August 8, 2002
By Scott Bowden
A rocky career start!
Scott Bowden feuds with The Rock in Memphis
When I shook hands with newcomer Flex Kavana in the cramped dressing room of the Big One Expo Center in Memphis in 1996, little
did I realize I was meeting the man who would become arguably the biggest star in the history of the business. While many a young
worker had cut their teeth (among other things) learning the ring ropes of the business in Memphis, it had been some time since a
future major star had honed his craft in the territory. Enter Kavana (Dwayne Johnson) - the man who would become The Rock.
I grasped Kavana's hand ever-so-lightly, letting him know I was one of the boys. (A soft grip is kind of like a worked
handshake, a code of sorts.) He smiled, gave my hand a light touch and started asking questions about me. I was a little
surprised at his friendly demeanor since the word was that Kavana was a developmental guy, signed by the then-WWF, which meant
that he didn't have to count on his meager $70 payoffs, gimmick sales and the naïve kindness of arena rats to survive. He had to be counting the days until his time was served. But unlike a lot of the boys in the area at the time - Tommy Rich, Tony Falk and Bill Dundee - at least he had someplace to go.
I was a bit familiar with Kavana's background - his father was Rocky "Soul Man" Johnson, who feuded with a young Jerry Lawler over the NWA Southern heavyweight title in the mid-'70s, my earliest memories of Memphis wrestling. In a hot racial climate like Memphis, Rocky was over huge as a babyface, even though his promos were nothing special. Fans black and white - well, maybe not all the whites - rallied around the Soul Man after Lawler made racist comments on the air and whipped Johnson while he was being held by white wrestlers Dennis Condrey and Phil Hickerson (a hell of a tag-team in that day).
Rocky found his way to the WWF in the early '80s, feuding with the Magnificent Muraco over the Intercontinental title. He and partner Tony Atlas became the first black wrestlers to capture Federation gold when they won the tag straps from the Wild Samoans at a TV taping when manager Lou Albano's interference with a chair backfired. (A mistake made by several of us rasslin' managers over the years.)
Rocky even made it back to Memphis in the late '80s to avenge Lawler's head-shaving at the hands of Tommy Rich, Austin Idol and rookie manager Paul E. Dangerously (Heyman). His first night back, he subbed for no-show Bam Bam Bigelow, teaming with Dundee against Idol and Rich in front of nearly 9,000 fans - a testament to the incredible heat on the heels.
Kavana's grandfather, Peter Maivia, had been a star in Vince McMahon Sr.'s World Wide Wrestling Federation (WWWF) in the '70s - first as a babyface, then as a heel who turned on then-champ Bob Backlund. (Hmmm. Wonder if Vince Jr. considered going back to the WWWF after his grudge-match loss to the World Wildlife Fund over the initials "WWF"?)
I also knew that Kavana had played for the Miami Hurricanes squad that lost to Nebraska in the 1995 Orange Bowl, which earned the Cornhuskers the national championship. We talked in the makeshift dressing room of the Big One - a building reserved for flea markets on the weekends - discussing the upcoming 1996 football season. After a few minutes, I walked away thinking that he was one of the most genuinely nice guys I had ever met in the business. Too bad about that goofy name, though.
His first few months, Kavana was wasted in openers, teaming with the likes of journeyman wrestler Bart Sawyer, who never did quite perfect his Roddy Piper imitation - though not for a lack of trying during interviews. At that time, it was nearly impossible for a young guy - no matter his potential - to break past the clique of the USWA good ol' boys: Lawler, Brian Christopher Lawler, Rich, Doug Gilbert, Dundee and PG-13. The thinking then was that it wasn't good business to push the developmental guys because it wasn't known how long they'd be around. And obviously Reggie B. Fine wasn't going anywhere.
In the days before he got things cooking, Kavana's ring entrance was limited to him walking out in cheesy sunglasses - always grinning from ear to ear - as Foreigner's "Double Vision" played over the sound system. Not that you could tell what song it was; believe it or not, the flea-market facility didn't have the best sound system or acoustics. Things had gotten so bad at that point, I believe, that the promotion was holding a microphone to an old ghetto blaster to pipe in the entrance music. Talk about rock bottom.
