. When something was suggested, Lex didn't like this or he didn't like that and when 2PM rolled around, Tony Garea came back into the room and looked at me as if to ask, is there a problem? I told him that we were getting there but I was embarrassed to say we didn't have anything or I should have said, Lex doesn't have anything he likes. But I didn't. Actually, Presidents didn't take this long to deliver State of the Union speeches. 

Ron and Don pitched another idea and Lex didn't like that either. Finally, I spoke up. 

I could see that Lex considered himself a notch or two above Davey Boy and all of us due to his days in WCW. That pissed me off. If he was such a HUGE star, like he thought he was, he wouldn't have been in the first match with all of us. I told Lex that that I didn't care what "Lex would do or would not do" but what I pointed out to him was that he wasn't the only one in the match and if he just counted...he would see that there were three other people in the match with him.

So I gave a quick suggestion...of how the finish should be laid out. Damn, it wasn't advanced chemical engineering, it was basic pro wrestling. Hell, nobody came to see this match anyway. We should have all went up to Vince McMahon or Jim Ross or whoever booked us on the card and told them thank you. This was a freebie for us. Fans came to see Taylor/Bigelow, Shawn/Diesel, Jarrett/Razor, and all the other matches. I would almost bet nobody bought a ticket to see our match. Hell, I wouldn't have even paid to see it myself.

I should have taken over the meeting from the start but didn't but I told them that we were going with a formula finish and if anybody had a problem with it, let's work it out and get it over and done with. My finish took exactly 2 minutes to deliver, go over and agree to. I wanted to shoot myself. We had just wasted over two hours going over a BS first match finish and Lex acted as though he was the Main Event. If I had known I would have been in that room with Lex "I don't like anything" Lugar for over two hours, I would have pitched that finish the minute I entered the room. Seriously, I've worked with some prima donnas before but Lex was the biggest one I'd ever worked with and I've always liked Lex. One reason I probably liked him was that I'd never had a match with him. Meeting adjourned. Thank God. I had just wasted two hours of my life that I would never recover. 

We all had to show up at the arena at 3PM which didn't give me much time to pack, eat and get back to the same dressing room that I had just left. But I was on the show and I was looking forward to going out in front of a sold out Hartford Civic Center crowd for WrestleMania 11. 

Backstage at any big wrestling event is a beehive of activity. There's a thousand things going on at any given time. To stage one of these events takes at least 200 people and that's a conservative estimate. 12 production trucks, signal technicians, production people, cameramen, audio personnel, video technicians, sound and lighting engineers, announcers, talent, PAs, seamtresses, hair and makeup personnel, agents, etc. I have often wondered how the whole thing comes off. Backstage, were all the talent who would appear on the card. Undertaker, Michaels, Razor, Jarrett, Bam Bam, Vince McMahon, Owen Hart, Yokozuna, Billy and Bart Gunn, RoadDog and others. Oh yeah, I forgot, Lex was there too. It was hard to walk in the hallways backstage because of the sheer number of people and things going on. 

I didn't really see Lawrence Taylor that much because he was housed in a private suite with his entourage of advisors, tax consultants, other NFL players, attorneys, family, friends, ESPN reporters, NYC sports writers and assorted running buddies. I heard that Taylor's entourage that day was over a 100 people. Oh yeah, Lex came by himself. 

There were a few more celebrities on the show such as Nicolas Tuturo and the singing group, who were pretty hot at the time, Salt and Peppa. I didn't really know who they were but apparently, a lot of people did. 

Finally, the show started. I remember standing at the GORILLA POSITION named for Gorilla Monsoon who anchored the spot for years. As they played the National Anthem, I was amped for the show. Standing at the gorilla position was another big thrill for me because I had set a goal and I had accomplished it. The pain in my ankle was still there but thanks to modern medical science and chemicals, I was surviving.

They played our music and out we went. Man, I was almost there. After the hard week of falling into the oddly situated ring steps in Times Square, to hiding my injury to make the show, going through the Chinese Fire drill at the hotel the night before and going over the match for 2 hours, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Ron always went first....then Donnie and then I pulled up the rear. It's weird with twins is that one always leads and the other one always follows. It was that way with the Harrises. Ron was the leader of the brothers but Don was the one who was the most lethal. Don was the quieter of the two but Ron was the rational one in confrontations. Don usually dismissed rational conversation in confrontations and went straight to the jugular which meant at times, he broke a few pool cues over guy's heads. Ron and Don weren't the ones to get in a rift with unless you were on their side. 

