Metro Pulse/Gamut/Wrestling School

Class Act or Actors' Class?

Would-be wrestlers spend 60 to 90 days being trained at Ron's Wrestling School, according to Terry Landell, who operates the school as well as Ron's Championship Wrestling.

"The amount of time it takes depends on how well they do," says Landell, who has been in the wrestling business for 23 years. "At any given time, we've got about 16 guys training." The teachers include professionals such as Landell himself, Rick Connors, Dirty White Boy, Jeff Anderson, and Sammy V.

"Each wrestler comes up with his own gimmick," Landell says, "and we help them in figuring out how to work the crowd." The school guarantees the first match in front of an audience.

The cost to each pupil is $1,500, with payment plans available. The telephone number is 865-973-8092.

Knoxville's wrestling program produces a continual string of new lords of the ring

by Chris Wohlwend

When JR Star Dog is introduced to the fans, he gets more boos than cheers. He acknowledges the crowd by climbing up onto the ropes of the wrestling ring, raising his arms in triumph. "JR rules," he yells, drawing more catcalls.

It's Saturday night at the National Guard Armory, and JR, also known as Junior Campbell, is part of the card put together for Ron's Championship Wrestling by promoter Terry Landell. The main event is a heavyweight title bout between challenger Jeff "Wildman" Anderson and the current champ, the Dirty White Boy. Other fighters on this night include Big Money Marcus, Rob Adonis, Rick Cannon, Brian Alexander, Sammy V. And, intones ring announcer Gene Restaino, "direct from Brushy Mountain State Prison, Jail Birds 1 and 2."

Like the Jail Birds, JR wrestles as a "heel," a fighter who thrives on the enmity of the crowd. He likes the jeers and boos. In most matches, a heel is pitted against a "babyface," a good guy who is not going to employ dirty tactics. But there are more heels than babyfaces, and in many fights the crowd has to choose between degrees of depravity. JR's opponent on this night is a bleached-blond pretty boy from Kingsport named Stan Lee, who isn't exactly a babyface himself.

JR, 31, has been wrestling for almost three years. He's 6-foot, 215 pounds, not very big by ring standards. But he's quick and athletic, able to execute a credible "splash off the top"—jumping belly-down onto his opponent from the top rope of the ring—and make it look easy.

He started by training at Ron's Wrestling School, operated by Landell and named for Ron Wright, legendary wrestler from Kingsport who fought all around East Tennessee for decades. Wright now hosts a wrestling show on PAX54 television every Saturday at 10:30 a.m., and several of tonight's matches are being taped for later broadcast.

JR's is a "dark match"—it won't be taped. But that's OK with him. "It doesn't matter to me," he says, "I just love doing it, I love the attention it brings. You can't make any money at it—you've got to love it."

J.R.'s attention was first drawn to wrestling when he was young. "I grew up in Habersham, up in the mountains of Campbell County, and every Sunday we'd go over to my papaw's house and watch wrestling on TV—if it was Sunday, and you were at Papaw's, you watched wrestling. I watched Ron Wright and Whitey Caldwell. Then in high school me and some friends learned how to do head butts and we'd stage fake fights, you know, just to stop classes for a little while."

After a stint in the Army, JR started work in the Knoxville area as a carpet installer—still his "day job" —and kept following wrestling, watching as a new generation became stars, guys like the Mongolian Stomper, Mr. X, the Dirty White Boy, and his favorite, Jimmy Golden. Finally, he decided he had to try it himself. After he was introduced to Landell, he began training at the wrestling school, working mostly with Rick Connors.

"After the first 15 minutes I was ready to quit because it really hurt," he says. "But I had started, and I wasn't going to quit. Most wrestlers will tell you that they quit after every match because you just really get beat up. But they keep doing it. You can't make any money at it, but there's just something about it; you can't just walk away."

Training starts with "running the ropes," making several sprints across the ring, bouncing off the ropes each time before finally slamming into your opponent in the middle of the ring. Then there is learning to take a "bump," going down on the mat on your back; then a "face bump," same thing face-down. And there's a drill where you stand in the middle of the ring and a group of other wrestlers take turns coming at you. "They find out pretty quick how tough you are and weed out the ones who aren't going to stick with it," JR says. After each of those first sessions, you leave "hurting really bad."

Sometimes, there is more than just pain—most wrestling injuries come in training. Besides the expected cuts, bruises, and abrasions, JR's litany includes a broken toe, a broken foot, loosened teeth, and a three-inch gash in his skull. The latter came during a match with Tim Reed, a 325-pounder.

"He had me in a headlock and was running me into the steel pole in one of the corners. The third time I didn't get my hand up and caught it hard. Blood went everywhere. Of course the crowd loved it, so we made it look real good."

Pleasing the crowd, getting them into the fight, is what it's all about, and that's why JR likes being a heel. "To me, that's more fun. I can make people not like me, just get the people hating me. I'll yell 'Look at me—I'm so pretty' and they'll go crazy. I'll pick the people out who are really into it and work them."

Sometimes the crowd gets too into it. "One time, old crazy Betty [a regular attendee] hit me right on the chin with her fist. Another time a woman took the strap off her purse and caught me in the eye with the buckle. That stung.

"Once, when the Dirty White Boy was fighting tag-team with his wife Kim, the Dirty White Girl, an old man reached across the rail and grabbed Kim. Dirty White Boy came across that ring really quick. They took the old man outside pretty fast. Security's always there and most of the crowd knows what the limits are. I've never seen anything really bad."

Since his debut 2-1/2 years ago, JR has fought all around the area, in rings set up in parking lots, for church groups, in school gyms. For a while, he fought every week in LaFollette as the "hometown boy." In each fight he honed his skills, getting better at taking the bumps, learning more of the scores of different moves and all their modifications. For instance, the "Supplex" (wherein a wrestler lifts his opponent and drops him to the canvas with the added impetus of his own bodyweight) alone features about a dozen variations: Snap, Standing, Northern Lights, Belly to Belly, Belly to Back, German, Overhead, Side. Then there are the Boston Crab, the Stunner, the Neckbreaker, the Scorpion Death Lock.

On this night at the armory, JR is fighting after the main event, a tough act to follow. A championship battle, it starts with Anderson's manager, Landell, handcuffed to a ringpost. A 400-pounder in the audience (forearm tattoo: Mom) has to be warned away from the rail as he tries to get to Landell. Finally, a masked man in prison stripes slips from under the ring with the key to the cuffs. Meanwhile, on the mat, Dirty White Boy and Anderson are going at each other. Finally, with the uncuffed Landell beating on White Boy with a prosthetic leg, Anderson gets the pin and the championship belt. A rematch is quickly promised.

After everything calms down, the TV lights and cameras turned off, it is time for JR and Stan Lee. Restaino makes his introduction—the heel is always first out—and JR bounds up into the ring. Leaning on the ropes, he watches with disdain as his fey opponent enters. As Lee asks for the referee's help in removing his butterfly-decorated robe, JR scoffs. Then, as Lee is busy taunting the crowd, JR sneaks over and pinches him on the butt.

Despite his villainy, after only a few moves into the match the crowd is cheering "JR, JR, JR." At every opportunity, JR raises his arms and yells, "Look at me," stoking the crowd as he mocks his opponent's pretty-boy persona. He and his opponent follow a wrestling tenet, staying physical with a lot of bumps and jumps.

But JR isn't destined to be the victor tonight, and Lee gets the pin. After the winner has headed back to the dressing room, JR, undaunted, is standing ringside, arms upraised. "Look at me," he yells to the cheers and jeers of the crowd.