By April of 1994, we were working fervently on our repertoire of double-team finishers and had developed a new maneuver called the Harlem Heat Seeker. At the close of a match, Lash would pick up our opponent on his shoulders like an electric chair. The second he was settled, I’d climb the top turnbuckle and missile dropkick the guy. It was terrifying to me because by the time I jumped over Lash to kick our opponent, I was fifteen feet in the air for a crash onto my side, hip, arms, and belly. It may have been my most reckless move, but sometimes it was necessary to summon a little of that inner Cactus Jack.
By this time, I was also finishing up a move now known as the Harlem Hangover, which would eventually become my personal highlight move. It was inspired by 2 Cold Scorpio’s off-the-top backflip leg drop, but mine was frontward. For quite a while, I’d been doing a move in matches where I’d climb to the top and front flip off as a guy would move out of the way, but it occurred to me I was landing in the same spot ten out of ten times. When I realized it could be modified into an actual offensive finish with a leg drop, there was no turning back.
We were constantly working to improve our performances. From our gear to our moves, fans were drawn into everything about Harlem Heat’s presence in the ring. Before every single match, I’d jump rope and use exercise bands to be sure I was limbered up for the challenge ahead. When our entrance music hit, the crowd jumped to their feet, yelling, “Whoop, there it is! Raise the roof!” Fans even started bringing signs with those phrases written on them in bright marker and glitter. The reaction despite our heel status indicated how close we were to making a major breakthrough.
Yet there was one missing piece: our names. We were still Kane and Kole. On May 25, after almost a full year of asking Dusty and Bischoff and anyone else who’d listen, we were finally granted our request to use our Ebony Experience names of Booker T and Stevie Ray. During that night’s tapings, as we entered Center Stage Theater, Tony Schiavone announced, “Fans, coming to ring is Booker T and Stevie Ray—Harlem Heat!”
It was the final turning point for the Harlem Heat. Now the vision was complete.
On June 11, the arrival of Hulk Hogan was at hand. The fanfare came in full force during a parade on the streets of Orlando. Hogan sat on the back of a motorcade like the new yellow-and-red president of WCW. He signed his contract during the broadcast, and major media covered it, just as Bischoff had planned.
The first match was set. It would be Hulk Hogan versus Ric Flair at Bash at the Beach 1994 on July 17 from Orlando Arena. Longtime wrestling fans Shaquille O’Neal and Mr. T, personal friends of Hogan’s, sat ringside for the event and brought even more hype to the meeting of the business’s two biggest names.
WCW World Heavyweight Champion Ric Flair stood face-to-face with legendary rival Hulk Hogan to finally settle the score. It was no surprise to anyone, especially Flair, that when it was time for the match to come home, Hogan dropped the leg and walked away as the new champ.
It was all according to Bischoff’s master plan for WCW. He was pulling Turner’s top talent and pushing WCW straight to the top of the industry.
Although Lash and I weren’t on the card that night, we were there and could feel the energy. I’d once heard that stars made stars. I wondered how bright Harlem Heat could shine with the growing star power at WCW.
Little did I know that Hulk Hogan himself would be the one to put the spotlight on us.
In early August, an elbow injury forced me to take some time off. Meanwhile, Bischoff was hard at work evaluating WCW’s talent pool with Hogan. Very hands-on creatively, Hogan was a huge proponent of tag team wrestling and was eager to restructure the division. We later heard that when Bischoff and Dusty sat down with Hogan, they presented all the teams in the company, asking who he wanted to push. He didn’t even hesitate to recommend Harlem Heat and say he knew just what to do with us.
When the news got to me in Atlanta, I almost passed out. I needed to get my elbow back in working order, and I trained like a man possessed. When I wasn’t training, I was home intently watching the product on TV as guys like The Nasty Boys and Stars and Stripes tore it up in the ring.
It would take until the early fall before I could realistically come back. When I did, nothing could’ve prepared me for what Hogan had in store for us.
“Brothers,” he said, “there’s someone I want you to meet. This is Sherri Martel. Get acquainted because you’ll be working together, and it’s going to propel you guys to the top.”
There she was, “Sensational” Sherri herself, the professional wrestling great who, after transitioning out of active performance, had become a very successful manager/valet to major WWF Superstars like Randy Savage, Ric Flair, Ted DiBiase, and Shawn Michaels. She’d been brought into WCW a few months prior as “Sensuous” Sherri, being aligned with Flair during his feud with Hogan. Now her act was being repackaged specifically for us.
“We’ve got a new name for her. You’re looking at Sister Sherri, and the three of you are going to shake up WCW.”
To generate buzz, WCW started taping backstage segments of Lash and me talking on a cell phone with a mystery person who was coming to help us. We had started a feud with Brian Knobbs and Jerry Sags, The Nasty Boys, and would meet in a big showdown at Clash of the Champions XXIX on November 16.
