Joe Kerr
06-15-2004, 09:36 PM
The Ultimate Warrior is one of the biggest stars in the history of modern wrestling. He turned his back on the business to pursue, among other things, an intellectual calling promoting his philosophy-Warrior Conservatism. Flynn Files recently conducted a lengthy phone interview with Warrior discussing wrestling, weightlifting, books, politics, and numerous other topics. The Ultimate Warrior approached wrestling in an intense, passionate, and colorful manner. He comes across as no less intense, passionate, and colorful in this interview.
FLYNN: My understanding is that you got into professional wrestling with a small group of guys that included Sting. Could you talk about how you got into the business?
WARRIOR: I was going to chiropractic school and competing in bodybuilding. In 1984, I won the Mr. Georgia competition. From that, I went to the Mr. America competition that year in New Orleans. And there, there was a guy by the name of Ed Connors, who was one of three guys who bought the Gold’s Gym that Joe Gold founded, and the three set out and turned into the worldwide franchise operation that it is today. Every year, back at that time, in the ’80s, they would take two amateur bodybuilders they thought had potential to make it big, and bring the two out to California and put them up while they trained at “The Mecca” for a Junior National or National level contest. I was one of the guys in ’84 or ’85. I went out there and I trained for a Junior Mr. USA contest, took fifth in my class, if I remember right. Anyway, things didn’t, in the contest, really go the way we expected them to go. The opportunity was still there. I was like one of the biggest, by bodyweight, bodybuilders at the time, got great reviews with [Joe] Weider and all the other top bodybuilders, just didn’t hit my mark for that show. So, I decided to get back to Atlanta and finish the small amount of school I had left, mostly clinical requirements.
Just as I got back to Atlanta, Ed called and told me there was a guy out there in California who’s putting together a team of four guys to become pro-wrestlers, and he asked me if I’d be interested. I didn’t follow the sport at all. Atlanta, of course, was a hotbed of wrestling at the time and I had crossed paths with a few of the guys—the Road Warriors, Paul Orndoff, Dusty Rhodes, Tony Atlas—but I didn’t know them personally. But after some minor investigation, and the fact that I could use all the hard work I’d done in bodybuilding to capitalize off it—make some money, come back to the chiropractic later... I decided to go for it.
FLYNN: Did you watch wrestling as a kid?
WARRIOR: No, I was never into it, but, ironically, my step-dad was. He used to watch it late at night—Dick the Bruiser and the Crusher. I remember them by catching him watching it. My stepdad and I got along in a really good way, but I always thought he was kind of goofy for watching it. I’d come in late on the weekends, being out with my buddies and he’d switch the channel like he didn’t mean to have it on.
FLYNN: Early on, you jumped around a bit from different federations. Where are some of the places you wrestled?
WARRIOR: Well, long-story short, when I went to California I was really supposed to be a playing out of a whole of masterplan: training, marketing, big-time access, and success. Turned out, within a couple weeks, that the guy who had the idea didn’t have the money to float the beginning phases and the bottom fell out. We lost our place to live, had just enough to eat peanut butter, and do midnight snack runs at local grocery stores, eating in the aisles, funny stuff. To top it off, as Steve [Sting] and I later found out, this guy didn’t know jack about how the business operated on the inside. Even if he’d had the money to feed us and get us fully trained, his big plan still would have failed.
Steve [Sting] and I stayed positive about it all, and really our ignorance about things was a blessing. We sent pictures out to everybody on a list of wrestling organizations we had. We only had ten to fifteen hours of training. And that was basically just lifting each other over our heads and dropping one another on the floor—on the basic gymnastic mats. One of those regional territories was Mid-Southern, over in Tennessee, at the time Jerry Jarrett ran it. They saw the pictures. We were big guys. We were impressive in that way. We were all-American looking. And they gave us a call and told us to come on out. We just really got our bags and went for it with expectations that were way too high. I swear to God, when we drove from California to Tennessee we thought within a few months we were going to be millionaires. We were so pumped.
FLYNN: What kind of money did a wrestler make back then?
WARRIOR: We were making $25 to $50 a night.
