Isaac Yankem wanted to give to others what he never had. One of two sons of a broken family in Tennessee, Isaac grew up without many of the comforts of modern life. The Yankems never went to Disneyland or ate at Ruth’s Chris. They didn’t even buy Kraft-brand mac-n-cheese. It should come as no surprise, then, that dentistry was not in either parent’s budget.
As the years passed, Isaac and his brother grew. Grew they did — by adulthood, both would eclipse seven feet tall. Such a pituitary gift makes for an imposing man. Adolescence, however, brought that lanky awkwardness that any tall teenager must suffer. At 15, Isaac was six-foot-four; his teeth were untended and yellowing, his hair bushy and oily. Because his family budgeted every penny even down to the water bill, he was allowed to bathe only twice per school week. Isaac was not the prom king.
A Portrait of The Monster as a Young Dentist
A life of awkwardness brought unpleasant stares from pretty girls, jeers from halfwitted boys. Like many such teens, Isaac grew angry. He was angry that he was so different from all the other kids. He was angry at his off-brand, ill-fitting jeans and the musty, bargain-basement warehouse it came from. He was angry at his father, who seemed to take a shine to his brother (actually half-brother, he liked to remind himself). This anger manifested in the usual ways: fights in school, truancy, a taste for underground punk music. Then came May 19.
The authorities never determined what caused the fire. Isaac himself would be blamed on several occasions, but he denies it to this day. It didn’t help that in the aftermath, neighbors would see him playing with fire — patterns in lighter fluid on the driveway sparked by a leaf and a magnifying glass. Had he been able to afford a therapist, he would be told that this is a natural element of grief — the desire to understand what went so, so wrong. Whether or not he was to blame, all the world knew was that young Isaac would have to go on without his mother and stepfather. Only the father who never cared for him and the rival half-brother remained.
Weeks later, Isaac looked into his bathroom mirror, eyes still red with grief. He took stock of what he had lost and what he had left. Realizing that the scales tipped sharply toward the “lost”, he knew something had to change. He laughed at the absurdity of it all when he caught a glimpse of his stained, rotting teeth. This will be the way out, he thought. I shall fix in others what is broken in me.
Upon graduating high school, Isaac enrolled in dental school. He was a star student, though he frequently got low marks for not using enough novocaine. His classmates bristled whenever Isaac would laugh at a patient’s fear of the drill. Still, bedside manner was not emphasized in this particular dental academy, so Isaac soon earned the title, Dr. Isaac Yankem, DDS.
Now, open wide, and say aah!
He opened a practice in Memphis, hoping to give his home state the gift of oral hygiene. The plan was to practice dentistry for good; along the way, he would pay off his student loans and eventually be able to afford to fix his own teeth. Having such horrendous chompers was bad for business, so patients and referrals were few and far between.
Dr. Yankem’s story could have ended there — a failed dentist unable to get his feet underneath him, finally breathes a bag of laughing gas until he reunites with his mother. But a patient came who changed everything.
“Hi, I’m Jerry,” said the patient as he removed his crown. “Thanks for taking my appointment on such short notice. I do a lot of traveling and today’s the only day I could come in.”
“Happy to help,” said Dr. Yankem. “Now let’s take a look at that tooth.”
The check-up went well. Such a slow office was to the patient’s benefit, for he was able to get his procedure done right then and there. Before he left, the patient had a question. “Doctor, I’m not sure if you know me, but my name’s Jerry Lawler and I’m a professional wrestler.”
Dr. Yankem spluttered, “Of course I know who you are. This is Tennessee. You’re wearing a crown, and I don’t mean the temporary one I glued to your jaw.”
“OK, OK, good. Listen, I’ve been having some trouble with Bret Hart of late. You’re a big guy and, with respect, you like dealing out pain.”
Dr. Yankem could only chuckle at that. “What are you proposing, Mr. Lawler?” A star was to be born.
Part 2 of 2 can be found here.
