Moondog...

There have been many, many zany fellows pass through the ranks of professional wrestling.  If I were to make a list of those I have come in contact with it would cover far more space than I have allotted in my computer. But at the top of my list would have to be Lonnie "Moondog" Mayne.

Lonnie was a terrific worker, a funny fellow, and a danger to anyone who came in contact with him because you never knew what he was going to do. He never meant any harm, but he could and would put you in positions that sometimes were hard to explain.

Some examples:

I was driving home from Albany, Ga. on a rural country road. Anyone who has ever traveled in South Georgia knows the kind I am talking about. Dark, tree lined, and wildlife possible on every turn. I was driving about 70 miles per hour with the radio wide open when something hit me from behind with such force that I almost lost control of the car. When I finally regained some composure I saw Lonnie going around me with his lights off. He had run fast enough to catch me and ram me with his lights off just for a laugh.

At a show in Jonesboro, Ga. at the high school I learned of a secret Lonnie possessed. I went to the ring for the opening match and when I came back my bag was locked shut with about fifteen of those combination locks like you use on a high school locker. I tried everything I knew to get it open. I finally called the head coach to see if he could help me. He had a pass key that fit into the back of the locks and he began to remove them. My friend, Moondog began this tirade about how some of the boys had no respect for others property, especially school supplies and how they would steal anything that was not locked or nailed down. When the coach finally got the last lock open out of my bag fell about fifty brand new softballs with the school logo imprinted on them. Try explaining that to an irate football coach. Lonnie's secret, he had pass keys too.

My favorite Moondog story was a scary incident that occurred just before Christmas one year. We ran Carrollton Ga. every  Saturday night. Carrollton was a small town about 45 miles west of Atlanta and normally by the time we arrived there we had already made Atlanta TV and Columbus TV which made for a long day. The main event was Moondog against Dick Slater. Moondog  had gotten into the Christmas spirit a little early (I put the emphasis on spirits). He was moving a little gingerly to say the least. Near the end of the match he slammed Slater and proceeded to climb up the turnbuckle.  While standing on the top rope he teetered and tottered and fell off backwards all the way to the floor.  I looked down at Slater lying on the canvas and he said to me "He's dead". I slowly walked over to the ropes almost afraid to look down and there on the floor is Moondog laughing almost uncontrollably. He looks up at me and very loudly says "Bobby count me out". I did and we went to the house.

Lonnie "Moondog" Mayne may you rest in peace brother. You made life interesting for all who knew you.