By Scott Bowden
April 1, 2004
The KFR Heat Lamp:
Scott Bowden serves up what’s hot in the business
The flight from hell: Stewardesses from the WWE’s infamous flight from hell are suing Ric Flair, Scott Hall and Dustin Rhodes for sexually harassing them during the trip home from WWE’s recent tour of Europe. (And you thought it was a rough jaunt back to the United States for Michael Hayes….) The most notable allegation isn’t that Hall (described in a newspaper account of the suit as “The Diamond Studd” — a Dusty Rhodes-conjured gimmick from more than 10 years ago in WCW) “licked the face” of an attendant. No, the women also contend that Flair was strutting around (ignoring the seat-belt sign), wearing nothing more than a “sequined cape.” (How’s that for a visual?)
More likely, Flair was wearing only his sequined robe — a crucial difference. Flair also allegedly propositioned one of the air divas to feel his crotch. Ladies, ladies, even if that’s true, what did you expect? After all, Flair is known as a kiss-stealin', wheelin’-dealin’, limousine-ridin’, jet-flyin’ son of a gun. (Granted, I don’t recall “crotch-pattin’” included in that catchphrase, but….) Besides, only a true son of a gun could get away with what the women allege…especially on a jet plane. (Well, only Flair and the pilots could get away with it. Whoo!)
Before Vince mandates further punishment on Flair, I suggest he review WWE’s employee manual and their policy on something like this. I mean, I gotta tell ya, I’ve worked in a lot of offices, and this kind of behavior on company flights is fairly commonplace. Hmmm…I wonder if the WCW Bruise Cruises in the early ’90 were as lively?
Side-Note Slam: When I was a young mark, my mom walked by the TV one Saturday morning and happened to see Jerry Lawler wearing a sequined cape. (Wait…you don’t think it was Lawler on that flight, do you? Nah.) She remarked: “Oh, my God, son, how can you cheer for that man? He’s wearing a cape.” (Even Superman couldn’t get away with wearing a cape in the South in those days.) Years later, she was equally as mortified to see Lawler, in full regalia, riding a soon-to-be-exploding oversized “bottle rocket” while shilling for a local fireworks company.
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WALKING TALL: The Rock and his PR people are so anxious to help get this “reimagining of the Buford Pusser legend” (never thought I’d be typing those words) over that they’ve done interviews with nearly everyone in the media in recent weeks — including Chris Ryall, editor of the Poop Shoot. Ryall, who will be stylin’, profilin’ and walkin’ that wedding aisle this weekend, closed the interview with the following question: “Is true that Scott Bowden drove you out of Memphis?” (Ryall was referring to the angle in which Jerry Lawler defeated the Rock, thanks to my interference, in a loser-leaves-town match years back in Memphis.) Upon hearing Ryall’s question, the Rock paused, smiled and fired back with the People’s Insult: “The only thing Bowden ever drove me to was the toilet.” Classic. (Hey, Rock, my review of the film comes out next week, but it will be hard for me to top one critique of the recent sneak preview in Los Angeles: “It’s based on the old ‘WALKING TALL’ movie, and, also, apparently, on ‘Road House.’” (No offense to Terry Funk, Patrick Swayze and my former acting teacher Red West.)
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The world’s greatest upset: Through much trial and error (e.g., those oversized suits) Triple H has uncovered the secret to getting himself over again: Put guys over, create new stars — i.e., be the team player you claim to be. I’ve never doubted his ability. I’ve never questioned his passion. I’ve never second-guessed his taste in women. (Oh, wait. Scratch that.) And, right now, Gotch help me, I don’t doubt his commitment to the company. But we’ll know soon enough if Triple H’s gift-wrapped jobs to Chris Benoit and Shelton Benjamin will lead to great things for those two, and, as a result, the company as a whole. If Triple H gets his win back from Shelton next week and goes on to regain the strap at the PPV, then we’ll all know we’ve been played by the Game. Again.
Trish Status: Now that’s she’s a conniving, bitch-from-hell heel, I must admit: I’ve never wanted her more. (I’m sure she’s thrilled.) Aw, who am I kidding, anyway? I’m going to die having rolled around with only one WWE diva: Jacquelyn, the former Ms. Texas.
Side-Note Slam: I recently saw an online ad for the “Best of Jacquelyn: The Ms. Texas Years.” I’m in a few of the segments, so I assume I’ll be receiving a royalty check any day now. One description on the tape that stands out: “A six-man tag with the Moondogs and Ms. Texas vs. Tommy Rich, Doug Gilbert and Scott Bowden. Bowden is a total coward.”
WWE 24/7: The recently announced on-demand WWE cable venture promises to unlock the McMahons’ vault containing more than 75,000 hours of old footage from the former Fed, the NWA/JCP/WCW and the AWA. What’s the big deal? Old wrestling is already on in my house 24/7. OK, I submit (tap). If Vince does this right, all I have to say is: There goes my mom’s hope of having another grandchild.