Ron and Don looked great I thought...6'8"tall and looked taller because they wore 2 inch lifts on their boots. Why would two guys who stand 6'8 wear lifts in their boots I thought? They were already legitimately 6'8". Then the answer came to me. They wanted to look 6'10". Plus, I might add, I looked pretty damn sharp myself. The arena was packed...and it was a great wrestling atmosphere. All I had to do now was stay out of the way and I'd be clear. We all got into the ring for our beauty shot and then Lex and Davey Boy's music hit and the lights went down in the arena. 

When our opponents music started, I stepped out of the ring and stood on the apron facing the entranceway and held on the top rope while I watched Lex and Davey Boy make their entrance. I didn't notice it at the time but behind me, Don was hitting the ropes and testing them for his match. Just as Davey Boy and Lex appeared in the entranceway, Don bounced off the rope I was hanging onto and you can guess what happened? It knocked me completely off the side of the ring onto the ringside area right in front of the entrance and there I was, floundering around like a beached whale trying to make it to my feet before Lex and Davey Boy got to the ring. One moment, I was watching Lex and Davey Boy's entrance, the next moment , thanks to Donnie's acute sense of timing and his apparent lack of awareness, I was flying through the air like being shot out of a cannon and landing on my bad ankle. The only thing that saved me from complete embarrassment were the lights being dimmed. Of course, Ronnie and Donnie thought that my circus cannon shot was one of the greatest things they had ever seen and joked about it later. They even said that it was funnier than when I missed the ring steps in Times Square. I failed to see any humor in any of that. Bastards. 

I made it to my feet before Davey Boy and Lex got there but I was lucky in that I didn't get injured more. Usually, when you're trying to protect one area, you injure another one but in this case, I guess God had punished me enough for one week and said have mercy on this child.

The match went on...and the finish came off perfectly. It wasn't like anybody jumped out of the ringside seats when it was over except me who was so happy that this monstrosity of a week was finally over. 

I watched the rest of the show from a visitor suite where they housed all the families and wives which was catered and very nice. WWF always does a great job of creating a nice atmosphere for families and wives. Donnie Harris' wife, number 4 or 5, was in the suite and she asked me if I was OK. I said yes but that butthole Donnie never did tell me he was sorry. Come to think of it now, he probably did it on purpose. Bastard. 

They had a Post WrestleMania Party at a restaurant right across the street from the hotel and even though I was still limping and, by rights, I should have been limping back to a hospital emergency room again, I made the party but for political reasons. If there's a party thrown in the WWF and you don't show up, then certain members of the 'heirarchy' take notice so its' politically wise to show up. I did and made all the obligatory handshakes all around, met Lawrence Taylor and his crew of NFL players like Reggie White, Carl Banks, Chris Speilman and Ken Norton Jr. Shook hands with Vince and Linda McMahon and ladies and gentleman...the story ends here. 

It was a great experience, it paid well and the most important thing is that I made it through it. Another chapter in the World of Dutch that if you didn't know...now you know. But the next time I stepped out of a WWF ring, I made sure I connected with the step before I took the next one. 

  • Like 3
Link to comment
Share on other sites
J.T.

J.T.

Posted
Posted

Dear God, but I hate the Harris Brothers based on just being shitty workers.  I've never heard it confirmed or denied that the SS tats worn by the Harris Brothers were there out of racist belief or gimmick, but who would willingly do that shit?

 

Ron Killings absolutely refused to work them in any matches in TNA, so I would tend to go with "they iived the the Aryan gimmick."  I heard it took a lot of convincing to get New Jack in that three team match.

Link to comment
Share on other sites
MADCAP

MADCAP

Posted
Posted

Didn't have much use for the Bruise Brothers, but I do remember their first appearance in ECW vs Johnny Hotbody and Tony Stetson(I can't find any video of it.), and how the just beat the ever-loving dogshit out of those two, to the point where Stetson just left the ring area as the BB's continued to kill Hotbody.  Everything else after that sucked.

Link to comment
Share on other sites
cool arrow

cool arrow

Posted
Posted
With the high flying abilities of Lex and Davey combined with the fluid and athleticism of Ronnie and Donnie...it was a match that would have to be seen to be believed.

 

I know when I think of high-flying, Lex Luger is the first name that comes to mind.

  • Haha 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites
Kaptain Kayfabe

Kaptain Kayfabe

Posted
Posted

The Harris Bros had to set some record for most gimmicks over the span of 6-7 years. Bruise Brothers, Jacob & Eli Blue, The Grimm Twins, DOA, Creative Control, The Harris Twins, Disciples of Destruction (anyone else remember that in TNA?). I mean other than being big and being twins, these guys never brought anything to the table. Automatic channel changers.

Link to comment
Share on other sites
J.T.

J.T.

Posted
Posted

The Harris Bros had to set some record for most gimmicks over the span of 6-7 years. Bruise Brothers, Jacob & Eli Blue, The Grimm Twins, DOA, Creative Control, The Harris Twins, Disciples of Destruction (anyone else remember that in TNA?). I mean other than being big and being twins, these guys never brought anything to the table. Automatic channel changers.

