Trading bodyslams for bud

Early Life

Standing at 6 feet 4 inches tall with bushy eyebrows and a long black beard, Ben Duerr commands attention.

For almost two decades, he played the villain in Squared Circle Wrestling (2CW), a Syracuse-based professional wrestling company. He riled crowds, all oiled up in his underwear. But now, at 47, he sells pre-rolls and cannabis gummies in weed-patterned slip-on loafers. He is carving a new path – in New York’s legal cannabis industry. 

Duerr grew up around guys who looked like pro wrestlers – big and muscly, all with nicknames. His father ran the New York State Woodsmen’s Field Days, a world lumberjack championship, and taught him the value of hard work. He worked for the county, shoveling blacktop and scraping wood chucks off the road, but what interested him more was learning how big shows were run. 

A self-proclaimed theater kid, he grew up in Camden, New York, and performed at the Capitol Theatre there. He studied improv at SUNY Fredonia and co-founded the Random Acts comedy club. 

Wrestling

After college, he moved to Chicago and worked in marketing, designing graphics and banner ads for Fortune 500 firms like McDonalds. His job gave him the freedom to live in the city and pursue his true passion: comedy. Each night, he performed two or three improv shows. There, he learned from Saturday Night Live’s best. But having been a pro wrestling fan since age eight, he hoped to use his entertainment skills in the wrestling world. 

At one of his comedy shows, The Daily Show’s Jordan Klepper talked him into joining Ohio Valley Wrestling, where stars like John Cena and Brock Lesnar were born. 

After training for two years, Duerr returned to New York state. He attended a 2CW meet and greet, hoping to get a friend’s wedding gift signed by “real classic WWE 80s guys” like Sergeant.

Slaughter and Hacksaw Jim Duggan. Instead, he was invited to work with them. That’s when Duerr met his promoter, Josh Jeanneret, who he considers one of the best in the Northeast. 

He took on the character of Bin Hamin in the 2CW ring: a controversial, bearded villain. Playing on the tensions of a post-9/11 world, he usually got beaten up in the end, giving the audience a release. 

“That’s what wrestling is great for, to let some of that angst live vicariously through larger-than-life characters,” said Duerr. 

Bin Hamin “is not the same guy you talk to now. He’s a very, very bad dude,” said Duerr.

Cocking one eyebrow and deepening his already raspy voice, he clapped an open hand with his fist. “I will crush you,” he said.  

At his shows, he had to keep the integrity of his character, which often meant insulting audience members anywhere from the stage to the merchandise table. It was meant to both fire up the crowd and provide comic relief. Duerr had the wit, plus an improv and comedy background, to pull it off every time. And with Jeanneret by his side, he was a sensation. 

“New Yorkers are smart. They’re sharp-tongued. They’ll come back and sting you. But I’m an improviser, and I don’t get tripped up,” he said. 

There is nothing as addictive for Duerr as performing live, surrounded by a crowd, knowing he held them in the palm of his hand. But to be a pro wrestler, you must sacrifice your body, too. 

“The ring hates you,” said Duerr. “The ring’s made of metal, and you feel every little bit of it on the ride home.” He knew his body wouldn’t support his wrestling dreams forever. 

Cannabis

That’s when he heard about the CAURD program, which allows those with prior cannabis convictions to open New York’s first legal dispensaries. A cannabis-related charge from 2004 made him eligible. 

He signed up with Jeanneret and his brother, who he knew were great businessmen. Plus, he and Jeanneret already knew they complemented each other like yin and yang. Duerr is the talkative one, while Jeanneret is more reserved. 

After getting approved, Duerr and Jeanneret spent six months making their case to the Office of Cannabis Management. 

“I would call in the morning, he would email in the morning. He would call in the afternoon, I would email in the afternoon,” said Duerr. 

Raven’s Joint

Finally, Duerr and the Jeanneret brothers opened Raven’s Joint. It is to other dispensaries in the area what old coffee houses are to Starbucks. With couches, a fireplace, and arcade games, the space invites you to stay a while. It even hosts small concerts and events like bong-making workshops. 

Duerr limits the number of brands he sells, focusing on products from small craft farmers. The team has tried everything in the store, which has made it easy for customers to trust them. 

Advertising restrictions were recently lifted, and their first billboard just went up on I-81. Duerr says cannabis companies are still fighting for the ability to do things other companies can. 

Bin Hamin may not be the same man who educates the community about the benefits of marijuana, but it’s hard to deny that he lives inside of Duerr. 

Lakota Moss, who worked in fast food before becoming a budtender at Raven’s Joint, was intimidated by Duerr at first. 

“He gives off that Dr. Evil vibe,” said Moss. “It turned out he was a great dude.”

Duerr and his partners brought the wrestling locker-room mentality to cannabis, where everyone has a part to play, and the motivation and support to do so. 

“I needed Ben to help bring out my true self and what I’m supposed to do in life,” said Moss. 

Together, the team fights the 100-year stigma against reefer madness. Duerr, who has used cannabis since age 15, believes in it for all the same reasons his customers do. Some want a buzz, some want pain relief, some want help sleeping, and some want an alternative to pharmacology or alcohol. 

After his next two matches, Duerr will be done with wrestling for good. But the sport will still be an important part of his life. Every week, he talks about wrestling, politics, and conspiracy theories on his podcast, The Attitude Era. 

He feels lucky to be able to still live in the wrestling world and talk about it weekly with top people in the industry. His co-host, Vince Russo, wrote some of WWE’s biggest storylines.

“I remember being like, I want to be the next Vince Russo,” said Duerr. “And now he’s my business partner.” 

Duerr is grateful for his wife of 12 years, who understands his unconventional lifestyle and has stuck around for the ride. But he never plans on settling down. 

“There’s just no way for me to be a T-ball dad if I’m dressing up like The Sheik and getting my ass kicked every weekend,” he said. 

His career is part of the reason he never had children. But he wouldn’t change a thing. 

When he’s not at Raven’s Joint, Duerr is scheming something up; filming a podcast, working on one of his many unfinished Netflix show scripts, or reading Marcus Aurelius; which gives him a clearer view of life. 

He’ll never forget the day Rowdy Roddy Piper threw him in the ring for an impromptu beatdown, and kissed his sweaty head backstage, telling Duerr he was proud. For the most part, though, Duerr is onto new adventures.