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The World According To Dutch: University Of Dutch Famous Alumni: Kane

Posted: Oct 12th 2009 By: CMBurnham

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a FREE preview of a chapter of my book that is scheduled out early next year. The book will include this chapter and a ton more stuff that every wrestling fan should read. Stay tuned for details as I work my way toward finishing the book.

The University of Dutch Famous Alumni series part two continues as this time, we focus on the Man They Call Kane. Everybody knows of him after he became Kane in WWF but not a lot of people know about him before that time. This is that time. Enjoy.

Kane: Glenn Jacobs was one big dude when I first met him. He still is. I never knew the guy existed until I was booked on an indy card against him in southern Indiana around late 1993. I can't even remember what town it was in or for that matter whether it was Indiana or southern Ilinois. I've been in so many towns that they all blur together. But I do remember seeing Glenn Jacobs for the first time.

On this particular card, I was booked against Glenn. As I looked at him across the dressing room, I thought that hmmm...this guy could pose a slight problem. Most guys who stand 6'9" tall can pose a problem if they want to. At this point in my career, it was all about going to the ring and not getting killed. Or dying in the ring. That was my main priority. Days that end in death, especially your own, cannot be considered a productive day. Or that's what my wife told me.

You have to be always be leery of guys, especially on independent shows, because for all you know, the guy could have just killed his whole family or robbed a convenience store right before he showed up for his match. On independent shows, an established guy is flying blind so most guys like me keep an eye out for the unusual. You never know in indy wrestling.

I talked to Glenn right before the match but that was only talking. If talking was the only thing I had to do, well I could talk fine. But the match would tell the story.

Time for the match came and I went to the ring. The place was so full you could hardly move. It was jammed packed. Well, not really. There were about 150 people there but it sure makes the story sound better doesn't it?

As Glenn stepped into the ring, he suddenly looked much bigger than he did in the dressing room. You can always tell how much experience or training the other guy has on your initial lockup and I was, to tell the truth, in fear of it. When we locked, I knew immediately that he was a dream opponent. Good timing, good moves and a lot of personality. Plus he didn't kill me which was the benchmark I was looking for.

Even though I had never heard of the guy, I was amazed that a guy that stood 6'9" could move the way he did. Glenn had a natural flow to his movements that reminded me of Mark Calaway. I found out later that one thing that Mark and Glenn shared was the sport they excelled in, basketball. I've alwayys found that basketball players to be better wrestlers than football players. Why? Basketball players have to perfect the art of balance and finesse whereas football players just beat the living crap out of each other which tends to be a big no no in wrestling.

After the match, I spoke with Glenn backstage. I was impressed that Glenn, being such a HUGE guy, was as humble as he was. Glenn was a very intelligent man and easy to be around. He had the size, the ability and the temperament to handle the wrestling business and I knew he was going to be a star someday. All this kid needed was experience and direction. Inmany ways, Glenn could have been Mark Calaway number 2.

At the time, I was headed to Puerto Rico to take over the booking job there for Carlos Colon's WWC and I asked him would he be interested in going. I told him he wouldn't get rich but he would make a living. When I got to Puerto Rico, I called Glenn, who was home in Illinois and booked him full time.

After I had booked him, Glenn called me several days later and sounded worried. He told me that he had heard a lot of horror stories about Puerto Rico and was concerned that he could get there and get stranded. He actually had a point because Puerto Rico did have a bad rep among the wrestling brotherhood for valid reasons. One was the death of Bruiser Brody just 6 years earlier and another one was the fact that guys got paid late or not at all. Facts, such as that, had a way of getting around fast as Puerto Rico did have a history in that regard. I told Glenn that I would make sure he had a round trip ticket just to allay his fears and that he would be paid on time.

Glenn had strong reservations about coming and I knew that. But two things brought him to the island. One was the promise that I made him that he would be fine and the second was, his dream of making it big in pro wrestling. Dreams are a strong addiction and Glenn was addicted to the dream. His dream was to make it to WWF and he knew to get there, he would have to pay his dues. He had to earn and learn the wrestling business.