Four Horsemen DVD: If you’ve wanted to see the Four Horsemen make Dusty Rhodes squeal like a pig in a parking lot again — and in pristine digital quality, if you will — then WWE’s upcoming DVD featuring the most dastardly quintet to disgrace NWA/JCP rings is for you. While the recent Flair DVD was outstanding, wouldn’t it be great to have commentary from the Horsemen as an option during the angles and matches? Yeah, we’re talkin’ money, but, hey, wasn’t that what the Horsemen were all about? (I’ll bet Jim Crockett could come up with the money…in the form of balloon payments.) Besides, it shouldn’t be too hard to round up Arn, Tully, Barry, Lex, etc. — it’s not like they’re doing anything else. And if Sid’s softball games don’t conflict, he’d be in as well. It’s coming this fall. Note to Paul Roma fans (both of you): forget it.
Bobby Heenan’s book: Hmmm…somehow I received a postcard promoting the Brain’s new work. While I didn’t mind, I did wonder: Does Dave Meltzer sell his subscription lists? (Who’s your controller, Dave…Gene Okerlund?)
I’ve never met Heenan, but he’s easily one of the men I respect most in this business. And he’s a damn good storyteller as well. Admittedly, I have a soft sport in my heart for Heenan because he’s originally from nearby Beverly Hills. (Although Dave Letterman claims that the Brain is from “Indiana” of all places.)
LEGENDS OF WRESTLING SHOWDOWN video game: Acclaim claims that this version, featuring new legends like Sting and Randy Savage, will be the most realistic ever. Right. OK. So why is Dusty Rhodes doing a moonsault in the clip I saw? And Superstar Graham the pedigree? And Abdullah the Butcher doing anything but stab, choke and maim his opponent? Sigh. And then I clicked on one thumbnail image at GAMESPOT to find Curt Hennig vs. Eddie Gilbert…which is a little sad, really. The game’s been pushed back to a June 22 release, so maybe they’ll finally get it right by then. Nice touch: The “ShowDown” logo on one of the ringside aprons looks strangely familiar—WrestleMania, anyone? I can’t knock Acclaim too much: I never thought I’d own a video game with a crown-shaped-goatee-wearing Jerry Lawler, managed by Jimmy Hart (who’s wearing the old SuperKing costume nonetheless). Tip to Acclaim: Have the King pull the strap down during his comeback, and other signature stuff like that for the other boys, and then you will be over with the old-school marks. Adding Nick Bockwinkel wouldn’t hurt either — but you’d better have that small white towel hanging in the corner.
This week’s sign that the Apocalypse (Mike Boyette) is upon us: Dennis Knight, aka Mideon aka Naked Man, was recently given a WWE tryout match in Tampa. OK, OK, admittedly, I’m still bitter about Knight — then billed as Tex Slazenger — pulling down my Polo khakis and underwear on live Memphis TV. (I know, I know…the Naked Man…so ironic.) Good luck to Knight, a nice guy, and an avid watcher of old wrestling.
Brooke Hogan: After more than a year of speculation and buildup, it really looks like Hulk Hogan’s daughter, Brooke, apparently an amazing singer and performer, has a shot at becoming the next Britney Spears. (Of course, at this point in Spears’s career, that has to be a concern for Hogan.) I salute Dave Meltzer for dismissing Howard Stern’s comment that Brooke looks like “Hulk Hogan without the moustache.” (I wouldn’t feel so bad if I hadn’t jokingly said the same damn thing.) Seriously, though, Dave’s right: If the wrestling community is going to judge Brooke at all, it should be based on her own abilities and not on the past manipulations of her father. And if she wants to give me the big boot and a legdrop, that’d be fine, too. (I just know I’m going to die a slow, painful Texas Death one of these days.) Interesting rumor about Brooke: She was reportedly close to quitting the entertainment industry when Terry Funk spotted her on the docks one night and convinced her to give it another shot.
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PETA’s grudge battle against my old nemesis KFC: Blood. Wire fences. Crowded conditions. Drugged-induced physiques. No, it’s not a cage match at the sold-out Mid-South Coliseum. According to the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, it’s how Kentucky Fried Chicken allegedly does business. Ever since KFC threatened to sue me over KFR (which reaches just about everyone in their target market), I’ve marked out over their feud with the animal-rights organization. Warning: Be careful about downloading PETA’s undercover videos. I did watch one clip…and I couldn’t eat chicken for nearly the equivalent of Tommy Rich’s NWA World title reign. PETA supporters are currently displaying “bloodied” bucket mockups outside KFC franchises. (Seems harsh when you consider that Jim Crockett Promotions/WCW used to get so upset about all those pro-heel signs displayed by fan John Hitchcock and his front-row gang on TV.)