FLYNN: Were you rooming with Sting?
WARRIOR: We did everything together. Laundry, gym, groceries—always together. We had the one car. I’d sold mine so we could eat in California. We drove to the towns together. Sometimes 4-5 hours one way and with 4-5 guys in the car just to cover the cost of gas. Slept in a fleabag hotel until we got an apartment then we slept on the floor. Ate tuna fish out the can. Had to call Ed Connors to send us some money. It was really rough, but we stayed positive as we could. I thought a lot about going back to school, but didn’t even have the money to get back to Georgia, let alone re-enroll. And we knew there was nothing we could do about it. It was about paying dues. One week we got a check for the whole seven days of working for like $150-$200. Beat all to hell, bummed out and all, we ask one of the boys, Rip Morgan, a guy from New Zealand, “How do you know when you are getting screwed (euphemism)?” He said, “Oh, don’t worry about that mate, you’ll know when you are getting screwed. The question then becomes ‘What can you do about it?’” He was right. There was nothing we could do about it.
FLYNN: Both you and Sting have had huge success in professional wrestling. Neither of you on principle has gone over to Titan [WWF/WWE].
WARRIOR: Well, I can only speak for myself really. You are right, Sting hasn't gone over there, but I don’t how much that has to do with principle. I’ve never read that. I know he’s done the born-again Christian thing, but I mean he’s worked with NWA—whatever it is—the Jarrett thing. Creatively, they’re doing the same raunchy, risqué garbage.
About me you are right. I haven’t gone over on principle—that it is degenerate and I’m not doing it because of that. In addition, I have extensively articulated what my principles are, at my site and when I go out and speak. That makes a huge difference as to why I am not there because of principle. Others haven’t done that. I also fought Vince in a five-year litigation, on principle. I stood up to his ways, the ways he screwed many, many others. While others have never done that, yet every single person I worked with knew and expressed how Vince had wronged them. I mean, at WCW, [Eric] Bischoff and all the current WWF talent that went over, practically used the majority of their programming to deride and taunt McMahon for how he had treated them and the other boys over the years. That said, even if I didn’t have the history with Vince, there’d be no way I could, especially with where I am in my head today, rationalize degenerate and perverse behavior claiming I was just an actor acting. I know that’s hard for some people to understand, especially today, but it’s the truth. I just happen to believe people should think and act like grown ups when they are.
Hypocrisy for me just doesn’t work. Like, though, it does for many, including those who are born-again Christians, like Steve [Sting] and Sean Michaels and others. If you participate, in my mind, you support and condone. It’s that black and white for me. Vince is laughingly stabbing them with their own Devil’s pitchfork.
FLYNN: Do you still have contact with Sting?
WARRIOR: No, not for years. I saw him and we spoke when I was at WCW in 1998, but, well, we are different people than when we began and during those years he went his way and I went mine. We never sustained contact.
FLYNN: Do you have contact with any of the people from wrestling?
WARRIOR: No. Look, I’m cut from a different mold. Most of the guys have this loyalty to the business that I don’t have. Even when it ruins their lives, breaks their character as a human being, or, worse, kills them. If things would not have gone sour with the McMahons, maybe I’d be more inclined. I mean, many of the old timers still work for Titan behind the scenes, as agents, gophers, real jobbers. It’s their job. They’ve made the business their life.
When I was having my success, you have to understand something: I’d been in the business a few years. Other guys had been in it 10 to 12 years and they never had the success I did. There was a ton of envy. I knew and was also smart enough to navigate the shark infested waters. I was despised in a lot of ways. I knew I had to be a loner to succeed—do my own thing. And I beat them at their own game—their own “work.” I got out on my own terms. They didn’t get to abuse the character or me.
They want to think in some ways—the pundits at least—that they were instrumental in making you what you were. And they also want to write the obituary for you. They want to be the ones to ridicule you on your way out: “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.” It pisses a lot of people off that I have gotten on responsibly with my life. Like I’ve said numerous times, if I had ended up a pitiful, drugged bum I’d be better appreciated for what I did in the business. If I OD’ed in a Budget hotel room doing dirty little street drugs, my wife and kids at home, I’d be a real superstar. It also bothers a lot of people in the industry that I don’t have a problem defending
http://www.tuttowrestling.com/ultimate.jpg
http://www.tuttowrestling.com/warrior2.jpg
FLYNN: My understanding is that you got into professional wrestling with a small group of guys that included Sting. Could you talk about how you got into the business?