I always liked working with The Nasty Boys, who were big brawlers and two of the best in the tag division. Visually and stylistically, our teams complemented each other and delivered the kind of match everyone wanted to see.
At the Clash that night, we went back and forth for ten solid minutes, fists and bodies flying. In the last dramatic moments, all four of us entered the ring at the same time. Lash kept trying to bail out and use the cell to call our secret weapon, but every time he’d get an opportunity, Knobbs or Sags would sandbag him. He did manage to get a call through in the midst of all the interference. I was finally able to hit a double-axe-handle smash on Sags and attempted to drag him into position for the pin when, all of a sudden, out came Sherri, holding the phone, revealing she had been our contact throughout the weeks leading to the Clash.
When I watched it later, I thought Bobby “The Brain” Heenan’s description was perfect: “It’s Sherri, who’s managed more champions than probably anybody! She’s taken more men to the top! It’s a natural! They’re going to win this one!”
It was pure pandemonium as she came out dressed in a low-cut black vinyl dress with flames like ours. With Sherri, it was total Harlem Heat synergy—the winning formula we’d needed all along.
For the rest of 1994, we were in a war around the world with not only The Nasty Boys but also WCW World Tag Team Champions Stars and Stripes, the team of The Patriot and Marcus Bagwell. We made frequent stops in Atlanta for several TV tapings and then traveled overseas yet again. Through all these matches with top teams, WCW was building us up, giving Harlem Heat everything we could handle under pressure. Meanwhile, the three of us worked toward the common goal of becoming the WCW World Tag Team Champions.
On a personal level, Sherri gravitated toward me quickly. She became a true friend, and I cared about her as if she were my own sister. I would have done anything for her. Many nights after she partied a little too hard, I made sure she made it safely to her room for the night. She had her ups and downs, which sometimes affected her ability to perform, but when she was on top of her game in the ring, nothing came close to Harlem Heat and Sister Sherri.
Our team had great momentum, and heading into December, Dusty told us the news we’d been waiting to hear: “You’re going over Stars and Stripes at the next tapings for the belts. You boys ready for this?”
I looked at Lash and Sherri and thought, Oh, yeah, we’re ready!
On December 8, we found ourselves back at Center Stage Theater for the WCW Saturday Night tapings. It was time for us to live up to the expectations Hogan had for us.
When Sherri was ready to walk out with us, she laughed and patted our backs. “I knew you guys were all-stars.”
We stepped in against The Patriot and Bagwell, and it was a great night with two pros. We’d been working with Bagwell since our entry into the company, and The Patriot had been hugely popular in Global just before we got there. He was a big, muscular athlete who knew how to work a good match and do business. Together, the two of them were another babyface team like Thunder and Lightning, only Stars and Stripes were super patriotic in red, white, and blue. And then there we were, Harlem Heat, the evil from the streets of New York City about to rain all over their Fourth of July parade.
It felt right, as if we were an arrow that had been pulled back for a year and a half to finally be released into the WCW bull’s-eye. We had a steady match, both teams bumping and selling to make each other look strong.
Harlem Heat brought it all home when the ref was distracted. Lash and Patriot collided, and both went down. In the resulting confusion, I rolled into the ring and made the cover for the three count, and the belts were ours. Harlem Heat claimed the WCW World Tag Team Championships for the first time.
On December 27, we headed to Starrcade 1994 in Nashville for the company’s biggest PPV of the year. Because our championship win had yet to air, we came to the ring beltless.
We met up with The Nasty Boys for another slugfest with Brian and Jerry. I was always amazed how well Knobbs sold my moves. He took punches to the head like sniper shots, then collapsed and rolled around like a turtle stuck on its back. Sometimes I’d completely miss him, and he’d still fall all over the place and I’d have to stop myself from laughing at his contorted faces. Knobbs enjoyed performing for his opponents as much as he did for himself and the audience.
Sags was less predictable. I was in there with Jerry once and called a dropkick after whipping him into the ropes. He held on to the top rope, pulling himself back and causing me to eat a hard bump to the back of my head.
I stood up quickly and said, “What was that, man? Do it again, and I’m coming at you hard for real.”
He laughed. “Ew, I’m really scared!”
I shook my head, but that was the end of it. He knew I was serious.
We took a DQ loss, and that’s how we closed out 1994. We were champions in the wings going through the motions and waiting for our victory to be televised on the January 14 episode of WCW Saturday Night.
The year of 1995 started for Harlem Heat with almost an entire month on the circuit with Knobbs and Sags. We hit venues in Arizona, California, Texas, Ohio, and Pennsylvania. In Pittsburgh, we dropped a match by DQ. After our title win aired on TV, we were able to proudly walk out in front of the WCW audiences with those heavy, shining belts strapped around our waists.
After the long circuit, toward the end of January, tensions exploded among the boys in the back. One time, I caught the tail end of a vicious one between two titans in the industry: Vader and Mr. Wonderful, Paul Orndorff.
