by Ted DiBiase
10
GAINING EXPERIENCE IN THE BUSINESS
In the early summer of 1976, I returned to the Amarillo area to repair my marriage. Prior to my return, I called Terry and told him I was coming back. My good friend and mentor was now the NWA World Champion. He was wrestling all over the country and the world. The NWA acknowledged one true world champion, and that person was recognized throughout all the various territories and the world. It was an honor to know that my mentor was indeed the champion of all champions.
Wrestling for All-Japan Pro Wrestling.
TERRY FUNK:
Teddy is a great kid. Though he isn’t a kid anymore, I will always call him kid. He has a wonderful heart. In the ring, he always got his share, and always gave his share to his opponent. He always wanted to do what was best for the promotion, not himself. His heart was always in the right place. His father had a lot to do with his upbringing. Ted’s father was my mentor and I was Teddy’s. I consider it an honor to be called Teddy’s mentor.
As the champion, Terry wrestled in every territory—Florida, Kansas City, Amarillo. The champion wrestled as a heel wherever he went, except in his home territory, so Terry was a babyface when he came home to Amarillo. The champion would usually wrestle the top babyface in every territory. He might wrestle an hour every night.
Terry told me that things had changed since my last stint in Amarillo. Dory Funk Sr. was no longer the promoter. He died when I was in college. Dory Jr. and Terry were wrestling outside the territory, so the promotional duties were left to their uncle, Herman Gust. He was a great guy, but didn’t have the knowledge to properly run a wrestling promotion.
I noticed a major difference between the Amarillo territory and the Mid-South promotion. It wasn’t run or organized well. Things were much smoother in the Mid-South. Business was also not as good in Amarillo. I believe it had a lot to do with Terry and Dory Jr. not being there to handle the promotions.
A few weeks after I settled in with a now pregnant Jaynet, Terry came home for a few days. We chatted and he asked me if I was interested in wrestling overseas. I jumped at the opportunity. In August of 1976, I went on a five-week tour with Giant Baba’s All-Japan Pro Wrestling promotion. I was there with some other American wrestlers, including the legendary Bobo Brazil. He was the senior American on the tour. Other workers on the trip were Big Red, Tank Patten, and the “Wolfman” Willie Farkus.
I was guaranteed a thousand dollars a week. They paid for my airfare, hotel room, and transportation. The only thing I had to pay for was food. Upon arrival, they gave me a two-hundred-dollar advance. The dollar was strong: three hundred yen to the dollar—sixty thousand yen was equivalent to two hundred dollars.
Wrestling in Japan was very different from wrestling in the States. Whereas in the States I had to drive everywhere, with All-Japan the only thing I had to do was hop on the bus. All-Japan had two nice Greyhound-type buses—one for the foreigners and one for the Japanese guys. The buses took us everywhere. I also traveled by ferry and bullet train—a train that goes two hundred miles per hour.
My first trip to Japan was unbelievable. I was amazed by how clean the cities were. Tokyo, the most populated city in the world, sparkles. Unlike our major cities, there isn’t any graffiti on the walls or trash littering the streets. The people take pride in their communities and treat them with the utmost care and respect. They also have a lot of respect for older people and people with authority.
It was the first time in my life traveling outside the United States. Besides my admiration for the Japanese people, I took a liking to their food and spirits. I wasn’t a sushi lover at first, but now I really enjoy it. Some of my other favorites were beef and chicken curry rice, Korean barbecue, and spaghetti with meat sauce. It wasn’t like Grandma’s, but it was okay.
Here I am with some of my youngest fans.
I loved the beer that was easily available from vending machines. I also liked sake.
One day riding on the bullet train, out of boredom, Bobo Brazil taught me how to play spades. As we were playing, Bobo broke out this giant bottle of sake. Bobo asked, “Hey, kid, you want some sake?”
“Sure.”
For the remainder of the trip, Bobo and I were sipping sake. I didn’t think anything of it, and then all of a sudden the wine just started to sneak up on me. By the time we arrived at our destination, I was drunk.
