Feature: Steve Anderson’s End-of-the-Week Indy Stories

WrestleZone


Wow, quite the response to my indy anecdotes. A few of you requested more. Itâ<80><99>s Friday and the end of the week. Letâ<80><99>s see what I can come up with.

Sean â<80><9c>Syxx-Pacâ<80> Waltman was a 16-year-old kid in 1988 when he came up to Minnesota to start his career. I first saw him wrestle around the time he was 18 and we became friends. To this day, Iâ<80><99>ve never a wrestler with such knowledge of the industry.

One night, at a legendary Pro Wrestling America (PWA) show at Georgeâ<80><99>s in Fridley (think ECW Arena), Sean had an idea that he presented to me. He wanted to leap from the top rope, head first into a garbage can. I asked Sean what his payoff would be. He told me $50.00. I told him to save it for the big time. A few years later, he made the big time.

Waltman is a wealth of anecdotes. Back then, he was a cutting-edge talent, doing things that most pro wrestlers simply were not doing. But, he was also mischievous as hell. Working stiff with pretty-boy wrestlers, calling one â<80><9c>Fonzieâ<80> in particular. Attacking a referee after the match and being overly snug, forcing one into a spike piledriver when the â<80><9c>officialâ<80> specially said he didnâ<80><99>t want to do that.

Road Warrior Hawk returned to his Minnesota roots after bolting from WWE in the early nineties. I was at a benefit show at Henry High School. At the last minute, I was asked if I wanted to do an in-ring interview with him. I was thrilled. I walked out, introduced him and out he came. Welcomed him. He responded. And I froze. Weâ<80><99>re talking deer in the headlights. The pause was not just pregnant, but overdue. Hawk stared at me and simply said, â<80><9c>Yes?â<80> I snapped out of my markish trance and continued the interviewâ<80>¦poorly. Seriously, I was spitting out fragments, unable to complete a full sentence.

Hawk worked a show at the legendary Georgeâ<80><99>s. He was going to tag up with Kensuke Sasaki, debuting their tag team of the Hell Raisers. Their match was nothing memorable. What I remember is when he showed up to the building well before the card began. He was in full Road Warrior regalia — face paint, tights and all. He left his house, got in his car, and drove to the show. I canâ<80><99>t imagine what fellow passengers on the road were thinking.

Rookie wrestlers blading for the first time is always entertaining. Nine times out of ten, they take it too far. Mortimer Plumtree was a local manager in the Midwest territories. His charge was wrestling a young wrestler ready to bleed for the first time. The kid went down to the floor and applied blade to skin. He went across his entire forehead and went deep. He lifted his head and Morty saw the gore, almost dropping character. The problem was â<80><9c>Mr. Bloodyâ<80> invited family members to the show that night to see his flowing crimson match. His grandma ended up leaping over the rail and went right after the evil manager. Morty was stunned and speechless. For the record, grandson restrained grandma.

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