By Scott Bowden
November 6, 2003
Dirty businessman!
Scott Bowden gives you the dirt on Dutch Mantel
I was flipping through THE STONE COLD TRUTH, the WWE-published account of Steve Austin’s life, and immediately turned to the chapter detailing his USWA stint in Memphis in the spring of 1991.
I was curious to read whether Austin would confirm a rumor about the origins of his working name. I had always heard that then-booker “Dirty” Dutch Mantel had given the rasslin’ rookie — then known under his real name Steve Williams — the moniker of “Steve Austin” to avoid confusion with the other wrestler using that name: Steve “Dr. Death” Williams.
Dr. Death, a former University of Oklahoma football player, had built a reputation in Bill Watts’s Mid-South territory in the mid-’80s before becoming an international star in Japan. (Ironically enough, Austin’s good buddy Jim Ross, who honed his announcing skills in Mid-South, was also very close with Dr. Death.)
According to the book, Mantel gave Austin five minutes to come up with a new handle or he’d do it for him. Hesitant to come up with something that perhaps Mantel would hate, Austin left his fate in the hands of his new booker — usually a precarious situation. Not this time. Little did Austin realize that his path to becoming one of the biggest stars in the business was starting right there in the cramped dressing-room area of the WMC-TV Studios on Union Avenue in Memphis. But he almost let it slither through his fingers. Never one to trust anybody, the Texas native balked when he initially heard Mantel’s suggestion of “Steve Austin.” The greenhorn had told Mantel that he was from Austin, Texas, so that was good enough for Mantel, himself a Texas native. (Throughout his career, Mantel billed himself as hailing from “Oil Trough, Texas.” Oddly enough, Mantel’s hometown doesn’t appear on most maps.)
Austin, who had been a fan of the ’70s TV show THE SIX MILLION DOLLAR MAN and the bionic-man character “Steve Austin,” balked at the suggestion. Mantel, who was probably hurriedly circulating around the dressing-room area communicating the layout of that morning’s live TV show, gave the blonde-haired muscleman another five minutes to come up with something better. Five minutes later, Steve Austin was born.
The young Austin also learned a valuable lesson: Don’t trust anybody for career advice in the business — unless his name is Dutch Mantel.
In a sense, it’s only fitting that Mantel was so instrumental in hatching the Rattlesnake. Mantel, who started under the name “Wayne Cowan” (which may or may not be his real name) before becoming “Chris Gallagher” for Memphis-/Nashville-area promoter Nick Gulas. As Dutch tells it: “Chris Gallagher starved to death, so I buried him with a full funeral and then ‘Dutch Mantel’ was born.” Former wrestler Buddy Fuller had the idea of the Dutch character, a rough-and-tumble, modern-day outlaw of sorts. Mantel certainly looked the part, with a dark mustache and beard and even darker eyes.
And then there was Dutch’s most notable feature: a hairy back that would make WWE’s A-Train envious.
In many ways, Mantel — “the Dirty Dutchman,” as Memphis announcer Lance Russell often referred to him — developed a character that was far ahead of its time. He set the standard for a worker like Austin, whose “Stone Cold” persona got over with fans initially as a tough-talking heel who gradually turned into an anti-hero type appreciated by the fans.
Dutch’s initial turn from heel to babyface in Memphis was classic. Dastardly Japanese heels Mr. Onita and Masa Fuchi, managed by veteran Tojo Yamamoto, were running roughshod over the area in 1981, leaving a trail of bloody babyfaces (Eddie Gilbert, Ricky Morton, Steve Keirn, Dundee, the Dream Machine, etc.) in their wake. One heated Monday night, the foreign heels were ganging up on Dundee and the Dream when suddenly, and without advance warning of a turn, Dutch made the save.
In an emotional interview with Lance Russell the following Saturday, Dutch, who I believe was a legit Vietnam veteran, spoke of serving his country. Mantel went on to explain that he saw the Japanese outnumbering two Americans. He then snapped when he noticed a little boy so shocked by the horror that the youngster dropped the American flag he had been waving in support of the babyfaces. When Dutch rushed the ring to attack Tojo, Onita and Fuchi, he was not merely making the save; he was defending the honor of the whole country. The fans now loved him.
Even after turning babyface, Mantel was often the consummate "tweener,” only concerned with titles and money, which added a nice touch of realism to the otherwise nutty Memphis scene. This may not sound like anything groundbreaking today because we’ve all seen that scenario a million times now. But back in Memphis in the early ’80s, the boys were almost always clearly defined as heels or babyfaces. While Dutch was usually a babyface, he’d turn ever-so-slightly to feud with established area heroes Jerry Lawler and Bill Dundee over the AWA Southern title and the NWA Mid-America title, respectively. Mantel’s blue-collar character often complained of being given the shaft by the establishment, in this case, the area promoters. Many hard-working fans in the South identified with that scenario, which is probably why Dutch was the only worker to feud with Lawler during the King’s prime babyface run and still receive about 40% of the fans’ cheers at the Mid-South Coliseum.
