Chapter 4: Roundhouse Revival puts Coliseum back on civic map!

The day for Roundhouse Revival had come and none of us quite knew what to expect. There hadn't been an event there in eight years. We'd done every promotional thing you could do… mass flyering campaign by a small army of volunteers coupled with every last media opportunity and a social media push.

We'd gotten a few lucky breaks in the days preceding. Veteran wrestling announcer Dave Brown had just retired as TV5's weatherman, and he would be on hand to make a few remarks. Classic wrestling referee Jerry Calhoun had just retired from FedEx, too, and would officiate the Lawler/Dundee vs. Coliseum Crushers match. It was the cherry on top for wrestling fans.

I got there a little after 7 a.m., and already there were people at work scoping things out and starting to get set up. There was plenty of excited, nervous energy… the good kind. The day we'd imagined and worked so hard for was here. I fell in with a few volunteers setting up 6-foot folding tables and chairs. After we'd been at it a while, I realized, we were setting up for a big crowd. Would people come? We thought, "Maybe we'll get 1,000 people… maybe 1,500!" Mark and two others were hanging up long sheets of butcher paper that ran the length of the plywood that covered the west entrance doors. They posted signs overhead that read "What do you want to see the Coliseum become?"

Mike had met the crew to set up the two wrestling rings. The idea was that the bill would mix music and wrestling throughout the day in two rings. We would set up in one while the show in the other unfolded, then strike the set when one band finished while the other kicked off. That way, the action never stopped for long as we built toward the Lawler/Dundee vs. Crushers main event.

I was helping a food truck back into its slot when I saw the first TV crew roll up. I handed off the food truck guy to Jordan to cover generator policies and peeled off to meet them. In the five months since I first mic'd up at the Fairgrounds Forum as Coliseum Coalition spokesman, I'd gotten to know most of the TV reporters in town. This was for a noon broadcast and just a scene-setter to tease to the evening newscasts, the reporter said. Another crew would be back. Things were heating up now… it was still early… 10:30 a.m. Things weren't supposed to kick off until 1 p.m. and people were already here. We were all feeling the pressure to get set-up done. Now we were feeling the other side of our nerves. Did we remember everything? Most of the set-up went off without a hitch, and it helped that our event committee had swelled to almost 40 people.

Another TV crew arrived, then another. Print outlets, photographers, documentary filmmakers, you name it… vendors, politicians… and tons and tons of regular folks of all types. We blew past 1,000 and 1,500 people early. All-tolled, 4,500+ people showed up. Among them were several doubters, smiling ear to ear.

"Gotta hand it to y'all," one of them said. "I didn't think this place still meant so much to so many people. All of Memphis is here today. This is big!"

All day had been a blur… great bands, great matches, so many people, so many great ideas on our idea wall. So much love and enthusiasm for what we were doing.

And the main event lived up to the hype and then some. Our emcee Josh McLane brought up Dave Brown to say a few words before the match. Dave understood the moment and, in addition to stoking the crowd about the match, he waxed enthusiastic about "this great building, ladies and gentlemen." People swooned. I learned later on that Dave had asked Josh to bring him up with about a minute before match time. But because Lawler had an issue with his tights, there was an unexpected delay which caused Dave to have to hold court for more than five minutes. It was perfect, and certainly no problem for a veteran broadcaster and ringside commentator.

Our heels were perfect, too. The Coliseum Crushers manager, Hollywood Jimmy Blaylock, spewed hate right on cue. He said he hated the Coliseum and thought it should be torn down, along with the rest of Memphis, which was "old news." When he crowed about "all the concerts coming to Mississippi now," people felt it in their guts! The Coliseum used to get all the great shows, but now those shows did play just a short drive away in northern Mississippi. All that tax money, all that revenue, left not only state and local coffers, but it also left a once thriving community in the lurch, with disinvestment plain to see. In this case, wrestling served to surface a real point of contention that underpinned our cause. Wrestling is "fake," but it can be true. Art that really resonates with people always gets at a fundamental truth.

After Jimmy spent a good five minutes running down Memphis, out came the Coliseum Crushers and they were met with a sea of boos. They flexed and told people to shut up, and the boos grew all the louder.

Then out came our heroes... to great fanfare… Jerry's words matched Dave's in terms of soaring rhetoric about the Coliseum, and he held court, crown in his hand, for more than 10 minutes. People ate it up.

Then on to the matter at hand… settling it in the ring!

I think people love wrestling because of its immediacy. Things clearly go one way or another, unlike real life, which can drag out forever, and some hoped-for results never seem to come. People crave finality and certitude, which leaves them vulnerable to easy answers.

The match took turns that were as thrilling as they were predictable in the broad sweep of wrestling narrative. The bad guys seemed to have the upper hand, Hollywood Jimmy Blaylock poked Lawler in the neck with his cane when the ref wasn't looking. "Are you blind, ref?" people screamed!

Then it happened. Everyone knew it would.

Lawler lowered his strap!

This is his career-spanning, signature move… and it showed everyone that the tide was about to turn… that he was through messing around! Sure enough, one giant punch flattened the first Crusher, the next one sent the other to the mat, and then Jerry tagged Bill and the rout was on. With one poor Crusher lying there "writhing in pain and unable to get up," Jerry climbed to the top rope. He raised his fist high and looked out at the crowd. People cheered. They knew what was coming next. Jerry kissed his fist, smiled, and jumped. Lights out punch from "the King," from the top rope!? No one comes back from that! 1… 2… 3… it was over! People went nuts! The whole thing's on YouTube from several different angles, one of them mine, if you want to check it out.

There was a moment, toward the end of the match, when Mike joined me ringside. He'd been dealing with a technical issue, but the relief on his face let me know he'd solved it. The whole day had been a wonderful blur, a confirmation of what we'd felt in our bones was true. Today had been a validation.

I had a surreal moment when I turned to Mike in all sincerity and asked, "Mike, is this really happening?" He smiled broadly. "Yeah, man, I know. Can you believe it!?" Just like Lawler had lowered his strap on the Crushers, we had "lowered our strap" on old perceptions. The Coliseum was a place everyone loved… a place everyone missed… not just us middle-aged white guys. For one day, anyway, the Coliseum was undeniably back as the front-and-center forum of civic life it had always been, and we all hoped… would be again.