Bill DeMott on Becoming Hugh Morrus, WCW’s Last Days and Training The Miz

Fred: What got you into wrestling?

Bill DeMott: I got hooked walking into Gleason’s Gym in Brooklyn. It was so physical that day. It might have been suplexes, but they were trying to learn something, and I happened to walk in during the middle of a training session. I sat and watched, and I was fascinated. There were two guys I was bigger than, and they were going at each other pretty good, and I thought, “Wait a minute. This isn’t amateur wrestling. This is pro wrestling.” I had no idea what I was in for when I walked in. I took it as a challenge, and that challenge wound up as a 22-year career. I’m not sure what keeps me going. All I know is that it’s hard to stay away from it. Even the biggest critics can’t stay away from critiquing what we do, because you draw them in. I got drawn in, though not at an early age. These kids start at 16 or 17, and I was 22 or 23, so I was a late bloomer. Just lucky, just blessed, and I’ve been around ever since.

Fred: Did you play sports as a kid, or did the athleticism come naturally?

Bill DeMott: I started playing football my junior year in high school, did a little bit of wrestling and went on to play football in college. I was a late bloomer in sports too. But watching guys like Neidhart, Bigelow and John Studd, I knew there had to be something that made me stand out, because being big wasn’t good enough. People were in my ear saying, “Big, heavy guys don’t do this,” and I just kept going, and it fit me. People started to put that over, and in later years, I’d be called the Human Humvee and the World’s Largest Cruiserweight. I like doing things nobody would expect from a 350-pound guy.

Fred: How did you break into WCW? Did you have to go through the Power Plant, which I’ve heard was pretty grueling?

Bill DeMott: No, I never did. I later went to the Power Plant to make some appearances and help some guys out, but I came right from Japan. Kevin Sullivan brought me in. The way I got it, Big Van Vader had an altercation with Paul Orndorff, and Sullivan picked up the phone and asked, “You still fat? You still wrestling?” I answered yes to both, they flew me to Georgia, and boom, I was part of WCW.

Fred: How did you get the name Hugh Morrus?

Bill DeMott: I did a promo for Randy Savage, and I laughed in between, when I had nothing to say, just me being Bill. They said, “Can you do that every night?” I said, “Do what?” They said, “That laugh.” I said, “I didn’t mean to do that. I apologize.” They said, “No, do it again.” So I cut another promo, and the next thing I know, I’m on Saturday Night with the question marks, and they called me the Man of Question, because they still didn’t have a name. The announcers broke it up into “Hugh Morrus,” and people weren’t getting it. I didn’t get it either. So they had the laughing man, Hugh Morrus, and then everybody understood the humor. That’s just how it came about.

Fred: Once you’d been on TV for a while and knew you were talented in the ring, did you go to them for more direction, or did they decide to do something with you?

Bill DeMott: It wasn’t my job. My job was to do what I was told. I never took the initiative there. I knew my job and what was expected, I did it, and I hoped somewhere down the line my turn would come. That’s the way I was taught and the way I approached it, and I stayed away from all the crazy politics.

Fred: It sounds like a cartoony gimmick, but it got over. What did you think when you first heard they were going to call you General Hugh G. Rection?

Bill DeMott: I had to go out on a pay-per-view against Scott Steiner for the United States Championship. Until that point, I was just filling in. I had a few good matches, weekend matches, and every once in a while I’d come out of the woodwork. Booker had a concussion or something and wasn’t going to make the show, so they looked around, wrote something up and said, “We’re going to change your name.” I didn’t ask any questions. They said, “Read it.” I read it, walked into the office and told Russo and Ferrara they were crazy. They said, “If you don’t want to do it, just say so.” I said, “I’m going to do it. I’m just letting you know you’re crazy.” I walked out in front of the whole world and said my name was Hugh G. Rection. At that point, you can take it and run with it, or fall on your face and make it a one-night stand. I chose to make a run and turn whatever it was, whether it was a rib or a one-night thing, into something, and that’s what happened.

We had a great group of guys. What we went out to do was the same thing we did every night before they recognized us. Lance Storm came in hot, holding all three belts, so the proof was in the pudding. If everybody goes back and looks, the things General Rection did were the same things Hugh Morrus did when I started. It’s just that once it’s noticed, people perceive it differently. We didn’t go out to prove anything. We could have been doing it two years earlier. We had a lot of fun. It was interesting at times, but I enjoyed it wholeheartedly.

Fred: How surreal was it when WWF bought WCW?

Bill DeMott: Very scary. I thought I was going to go back to Japan and work the rest of my career there. Within a day or two, I got a phone call saying they’d picked me up, and thank God: “Welcome to the WWF.” It was very laid back but very regimented. The politics that floated in WCW wouldn’t even hold water in the WWF at the time, and a lot of guys had a rude awakening, as you saw every week on TV and in the back. They were going through talent like a strainer. Guys couldn’t keep their jobs or their positions, because they had to play a different game. We went from Triple-A ball to the pros. I’m not knocking WCW. I’m talking about the atmosphere and the way it was run. In WCW, the inmates kind of ran the asylum, and in the WWF, you knew the warden ran it. Plus, we added 30 guys to a roster that was already full and strong, so we had to walk in and prove ourselves.

