When I was working in Charlotte, I attended school during the day to become an electrician. I got my degree and when I quit the wrestling business, I got a job as an electrician. The boss stuck me with his son ... this little, pimple-faced, pencil-neck kid. They called him Young Doc. He wouldn't leave me alone. For eight hours a day ... who did I wrestle, where have you been, who was this guy, who was Bolo, who was that guy. He got on my nerves so bad and was driving me crazy! Being the boss' son, though, I had to be careful.
Eventually, my time came. He used to go to the Park Center down in Charlotte on Monday nights. He come into work and said, "Ooohhh! Paul Jones, my favorite, is on the main event down there. I'm going down." I said, "Oh, I know Paul Jones very well. I'll write you a note. When you get there, give it to him and he'll invite you into the dressing room where you can meet all the guys and get their autographs." "Fantastic!"
Away he goes. Now it was a habit with a lot of guys, especially the babyfaces, to stand outside and watch the matches and the girls. Paul and a couple of guys were standing outside, so he walks up, hands him the letter, and says, "This is from Tinker Todd." Paul takes it inside and reads what I wrote down. He comes out, calls Young Doc forward, and takes him in the dressing room. A lot of the guys are naked, towels around their waist, and so forth. Paul had instructed them all in what to do. They all started puttin' their arms around him, kissin' him on the neck and ears, saying what lovely flesh he has, and all this stuff. Paul's saying, "Darling, will you meet me after the match," and all that. He fought his way out of that damn dressing room.
When he comes in the next day, he comes nowhere near me. Oh, what a wonderful day that was! He had to come into the canteen during the break to get a snack. I said, "Hey, what's wrong, Doc? How come you haven't been around to see me? What happened last night?" He said, "All you damn wrestlers are gay!" I said, "Wait a minute! Don't you dare say that about me. Are you calling me gay?" Well, that was my excuse. That was my opening. I told the boss, "Hey, I don't appreciate being called "damn gay" by your son." The old man was mad. He called Doc in and cussed him out. Needless to say, he didn't hang around me no more, thank God!
We did the same thing to Billy Spears when he first came in. Paul Jones and I played a rib on Billy when he went into the shower after working the first match. I said, "Paul, isn't he delicious looking!" Paul says, "I'll say. I really love him." So we both walked behind him into the showers. I said, "Say, Paul. What about these tiles on the wall?" Spears turned white as a ghost. Billy told me afterwards, "I heard that English accent and thought you really were like that."
