From The Publisher
by Patrick A. Liester | Publisher, Dothan Magazine
Back when I was a boy growing up in small-town Nebraska, my dad took me on a 30-mile trip into Omaha to witness real wrestling. Long before it was labeled as “sports entertainment,” we all believed it was a bloody war waged on a square battlefield between a brawny good guy and a low-down, cheating scoundrel.
I remember seeing Greg Gonya and the High Flyers, Andre The Giant, Bobby “The Brain” Heenan, and Ted “The Million Dollar Man” Debiasi (no doubt the wealthiest man in the world, right?). I can’t recall exactly who was good and who was evil, but I always knew Bobby The Brain was outsmarting them all. That trip with my dad was one of those nights I will always cherish.
I was reminded of that night after reading Bob Kornegay’s excellent piece in this issue (“Free Tickets and Terrazzo Tile,” Page 38) on Dothan’s passion for wrestling back in the 1960s. We called it wrestling in Nebraska. Here in Dothan it’s affectionately known as rasslin’. Regardless of where we grew up, I think at some point we all swore the action was absolutely real.
In many ways it was real. I’ve shared a lunch table many times with John Gause and the late Al Roberts, two former wrestling commentators in Dothan. I always enjoyed their war stories of those days outside the ropes of the squared circle. They always spoke with great admiration about how tough and rowdy the incredibly able-bodied stars of the ring were. My friend Jim Flowers told me he used to “rassle” in a rural Georgia farm center. He confirmed that getting slapped in the face and jumping off the top rope onto another man was indeed as real as possible (especially since it usually caused some degree of harm to the rasslers involed).
I’m far from having the physique of any of those guys, but the approaching summer pool season means there’s a pretty good chance I’ll be taking my shirt off to hang out (literally) around the pool at the Liester house with my kids and grandkids. With a constant flow of friends and family coming and going through our back yard during the summer months, I’ve long since stopped feeling self-conscious about my 36-pack.
A quick story: About a decade ago, my wife and I went to a summer pool party. I’ll warn you now, this was a long time ago before I quit drinking (and yet another shining example why I should have quit much sooner).
At the urging of Captain Morgan and his band of merry Jello shots, I found myself behind some shrubs putting on my wife’s one-piece swimsuit (which was definitely many sizes too small for me). I paraded around the pool doing some “Woot-Woot”s before jumping in the pool to many cheers. This is one of those stories that gets retold many times over the summer as we reflect back on moments of childish behavior in our adult lives.
I was told just recently that a picture of my poolside debacle is being saved in a secure location just in case I ever decide to get into politics. Trust me when I say this: much more appealing poolside visuals can be found inside this issue, starting with our cover shot and continuing on Page 46 with eight pages of gorgeous fashion photography.
I’d like to give special thanks to Cindi K. McDaniel of Studio EnVogue, our fashion photographer; Misty Green, our fashion stylist; Dee Dee Morris and Kelley Gibson, our makeup artists; Scott and Lauren McAllister for providing us with such a beautiful location to shoot; and of course, thanks to all of the lovely local ladies who modeled our summer swimwear fashions in this issue.
Enjoy the beginning of your summer. And as always, do good.