 

They have the record as far as teams go.  I think that Barry Darsow has the record for Singles and Overall gimmick changes.

Link to comment
Share on other sites
Rev Ray

Rev Ray

Posted
Posted

Ah, ECW memories of The Harris Brothers....

 

- I remember them having an around the building with the Head Hunters in Philly.  It was like the Foriegner version of Brody/Abby.  Fill my eyes with that double vision....

- I remember them have a six man brawl around the building teamed with Brian Lee against Dreamer and I think the Pitbulls

- I remember one of them throwing a plastic chair into the crowd at the ECW arena.... and us almost punching Mike who used to go to shows with us for trying to goad them to do it again.

Link to comment
Share on other sites
  • 2 weeks later...
Jingus

Jingus

Posted
Posted

Awesome, finally, yes: people I have in-ring experience with!  

 

The setting: summer of 2003 in Columbia, Tennessee.  It's not a small town, in fact it's a rather large and sprawling town, but it is rural and country as hell in its demeanor.  (This is the same town that the infamous New Jack/Gypsy Joe match happened in, though not the same building.)  I believe it says everything you need to know that James Storm came from Columbia, and it was essentially the place where he initially cut his teeth in the business... and he's a pretty good representative of the area.  

 

Tennessee indy promotions experienced a golden age like no other while TNA was in town, because it brought all kinds of talent into the area who could suddenly be booked pretty cheaply... because they'd moved there, hoping TNA would take off, and were stuck sitting on the couch with nothing to do except go get a quick payoff at the local indies.  By happy coincidence, I was working those local indies, and thus got to work with a metric fuckton of unbelievable talent.  

 

The local promoter I worked for in Columbia at the time, a fat preacher named Mickey, was frequently bringing in big names for one-shot deals.  One of my fondest memories was getting to watch and call two amazing matches that Jerry Lynn had with Chris Michaels in this building.  But on THIS particular occasion, Mickey had booked the Harris brothers (who were heels at the time) to wrestle the local babyface tag team, a couple of good ol' boys who wrestled in shirts and ties and called themselves Strictly Business.  Well, those guys had a bit of a reputation for no-shows at times, and on this night they (probably accurately) guessed that this match wasn't going to do them any favors, and that Mickey had put them in a stupid position because the Harrises sure as hell weren't gonna lay down and do an indy job, so it would've probably just been a case where the big stars squashed the shit out of the local boys and ended up hurting business and helping nobody, because the local boys were the ones coming back next week; not the stars.  Strictly Business no-showed.  

 

That left Mickey in a tight spot, since he'd booked the Harrises and promoted the match and probably spent a chunk of change between their payoff and advertising and everything.  That match had to happen, and there was only one other tag-team in the building that night.  That happened to be a couple of big gentle rednecks who put on black hoods and worked as the eeeeevil Death Wish tag team... along with their manager, one Herman Crane.  

 

That's me.  I was basically one big Jim Cornette ripoff, playing the whiny crybaby mama's boy who clearly couldn't whip cream with an outboard motor.  (Although I did have a gimmick that I was a lawyer, which was something, I debuted in a funny skit where another team known as Booty Call hired me to sue the promoter for unsafe working conditions.)  That crowd HATED me, in the way that only a Tennessee crowd can.  This building had the honor of being the only place I was ever attacked by a fan, when a crazy old granny tried to whip a steel chain into my face.  For real.  (I managed to block it, ended up having a blood blister that stayed for weeks, and I couldn't hit the old bitch so this was the one and only time I ever called a woman "Cunt" to her face.)

 

So, change of plans, switcheroo: the small-time audience will always be willing to treat any big star as a babyface, even if that star is currently a huge heel in their own big-time company.  Instead of the original nonsensical plan of booking the Harrises against the local babyfaces for no reason with no storyline, we changed it to Herman fucking something up and thus getting his tag-team forced to work twice in one night... and the second time, it was against the Harris brothers.  

 

I was freaking terrified.  I knew everything you guys know about those guys.  And I'd repeatedly seen them MURDERING some money-mark fools who were working as managers on the dark matches.  And then Mickey turns to me and says "Herman, how about you take the H-bomb?"  The only thing I can be proud of is that I did not piss myself.  And in fact I told Mickey no ("grumble grumble, you've never taken a bump, what do you know, grumble grumble stupid money-mark"), but then the booker Chris Michaels asked me to do it and assured me I'd be fine, and against my better judgement I said yes.  