I heard a commotion coming from the back of Center Stage Theater. When I got there, Orndorff was standing in flip-flops in the middle of a bunch of boys, stomping Vader’s face on the concrete.
From what I understood, Vader had shown up late for some promo work, or something to that effect. Orndorff, who’d transitioned to the office as an agent, confronted him about it and they were off to the races. Regardless of how it started, I do know Mr. Wonderful finished it. Orndorff was an old-school tough guy who didn’t mind serving up a plate of humble pie if the bell rang for it.
We moved on to Clash of the Champions XXX in Vegas on January 25, where we again defeated Stars and Stripes to retain the belts.
Then we launched into a trip around the Carolinas and back to Atlanta, where I debuted the Harlem Hangover on February 8 against my old WWA pal Mike Davis at Center Stage Theater. After that, we touched down in Florida against The Nasty Boys and Stars and Stripes and won all to DQ finishes, thanks to Sister Sherri. No matter where we were or who we were paired with, Harlem Heat was ready to deliver.
On February 18, we received tragic news. Hot Stuff Eddie Gilbert, who’d given us our shot in Global, had died of a heart attack. He was only thirty-three years old.
Eddie had changed my life forever. He could’ve believed the rumors about us generated by a miserly promoter. He could’ve told us to get lost. Instead, he saw something in us and gave us a shot. He was the one who gave Lash the name Stevie Ray in honor of his favorite blues guitarist, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and named us The Ebony Experience. He said, “You’re going to be the best tag team anybody’s ever seen. You make sure you wear suits wherever you go and hold your heads high. Be respected. You’ll never be just some dancing minstrels; I can promise you that.” I still lean on Eddie’s wisdom today.
Losing him was a shock. We’d give the fans our best in his honor.
At SuperBrawl V on February 19 in Baltimore, we defeated The Nasty Boys yet again and got right back to Atlanta for a WCW Saturday Night taping. We were matched up against Sting and a freshly signed talent from the WWF, “Macho Man” Randy Savage.
I’d never met Savage before, but when we locked up, he volleyed for the upper hand. At the beginning, I threw a kick to his chest, and he had no intention of selling it. He caught my foot and backed me up hard into the corner, still grasping at me as if he would cut my other leg out from under me. I quickly reversed Savage and realized this guy was a seriously intense worker. We eventually settled into a groove, but Randy made it clear from the beginning that he meant business, which I liked.
To my surprise, Randy shook my hand afterward. “Hey, kid, we had us some fun out there, right?”
I nodded. I felt the exact same way.
By March, after holding the World Tag Team Championship for three months, Harlem Heat was scheduled to release them at Uncensored 1995 on March 19 in Tupelo, Mississippi, against The Nasty Boys. In doing so, I almost broke my neck courtesy of concession stand condiments.
It was a Texas Tornado Match, where the four of us battled simultaneously all over the place with a no-DQ stipulation in place. We started in the ring, went out on the floor, and then headed toward the side of the ramp, where there were multiple makeshift concession stands set up for our match. Funnel Cakes, Lemonade, Refreshments—it was all there. And, that’s where things got seriously out of control.
We were breaking canisters of ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, and relish. You name it, we smashed it all over each other and dumped it onto the floor. We were slipping and sliding, and when I threw Knobbs into the funnel cake stand, my feet gave out as I slipped on the slick ground. Had I not landed right, it would’ve been a groin pull with a side order of broken neck.
I wondered, Who came up with this?
After taking the spill to the concrete floor, I collected myself, and even though I was annoyed, I carefully got up to continue fighting. During the scuffle, I was impressed with Sherri, who went after The Nasty Boys while trying to navigate that mess. We could barely stay on our feet, but Sherri was out there in high heels punching, kicking, and slapping the two of them in an attempt to give us the advantage. Even with the odds against them, The Nasty Boys would take the win when Knobbs gave me an awkward body slam onto the broken equipment and covered me to claim the belts.
It was my least favorite experience in the business up until then, even taking Chi-Town Heat into account, and I was glad to head backstage, bruised and covered in mustard and ketchup like a big corndog and fries. I was sure of one thing: for the rest of my career, I’d never allow myself to be booked into another Texas Tornado Match involving concession stands, condiments, or The Nasty Boys.
We spent the rest of March, all of April, and into early May running around the country with Knobbs and Sags. We turned up the Harlem Heat and entered each match with a different psychological approach from when we were the titleholders on the defensive. We had to show the people and good ol’ boys of the creative roundtable we were hungry and ready to capitalize on the gold once again.
Throughout Georgia, North Carolina, West Virginia, and Pennsylvania, we pursued Knobbs and Sags with the same frenzy as when we’d hit the road for our very first loops around the circuit a year before. We were ready to see where the WCW roads would take us next.