Fred: You had a brief run with Chavo Guerrero at Rebellion 2001 in England. I remember thinking you guys had natural chemistry.

Bill DeMott: They loved it, and they went with it, but on the flight back from England to Newark, something happened. Somebody suggested something else, and it went south. There were so many guys and so many things. I think it was threatening to a lot of guys when we came in and people said, “Wow, we like that,” and somebody else said, “Wait a minute. I’ve been here four years trying to get that.”

Fred: You moved into announcing. Was it hard to transition?

Bill DeMott: It was hard to get used to their set of rules. I always found it rude when announcers broke away from talking about me to talk about a pay-per-view, because you’re out there doing your best. So when I came in, I wanted to talk about what those guys were doing. I’d tell everybody who had a match in front of me, “No disrespect, but give me a reason to talk about you, so I don’t have to talk about Skittles or the next sponsor.” Production would get pissed. They’d say, “You’ve got to announce it.” I’d say, “Let Josh talk about that. I’m talking wrestling. That’s what I do.”

Fred: Velocity catered not only to casual fans but to smart fans, with guys like Bryan Danielson, who was a known indie star.

Bill DeMott: You talk about those guys. They were there for a reason. When Crash Holly or Bob Holly was on Velocity, you don’t talk about the next pay-per-view. You talk about what’s going on in the ring and make people appreciate it, because the guys want to be appreciated. A lot of people thought Velocity was a step down, but it’s TV and it’s wrestling, so you put it over the same way you would anything else. I enjoyed 13 months of that, and I enjoyed the hell out of it.

Fred: I think you hold the record for most squash matches ever on TV. Every week you were destroying somebody. That character was badass, and then it came off TV. Was that your decision?

Bill DeMott: It wasn’t my decision. It was one of those famous wrestling phrases: “We’re going to go a different way with that.” As a matter of fact, I was getting the best of Rikishi in a lot of those matches, and it felt disrespectful, because it was supposed to be a big program leading into a big pay-per-view blowoff. I got the best of him a whole bunch of times, and then it was, “We’re going to go a different way, Bill.” That’s wrestling. You take wrestling for what it is, man. If you take it personally, it eats you up. Then I was the trainer, the guidance counselor, the scout, everything. I went to OVW, and the whole time I was doing Velocity, I was doing “Tough Enough” and training at OVW. Then they opened a new developmental territory, Deep South, so I moved everything to Georgia. For the better part of eight years with WWE, I did just about everything under the sun.

Fred: Did you enjoy working with all the young talent?

Bill DeMott: I love training guys, helping them figure out what they do best and what they want to do, and giving them insight on how to get there. I think the best way to give advice is to be able to back it up, and I’d like to think that over 22 years, I can back it up and show these guys which route to go. The proof is in the pudding. I think 30 guys made it out of Deep South, and for a company that was open for only about a year and a half, that’s a hell of a turnover.

Fred: The Miz had a lot of doubters at first. Did you see something in him when he came in?

Bill DeMott: I met Mike at a few charity events when he was doing the MTV thing, and I didn’t think anything of it. He told me he was a big wrestling fan. When he came to “Million Dollar Tough Enough,” I sat him down and said, “You’re going to have to prove yourself to no one else first but me,” and that’s the same thing Al Snow told him. Mike Mizanin has gone the way he should have gone, and he’s as legitimate a star as anybody, same as John Morrison, who came through “Tough Enough.” Matt Cappotelli got hurt, but he was good. Maven was freaking great, and Josh went on to be a commentator and is still doing that today. He’s in the business he came into. I get a big kick out of Miz, and every time I get a chance, I give him a shout-out. I just want all those guys to know they’re doing awesome, and I’m proud of them. If I helped them in any way, I’m grateful.

Fred: When WWE said it wanted to go in a different direction, what happened?

Bill DeMott: They were going to Tampa, and there’s been all the internet jabber about certain guys who lost their jobs in developmental. It is what it is. Perception is reality, and it’s what people read on the internet and what they hear. But I love wrestling. WWE called and asked, “Even after all the crap you went through, would you come back?” Hell yeah. TNA called, hell yeah. ISPW called and asked if I’d do something, and hell yeah. I love wrestling.

Fred: What’s one piece of advice you’d give somebody breaking into the business?

Bill DeMott: If you’re a young stud breaking into this business, trying hard and giving it your all, when you put your head on the pillow at the end of the day, remember this: It’s just wrestling. Don’t consume yourself with it, and don’t beat yourself up. These young cats who are 18, 19 and 20, if they’re blessed enough to get the chance, are already miserable by the time they’re 25, because they’ve done so much and put so much pressure on themselves. At the end of the day, for everybody out there, boys, girls, referees, managers or columnists, it’s just wrestling. That’s it. If you aspire to be what you’re watching on TV, it’s just wrestling.

Fred: Bill DeMott, thank you so much.

Bill DeMott: Thank you, brother. My pleasure.