For most of my young wrestling career, I was a babyface. In Japan, every worker who isn’t Japanese is called gaijin and works as a heel. The first night in Japan was reserved for television tapings. I was scheduled to wrestle in a tag-team match with my partner, Bobo Brazil. As a kid, I watched Bobo Brazil wrestle. He stood at about six-four and weighed about 280 pounds. He was a great man and was very popular with the fans in the States.
As we waited in the dressing room, I asked Bobo, “Since I have never been over here before, is there anything I need to know or do?” In wrestling, it seems like everything is a trial by fire. Nobody tells you anything. You just have to go out there and experience it for yourself. Bobo said, “Kid, just do what I do. Follow my lead.”
About ten minutes before our match, someone brought Bobo a bucket of water. He stuck his head in it, then dumped the water all over his body. Bobo’s hair was all messed up and he was soaking wet.
As we made our way to the ring, Bobo turned into this madman. He started pounding his chest and making loud and scary sounds. The fans scattered. Although Bobo wanted me to follow his lead, I didn’t feel I could, so I just walked behind him.
It was customary for the flower girls to give each wrestler a big bouquet of flowers and then bow to them as they got into the ring. We both accepted our bouquet. But all of a sudden, Bobo started eating his flowers and spitting them out. Though Bobo had told me to “follow his lead,” there was no way I was going to eat the flowers. Out of the corner of my eye I saw some of the Americans standing out in front of the dressing room. They were all standing out there laughing their butts off. The rib was on me. It was my first match in Japan and Bobo had set me up real good.
Another thing about Japan that I noticed was how different it was. There was no cursing or screaming. The Japanese fans just sit there and watch the match very quietly. You would get light applause only after a high spot or special move.
The wrestling style in Japan is very different from the United States. It is more of a rugged style and the workers are very stiff. The matches were half-shoots and no one gave any wrestler anything. You had to earn the respect of the wrestlers and the fans.
On the tour, I wrestled my old friend from my college days in the Amarillo territory, Jumbo Tsuruta. We had a great match in front of a packed crowd. It was very technical. We had a great story, battled back and forth, and had a great contest. That match helped me earn respect among the Japanese wrestlers.
After five weeks in Japan and another five thousand dollars, I was ready to come home to see Jaynet.
When I got back to the States, I wrestled a couple of months in the Amarillo territory. Because of my friendship with Harley, I got connected with Bob Geigel and Pat O’Connor in the Kansas City territory. They offered me an opportunity to wrestle, and I took them up on it.
I wrestled in Kansas City, also known as the Central States territory, from the winter of 1976 to August of 1977. Harley Race was one of the owners of the Central States promotion, along with Bob Geigel and Pat O’Connor, both of whom I befriended. My father had been very good friends with all three.
I bunked with the boys, including “Bulldog” Bob Brown. Bob was originally from Canada and spent ten years wrestling in the Central States territory. He was a heck of a nice guy and we had lots of good times together. I also bunked a few times with Pat O’Connor and Harley Race. Three things about Harley will always stand out: he was a great wrestler, an awesome friend and person, and someone who could drink lots of beer.
HARLEY RACE:
One night after a show in San Angelo, I got Teddy a “little und
er the weather.” The next morning we had to fly out of Amarillo to Kansas City for television. When we arrived at the hotel early that morning in Amarillo, I called Bob Geigel and told him that Teddy might not be there for television and it was my fault. Little did I know, Teddy somehow managed that morning to catch a flight to Kansas City and made the television tapings.
Kansas City was a great learning experience for me. My first angle was with Bruiser Bob Sweetan. Bob was a very good wrestler. He was a major heel, and his style reminded me a lot of my dad’s. We had many good matches together. I also managed to capture the Central States heavyweight title from Sgt. Slaughter.
BOB GEIGEL:
Teddy was a very good-looking kid and enjoyed life. He was full of energy and enthusiasm. When he was with Murdoch, the two of them tore up the town. They were a wild twosome. But he was a great wrestler. I wanted Teddy in Kansas City for many reasons, but three stand out: (1) he had lots of TV exposure; (2) he was a good-looking young guy with lots of ring savvy; and (3) he just had a lot of natural ability. He learned fast and never had any bad matches. When Teddy was in the ring, he was always exciting. He was a benefit to the territory.