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NWA World champion Ric Flair appeared in the Memphis studio in August 1982 to sign a contract to wrestle the Southern champion at a later date. When new Mid-America champion Bill Dundee was being interviewed after the classic Lawler/Flair segment, Dutch interrupted, challenging fellow babyface Dundee for his new strap. Dutch’s reasoning: “Ric Flair’s gonna wrestle the Southern champion. But what if the Southern champion gets injured in a car wreck? The Mid-America champ will probably take his place. It’s like a card game and you gotta play your cards right.” Great stuff.
Despite the fact that Dutch had prevented manager Jimmy Hart from interfering in Dundee’s title-winning effort against Bobby Eaton, the champ rejects the Dutchman’s challenge. This infuriates Dutch because, as he sees it, “We won the belt. We won it. You didn’t win it. We won it. We’re co-holders of that Mid-America title.” When Dundee sarcastically offers him the opportunity to trade weeks wearing the strap, Mantel attacks him with a barrage of right hands on the studio floor. He may have been a bit unorthodox in his contract negotiations, but Mantel always got the match he wanted, and the fans respected him for it.
And if Dutch ever felt fans and foes alike were disrespectful, he’d pull “Shoo-Baby,” his bullwhip. Dutch made many a save with that bullwhip, leading to several gimmick matches like Bullwhip on a Pole — first man to climb a pole affixed to ring post and reach Shoo-Baby can use the whip on his opponent.
Mantel was always careful to take care of the boys when using the bullwhip; however, he often wasn’t extended that same courtesy. While Dutch was working for Bill Watts in 1985, black wrestler Ernie “the Big Cat” Ladd informed him that a bullwhip was the ultimate symbol of domination. Since Ladd was in tight with Watts, Dutch knew he’d made a big mistake showing up with the bullwhip — he was soon programmed against black babyfaces in the area, who would turn the tables and unleash decades of pent-up rage by whipping Dutch with his own whip. Those long trips on Louisiana’s dark, winding back roads were made even longer with Dutch nursing welts and cuts after being whipped.
As Dutch recently told the KAYFABEMEMORIES.COM Memphis message board:
“You wanna really know a depressing thought? Try this out. You head out on a 300-mile one-way trip knowing that at the end of the trip, somebody is going to take a bullwhip and beat the living hell outta you with it. Hey, that'll put a smile on your face. Well, I lasted about as long as I could take that ass-whipping I was getting every night and I finally headed out after about a 6-month stay. And when I left ... I felt a lot happier and much safer when I saw the sign ‘You are now leaving Louisiana.’”
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I first met Dutch in 1989, my freshman year in college. He was booking Memphis again, and had built up a good angle involving longtime area mid-carder King Cobra and Lawler, who was playing a racist heel. (Some would argue the role wasn’t a stretch for Lawler.) Cobra shocked Lawler and the approximately 3,000 fans in attendance by pinning the World Unified champion to win the title. As the crowd went berserk, Dutch walked out from the dressing-room area to observe his handiwork. My friend and I, two marks who thought we were smarter to the business than we really were, motioned Mantel to come over, and he obliged. I told him, “Good angle!” Dutch kayfabed me, acting like he had no idea what the hell I was talking about. (In hindsight, I’m surprised he didn’t grab his bullwhip.)
After several of my Memphis-related columns were published last year, Dutch e-mailed me. I reminded him of our first encounter years ago, and he shocked me by remembering it verbatim. He told me that he had even thought about that night several times since then and wondered who I was because “smarks” (smart marks) were rare in Memphis, even as late as ’89.
I think Dutch remembered me for the same reason he’s been so successful in the business: He pays attention; he notices things. He’s not too caught up in himself, or his character for that matter, to notice what’s going on around him. If those sound like qualities for a being a good booker, that’s because they are. Must be why Dutch is still one of the sharpest minds in the game today, a fact Austin recognizes in THE STONE COLD TRUTH. Sadly, Stephanie McMahon doesn’t see it that way, and would rather hire frustrated sitcom writers to book the WWE’s programming.
Dutch recently returned to the Nashville area — which, after so many years of performing there, has to be almost like a home away from Oil Trough, Texas — to assist with booking Jerry Jarrett’s NWA: TNA. As if stripping Vince Russo of booking power wasn’t enough of a reason alone, Dutch will bring some good ol’ fashioned logic back to Jarrett’s wrestling product. And if Mantel and the Jarretts see fit to keep Russo on as talent, I can only hope the former WCW World champion will taste Dutch’s bullwhip before too long.
