Rocky Johnson Interview
Posted by David Damage on Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Under: Interviews
Before there was "The Rock" …
Before there was "The People's Champion" …
Before there was "The Most Electrifying Man in Sports Entertainment" …
Before there was Dwayne Johnson …
There was his father: Rocky "Soul Man" Johnson.
A descendent of freed slaves, World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) Hall of Famer Rocky Johnson was a trailblazer in the business of professional wrestling — the first African-American wrestling superstar in the South during the tumultuous 1960s and '70s. He became the first African-American to win heavyweight wrestling championships in Tennessee, Georgia and Florida.
He captured the Florida title in 1975 in Tampa, his home off and on throughout the '70s.
"He was one of the biggest stars in the history of Tampa's famed wrestling scene," says Brian Blair, a renowned wrestler in his own right before turning his attention to Hillsborough County politics. "It was hard not to love him for what he could do in that ring, and for the type of man he was out of it."
Other black wrestlers in the South at that time usually portrayed negative stereotypes because it was what they thought they had to do to stay employed, says Johnson, 68.
"By being a stereotype, they thought white fans would cheer for them because they weren't threatening, so they would dance to the ring with a bucket of fried chicken and talking like, 'Yessa.' I wouldn't demean myself. I spoke articulately. I told people I was a great athlete and told all the kids — white and black — that they needed to eat right, study and listen to their parents. I proved that white people would cheer for a black man who was portrayed as their equal.
"Not only did I get over in the South, but I did so on my terms," says Johnson, who lives in Pembroke Pines.
Which is why on Nov. 15, 1983, the WWE (then known as the World Wrestling Federation) chose Johnson and Tony Atlas — dubbed the Soul Patrol — to become the first African-American tag team in the history of the world's largest wrestling promotion to hold a world championship belt. Only the most loved or hated wrestlers wear gold around their waists. Although professional wrestling may be scripted, the historic moment was real. "I proved that a black face could be one of the faces of a major wrestling promotion," Johnson says.
Like Jackie Robinson, however, it took more than ability for Johnson to climb to the top. It also took perseverance.
"Rocky was wrestling in the South during a very difficult time," says WWE Hall of Famer Dusty Rhodes, once a mainstay of the Tampa wrestling scene. Some parts of the South where Johnson performed still had businesses with separate entrances for African-Americans.
Johnson says the same white fans who cheered him in the ring sometimes would sling racial slurs at him in the street later in the evening. He even received death threats. But he never retaliated. He would just walk away.
"I had no reason to get angry," Johnson says. "I knew I wasn't beneath them. They were beneath me because they had such ugly thoughts. As long as they didn't try to hurt me or my family, they couldn't bother me."
Some of his fellow wrestlers did try to injure him, however. In Texas, Johnson wrestled "Dirty" Dick Murdoch, also known as "Captain Redneck." Rather than pulling his punches as wrestlers were supposed to do in those scripted matches, Johnson says Murdoch connected with three shots to his jaw. When he realized what was happening, Johnson, a trained boxer who had sparred with Muhammad Ali and George Foreman, retaliated.
"I dropped him like a sack of potatoes," he says with a laugh.
When opponents realized they could not physically hurt Johnson, they sought to hurt his reputation as an exciting performer.
At 6-foot-2 and 260 pounds, Johnson was built like a Greek statue yet could move like a gazelle. Today's wrestling fans are accustomed to seeing gargantuan men fly around the ring like acrobats, but in the 1970s, Johnson was one of the few.
Rhodes says Johnson was one of the most electric wrestlers of his era. "That is the beautiful thing about wrestling," he says. "Our fans don't see color in that ring. If you entertain them, they will cheer for you."
When Johnson took to the air, the crowd's cheers became deafening, so his detractors tried to silence them. Rather than following the script, dragging themselves to their feet following one of Johnson's famous dropkicks so he could continue his aerial assault and further work the fans into a frenzy, some opponents would lie on the mat for an extended period of time, destroying the energy Johnson had built up in the crowd.
"It was like when a visiting basketball coach calls a timeout when the home crowd starts going crazy," Johnson explains. "Plus it made me look stupid just standing there as I waited for them to get up. So what I started doing is, while they stalled I would dance around the ring like Ali and showboat. No one in wrestling had ever done anything like that, and the crowd went nuts. It ended up turning into a regular part of all my matches and one of my signature spots."
Muhammad Ali had transcended boxing and become an icon all over the world to people of all colors, and Johnson reminded people of him, says Al Rosen, a longtime Tampa resident, former wrestler and Johnson's best friend. "Wrestling promoters probably wanted to use that to make money. Ali was already over with the white crowd, so it made it easier for a man like Rocky to get over with them."
In 1976, Ali fought Japanese wrestling champion Antonio Inoki in a scripted boxer versus wrestler matchup. The event was covered by media around the world, and later that year, promoters with Memphis Championship Wrestling (MCW) sought to recapture its magic.