Since Jaynet was three months pregnant, I was very concerned about her living in Amarillo and convinced her to move to Kansas City. In March of 1977, we moved into a nice two-bedroom apartment. But she was unhappy. Since she was pregnant and we were still trying to work on our marriage, I decided to move back to Amarillo with her in August of 1977. Once again, I went to work with the Amarillo territory.
On September 10, 1977, my son was born. We named him Michael Wills, Michael after my father and Wills after my biological father. At twenty-three years old, I was a proud father. I was at Jaynet’s side throughout the delivery. To see the birth of my own flesh and blood was truly a blessing. With both of our families in attendance, we later baptized Michael in the Catholic Church, with Terry and Vicki Funk as his godparents.
Harley Race was now the new NWA World Heavyweight Champion. Harley was making his rounds in the Amarillo territory. I was being pushed as the top babyface in the territory, and as such, I was granted a title shot. To build up my match, I went to a live TV interview with Michael in my arms. The announcer asked me, “Ted, why do you want to be the Heavyweight Champion?”
Looking down at Michael I replied, “There are lots of reasons why I want to be the Heavyweight Champion, but I am holding the most important—”
“And who is that you’re holding?”
“This is my son, Michael. He is my father’s namesake. I want to be the father to him that ‘Iron’ Mike was to me!” It was straight from my heart. It also struck a chord with the crowd—the event sold out.
Harley and I wrestled to a one-hour time-limit draw. We put on one great match. It was tit for tat and we kept the fans on the edge of their seats for the entire hour. I went on to wrestle him at every major town in the territory. It was a great learning experience for me. I was thankful that Harley was such a great person who did whatever he could to make me look good in the ring.
Wrestling in the Amarillo territory gave me an opportunity to be closer to Jaynet and Michael. I was happy to be home and grateful to get the chance to be back with some of the boys—Ricky Romero, Ervin Smith, Johnny Weaver, Rip Hawk, Merced Solis, and Swede Hanson. Terry and Dory Funk Jr. were also back and Art Neilson became the booker. Art had great ring psychology and knew how to book, so the promotion started to improve.
But the territory was every bit as demanding as the Mid-South region. People need to understand that although we were celebrities, and were seen on TV, the life was extremely difficult. Here is a typical week: Saturday morning was reserved for local television taping in Amarillo; immediately after TV, I would drive 350 miles to either Pueblo or Colorado Springs to wrestle Saturday night; after the match, I would drive 350 miles to Albuquerque; I would wrestle in Albuquerque and drive back to Amarillo Sunday evening—900 miles in two days; Monday morning I would drive 260 miles to Abilene for an evening match; that evening I would drive 100 miles to Odessa; after wrestling that night in Odessa, I would drive another 100 miles to San Angelo; after that Wednesday evening match, I’d drive 300 miles back to Amarillo; Thursday night was reserved for wrestling locally in Amarillo; and on Friday, I would drive 100 miles to Lubbock for a Friday evening match. When it was over, I would drive back to Amarillo, catch a few hours of sleep, and then begin the whole routine all over again with Saturday morning television tapings.
Merced Solis was my former teammate at West Texas State University. He was a tight end and had been drafted by the Kansas City Chiefs. He was cut in training camp but later played in the Canadian Football League. He didn’t like it there, so he decided to try professional wrestling. Merced and I would eventually become Western States Tag Team Champions. When he went to World Wrestling Federation, he became known as Tito Santana.
I also teamed with Ervin Smith. He was a great athlete and amateur wrestler, and he even played football at the University of Tampa. When Ervin first broke into the business, he worked in Florida. He made decent money and the trips were short. He was home every night. They had spoiled him. When he came to Amarillo, Ervin was overwhelmed by the long trips. The three-hundred-plus-mile trips were too much for him. When he left the Amarillo territory, he quit wrestling.
