Slobberknocker: My Life in Wrestling by Jim Ross & Paul O'Brien

Author:Jim Ross & Paul O'Brien [Ross, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sports Publishing
Published: 2017-10-03T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

BOOKING COMMITTEE

1989

Of course no matter who ran the company, the characters backstage were always the same. Some tried to “peacock” their way around, others kept to themselves—but having time to kill far away from home made most of the Boys lose themselves a little. I got to know a lot of the roster in different towns and situations all the way up. Some I knew well, some I didn’t. Others I thought I knew, but didn’t.

“Hey Jim,” I heard a familiar voice say, as I parked my car outside.

I turned to see Dick Murdoch calling me. I was on my way to a booking meeting, but I always had time for Dickie.

“Look at this,” he said as he reached into his billfold. I thought he was going to pull out some weird brand of condom or the $1 check he kept from Watts. “You ever seen one before?” he asked, as he showed me a Ku Klux Klan member card.

“No, I have not,” I replied.

And that was it. No follow up. No discussion. No recruiting. Dicky just felt compelled to let me know that he was a member of the KKK. I wasn’t sure if he was just seeing if he could get a rise out of me or if he was legit; he was always hard to read in that regard. This was the same man who told a lie about going to West Texas State so many times that not only did he start believing it, but the university actually believed it themselves—to the point where they invited him to play in the varsity alumni game.

He never even went to school there.

“OK then,” he said, as he walked off.

I looked around, waiting for the Boys to come out of the woodwork to tell me it was a rib—but no one ever appeared.

And that was how I’d feel for a lot of my WCW run: standing in disbelief, waiting in vain for someone to tell me what I had just seen was a joke.

The booking committee went through so many changes and permutations, I couldn’t keep them all straight in my head. One thing that remained true was the heat I was catching from the members—no matter who they were—because I was usually the one who had to deliver the changes that Herd wanted made back to the committee. I got to the point where I didn’t care if the guys on the committee were mad at me or not. I was just doing my job. And getting it from both ends.

Herd would storm into my office, throwing the format onto my desk and saying, “Who wrote this?! What the hell is this shit?”

“Well, that would be Saturday’s show,” I’d reply.

“Well, it’s not going on this way!” he’d say.

And I knew that I was going to have to bring his changes back to the booking committee. They were pissed when Herd changed stuff, and Herd was pissed at the committee’s approach. I was the “office” guy in the middle.

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