Since 90% of the territories were dead and out of business, Glenn didn't have much of a choice when it came to learning the business. This was about 4 or 5 years before WWE even considered implementing their developmental leagues.

I called him Doomsday. Why? Hell, I don't know. It was a good name and since most of the island didn't speak English, it didn't make much difference. As soon as he got to Puerto Rico, he stayed in a hotel that was about three blocks from where I was staying as I had arranged for him to stay with Balls Mahoney, who had just started in the territory. Balls is an entire other story all by himself. I'll get back to him a bit later in the story. So let's stay focused on Glenn, shall we?

I had a condo right on the beach that the office was renting for me The Caribbean Ocean was my backyard as it was right on the beach. The condo then was worth a quarter million so it probably would go for 750G's now. But all I had to do to get to the beach was cross over a small courtyard and bingo, I was there.

Since I lived way down the beach from the tourist areas, many mornings it was just me, totally alone on the beach. After awhile, I felt like Tom Hanks in the move, Castaway, but of course without Wilson, the soccer ball.

After Glenn had been in Puerto Rico for a couple of weeks, Balls got up one morning and left the island. He just flewout without telling anybody of his plans. Not even Glenn until the morning that he took off. No notice, no nothing. I was OK with it except professional courtesy dictates at least a notification. But that comes with the territory in Puerto Rico. Some guys could take it and other couldn't. How I found out that Balls had left was when Glenn knocked on my door at about 10AM that morning. As I went to the door, there was Big Glenn with all his luggage with him at the door. Immediately, I knew that something had happened. Glenn told me that Balls had left and he needed a place to stay.

Well, now what, I thought? As I looked at him outside my door, I invited him in and Glenn became my new roommate by accident or destiny or both. I didn't mind because I had another room that wasn't being used and it would be much less expensive for him.

One thing I've always loved about PR was the weather during the winter months. When it was cold in the states with ice storms and snow all over the place, Puerto Rico was always nice and sunny. I used to call Puerto Rico weather, especially in the winter months, Ground Hog Day weather. Everyday it was 88 and sunny. With no humidity. Listening to a weather forecast, was like listening to a loop tape. It's the same crap everyday. Today...its 86 and sunny. It was 86 and sunny yesterday and the day before and the day before that. And it'll be 86 and sunny tomorrow and the day after that. I even learned it in Spanish....88 y soleado. You also get the weather reports for the Virgin Islands, Dominican Republic, Aruba, Trinidad, Jamaica, Barbados and all the other little islands that make up the Lesser Antilles. It's always 86 and sunny unless there's a hurricane and then it's not so pleasant anymore. I got caught in one and believe me, it's not fun.

I'm somewhat of a camera buff and below is a photo that I took of Glenn right outside my condo at the pool which bordered the beach. This photo was taken in February 1994 and you can see how nice the weather is. Guess what? It was 86 and sunny. Glenn didn't like Puerto Rico at first but after seeing it's positives, he grew to like it. Not the wrestling part but the island part.

We only worked 4 days a week in Puerto Rico at the time which gave Glenn plenty of time to work out and train. He trained like an animal or he said he did. I believed him. I believe most things guys who are 6'9" tall tell me.

Glenn learned fast because in Puerto Rico, things moved fast. I had to have Glenn intrically involved from the beginning which meant he was learning by OJT, on the job training. The trips were short so again, just like I did with Mark, when Glenn and I left for the trip home, I would tell him what he needed to do to improve his game. Glenn became a student in good standing at the University of Dutch. Later on, he became the most favorite student of all time at UoD. More on that below.

Another thing that I liked about Puerto Rico is that time almost stands still. Nobody gets in a hurry. Nobody. Nobody is ever on time in Puerto Rico. Nobody. If the show is scheduled to start at 8:30PM, that means the start time is negotiable. That could mean 8:49PM or it could mean 9:26PM. But one thing it doesn't mean is 8:30. If you tell somebody to meet you at 4:30, they'll show up at 5:17PM or something crazy like that. Don't ask me why. It just is.