The WWE (at that time called the World Wide Wrestling Federation) wasn't yet a global brand, and a wrestler in one region could be unknown by the fans in another, making it easier to skew a resume. Despite having wrestled professionally for a decade and winning titles throughout Canada and the West Coast, Johnson was introduced to Memphis fans as a professional boxer who had never wrestled and who would be challenging MCW heavyweight champion Jerry Lawler in a boxer versus wrestler matchup.
MCW brought Johnson in a few weeks early to promote the match through local television and appearances. Although no one in Memphis had ever heard of him prior to his arrival, by fight night he was a superstar. According to Johnson, the Mid-South Coliseum, which held more than 10,000 fans, sold out and turned away another 5,000 at the door.
"Bobo Brazil was the first major African-American wrestling star," says Lawler, now a WWE Hall of Famer and color commentator. "And he was one of the nicest and most athletic men I have ever known. But he wasn't as popular as Rocky. [Bobo] lacked one thing that Rocky had — coolness. Rocky was so cool both in and out of the ring. No matter what territory Rocky went to, fans felt it was cool to cheer for him."
Rhodes echoes that sentiment, calling Johnson wrestling's first African-American hero.
Johnson was supposed to take part in only the one match in Memphis and then return to Texas, where he had been competing regularly for the previous few months. However, following the success of Johnson's debut, which he was scripted to lose, MCW promoters asked him to stay, making him an offer he could not refuse: good money and a promise that he would become the MCW heavyweight champion.
"Memphis didn't have any professional sports teams back then," Johnson says. "Their heavyweight wrestling champ was the star. Just eight years earlier Martin Luther King was assassinated in Memphis. For the top athletic star to have black skin was major. You should have seen how those black kids looked at me. They were so proud. That was one of my top accomplishments."
His top personal accomplishment in wrestling, however, will forever be his more famous son, Dwayne Douglas Johnson, born May 2, 1972. Not only did he help to train the superstar — who made his WWF debut as Rocky Maivia (a combination of his father's and grandfather's ring names) — Johnson likes to think the hurdles he overcame as a wrestler paved the way for the success his son now enjoys.
"No one ever talks about the color of Dwayne's skin," Johnson says of his son, who is Samoan on his mother's side. "That is what makes what I did so important to me. I like to think I proved a wrestler's skin color doesn't matter. I'm glad my son doesn't have to be labeled black or Samoan or mixed. He has instead been labeled as the best."
Paul Guzzo is a Tampa Bay journalist and historian. His newest book is "The Dark Side of Sunshine," which chronicles infamous events and people throughout Tampa's history.
Before there was "The People's Champion" …
Before there was "The Most Electrifying Man in Sports Entertainment" …
Before there was Dwayne Johnson …
There was his father: Rocky "Soul Man" Johnson.
A descendent of freed slaves, World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) Hall of Famer Rocky Johnson was a trailblazer in the business of professional wrestling — the first African-American wrestling superstar in the South during the tumultuous 1960s and '70s. He became the first African-American to win heavyweight wrestling championships in Tennessee, Georgia and Florida.
He captured the Florida title in 1975 in Tampa, his home off and on throughout the '70s.
"He was one of the biggest stars in the history of Tampa's famed wrestling scene," says Brian Blair, a renowned wrestler in his own right before turning his attention to Hillsborough County politics. "It was hard not to love him for what he could do in that ring, and for the type of man he was out of it."
Other black wrestlers in the South at that time usually portrayed negative stereotypes because it was what they thought they had to do to stay employed, says Johnson, 68.
"By being a stereotype, they thought white fans would cheer for them because they weren't threatening, so they would dance to the ring with a bucket of fried chicken and talking like, 'Yessa.' I wouldn't demean myself. I spoke articulately. I told people I was a great athlete and told all the kids — white and black — that they needed to eat right, study and listen to their parents. I proved that white people would cheer for a black man who was portrayed as their equal.
"Not only did I get over in the South, but I did so on my terms," says Johnson, who lives in Pembroke Pines.
Which is why on Nov. 15, 1983, the WWE (then known as the World Wrestling Federation) chose Johnson and Tony Atlas — dubbed the Soul Patrol — to become the first African-American tag team in the history of the world's largest wrestling promotion to hold a world championship belt. Only the most loved or hated wrestlers wear gold around their waists. Although professional wrestling may be scripted, the historic moment was real. "I proved that a black face could be one of the faces of a major wrestling promotion," Johnson says.
Like Jackie Robinson, however, it took more than ability for Johnson to climb to the top. It also took perseverance.
"Rocky was wrestling in the South during a very difficult time," says WWE Hall of Famer Dusty Rhodes, once a mainstay of the Tampa wrestling scene. Some parts of the South where Johnson performed still had businesses with separate entrances for African-Americans.
Johnson says the same white fans who cheered him in the ring sometimes would sling racial slurs at him in the street later in the evening. He even received death threats. But he never retaliated. He would just walk away.
