During the last few years of his career, I did managerial shots for Dr. Jerry Graham in California and for whatever reason, I got along with the psychotic son of a bitch!!!!! Maybe because we were both Masons. I'd heard all the stories about this guy's uncanny behavior but never really saw him go nuts, though just by listening to him, you could see the psycho hidden beneath the surface. Anyway, unthinkingly, after a Maywood, California show, I gave Graham a 1/2 bottle of Cutty Sark from my bag--and left the arena, giving him the bottle as a going away present. I should have known better, as I heard about what went on, long after I was at the airport and on a plane to Phoenix.

Graham drank the 1/2 bottle, then wanted more booze, so he sent a ring attendant out for a twelve pack of beer. In the meantime, the people at the building wanted Graham to leave, but he refused. Knowing angering him would be like angering a bull elephant, they tricked him into stepping outside, and locked him out, with his street clothes still inside. Graham, still in his wrestling gear, was trying to break the door down, when the other ring guy arrived with his beer. Forgetting about his stuff inside and figuring in his weird mind that he had better things to do, he sat down and worked on the 12 pack until totally bombed. By then, everyone had left, and Graham would have been sitting on the beach, oblivious to this, had it not been for wrestler Alex Knight who also owned the ring and was heading home.

Graham was drunk, and, always the peacemaker, Alex offered him a ride home. Graham, however, could not get in his apartment, as his keys were still in the locker room. Alex then suggested Graham come home with him for the night. Graham, of course, was too drunk to object.

At Knight's, Graham fell on the floor of the guest bedroom, knocking a load of things off the dresser. Like trying to coax a contented hippo into a cage, Alex finally did get him into bed. The next morning, he found a still groggy Graham, still dressed in his ring gear, sitting on what had become a waterbed. When he had passed out, he'd pissed all over the bedspread.

Having already come to regret his act of charity, Alex wanted to get rid of a still smelling, dazed and ready to puke Graham. Alex wanted to get Graham back to the building to get his gear and be rid of him.

On the way, however, Graham insisted they get another drink, so they stopped at an early morning bar and walked in. It must have been a sight. Anyway, Graham walked up to the bar, ordered a round for the house and then realized his money was still at the building, leaving Alex stuck with the tab.

This happened in 1992. I would continue going to California until 1998, when I left the West, but I was emphatic never to be booked for a match against Alex Knight. After all, he did find out I was the one who gave Graham the Scotch and started him on the tirade.

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