By Scott Bowden
April 21, 2005
Dream weaver: Dusty Rhodes goes on the offensive—in more ways than one—with his new bio. Read Scott Bowden’s review of DUSTY: REFLECTIONS OF AN AMERICAN DREAM.
During my days as a young mark in the Memphis area, I would venture down to Terry’s Discount Drugs on Stage Road in Bartlett to check the latest Apter mags for a picture or story on my hero Jerry Lawler. But despite his growing friendship with Apter in the late ’70s, it was rare to find the King, leaving me to become more familiar with stars like Andre the Giant, Bob Backlund, Bruno Sammartino, Superstar Graham, Mil Mascaras, and, of course, perennial cover-boy “The American Dream” Dusty Rhodes.
The Apter mags made me a fan of Dusty, as the Stanley Weston staff’s over-the-top, emotional accounts of the American Dream’s struggles to go from ditch digger to World champion could bring a tear to a glass eye. (Sure, the articles and interviews were fabricated for the most part, but that’s just nitpicking, isn’t it?)
Because Dusty’s amazing charisma had him headlining shows everywhere from Florida to Atlanta to New York City, he was a dream come true for Apter. With his bleached-blonde—and often blood-soaked—curly locks, Dusty’s picture on the cover made it a guaranteed big seller.
Years later, the Meltzer sheet made me despise Dusty Rhodes, with the WRESTLING OBSERVER’S businesslike (and, for most part, accurate) accounts of the Dream’s ego-feeding booking style helping lead to the demise of the last great kayfabe-style national wrestling promotion: Jim Crockett’s Mid-Atlantic/NWA/WCW group on Ted Turner’s SuperStation.
No wonder the Dream hates the sheet writers—not necessarily because they exposed the business; rather, they exposed him. From reading his book, I get the feeling that Dusty looked at it as giving away his greatest secret. Like all his longtime fans whom were smartened up by THE OBSERVER would say, “So that’s how the fat bastard did it all these years. And here we thought it was his artery-clogged yet determined heart that led him out of the ditch with T.C. Lee and into the ring with NWA kingpin Harley Race.”
Personally, I never felt like I had been deceived for years when I finally started learning about the inner workings of the business. If anything, it made me a bigger fan, if that’s possible. My biggest problem with Rhodes was his own self-push to the point of absurdity. Should he have still been a major star in 1985 and ’86? Absolutely. Should he have been dethroning Ric Flair for the World title? Probably not. Sure, hardcore wrestling fans identified with the master of the working man’s rap, but casual fans had to view Dusty as a joke when compared to the WWF’s Hulk Hogan. And, really, Dusty booked himself to beat Flair twice for the belt—at Starrcade ’85 and at the Greensboro Great American Bash, although the former was overturned because of the infamous “Dusty Finish.”
I found it amusing that in his book Rhodes denies responsibility for his trademark finish, which saw one referee (usually Tommy Young) knocked unconscious to the floor with a bump, while a second ref counts the pinfall on the champ, swerving the people into believing the belt had just changed hands. The title win is then promptly overturned by the original ref, who regained his bearings just in time to see one of the competitors being tossed over the top rope, an automatic disqualification. To make matters worse, sometimes the overturned decision wasn’t announced to the live crowd, so they left the arena thinking there was a new champion. The following week on cable TV, Flair would walk out with the belt, with no mention of a controversial finish at the local arena.
The Dream’s response to those who criticized him for the Dusty Finish: “Holy dippity dogshit…the Dusty Finish is without a doubt the biggest scam in our industry. The phrase was created by sheet writers and picked up by the guys in the business who read them. Sure, I may have brought it to prominence by showing in on TV in the ’80s, but my finish? That fucking finish was around a lot longer before I was booking. If the swerve is what makes it a Dusty Finish, then I guess the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor was a Dusty Finish. George Washington crossing the Delaware to surprise the Hessians, that was a Dusty Finish.” (He goes on to compare the Trojan wooden horse, and Eve taking a bite out of an apple to the Dusty Finish.)
Huh?
I suppose you have to credit Big Dust for even acknowledging the Dusty Finish, but that’s a lame explanation. He may not have been the originator of that ridiculous, illogical, near-riot-inciting finish, but he sure as hell abused it more than any other booker in history. It wouldn’t be so bad on spot shows; however, we’re talking major events like Starrcade ’85 and ’87, the latter denying the Road Warriors their long-awaited World tag title win in their “hometown” of Chicago. When Tommy Young reversed the decision and raised Arn Anderson’s limp arm in victory, it killed Chicago as a major draw for JCP, despite Flair regaining Big Goldy from Ron Garvin (another terrible choice as champ…even for the interim) later that evening. On the same card, Dusty defeated rising young superstar Lex Luger for the U.S. title with a DDT on a chair.
In one night, Dusty and JCP managed to piss off Chicago fans, while also earning the wrath of Greensboro marks, who were angered about Crockett’s decision to move Starrcade out of their market. I believe Dusty and Crockett thought that moving the event out of the South and into a major market like Chicago would strengthen their image as a major national promotion.
If his book is any indication, Dusty to this day lives in denial about some of his booking decisions leading to the fall of JCP: “That’s just bullshit. The fall of Jim Crockett Promotions … doesn’t lie on my shoulders. Small thinking on their part was what cost them in the long run.”