KFR MAILBAG
YELLOW…BACK
I received your telephone message that you put me over in your recent column. When I read it later that night, I kept waiting for that part about you putting me over. (Hey, how many trained seals can take Koko B. Ware’s BirdBuster?) Even the Undertaker couldn’t have buried me better. By the way, former Memphis jobber Mr. Clyde got married over the weekend. In typical fashion, my brother arrived after the ceremony.
--Kevin Lawler aka The Yellowjacket
North Memphis
Bowden: That’s a good point about you, trained seals and Koko. I feel like such a fool now. Apparently, you forget that you were so tentative about taking the BirdBuster that Ware dropped you straight on your head, nearly breaking your neck on live TV…the only time I think I’ve seen your dad show genuine concern for your well-being, as we all watched on the backstage monitor. (Your brother, meanwhile, shrugged and then walked across the street to Pizza Hut.)
So, Mr. Clyde made a woman tap, eh? Hmmm…did the minister announce the new couple as “Mr. and Mrs. Clyde”? Hope they have a good time on their honeymoon in Parts Unknown. For those who don’t know (i.e., nearly all of you reading this), Mr. Clyde was another alum of Kevin’s NWA/Neighborhood Wrestling Alliance who made it to the Small Show — he graduated from our living rooms and that old ring at a local Moose Lodge to the WMC-TV studios on Union Avenue in Memphis. (Then again, one could argue we had it better in the living rooms and at the Moose Lodge.)
DAVE BROWN’S FOUR -LETTER-WORD CAST
Did Dave Brown really curse you out? Love your Site. I was a fan of your work in Memphis.
--Rob
Bowden: I like Dave. I respect Dave. I was only having fun with Dave in my column last week. But yes, he did have a problem with me. You see, I grew up watching Dave so much that I nearly thought of him on the same level as my uncle Robert Campbell, who somehow tolerated the drunken atmosphere at the Coliseum to take me to the matches from 1979 to 1986 (or as soon as I got my driver’s license). The problem was, by the time I got into the business, Dave, a local weatherman, was ashamed to be in it. He hated any segment that was even remotely controversial or made him look bad, which was bound to happen in Memphis rasslin’.
Only three years removed from nearly giggling as Jerry Lawler made racist jokes about black wrestler King Cobra — and in a market like Memphis of all places — Dave would become infuriated when I said things like, “I’m happier than a drunken Indian on payday” and “retarded.” After the former, Dave told me backstage to “fucking knock it off.” Man, to hear Dave Brown cuss (and at me no less) was quite a shock. For the record, I did call Dave at one point and apologized for everything, though, admittedly, it was only out of respect.
One of the funniest moments of my would-be career: While watching one of my wrestlers (the aforementioned Tex Slazenger aka Dennis Knight aka Mideon aka the Naked Man) squash an opponent, I mimicked on old Jimmy Hart trick of propping my feet up on the ringside apron in relaxed fashion. Dave’s call: “Boy, look at Bowden over here with his feet propped up on the apron. This guy…I just love how Bowden becomes Tex’s manager after he wins the belt. You can almost hear Bowden approach a guy after he wins a title: ‘Hey, how about letting me become your manager?’” To which Lance Russell replies: “Yeah, and now Bowden claims to be a co-holder of the USWA championship with Tex?! To Bowden’s credit, I will say this, though: He does get involved in the matches to decide the outcome.” To Lance and Dave: I consider it an honor. You both were the best. (I don’t care what MID-ATLANTIC WRESTLING’s David Crockett and Bob Caudle say.)
SPOILED…ROTTEN
First off, thanks for posting my email in your column. It's nice to see that up there. But second off, why, oh why, do I read wrestling columns on Wednesday night. So often, I end up getting Thursday ruined for me. I gotta ask, as a lover of kayfabe yourself, why do you read the spoilers beforehand?
--Donlee
Bowden: Sorry for not kayfabing Kurt’s … angle (ahem) and the subsequent trade of Triple H back to RAW last week; however, WWE had plastered the SMACKDOWN! news on the home page of their Web site on Wednesday morning. (Really, though, the deciding factor to print WWE’s swerve on Thursday, the same day of the SMACKDOWN! broadcast, was because I had originally made myself look like an ass by questioning Triple H’s move to the other brand when I wrote my column last week on Tuesday afternoon. (My editor tipped me off after he read the spoilers.) Next time I’ll give you a Don-Jardine-like Spoiler Warning.)
MOONDOGGONE IT
i really like the story [on the Moondogs]. but there is just one problem: moondog rex’s real name is not Randy Culley; his name is Randy Colley. the reason i know this is because i am his son and i grew watching and hearing about most of the things you wrote about. thanks for passing on the memory of the old guys.
--Punnjamms
Bowden: So, Moondog Rex was a collie, eh? Always wondered about the breed of wrestling’s most fetching tag team. Oh, wait. Right. Colley. Seriously, though, thank you for the e-mail, and I appreciate you correcting me. Hope your dad is doing well. Always loved his work.