Now that No Way Out has passed, it’s officially WrestleMania hype-up season. Allow me to kick off that season officially on The Steel Cage with (mostly) baseless speculation. Here’s how I see the card playing out at this juncture:
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The Origin of Kane, Part 2 of 2
Click here in case you missed Part 1 of 2.
Lawler and his dentist became fast friends. To Lawler, Yankem was valuable protection against The Hit Man; plus, when that temporary crown needed to become a permanent one, they could finish the procedure in whatever town the WWF brought them. It was a windfall for Yankem, too, finally having a regular patient and getting some side coin kicking around The Best There Is, Was, and Ever Will Be.
A King and His Dentist
The relationship was going well until Lawler got a call from his insurance company.
I’m sorry, Mr. Lawler, but only EMERGENCY dentistry is covered by your plan, and a simple crown does not qualify.
Well, sir, an emergency would be something like an accident that broke your teeth and caused such bleeding as to endanger your life.
I understand that you’re paying for the maximum plan offered by your employer, but you’ll have to pay out-of-pocket for this.
“I can’t believe it, Isaac. What am I gonna do? I can’t pay in full right now — I’m just a simple grappler and my mortgage has interest rates so high, I don’t know if I’ll ever catch up.” Dr. Yankem was crestfallen. He had worked so hard for his first loyal patient and would have nearly nothing to show for it. “Don’t worry about it, Jerry,” Isaac grumbled. And off he went.
Dr. Yankem was at a crossroads. He still owed multiple banks to get his practice off the ground. His absence from Memphis over the months of wrestling and impromptu dentistry all but assured that patients would be even scarcer if he returned. He enjoyed wrestling Bret Hart (because really, who wouldn’t?), but after the government took its percentage from every paycheck, the WWF wasn’t feasible as a part-time gig.
Dr. Yankem’s inner curiosity took over. Why is it that Jerry “The King” Lawler, of all people, was unable to acquire adequate medical insurance? How could a routine crown operation be prohibitively expensive? And why doesn’t the doctor see even a fraction of these high costs?
He started reading about the origins of insurance companies — how they sprouted mostly from attempts to stem The Great Depression. People didn’t have money, so they scrambled to find ways to pool what money was there, so as to ensure that the neediest got the care they deserved. The Blue Cross and Blue Shield emerged, surged, and eventually merged. Meanwhile, FDR’s New Deal made it more acceptable for the government to provide Welfare, Social Security, and public-project employment. As people’s dependence on insurance companies melded with their dependence on the government, medical insurance became necessary and sometimes required by law. Naturally, this caused insurance rates to rise steadily. Thus, Dr. Yankem reasoned, what might have shortened The Great Depression is what’s causing the mess we’re in now.
Who is to blame for this? Isaac fumed. There must be someone to incur my wrath.
He read further: in the panic of The Great Depression, the predominant economic theory was that government intervention would become necessary in times of crisis. The private sector, the theory stated, had inefficiencies that would not be able to adequately affect macroeconomic problems. The main proponent of this theory was a British economist named John Maynard Keynes.
John. Maynard. Keynes.
Dr. Yankem’s blood boiled as he stared at that name. You idiot economist, how could you be so short-sighted? You’re the reason I can’t make it as a dentist; you’re the reason my friend can’t pay his bills. His insides got hotter and hotter until something snapped in his brain — I must fight this. I must fight this on TV, in writing, and in the ring. No longer shall I be mild-mannered Dr. Isaac Yankem, DDS.
A slow growth rate in aggregate consumer demand is no match for a well placed choke slam.
Much like Bruce Wayne named himself Batman because of his fear and hatred of bats, Dr. Isaac Yankem gave himself a new moniker derived from that with which he vehemently disagrees: Kane.
And so Kane, as he is now known, seeks redemption for his failed practice and justice for the victims of collective economics. Instead of root canals, Kane finds an outlet for his frustration in chokeslams. He might still have an unhealthy relationship with fire, but it is he who is in control, not whatever forces immolated his family. Most of all, he will daily prove the power of the individual by Tombstoning any grappler, politician, or retired baseball player who gets in his way.