 

We went out to the ring to the strains of John Carpenter's soundtrack from Assault On Precinct 13.  I didn't act scared; I was putting on a complicated act that Herman WAS terrified, but was trying to cover it up with evil blustering.  "Oh yeah, those big millionaires think they're so tough, now we're gonna show 'em how Columbians take care of business!" that kind of thing.  (I never shut up as a manager, to the point where some of the girls in the crowd would be leading chants trying to just make me stop talking.)  

 

The match ensued, and... it was an ordinary wrestling match.  Simple, professional, downright generic.  We did the standard shine-heat-comeback-finish formula, both Harrises sold for my guys, and everything went smoothly.  Except for one thing: me.  I botched a spot.  Of course.  I was supposed to trip one of them (truthfully I could never tell which was which) while they were running the ropes to start the heat.  But I grabbed him too early!  I was nervous and blew my cue, and grabbed him when my wrestler was trying to shoot him off the ropes.  

 

My hands (which, please remember, are slightly gnarled with cerebral palsy) were most likely trembling on Harris Twin's boot.  He looked down at me, I looked up at him, and I knew I fucked up, and he knew I fucked up, and he knew I knew.  He raised his other boot off the canvas, and I swallowed, and thought: "Yep, I really didn't expect to literally die because of a Nazi jackboot, but clearly that's what's gonna happen now."  And his foot came through the ropes like the eruption of a volcano and...

...tap.  He gave me the single sweetest worked stomp-directly-to-the-forehead I have ever experienced in my life.  I know it looked like he had just Goldberg-kicked me, I could feel the contact of his boot on my skin and heard the excited gasp of the crowd.  And I was so astonished to be alive that I forgot to sell!  I almost fucked it up AGAIN, right then and there!  A 300-pound biker had just kicked the effeminate manager in the head, and the manager was just standing there!  Thinking as fast as I could, epiphany: "Sandman selling!"  So I weebbled and wobbled back and forth drunkenly, like I had no idea what the hell just hit me, before slowly collapsing on my ass and holding my head and moaning in pain.  But I couldn't sell it TOO much, because now the guys were going back to the correct spot, and somehow I managed to make it believable that I could stagger back to the ring and this time correctly perform the trip.  

 

End of the match, the Harrises win, beat my guys clean.  Which was okay, we were heels.  But now MY spot was coming up.  I was supposed to jump up on the apron, screaming abuse at my enemies, and they'd pull me in over the top rope and give me their finish.  Once again, I remind you: I have cerebral palsy.  A mild case, but it's enough to throw off my balance and coordination so that many moves in wrestling are things that I simply cannot do.  Like, getting flipped over the top rope.  I'd never done that one before, because I was pretty much physically incapable of it (this led to a painful rope-in-the-face on one of my last nights in the business, when Jamie Dundee was trying to throw me over the top rope but I was trying to go through the middle and neither one of us got what we wanted).  But this night I had the fear of steroid nazis, which must've lent me wings, because I sure did clear that top rope when they grabbed me!  

 

Okay, the H-bomb.  They shoot you off the ropes, grab you, pick you up AS HIGH AS THESE FREAKISH TOWERS OF ARYAN SUPERIORITY CAN LIFT YOU, and then drop you like a skydiver onto the mat like SPLAT.  I'd seen them hurt people with this move, legit.  You can't imagine the fear.  

 

I ran, they lifted me high into the air... time seemed to stop for just one brief instant.  This building was a gymnasium, and at the peak of the move, I looked to the side.  I was dead-level with the basketball hoop.  For one instant, I saw what Michael Jordan sees.  

 

And then I felllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll..............................

 

....poof.  I barely even felt the landing.  Didn't hurt a bit.  Felt like bumping on a mattress.  I was so shocked that I left my legs sticking straight up in the air all cartoon-y, one of the twins had to literally push them down as a final comic denouement.  I did not move, I did not budge, I did not open my eyes.  Security guards carried me back to the heel locker room.  (Yes, the HEEL locker room, in Tennessee they're STILL separate in some places!)  The Harrises were laughing and joking and happy, and said: "Brother, we wish everybody would sell our finish exactly like you did!"  

 

 

THAT'S why the Harrises kept getting booked, year after year.  They were competent.  They did have a certain level of professionalism which you would never, ever know about if you hadn't actually been in the ring with them.  The shittiest wrestler in the WWE is still better than the best wrestler on some of these shittiest of indy shows.  They knew what to do, and how, and when.  They were professional wrestlers.  

  • Like 13
Link to comment
Share on other sites
  • 7 months later...
Matt D

Matt D

Posted
Posted

Ha, uh, oops. Thanks Phil.

 

And because my post started a page, I just want to say that not only are the Harris brothers terrible, but they're sort of terrible in the face of having three fairly different gimmicks. That to me is impressive. One of them had Dutch Mantell as a manager too. 

Link to comment
Share on other sites
 Share
Go to topic listing
×
×
  • Create New...