"I had no reason to get angry," Johnson says. "I knew I wasn't beneath them. They were beneath me because they had such ugly thoughts. As long as they didn't try to hurt me or my family, they couldn't bother me."
Some of his fellow wrestlers did try to injure him, however. In Texas, Johnson wrestled "Dirty" Dick Murdoch, also known as "Captain Redneck." Rather than pulling his punches as wrestlers were supposed to do in those scripted matches, Johnson says Murdoch connected with three shots to his jaw. When he realized what was happening, Johnson, a trained boxer who had sparred with Muhammad Ali and George Foreman, retaliated.
"I dropped him like a sack of potatoes," he says with a laugh.
When opponents realized they could not physically hurt Johnson, they sought to hurt his reputation as an exciting performer.
At 6-foot-2 and 260 pounds, Johnson was built like a Greek statue yet could move like a gazelle. Today's wrestling fans are accustomed to seeing gargantuan men fly around the ring like acrobats, but in the 1970s, Johnson was one of the few.
Rhodes says Johnson was one of the most electric wrestlers of his era. "That is the beautiful thing about wrestling," he says. "Our fans don't see color in that ring. If you entertain them, they will cheer for you."
When Johnson took to the air, the crowd's cheers became deafening, so his detractors tried to silence them. Rather than following the script, dragging themselves to their feet following one of Johnson's famous dropkicks so he could continue his aerial assault and further work the fans into a frenzy, some opponents would lie on the mat for an extended period of time, destroying the energy Johnson had built up in the crowd.
"It was like when a visiting basketball coach calls a timeout when the home crowd starts going crazy," Johnson explains. "Plus it made me look stupid just standing there as I waited for them to get up. So what I started doing is, while they stalled I would dance around the ring like Ali and showboat. No one in wrestling had ever done anything like that, and the crowd went nuts. It ended up turning into a regular part of all my matches and one of my signature spots."
Muhammad Ali had transcended boxing and become an icon all over the world to people of all colors, and Johnson reminded people of him, says Al Rosen, a longtime Tampa resident, former wrestler and Johnson's best friend. "Wrestling promoters probably wanted to use that to make money. Ali was already over with the white crowd, so it made it easier for a man like Rocky to get over with them."
In 1976, Ali fought Japanese wrestling champion Antonio Inoki in a scripted boxer versus wrestler matchup. The event was covered by media around the world, and later that year, promoters with Memphis Championship Wrestling (MCW) sought to recapture its magic.
The WWE (at that time called the World Wide Wrestling Federation) wasn't yet a global brand, and a wrestler in one region could be unknown by the fans in another, making it easier to skew a resume. Despite having wrestled professionally for a decade and winning titles throughout Canada and the West Coast, Johnson was introduced to Memphis fans as a professional boxer who had never wrestled and who would be challenging MCW heavyweight champion Jerry Lawler in a boxer versus wrestler matchup.
MCW brought Johnson in a few weeks early to promote the match through local television and appearances. Although no one in Memphis had ever heard of him prior to his arrival, by fight night he was a superstar. According to Johnson, the Mid-South Coliseum, which held more than 10,000 fans, sold out and turned away another 5,000 at the door.
"Bobo Brazil was the first major African-American wrestling star," says Lawler, now a WWE Hall of Famer and color commentator. "And he was one of the nicest and most athletic men I have ever known. But he wasn't as popular as Rocky. [Bobo] lacked one thing that Rocky had — coolness. Rocky was so cool both in and out of the ring. No matter what territory Rocky went to, fans felt it was cool to cheer for him."
Rhodes echoes that sentiment, calling Johnson wrestling's first African-American hero.
Johnson was supposed to take part in only the one match in Memphis and then return to Texas, where he had been competing regularly for the previous few months. However, following the success of Johnson's debut, which he was scripted to lose, MCW promoters asked him to stay, making him an offer he could not refuse: good money and a promise that he would become the MCW heavyweight champion.
"Memphis didn't have any professional sports teams back then," Johnson says. "Their heavyweight wrestling champ was the star. Just eight years earlier Martin Luther King was assassinated in Memphis. For the top athletic star to have black skin was major. You should have seen how those black kids looked at me. They were so proud. That was one of my top accomplishments."
His top personal accomplishment in wrestling, however, will forever be his more famous son, Dwayne Douglas Johnson, born May 2, 1972. Not only did he help to train the superstar — who made his WWF debut as Rocky Maivia (a combination of his father's and grandfather's ring names) — Johnson likes to think the hurdles he overcame as a wrestler paved the way for the success his son now enjoys.
"No one ever talks about the color of Dwayne's skin," Johnson says of his son, who is Samoan on his mother's side. "That is what makes what I did so important to me. I like to think I proved a wrestler's skin color doesn't matter. I'm glad my son doesn't have to be labeled black or Samoan or mixed. He has instead been labeled as the best."
Paul Guzzo is a Tampa Bay journalist and historian. His newest book is "The Dark Side of Sunshine," which chronicles infamous events and people throughout Tampa's history.
In : Interviews