Whenever I booked Puerto Rico, the territory always did good business and for one reason. I had clearly defined 'good guys' and 'bad guys'. There was none of the 'gray' areas that confuse people. When I went to the ring, I wasthe 'bad guy'. I was the one the fans wanted to see get the crap kicked out of. Fans have always hated me there. And I them. Bastards. Sometimes I fought more fans than I did opponents. I've fought myself out of more rings in Puerto Rico than anywhere else I've ever worked. I've often said that the Puerto Rican fans, when I was there, thought the space program was fake and wrestling was real.

I clearly remember the night when Glenn Jacobs moved to the head of the class and became the most favorite student of all time at the University of Dutch. We were in the Saturday night town, where we were taping for our TV show, and the house was sold out. It wasn't a huge arena but there were close to 2,000 people jammed into a space which was only designed to hold 1,500. Broadway calls in SRO (standing room only). When I looked out at the crowd, I called it a crime scene waiting to happen.

I clearly remember going into the building that night telling Glenn that I didn't feel right about the night's card which meant that the angle might be a little too hot. I've always felt tension in the air even when I was a young kid. I felt a lot of it in the air as I walked into the back of the 'concha' which is what they call athletic courts or gyms in Puerto Rico.

When my match started, it was HOT!!! Not temperature wise, crowd wise. The angle was one of the hottest I had ever shot in Puerto Rico and as we neared the completion of the match, I could feel the crowd getting hotter and hotter. I've been in situations like that before so I wasn't caught off guard but I knew what was coming. I was going to end up fighting these assholes again.

This wasn't the first time I'd fought these pricks either. I knew who was to blame and it wasn't the fans, it was me. Since I was the booker, I had engineered everything to lead them down this path and they went with me in the storyline. That night, it all can together as the house was completely over sold out. Normally, that should be reason for congratulations. Tonight it might be a reason for an ass whupping. Mine. The fans wanted my arse beat because it was a believable angle and one that was ripe with violence. And a lot of blood.

I had anticipated a sell out and a lot of crowd response but not the level to where this thing was headed. I resigned myself to the fact that this could be one hairy situation before I could make the 150 feet from the ring to the sanctuary of the dressing room.

When it came time to leave, well, let's just say the people didn't want me to leave. Oh one more little tidbit that I forgot to mention. Did I mention that 80% of those bastards were drunker than Cooter Brown? I don't know who Cooter Brown was but he had to be one alcoholic SOB to beat this crowd. Just for a good visual on this crowd, it was sold out with at least a thousand of them hammered. Think the wildest Saturday night redneck beer joint you can imagine and multiply that by 50. Actually, I hated myself that night knowing that it was my own invention that had not only sold out the building but had put me in the spot I was in now.

The promoter in Puerto Rico was a cheap bastard who hired the cheapest and laziest assholes on the island to pull security. Believe me, my daughter could have done a better job securing the wrestlers than they could. As I started to leave the ring, I looked for my security and guess what? Did I mention they were a sorry bunch? Well, if I didn't, they were. Those asshole security guards were AWOL. The were nowhere to be found. I surmise that they saw how much 'heat' I had and how mad the fans were and said 'screw it'. They ran the other way therefore leaving me with just one little bitty security guard to help me negotiate my way to the dressing room.

I saw the one guy outside the ring and it hadn't dawned on me yet that the other security guards weren't coming so I waited a few moments more to see if they would show. But the fans wouldn't allow me to just stand around as they, by this time, had commenced the infamous Puerto Rican 'AIR SHOW as I called it. The air show meant that the fans starting filling up the ring with debris like bottles, rocks, ice cups, spark plugs, glass and whatever they found handy. Yes, I said spark plugs.

