Deborah Harry, Pro wrestler?

 Not quite, but she did appear on Broadway in a play called Teaneck Tanzi as the lead character, and did wresle a guy on stage, ironicly, Andy Kaufman was the ref and the show closed after one performance (Debbie is the one on the LEFT)


Here is the NY Times Review

By FRANK RICH
Published: April 21, 1983, Thursday
THERE are two diversions to occupy theatergoers just before the start of Claire Luckham's play ''Teaneck Tanzi: The Venus Flytrap.'' The first is the refurbished Nederlander Theater - a Broadway house that the designer Lawrence Miller has ingeniously transformed into a full-fledged wrestling arena. With a burst of gaudy lights above the ring and much architectural fiddling, Mr. Miller transports us well beyond Teaneck - all the way to Atlantic City.
The other source of amusement is one of the ushers. Slipped in among the bona fide employees of the Nederlander is a ringer - the comic Andy Kaufman. Mr. Kaufman's shtick, as his fans know, is hostility, and here he is, in the highest of dudgeon, a cigarette dangling from his lips, barking at seated customers. He demands to see our ticket stubs, and, should we not immediately locate them, he loudly threatens to eject us clear out to the street. As most of Mr. Kaufman's victims don't recognize him, there's sadistic fun to be had in watching the surly comedian provoke the uninitiated into angry screaming. A critic near me almost slugged him.
As it turned out, that may have been the high point of that critic's evening; it certainly was of mine. ''Teaneck Tanzi'' is an Americanized, retitled version of London's biggest comedy hit since ''Steaming,'' and its charm must have bailed out somewhere over the Atlantic. What we find at the Nederlander is a theatrical gimmick whose execution produces a pounding sensation in every part of one's head except the brain.
The gimmick - also employed ineffectually by John Sayles in his play ''Turnbuckle'' two seasons ago - is to stage a putative drama in the form of a wrestling match. Instead of scenes, there are 10 ''rounds'' (you'll count them). Instead of dialogue, there are bouts in which the heroine settles emotional disputes with her family by means of flips, half-nelsons, hair-pulling and body presses.
Because Tanzi and her antagonists are symbols devoid of flesh or blood, we don't care who vanquishes whom in the ring: they're all pop-up dolls. The wrestling, though noisy, is less convincing than an average Three Stooges melee. There are also songs, seemingly composed on a washboard. The instrumental accompaniment, led by an electric organ, isn't worthy of a seventh-inning stretch at Shea Stadium.
The author's metaphor cloaks a feminist message-play, set in some anachronistic land (surely not New Jersey) where women are so oppressed they are denied higher education and any career other than housewife. Tanzi's despotic husband, a professional wrestler, is dressed as a 1950's greaser and, in a typical sample of the evening's wit, is named Dean Rebel. (Another sample: Tanzi's lascivious school psychiatrist is named Dr. Grope.) After much tedious biographical exposition, which charts the heroine's progress ''from potties to panty hose,'' we reach the ''main event'': Tanzi becomes a lady wrestler so she can finally challenge hubby to a do-or-die battle for heR liberation from the kitchen. Anyone who can't guess the winner in advance deserves a lifetime pass to ''Rocky III.''
With the aid of audience plants, the director, Chris Bond, tries to whip us into a frenzy of cheering and heckling. He has a particular fondness for sight gags involving the male crotch. The cast's mugging, Mr. Kaufman's fitfully amusing referee aside, is also well below the belt. Theatergoers can choose between two alternating pairs of performers in the roles of Tanzi and Dean - a choice that, under the circumstances, means about as much as being allowed to pick either coffee or tea at one's last supper.
I saw both casts, a feat that certainly earns me a mention in Ripley's. The better duo is Caitlin Clarke and Thomas G. Waites - legitimate actors who can't be blamed if they decide to fake injuries entitling them to insurance benefits as padded as their costumes. The other stars, the rock singer Deborah Harry and Scott Renderer, make a worthwhile contribution by slurring some of their lines. 10 Rounds TEANECK TANZI: THE VENUS FLYTRAP, by Claire Luckham; directed by Chris Bond; composer, Chris Monks; wrestling, Brian Maxine; scenic environment and costumes by Lawrence Miller; lighting by Arden Fingerhut; sound by T.Richard Fitzgerald. Presented by Charlene and James Nederlander, Richard Vos, Steward F. Lane and Kenneth Mark-Productions. At the Nederlander Theater, 208 West 41st Street. Tanzi ................Caitlin Clarke and Deborah Harry Dean ..............Scott Renderer and Thomas G. Waites Dad ...................................Clarence Felder Mom ....................................Zora Rasmussen Sue ........................................Dana Vance The Ref ..................................Andy Kaufman