Bull Montana, a hard-looking character and a top heel in Nova Scotia over the years, was a passenger in a car being driven by one of the other boys. I wasn't there, but I was told that Bull said to the driver, "Stop at the next gas station or restaurant that we come to. I have to take a leak." The driver kept on driving and talking. In the meantime, they pass a couple of gas stations and restaurants, but he doesn't stop. Bull says, "If you don't stop, I'm going to pi— right here on the floor. I can't hold it." They were on one of our main highways, so the driver pulls over to the shoulder and says, "You can go here. Just leave the door open and that will keep anyone from seeing you." Bull did just that. Bull had the reputation of being hung like a "roll of tarpaper" and, just as he started to urinate, the driver drove off down the highway, leaving Bull standing in the open with lots of cars driving by. When Bull finished, he went back to the car and called the driver every curse word he could think of. The other boys in the car got a good laugh out of it.
Years ago, Jersey Joe Walcott came to Nova Scotia to referee some wrestling matches for the promoters. I traveled in the same car one day when he was booked in North Sydney, Cape Breton, and part of Nova Scotia. On the way through, we stopped in a place called Antigonish for lunch. We had no sooner seated ourselves in the restaurant when people walked up and started asking for his autograph. He signed one for everyone who asked. We all had steaks and I am sure that his must have been cold before he could finish it. I later told him, "It must throw you off, not being able to eat a meal in a relaxed manner without all those people bothering you." He told me, "Not one bit! As long as it makes them happy." (By the way, his daughter's birthday was that day and the owner of the restaurant allowed him to use the phone to call her in the States to wish her a happy birthday.)
As we drove through the beautiful scenery of the eastern part of Nova Scotia, Joe said, "What a beautiful place to live. This is really God's country!" Anyway, we had to make the local TV studio in North Sydney where Joe was to do an interview before match time. After completing the show, as we drove away, a woman and two young children stood outside. They apparently lived next door to the station and were waiting to see him drive out. When they waved and hollered, "Hi, Joe!" he asked me to stop the car. They came running over to talk with him, telling him that they had watched the show and wanted to see him in person. He talked to them for a few moments and gave them his autograph. You should have seen the look on their faces. Joe was a great guy and all the boys respected him.
Speaking of North Sydney, the local TV station had a sportscaster who would interview wrestlers who were appearing in Cape Breton. He would ask very personal questions and always tried to put himself over regarding the wrestling business. On one particular day, I was traveling with Bull Curry and someone in Halifax had told Bull that the interviewer was a "smart" guy and to be wary. When the guy interviewed Bull, he asked him one question ... "Who are you wrestling tonight?" Bull took off talking and never shut up for the whole fifteen minutes. Every time the poor announcer would try to say something, Bull would cut him off and keep right on talking. Afterwards, he said something to Bull about it "not being a good interview" and "not enough time." Bull told him, "The people wanted to hear what I had to say and they got it." He stopped the guy cold.
Walking into the dressing room in Bridgewater one evening (I was refereeing at the time), I heard Little Beaver having a heated discussion with Len Hughes. When I entered, Beaver was cursing. As he looked up, I blessed myself because of his foul language. He asks Len, "What's with him?" Before Len could answer, I said, "I studied to be a priest years ago and hate to hear anyone swearing." Looking at Len, he asked, "Is that true?" Of course, Len followed right along with "That's right." Beaver later asked why I hadn't become a priest, so I lied and said that I just couldn't go through with it.
It was a rainy night and the midgets were wrestling in a tag team match. As I gave instructions at the start of the match, I told them, "Now watch the count. If you land outside on the apron of the ring, I will make a count of ten. If you go out of the ring onto the floor of the arena, I will give you a twenty-count and disqualify your team." One of them said, "We'd be crazy to go outside, ref. You know it's raining out there." During the match, when I'd give Beaver hell in the corner for doing something wrong, he knelt down and begged for mercy with his arms flung out wide. He said, "Father, I confess. Please don't give me any penance." That and other things. I had to bite my tongue to stop laughing. Sky Low Low really made Beaver. I saw him years later when he came into Halifax, still working, but all crippled up. I heard that Sky and Beaver have both passed on.
