The Dream

Why Dusty? 

In my various journeys through internet message boards and chat rooms, I see a lot of comments, questions and snickering about us Dusty fans.  People quickly point out how Dusty’s usage of talent drove them to Vinnie, how the regular “Dusty finishes” turned off the fans and about how Dusty kept himself on top for way too long.  Of course, they’re all true, but none of those things take into account what Dusty was before he was a booker or a television announcer; they don’t detract from the fact that Dusty was Hogan before there was a Hogan, he was as mainstream as any wrestler could have been in the 1970’s and he was a hero to many kids growing up in different parts of the country. 

I suppose that before I continue talking about the subject at hand, I should start with something of an introduction.  I was born in 1968 and was raised in a small village known as Temperance, Michigan with the closest major city being Detroit.  My father was a life-long wrestling fan and was so old (born in 1903) that some people claimed he was around to witness Lincoln wrestling; however, that was never confirmed.  Every Saturday afternoon, Dad would turn on the television and watch Big Time Wrestling on the local Toledo station.  Being the only two men in the house (my mother and 2 sisters, of course, had no interest in the bloodbaths taking place on our 19” black and white set), Big Time Wrestling turned into our male bonding time. 

I remember the angle that got me hooked on this strange sport/art/performance medium known as professional wrestling (DeNucci/Marino) as well as I remember my first time riding a two-wheeler.  I remember my first superheroes (DeNucci, Brazil) and my first arch-villains (Sheik, Abdullah).  Despite the thrills, chills, spills, turns and burns that I witnessed in my first few years as a wrestling fan, it all pales in comparison to one magic moment. 

It was a typical Saturday Big Time Wrestling program.  Not much out of the ordinary.  It was filmed in an arena rather than a studio and there was a hot crowd witnessing the night’s action.  All of the sudden there was a man in the ring with a long, white robe and cap on.  He was charisma personified and turned a hot crowd into a flaming crowd!  He electrified the small arena just by his presence!  Who, other than Dusty Rhodes could I be talking about?! 

Dusty blew into Detroit like a whirlwind and held himself out to the fans as being the man who would finally stop the vile Sheik.  Of course, many men had promised to put an end to The Sheik over the years.  None seemed to make that promise with such conviction and none delivered it with such style and force. 

Fast forward one year to November 1977.  My father, having sold his businesses and retired, decided to relocate the family to Ormond Beach, Florida.  Of course, the most distressing part of the move for me was not leaving my friends, it was not leaving my school and it was not leaving the house I grew up in.  No, I was crushed by the fact that I would not know what was going to happen in Dusty’s on-going feud with the hated and evil Sheik.  At the time, I hadn’t discovered Apter magazines and didn’t know that wrestling existed in any part of the world other than Detroit, Michigan. 

Imagine my shock when I turned on the television in early 1978 and saw Championship Wrestling from Florida – complete with Dusty Rhodes!!!  Of course, there was no Sheik, no Bobo Brazil, no Dom DeNucci, but there was Rhodes.  Sure, there were other great babyfaces in Florida: the Grahams, Steve Keirn, the Briscos and Rocky Johnson all jump to mind, but none of them sparked the loyalty, fervor and rabid devotion as did Dusty. 

I may not remember anything I learned in elementary school, I may not remember anything I learned in Sunday School and I may not remember my first fistfight; however I clearly remember Dusty.  His feuds with Lars Anderson, Killer Karl Kox, Pak Song, The Missouri Mauler, Jos LeDuc, The Assassin and The Spoiler are permanently etched in mind.  His alter egos like Mr. Ichiban and The Midnight Rider bring a smile to my face.  Humperdink becoming “Rooster” and managing Dusty is classic stuff for reminiscing.  Hearing, “Ef you weehul, baybuh,” takes me back to my childhood and gets my adrenaline flowing.  More...