Long story made short...I made it a short distance but there were just too many fans to go through. As I tried to push through the crowd quickly with all those people around, I was pushing and punching trying to open up just a semblance of a hole to squeeze through. No hole opened up. Somehow, I got tripped and went down and that's a situation that is the worst possible scenario in a situation like this.

As I was down, some asshole kicked me right in the face. It stunned me and it knocked me out temporarily. When I came back to, I was crawling on my hands and knees and blood was all in my hands from the kick in the face. The lone security guard was still with me and he must have diverted the fans long enough for me to get to my feet. I was blinded in one eye by this point and that's not a good thing to have.

I could see the dressing room door and as I stumbled toward it, some guy grabbed my hair and as I spun around to get him off, 3 or 4 more guys surrounded me swinging and kicking. I nailed one guy and sent him reeling but they backed up and came again. In other words, I was getting the s**t kicked out of me.

Then out of nowhere, I saw Big Glenn out of the corner of my one good eye as he stepped in and grabbed me. He put himself between me and the mob of what seemed like an army and then shoved me into the dressing room. Unbeknown to me but he also extracted the lone security guard who was getting the crap stomped out of him by some other fans. If Glenn hadn't been there, it would have been a much worse scene than it was.

The police showed up...about 30 minutes later after they had their stop at Dunkin Donuts. Did I mention earlier that the people are always late in Puerto Rico? Well, their tardiness extends to their police departments too. They wanted to take a statement...but I said F a statement. I needed a doctor. Or a priest. I thought I was dying.

My eye was cut and bleeding and I needed stitches. My head was ringing and my ribs were hurting too. I spent the night in not one, but two hospital emergency rooms. Puerto Rican emergency rooms are wild too. The whole time I was there wating to see a doctor, I was joined by victms of shootings, stabbing and assaults. Lots of families, wives and kids all crying and carrying on. But I had the one security guard and Glenn who was still with me.

I ended up with 12 stitches over my eye and 8 underneath the eye. I was fortunate that it wasn't worse and had it not been for big Glenn, it would have been. So now you see why Glenn Jacobs moved to the top of the class as the most favored student ever at the University of Dutch.

Glenn, if you're reading this, thanks. If you're not, learn to read.

Glenn stayed for almost a year. He learned through basically immersing himself in the game through constant teaching and attention to detail. Glenn progressed quickly as I watched him turn into to a talent that was ready to move up. By this time, I could see that Glenn had come down with the dreaded island fever. That's a term to describe when the island's relative smallness, gets to an outsider. Americans working there have described it and I've been known to come down with it too. Glenn was tired of Puerto Rico and to tell the truth, I was too.

Glenn left in December and went on a tour to Germany. Before he left, I wished him well and he did the same to me. I had stayed in regular contact with Jim Cornette and I had told him about this kid I had that would be a great talent if given the chance. Later on, Glenn got himself booked in Smoky Mountain, as the Unibomber, and did very well for himself.

About a year later, Glenn, with Cornette's help, found his way to WWF as they debuted him as Isacc Yankem which wasn't a good fit for him. WWF also saddled him awhile with the fake Diesel character but that fizzled out almost from the start. But Vince McMahon wasn't giving up on a guy with Glenn's size and talent so, as he's done a thousand times before, he repackaged him. He re-debuted Isaac Yankem as the brother of the UnderTaker, Kane. Glenn's evolution through the name factory had taken him from Doomsday to Unibomber to Isaac Yankem to Diesel and finally his last pit stop, Kane.

Now as Paul Harvey used to say, you know the rest of the story.

Glenn turned into a great talent and one good guy.

Next on The World According to Dutch, the last part of this three part series is coming up and it's all about Stone Cold Steve Austin and his journey to the top via a stop in Memphis. This was the night where I officially bestowed upon Steve Williams the name he made famous, Austin and his reaction to the name. You can leave public comments below or contact me privately at:

dirtydutchmantell@gmail.com

or

dutchmantell@facebook.com

Tags: Dutch Mantel, Bruiser Brody, WWF,