A smile rarely left Kavana's face. Unless he was selling an opponent's offense, he was usually grinning in the ring. Which means that during most of his TV squashes against job guys, his white teeth never left the screen. Probably because he knew it would be any day now that WWE talent guru Pat Patterson would be calling him up from the big leagues.
Toward the end of a TV taping at the WMC-TV studio, Lawler and I were discussing a head-shaving angle with former backyard wrestler Tony Williams, when Kavana lightly knocked on the door. "Um, Jerry, I hate to interrupt," he said quietly, "but I was just wondering if you were going to need me for anything else today?" Slightly taken aback by Kavana's manners, Lawler smiled and dismissed him. "Nice kid," Lawler said with a smirk, implying that a good attitude like that wouldn't carry Kavana far in this business.
After six weeks or so, Kavana and Sawyer got a push, capturing the USWA tag titles and beginning a feud with Lawler and Dundee - managed by me. Lawler and Dundee were a legendary team of the past, holding the area's AWA Southern tag titles several times in the '70s, highlighted by the Tupelo concession-stand brawl with heels Larry Latham (the future Moon Dog Spot) and the King's cousin Wayne Farris (the eventual Honky Tonk Man).
During our interview to promote the first match between the two teams, I compared Lawler and Dundee to the Chicago Bulls - but with even more pure athleticism than the NBA championship dynasty. (Manager Jim Cornette was obviously an influence on me.) Throughout the promo, I referred to Sawyer and Kavana as "Bart Simpson" and "Copa Cabana" before turning things over to Lawler and Dundee, at one time two of the best interviews in the business.
Thanks to our strong promos, the gate receipts jumped by about $10 for the first bout. Despite the limited WWF affiliation, the promotion was struggling, with fan support down to the same number of hardcore marks every week. Sad to see. Even with a head-shaving stipulation for one of the bouts - which used to pop the Memphis crowds in the '70s and '80s - the feud didn't draw. In those days, The Rock had flowing curly hair, which he referred to as his "pretty Polynesian locks." I don't think he was too thrilled when I threatened to cut his "nappy mane."
The King and the Superstar traded the tag titles with Sawyer and Kavana a few times, usually with my interference being the deciding factor one way or the other. Even though he was an ex-champion, things weren't all bad for Kavana - his call from the WWF had come. In his first book, Mick Foley described working in Memphis as like being in the Marines - quite a statement coming from a guy who loves the business like Cactus Jack. If that's the case, one of the boys getting the call from Patterson must have been like a wartime soldier learning he was going home.
In traditional territory fashion of old, Kavana was booked to exit with a loss in a loser-leaves-town match. Since Patterson's call came a little earlier than expected, there was no time to effectively build up such a bout - though with Randy Hales booking, that probably wouldn't have happened anyway. Instead, during the next TV taping in Memphis, Lawler and Kavana got into an argument on the air, with me cowering behind the King. Lawler agreed to put his Unified World title - which was rarely defended outside of Tennessee, Arkansas and Kentucky - against Kavana leaving the area.
With TV time dwindling, Lawler and Kavana rushed through a bout, with me interfering the whole way, choking and slapping the future People's Champ. Following a ref bump - a staple of a Lawler finish - I distracted Kavana long enough for the King to secure a pin. I can only imagine the anguish Kavana must have felt knowing he'd likely never again work in front of his dozens - and DOZENS - of fans at the flea market.
Kavana, of course, went on to become The Rock, seven-time WWF(E) champion and, more important, a movie star enjoying celebrity never before seen by a wrestler.
One of my fellow struggling-actor friends here in Los Angeles spotted The Rock at a gym last year and struck up a conversation. "Hey, I heard Scott Bowden helped Jerry Lawler run you out of Memphis," he said jokingly. The Rock flashed that same big grin and said, "Yeah. And thank God that he did."
SHOOT-BACK HERE! |
ARCHIVES
