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Oklahoma and Arizona territories before returning to Ohio for a second run under promoter Al Haft. Soon after we got there, promoter Moppen announced they were bringing in the heavyweights. Anything over 205 pounds was considered a heavyweight. At 190 pounds, soaking wet, Dad was a junior heavyweight, and he saw the writing on the wall—he was out, and the big guys were in. He gave his notice, and we were off to Texas.
    By 1948, Mom and Dad were thinking about putting some roots down. Junior was in school now, but it was difficult for him. Moving from territory to territory, he had to change teachers and friends a couple of times a year, even though he usually did well and was an exceptional student. My parents wanted a home and some stability, like other families had.
    I wasn’t yet at school age, so it wasn’t as hard for me as it was for my brother. He and I were like all brothers, I guess. We loved each other to death and hated each other, too, sometimes. We would get into terrible fights, and I usually got the worst end of it. My mom would stop it by hitting us over the head with a newspaper. For some reason, we were just like dogs. When the dog pisses in the house, you hit him with a newspaper, and that’s what she did. Boy, we were scared to death of that newspaper! For some reason, hitting us with a newspaper was the worst thing she could do to us.
    Our house had a kitchen with two doors leading to it on opposite ends and an island counter in the middle. Traffic would go in one door, around the island and out. It was almost like a circle. One time, when my brother and I got into a big argument, I said something that would turn it into a fight, as I often did. But it was only going to be a fight if he could catch me!
    I took off with the idea I would try to get enough of a lead on him that I could make it to the bathroom and lock myself in before he could get to me. It was a great plan, except for one thing—I would also have to make it through the kitchen, where my mother was ready to spring into action with her newspaper, rolled and taped up.
    I tell you, all she had to do after a while was take that newspaper out, and Junior and I would calm down as soon as we saw it. She had us trained, just like dogs!
    It was always evident that my brother and I had different personalities. Junior would operate behind the scenes, while I was just goofy enough to try anything.
    One time, he said, “Hey, Terry, I have an idea.” “What’s that, Junior?”
    “I think you’d be able to run really fast if we tied a piece of plywood to your back.”
    So that’s what we did.
    Well, the wind was blowing about 40 miles an hour that day. We found a large piece of plywood to put around my arms and tied me to it. I picked up a lot of speed, as I recall, but soon became the world’s first manned tumble-board.
    Junior was the quiet one, but he was the one with all the ideas. My dad was the same way. He always had stuff for me to do.
    We had a skunk named Stinky. It’d had its scent glands removed, but at some point, Stinky ran away, so we went out looking. Soon enough, my dad spotted a skunk and said, “Terry, there’s Stinky.”
    “Dad, I don’t think that’s Stinky.”
    “Goddammit, that’s Stinky! Look how tame he is! Get out there and get him!”
    So I went out there and got sprayed by the skunk. It sure was stinky, but it wasn’t Stinky!
    We lived for a while in the trailer court with the other wrestlers’ families, but then my father got a job as superintendent at the Boys’ Ranch under Cal Farley, who was also a professional wrestler. Dory Senior ran the entire thing for all 140-plus kids out there. He dealt with all their problems. Nowadays, you have to go through a tremendous amount of litigation to get a child to a place like that. Back then, they’d get a call from the sheriff, or sometimes even from out of state, with someone saying, “Hey, I have a boy for you here. He’s a problem child, his parents