Ervin was a great guy but he had a temper. One night in San Angelo, we were in a tag match against Brute Bernard and the “Angel” Frank Morrell. Those two guys were some of the most repulsive heels around—they were the two ugliest heels in the territory. During the course of the match, the four of us were fighting outside of the ring. Back then, the only thing separating the fans from the wrestlers was a thin piece of rope. The rope was attached to a pole with a steel base.
All of a sudden, Brute picked up a pole and went to hit Ervin in the stomach. As Brute came down with the pole, one of the fans interfered and disrupted Brute’s motion. The fan was actually trying to help Ervin, but instead the tugging on the rope caused the base to swing upright. The steel base went right across Ervin’s eyelid, slicing it wide open.
Ervin’s quick temper was now in full bloom. Sensing it, I dove down on Ervin and shoved him under the ring. I lay on top of him and tried to calm him down. As I was keeping him down with my body, I had to keep my hands on my head, because he was pounding me as he tried to get up. Ervin was screaming, “Let me go. I am going to kill that son of a bitch.” He finally calmed down and we finished the match. We ended up laughing about it over a case of beer that night as we drove back to Amarillo.
We had television interviews the next day. Ervin was a good wrestler but he got very uptight when being interviewed. During the interview, he pointed to his stitched eye and said, “You see this, this just …” He stumbled with what to say. Finally he said, “This just fuckin’ pisses me off!” He walked off the set, slamming the door on the way out. Everybody busted out laughing.
Ervin had a very nice Grand Prix. For us wrestlers, a good radio and sound system was very important. So he got a special sound system installed. They didn’t install it properly, so he took the car back in. After he bickered with the manager, they finally fixed the problem. That night, I rode with Ervin to Lubbock. My younger brother, John, had come to visit, so he came along for the ride.
After our match at the Coliseum in Lubbock, we stopped at a nearby convenience store and loaded up the cooler with a case of beer. John was sitting in the backseat next to the cooler, so he was designated as the bartender. As soon as we left the parking lot, Ervin turned on the radio. It was dead. He tried adjusting the controls and lightly tapped the dash, but nothing. Out of the blue, Ervin yelled out in frustration and punched his windshield with his right hand. The windshield shattered. You should have seen the look on my brother’s face.
Not a word was spoken for what seemed like an eternity as we headed down the road. I could barely see out of the windshield, so I asked Ervin, “Can you see okay?” He finally cracked a smile and sai
d, “Give me a beer.”
JOHN DIBIASE:
When Teddy got in the wrestling business, I would travel as much as I could with him. I always looked up to him. He was a great athlete and I wanted to emulate him on the football field. He was also an excellent wrestler. I respected him and he was a role model for me.
I was hired to make an appearance in the movie Paradise Alley. The star was Sylvester Stallone. The plot involved three Italian brothers living in Hell’s Kitchen, New York, during the 1940s. Each brother used his personality to help the others in their wrestling careers.
Terry Funk was also featured in the movie as the maniacal Frankie the Thumper. Besides myself, there were over a dozen guys there, including Dick Murdoch, Bob Roop, Gene Kiniski, Ray Stevens, Dory Funk Jr., and Al Perez, to name a few. I had a part in only one scene in the entire movie, the montage. If you blinked, you would miss me. Stallone was a nice guy and treated me very well. Sly said, “I believe that these professional wrestlers are the best improvisational actors in the business.”
To be in the movie, I had to get a Screen Actors Guild card and was paid five hundred dollars a day, plus room and board. It was the easiest fifteen hundred dollars I ever made. I also received royalties from the movie. For fifteen years or so, I received a nominal check in my mailbox. I would spend the fifteen or twenty dollars on toys for my kids.
Mike London was the promoter in Albuquerque. He was a tough guy with his trademark eyebrows, goatee, and mustache. He simply looked like the devil. He was also an alcoholic. One night, I was in the main event wrestling Harley Race for the NWA world heavyweight title. Mike stood in the center of the ring and called for the microphone so he could introduce the contestants. He introduced me to a sold-out crowd. Then it was time for Mike to introduce Harley. “His opponent, weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds from Kansas City, ladies and gentlemen, your NWA World Heavyweight Champion …” He had forgotten Harley’s name. Mike put his hand over the microphone, looked over at Harley, and said, “What’s your name?”