Wrestling history is littered with names who briefly flickered across television screens, leaving behind a cult legacy that die-hard fans never quite forgot. One of those names is Luther Biggs, a journeyman who fought through the smoky corners of Memphis, briefly danced under the WCW lights in the late ’90s, and resurfaced years later in TNA as “Disgraceland,” a parody Elvis impersonator. He was never a household name, but his career—spanning the United States Wrestling Association, World Championship Wrestling, NWA Wildside, Dusty Rhodes’ Turnbuckle Championship Wrestling, and Total Nonstop Action—reads like a tour through the underbelly of wrestling’s changing eras.
Memphis and the Country Boys
Biggs broke into the business during the mid-1990s in the United States Wrestling Association (USWA), the Memphis territory that churned out characters at a rapid clip. There, he worked as part of the stable known as the Country Boys, alongside Billy Joe Travis and Doomsday. It was classic Memphis: colorful, slightly cartoonish, and drenched in Southern storytelling. The USWA was where dozens of wrestlers sharpened their teeth, and Biggs was no exception—cutting his chops in tag matches and learning the rhythm of weekly territory TV.
Like so many of his generation, the USWA gave him a starting ground but not necessarily a springboard. By the mid-’90s, Memphis was winding down, and Biggs, like others, had to look for the next big break.
A Stop in WCW
That break seemed to arrive in World Championship Wrestling, where Biggs had his first appearances in 1996. Wrestling as “Big Sexy” Luther Biggs—a name that was tongue-in-cheek even then—he worked enhancement matches against Ice Train and others. Nothing stuck at the time, but WCW in the late ’90s was notorious for having a revolving door of talent, and in 1999 Biggs was reintroduced in a much more prominent role.
Enter Coach Buzz Stern.
Buzz Stern was the rechristened gimmick of Glacier, a martial-arts-inspired character from WCW’s mid-’90s experiment in Mortal Kombat theatrics. Repurposed as a sadistic coach preaching discipline, Stern introduced Biggs as his bumbling protégé in what he called his “Winners Club.” Biggs played the role of a clumsy varsity wrestler struggling under the harsh, often humiliating tutelage of Stern.
He made his official WCW Thunder debut on September 30, 1999, losing to Bobby Eaton. The match ended in chaos, with Stern attacking both Eaton and Biggs, putting them in full nelsons. This would become the story of Biggs’ WCW tenure—vignettes of brutal training, occasional matches where he showed raw potential, and constant berating by Stern.
Though he picked up a victory against the Blacktop Bully (thanks to Stern’s interference), Biggs mostly played the role of a fall guy. He lost to Meng and other mid-card names, his role more comedic sidekick than serious contender. By the end of 1999, both he and Stern were released as WCW trimmed its bloated roster.
For many, that would have been the end of the story. But Luther Biggs wasn’t done.
Return to the Indies
In the early 2000s, Biggs re-emerged on the independent circuit, bringing with him the credibility of a WCW alumnus—even if short-lived. In NWA Wildside, a breeding ground for future stars like AJ Styles and Abyss, he actually got a measure of revenge, defeating his old manager Coach Buzz Stern in March 2001.
That same year, he also surfaced in Turnbuckle Championship Wrestling, the Florida-based promotion run by Dusty Rhodes. Wrestling as “Lethal” Luther Biggs, he squared off with Bobby Hayes and took part in wild tag bouts alongside Larry Zbyszko against Dusty and New Jack. These matches were regional but carried the chaos and unpredictability of independent wrestling at the time—where one night you might wrestle a journeyman and the next night you’re in a bloody brawl with legends.
The King of “Disgraceland”
Biggs’ most infamous reinvention came in 2003 when he appeared in NWA–TNA Wrestling. Introduced by Glen Gilberti (better known as Disco Inferno), Biggs debuted under the gimmick Disgraceland—an Elvis impersonator gone wrong, bloated and washed-up, a mockery of the King of Rock ’n’ Roll.
On February 19, 2003, Disgraceland defeated Shark Boy in Nashville, Tennessee, before immediately attacking Jorge Estrada, a legitimate member of The Flying Elvises stable. Gilberti and Mike Sanders joined in, dragging Estrada backstage and humiliating him by dunking his head in a toilet. It was low-brow, outrageous, and perfectly in line with TNA’s early years, where shock value often replaced polish.
The feud with Estrada was short-lived. Just two weeks later, Estrada pinned Disgraceland after Gilberti and Sanders abandoned him. But the character left a mark—absurd enough to be memorable, the kind of thing fans still mention when listing TNA’s strangest early gimmicks.
Later Years
Biggs’ wrestling career slowed after TNA, but he still popped up occasionally. In 2006, he teamed with Ron Reis to defeat Gilligan and Scotty Beach at the Rock N’ Shock Benefit Show. He later appeared at charity events, including the Steve Azar St. Cecilia Foundation Benefit Concert, rubbing elbows with musicians and comedians in a different kind of spotlight.
By then, his wrestling days were largely behind him, but his eclectic career remained a curiosity for fans who remembered the “Winners Club” or the Elvis parody that was flushed down the toilet—literally and figuratively.
A Double Life: Luther Wilson the Actor
Outside the ring, Luther Biggs reinvented himself once again—this time as Luther Wilson, an actor. He landed roles in several films, often playing heavies or supporting characters, leveraging his wrestler’s build into Hollywood’s archetype of “the enforcer.” For a man who spent years pretending to be other characters in wrestling, acting was a natural evolution.
It also provided stability beyond the unpredictability of the wrestling grind. While he never became a household name in film, the transition underscored the adaptability that had carried him from Memphis to WCW to TNA.
Legacy
Luther Biggs’ wrestling career is not one of championships or main-event glory. It is instead the story of a man who embodied the journeyman spirit of wrestling—reinventing himself across territories, promotions, and even industries. He was a clumsy varsity wrestler in WCW’s dying days, an Elvis parody in TNA’s chaotic birth, and a utility player across independent rings.
In the grand tapestry of wrestling history, Biggs is a footnote, but an interesting one. He represents the wrestlers who filled out rosters, made the stars look strong, and leaned fully into whatever role they were handed—be it “Big Sexy” enhancement talent or a washed-up Presley impersonator.
In the end, Luther Biggs wasn’t about being “the King.” He was about proving that even in the strangest of gimmicks and the smallest of spots, you could still leave behind a story worth remembering.