WARRIOR: I was going to chiropractic school and competing in bodybuilding. In 1984, I won the Mr. Georgia competition. From that, I went to the Mr. America competition that year in New Orleans. And there, there was a guy by the name of Ed Connors, who was one of three guys who bought the Gold’s Gym that Joe Gold founded, and the three set out and turned into the worldwide franchise operation that it is today. Every year, back at that time, in the ’80s, they would take two amateur bodybuilders they thought had potential to make it big, and bring the two out to California and put them up while they trained at “The Mecca” for a Junior National or National level contest. I was one of the guys in ’84 or ’85. I went out there and I trained for a Junior Mr. USA contest, took fifth in my class, if I remember right. Anyway, things didn’t, in the contest, really go the way we expected them to go. The opportunity was still there. I was like one of the biggest, by bodyweight, bodybuilders at the time, got great reviews with [Joe] Weider and all the other top bodybuilders, just didn’t hit my mark for that show. So, I decided to get back to Atlanta and finish the small amount of school I had left, mostly clinical requirements.
Just as I got back to Atlanta, Ed called and told me there was a guy out there in California who’s putting together a team of four guys to become pro-wrestlers, and he asked me if I’d be interested. I didn’t follow the sport at all. Atlanta, of course, was a hotbed of wrestling at the time and I had crossed paths with a few of the guys—the Road Warriors, Paul Orndoff, Dusty Rhodes, Tony Atlas—but I didn’t know them personally. But after some minor investigation, and the fact that I could use all the hard work I’d done in bodybuilding to capitalize off it—make some money, come back to the chiropractic later... I decided to go for it.
FLYNN: Did you watch wrestling as a kid?
WARRIOR: No, I was never into it, but, ironically, my step-dad was. He used to watch it late at night—Dick the Bruiser and the Crusher. I remember them by catching him watching it. My stepdad and I got along in a really good way, but I always thought he was kind of goofy for watching it. I’d come in late on the weekends, being out with my buddies and he’d switch the channel like he didn’t mean to have it on.
FLYNN: Early on, you jumped around a bit from different federations. Where are some of the places you wrestled?
WARRIOR: Well, long-story short, when I went to California I was really supposed to be a playing out of a whole of masterplan: training, marketing, big-time access, and success. Turned out, within a couple weeks, that the guy who had the idea didn’t have the money to float the beginning phases and the bottom fell out. We lost our place to live, had just enough to eat peanut butter, and do midnight snack runs at local grocery stores, eating in the aisles, funny stuff. To top it off, as Steve [Sting] and I later found out, this guy didn’t know jack about how the business operated on the inside. Even if he’d had the money to feed us and get us fully trained, his big plan still would have failed.
Steve [Sting] and I stayed positive about it all, and really our ignorance about things was a blessing. We sent pictures out to everybody on a list of wrestling organizations we had. We only had ten to fifteen hours of training. And that was basically just lifting each other over our heads and dropping one another on the floor—on the basic gymnastic mats. One of those regional territories was Mid-Southern, over in Tennessee, at the time Jerry Jarrett ran it. They saw the pictures. We were big guys. We were impressive in that way. We were all-American looking. And they gave us a call and told us to come on out. We just really got our bags and went for it with expectations that were way too high. I swear to God, when we drove from California to Tennessee we thought within a few months we were going to be millionaires. We were so pumped.
FLYNN: What kind of money did a wrestler make back then?
WARRIOR: We were making $25 to $50 a night.
FLYNN: Were you rooming with Sting?
