The Complete History of Misfits in WCW

It’s October, the time of the year for horror punk and Halloween music, and the Misfits are the horror punk band, if by the strength of marketing alone. Their grinning Crimson Ghost skull is featured on a billion t-shirts, sold at Hot Topic stores throughout the land.

But the Misfits were no mall punk phenoms of the ‘90s; they first formed in the late '70s. But when they randomly showed up on the Nov. 1, 1999 episode of World Championship Wrestling’s Monday Nitro. But they came out to no fanfare—or a pop, for that matter, probably because no one knew who they were.

Although the Misfits were contemporaries of the Sex Pistols and the Ramones, they never achieved the same level of mainstream presence. This is probably because founding members Glen Danzig and Jerry Only grew tired of each other and called it quits in 1983, leaving the band to languish in its coffin for over a decade.

Only after high-profile bands like Metallica and Guns N’ Roses covered their songs did Jerry decide to reform the band with his brother, guitarist Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein. Danzig wanted nothing to do with it, having launched his own solo career. So Jerry recruited a new drummer, Dr. Chud, and a new vocalist, Michale Graves.

It was these four who skulked out that night in ’99 while Vampiro battled Berlyn (a repackaged “Das Wunderkind” Alex Wright). After helping Vampiro dispatch The Wall, the Misfits aided the future Lucha Underground star in getting the victory.

“In WCW at the time, I was kind of stuck. Nobody knew what to really do with me,” Vampiro told Metal Injection in 2019. “I remember, at that time, [the Misfits] had just gotten back together. They’d did Famous Monsters…I called the Misfits’ manager, I said, ‘Hey, I got this idea.”

Vampiro thought about having Misfits as his entrance music, or he’d play with the Misfits before going to the ring. But Jerry Only was a wrestling fan—and a giant ham. And he wanted to wrestle. And that’s how, on Nov. 15, fans saw Only tag alongside Vampiro and Doyle in a 3-on-2 match against Berlyn and The Wall.

Usually, a celebrity unlocks a hidden S-tier talent the moment they step in the ring to do battle. Think Shaquille O’Neal powerbombing Cody Rhodes on AEW Dynamite in 2021. Or Lawrence Taylor bulldogging Bam Bam Bigelow. Snooki’s backflipping elbow at WrestleMania 27. Snoop Dogg. Jelly Roll. Travis Scott. Nowadays, celebs train (Steven Amell, Bad Bunny) to look somewhat competent in the squared circle, but back then? You just needed fame.

This is why the Misfits’ run in WCW is so odd: they were treated like absolute schlubs.

In that first match, The Wall wrecked them. There was no attempt to make the Misfits look good or to make them look like they belonged in the ring. And when Jerry Only took on “Dr. Death” Steve Williams in a cage match a month later, it was clear: these guys don’t know how to wrestle.

During the Nov. 22 episode of Nitro, while Vampiro faced The Wall in a rematch from the previous night’s Mayhem pay-per-view, Jerry Only mouthed off to Williams and his manager, Oklahoma, as they sat on commentary.

Oklahoma—portrayed by former WWF writer, now-head WCW writer Ed Ferrara—is one of the most reviled characters in wrestling history, as it was a mocking parody of Jim Ross (including Ed slurring his words to mimic JR’s Bell’s palsy).

Only’s taunting prompted “Dr. Death” to get in the ring and demolish Vampiro and the Misfits, leading to…a steel cage match with Jerry Only on the following week’s Nitro.

It was a three-minute septic tank explosion of a match that eventually saw Vampiro and the Misfits dump bottles of barbecue sauce over Oklahoma’s head, another dig at Jim Ross.

Even though, at one point, Williams saw the cage’s door wide open, he didn’t walk through to win. Instead, he battered Jerry some more before launching Only at the door, allowing the bassist to escape. The bell rang. No one was announced as the winner. Fans booed. The show cut to a commercial. It was trash.

Jerry Only spoke about his time in WCW and this particular match when appearing on The Steve Austin Show. Dr. Death did his best to make it work, but Jerry was still green, and to make it worse, he wasn’t wearing his contacts, so he couldn’t see where the door was. That’s why Dr. Death launched him at it—it was his way of helping him.

However, Jerry hit the steel cage so hard that it split his head open. “I go backstage, and I go, ‘Do me a favor. Where’s the doctor? Somebody’s got to stitch me up.’ [The wrestlers] all look at me with a stupid look on their faces,” Jerry told “Stone Cold” Steve Austin. There was no one medic. He’d have to go to the hospital.

Jerry—a proud New Jersey boy and the son of a machine shop worker—was a bit taken aback by how poorly the wrestlers were treated. And he wasn’t afraid of voicing his opinion. When the writers handed out scripts ahead of one Nitro, Jerry had an idea: since they had scripts and were on television, everyone should join the Screen Actors’ Guild.

But the locker room fell silent. After all, nothing will get a wrestler blacklisted from wrestling than suggesting they unionize.

Jerry knew then and there he’d put a target on his back. Plus, Vampiro would tell Hannibal TV that Jerry got on the locker room’s nerves by speaking out of place and not respecting the hierarchy or the locker room “culture.”

Another likely contributing factor to the Misfits’ exit: Doyle had fallen for Stephanie Bellars, aka Gorgeous George, the then-valet and girlfriend of one “Macho Man” Randy Savage. “Love at first sight,” Vampiro told Hannibal TV. “I’m sure she and Randy were great. Her and Doyle locked eyes...but they fell in love, right on the spot.”

This didn’t sit well with the notoriously jealous Savage. Legend has it that a drunk and enraged Savage had made his way backstage at a Misfits show, where he waited to confront Doyle. The guitarist got wind of the plan and simply took off through the front of the venue with the rest of the audience once the show was over.

And so, the final Misfits appearance with WCW came at 1999’s Starrcade. “Dr. Death” battled Vampiro with the stipulation that, if Vampiro won, he’d get a five-minute match with Oklahoma.

Steve Williams got himself disqualified by attacking the ref during the first match, clearing the way for a horror punk beatdown on Oklahoma. The freaks celebrated in the ring. And that was that.

Looking back, the Misfits run in WCW was a success, in certain ways. Doyle gave Vampiro his now-iconic white skull face paint. And these feuds with Berlyn and Steve Williams elevated his status to the point where he had a program with Sting in 2000. While there’s not much good to say about 2000s WCW, at least Vampiro was a featured performer instead of someone lost in the shuffle.

It was also a success in other ways: Doyle and Stephanie Bellars married in 2001. They formed the band Gorgeous Frankenstein, which released its self-titled debut in 2007. The two welcomed a daughter together before divorcing in 2013.

But, otherwise, the Misfits’ tenure was an example of wasted potential. I don’t blame any of the workers involved: I think the creative minds didn’t care. They didn’t know who the Misfits were, nor did they care. It all felt slapdash, as if an afterthought.

Like, why did these monster-themed rockers show up literally the Nitro after WCW’s October event, Halloween Havoc? Why did they barely give these visually engaging characters any screen time? And when they did, why did they have Jerry Only wrestle?

As Danzig sings at the peak of the Coffin Box set, I remember Halloween. But this Halloween, when thinking about WCW, there are some things I’d like to forget.