Really, Dusty? You mean like booking huge stadiums across the country, headlined by a co-bill of wrestling and country-music concerts as part of the Great American Bash tour? The Liberty Bowl in Memphis drew about 1,000 people in a 65,000 seat venue on the 4th of July—an event that likely would have done well in the Mid-South Coliseum with much lower ticket prices. Headlining that Great American Bash card in Memphis: Nikita Koloff—still a heel—challenging against heel champ Ric Flair. Memphis fans, especially in 1986, liked their rasslin’ with a clear-cut heel vs. a clean-cut babyface. Even cities that JCP usually did good business in didn’t support the Bash tour, e.g., Philadelphia. The most successful Bash that year was Greensboro, which saw Dusty defeat Flair for the title.
Most close to the situation agree that Dusty and Crockett may have thought a little too big, especially when it came to spending. Dusty defends this by pointing out that everyone was spending a lot of money—not just him. He sizes up the JCP parking lot at the time: “It was an auto collector’s wet dream, from Magnum’s Porsche to his white Harley to Flair’s Mercedes to my Mercedes to the different trucks. All the time that I was there, there was money and booze, enough of everything to go around for everybody.”
To his credit, Dusty had the Midas touch for a while with his booking of the Four Horsemen as the ultimate wrestling gang. He also helped orchestrate such great feuds as Magnum T.A. vs. Nikita Koloff, and the Rock ‘n’ Roll Express vs. the Midnight Express.
And in his defense, the loss of Magnum in 1986 really hurt Rhodes and JCP. Magnum had been pushed as Dusty’s sidekick, a tough-talking heartthrob who appealed to males and females, young and old. When Magnum wrapped his Porsche around a telephone pole, suffering career-ending injuries, Dusty’s long-term booking plans ended, too. He had been grooming Magnum for the top babyface spot (that is, when Dusty was ready to give it up), including a run with the NWA World title.
Magnum had been doing strong business with Nikita Koloff, billed as the nephew of the legendary Ivan Koloff. With Starrcade ’86 coming up in the months after Magnum’s accident, Dusty pulled a gamble that turned out to be genius: He turned Nikita babyface, portraying him as a man who had seen the light after his rival, Magnum, went down. The fans immediately went crazy for the Russian Nightmare, with chants of “Ni-Kita, Ni-Kita!” the rule at house shows. Of course, Dusty and Nikita, the Super Powers, went on to win the Crockett Cup tag tourney in 1987.
The Dream’s book jumps around quite a bit; however, it is thorough in that he addresses everything from his run with Superstar Graham in the WWWF to the story behind the Baby Doll/Larry Zbyszko blackmail angle to his polka-dot-wearing days as the Common Man in the WWF after WCW was sold to Ted Turner and he was subsequently fired. Again, I have to say it’s humorous reading Dusty’s perception of things. He claims that Vince didn’t force him to wear polka dots and perform those humiliating skits as a butcher (“You can beat my prices, but you can’t beat my meat!”), a garbage man and a plumber. In fact, he claims the plumber skit was a tribute of sorts to his father.
Of course, Dusty also claims that Hulk Hogan merely took over his spot in the former Fed and ripped off his interview style from the Dream. In way, I’d almost be disappointed otherwise. After all, that’s just Dusty being Dusty. If anything, it makes for entertaining reading. At least the Dusty-isms throughout the book aren’t blatant, intelligence-insulting lies like those found throughout Hogan’s bio.
One of the most telling ways you can judge a man is by the opinion of his peers. Nearly all, from Terry Funk to Harley Race to Superstar Graham, have nothing but glowing things to say about him. Even Ric Flair, who has reason to be bitter over how he was booked to look like a paper champ in JCP, in his bio put Rhodes over despite their differences. Both Race and Flair have marveled that the Dream could consistently go an hour without missing a beat. Funk’s bio praised the former lisping linebacker from West Texas State for making it on his own in the business despite his physical limitations. Even with his faults, Dusty does command respect.
As for the book itself, it’s an ambitious effort at 253 pages, with the same small type
in Funk’s bio. (Both were published by Sports Publishing LLC, and both can be purchased through Amazon.com and highspots.com.) Like most longtime fans, I’d rather have had more information on his glory days in Florida and Georgia, and less on his kids. I didn’t mind the stuff about Dustin and his wife, Michelle, but I could have gone without details of his kids Cody’s and Teil’s quest to become famous actors in Hollywood.
Chapter 15, in which Dusty books his The Dream Card (“Starrcade Prime,” headlined
naturally by Dusty vs. Harley Race for the NWA title) is a waste as well, as is the
following chapter with letters from fans as part of a competition to determine Dusty’s
biggest fan. (Basically, they all tell him how great he is.)
Still, Dusty’s road stories and his rather poignant feelings regarding the late Dick Murdoch are wonderful to read. And the apparent soft spot in his heart for the JCP years is shared by many fans, including me. It was nice to read about those days, but, really, that era could have been a book in itself, and Dusty only scratches the surface.
The bottom line: The Dusty bio is entertaining for a while but it doesn’t deliver as you’d hope in the end. Must be another Dusty Finish.
By the way: I wanted to mention that since winning the title, John Cena’s character is really starting to take off to a whole new level. His first promo as champ on SMACKDOWN! was nearly perfect, and the live crowd ate it up.
The new spinner belt is a snub at tradition, but that’s exactly what his character is all about, much like Steve Austin did with his smoking skull belt. When we look back at Cena’s career years from now, I believe we’ll have to credit WWE’s decision to give him a chance to run with the ball . They booked him to defeat JBL for the belt at WrestleMania despite his inexperience and unpolished ring work. It’s a gamble that appears to be paying off.
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