WARRIOR: We did everything together. Laundry, gym, groceries—always together. We had the one car. I’d sold mine so we could eat in California. We drove to the towns together. Sometimes 4-5 hours one way and with 4-5 guys in the car just to cover the cost of gas. Slept in a fleabag hotel until we got an apartment then we slept on the floor. Ate tuna fish out the can. Had to call Ed Connors to send us some money. It was really rough, but we stayed positive as we could. I thought a lot about going back to school, but didn’t even have the money to get back to Georgia, let alone re-enroll. And we knew there was nothing we could do about it. It was about paying dues. One week we got a check for the whole seven days of working for like $150-$200. Beat all to hell, bummed out and all, we ask one of the boys, Rip Morgan, a guy from New Zealand, “How do you know when you are getting screwed (euphemism)?” He said, “Oh, don’t worry about that mate, you’ll know when you are getting screwed. The question then becomes ‘What can you do about it?’” He was right. There was nothing we could do about it.
FLYNN: Both you and Sting have had huge success in professional wrestling. Neither of you on principle has gone over to Titan [WWF/WWE].
WARRIOR: Well, I can only speak for myself really. You are right, Sting hasn't gone over there, but I don’t how much that has to do with principle. I’ve never read that. I know he’s done the born-again Christian thing, but I mean he’s worked with NWA—whatever it is—the Jarrett thing. Creatively, they’re doing the same raunchy, risqué garbage.
About me you are right. I haven’t gone over on principle—that it is degenerate and I’m not doing it because of that. In addition, I have extensively articulated what my principles are, at my site and when I go out and speak. That makes a huge difference as to why I am not there because of principle. Others haven’t done that. I also fought Vince in a five-year litigation, on principle. I stood up to his ways, the ways he screwed many, many others. While others have never done that, yet every single person I worked with knew and expressed how Vince had wronged them. I mean, at WCW, [Eric] Bischoff and all the current WWF talent that went over, practically used the majority of their programming to deride and taunt McMahon for how he had treated them and the other boys over the years. That said, even if I didn’t have the history with Vince, there’d be no way I could, especially with where I am in my head today, rationalize degenerate and perverse behavior claiming I was just an actor acting. I know that’s hard for some people to understand, especially today, but it’s the truth. I just happen to believe people should think and act like grown ups when they are.
Hypocrisy for me just doesn’t work. Like, though, it does for many, including those who are born-again Christians, like Steve [Sting] and Sean Michaels and others. If you participate, in my mind, you support and condone. It’s that black and white for me. Vince is laughingly stabbing them with their own Devil’s pitchfork.
FLYNN: Do you still have contact with Sting?
WARRIOR: No, not for years. I saw him and we spoke when I was at WCW in 1998, but, well, we are different people than when we began and during those years he went his way and I went mine. We never sustained contact.
FLYNN: Do you have contact with any of the people from wrestling?
WARRIOR: No. Look, I’m cut from a different mold. Most of the guys have this loyalty to the business that I don’t have. Even when it ruins their lives, breaks their character as a human being, or, worse, kills them. If things would not have gone sour with the McMahons, maybe I’d be more inclined. I mean, many of the old timers still work for Titan behind the scenes, as agents, gophers, real jobbers. It’s their job. They’ve made the business their life.
When I was having my success, you have to understand something: I’d been in the business a few years. Other guys had been in it 10 to 12 years and they never had the success I did. There was a ton of envy. I knew and was also smart enough to navigate the shark infested waters. I was despised in a lot of ways. I knew I had to be a loner to succeed—do my own thing. And I beat them at their own game—their own “work.” I got out on my own terms. They didn’t get to abuse the character or me.
They want to think in some ways—the pundits at least—that they were instrumental in making you what you were. And they also want to write the obituary for you. They want to be the ones to ridicule you on your way out: “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.” It pisses a lot of people off that I have gotten on responsibly with my life. Like I’ve said numerous times, if I had ended up a pitiful, drugged bum I’d be better appreciated for what I did in the business. If I OD’ed in a Budget hotel room doing dirty little street drugs, my wife and kids at home, I’d be a real superstar. It also bothers a lot of people in the industry that I don’t have a problem defending
http://www.tuttowrestling.com/ultimate.jpg
http://www.tuttowrestling.com/warrior2.jpg