The WAWLI Papers (Wrestling As We Liked It) No. 500

LOOKING FOR INFO ON WOMAN WRESTLER

We are documentary filmmakers working on a project on Ethel Brown, who was a woman wrestler in the early to mid '50s. We are trying to find anyone who collects old women's wrestling memorabilia from that era, including pictures, film footage, match programs, etc., and especially of Ethel Brown. We are also seeking perhaps any contacts for fans that might have been in the Ethel Brown fan club. Can you direct us to some resources for such information/materials? Thanks so much for your help. Any information you can provide will be greatly appreciated.

P.S. Fyffe is Ethel Brown's daughter!

Ingrid A. Spangler and Fyffe Aschenbrenner

212-924-8320

QUERY FOR INFO ON OCEANSIDE A.C.

I am the coordinator of the California Register of Historical Resources and am currently processing a nomination for the Oceanside Athletic Club which hosted professional wrestling events from 1949 through 1953. I am trying to find out how significant the club and its founder, Marie Middlekauf, were in
the world of the professional wrestling. In your work on the history of professional wrestling, have you run across any items of interest dealing with the Oceanside Athletic Club and Marie Middlekauf? I know that she was one of only a few women involved in promoting professional wrestling in her day. But, beyond that, I'm trying to get a handle on whether the Oceanside Athletic Club only had local significance, or if there was greater
significance associated with the club. Any information you can provide would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Jenan Saunders

(ED. NOTE -- Anyone with info on the above club may forward it to the editor of The WAWLI Papers, i.e., <oldfallguy@hotmail.com>)

ACTUALLY, WE DON'T GET MANY . . .

Hi,

I know you must get a lot of letters like this but, I would like to thank you for the WAWLI papers. I look so forward to it. It makes my day. I wrestled in the early '80s. But my true love is the days of Thesz. You put me in a time machine almost everyday. Well, thanks

William Decoff

AKA Sean O'Reilly

A VIEW FROM THE TOP OF THE SIXTH

(San Francisco Chronicle, May 11, 1999)

By Tom Fitzgerald

--"Bad news for professional wrestling,'' says Jay Leno. "TV Guide is reporting that a female wrestler named Chastity once appeared in a porno movie. I just hope this one incident doesn't overshadow the family values message that professional wrestling has been sending all these years.''

SALT LAKE VIDEO MAKERS READY TO RUMBLE

(Salt Lake Tribune, Saturday, May 15, 1999)

By Vince Horiuchi

It takes WWF wrestling sensation Steve Austin only a few seconds to finish off a begging opponent with his Stone Cold Stunner move. But it took months and hundreds of thousands of dollars for software programmers at Iguana Entertainment in Salt Lake City to get a computer image of Austin performing the same move for a home videogame.

For more than nine months, videogame developers at Iguana, in Sugar House, have been videotaping the World Wrestling Federation's hottest professional wrestlers and converting them to computer-generated bodies to make WWF Attitude, the newest in a popular series of home videogames for the Sony PlayStation and Nintendo 64 game machines. Iguana's No. 1 goal in making WWF Attitude was to have the wrestlers move and look exactly like their real-life counterparts for the new fighting game.

"We want to present to the player what they see on TV," said Rob Nelson, Iguana's technical director. "It's important that the character [of each wrestler] is maintained."

The game's designers were expected to show off their creation at the Electronic Entertainment Expo, an entertainment software convention this week in Los Angeles.

Iguana is one of several videogame developers from Utah attending the expo to demo their latest videogames. They include companies such as Salt Lake City's SingleTrac, which makes PlayStation games, and Access Software, which created the world's best-selling golf game.

With just a month to go before WWF Attitude is released to stores, the wrestlers in the game look so real, some people do double-takes when they see the game on TV, said Justin Towns, the game's lead programmer.

"It can be playing on the TV, and people in the distance think it's the show," he said. To make the game look that realistic required a combination of high-tech wizardry and old-fashioned sweat.

The first step was to record the wrestlers' movements known as motion capture so the game characters move smoothly and exactly like their real-life counterparts. Iguana hired the WWF's Hardy Boyz wrestling team to record movements for the game.

In a New York City studio, Matt and Jeff Hardy put on black Spandex body suits studded with white knobs. Eight computer cameras situated around the wrestlers picked up the white dots and recorded the wrestlers' motion as they performed famous moves seen in a match. The data forms polygons on the computer screen that look like the wrestler's body.

"The computers triangulate where all of the dots are, and that turns into data files that we translate into the game," Nelson said. While in New York, game designers also photographed each of the team's 30 wrestlers so their actual faces could be "grafted" onto the wrestlers' bodies in the game.

In Salt Lake City, programmers cleaned up the computer data and fixed any glitches in the wrestlers' virtual bodies. Then, a team of computer artists drew facsimiles of each of the wrestlers' uniforms and put those on the bodies along with the actual faces.

Next, game programmers digitally recorded a gigantic sound library of the wrestlers' taunts, fighting sound effects and theme music. Such crowd sound effects as chants, cheers and jeers also will be part of WWF Attitude. While designing videogames for a living may sound glamorous, the hours can be long, especially at "crunch time" -- when the game is due to be released, said the game's designers.

"I've had three days off since January. They ask for 14-hour days during this time," said the game's project manager, Vince Bracken.

In the last weeks before the game's debut, nearly all of the 25 programmers and artists are locked in Iguana's office.

Still, for the young programmers at Iguana (most employees there are in their mid-20s), videogame design is the ultimate job.

"It's a fantastic job," Bracken said. "I feel like we're kind of creating movies. We're creating things that people are having fun with."

THE MAD, MAD WORLD OF THE MAD DOG

(National Post, Monday, May 17, 1999)

By Chris Cobb

"The average person, he'd hesitate before he'd rip out your eyeball or chew off your ear. Vachon would think nothing of it." -- Former wrestler Gene Kiniski.

In common with all right-thinking people, Maurice "Mad Dog" Vachon dislikes modern wrestling and uses words like "Hollywood," "pre-arranged" and "pornographic" to describe it. But, like the honest man he seems to be, Mad Dog takes a chunk of the blame for the perverse, moronic spectacle the wrestling game has become. With a stage name like Mad Dog, he could hardly do otherwise.

"It's a freak show," he said during a chat last week. "It isn't wrestling, it's striptease. I don't like what I see, but part of it is my fault. Between you and me, the Mad Dog was never the Marquis de Queensbury."

Maurice isn't one of those bitter and twisted ageing purists whose sport has been left behind in the dust of modern commercialism. Far from it. With one leg short of a pair, and with several brushes with the Grim Reaper behind him, he just seems happy to be alive.

As a wrestler in wrestling-rich Montreal, he helped write the book on wrestling-as-entertainment. But fixed? Today, yes. But back then? No way. Ask any wrestler from the '50s, '60s, and '70s and they'd all say the same thing: If it was fixed, nobody ever bothered to tell my opponent. That's Mad Dog's line and he's sticking to it.

"And some crumbs are dropping my way," he admits.

Among the crumbs are phenomenal ratings his old fights are getting on cable TV in the United States. This is bringing him fame all over again and, as is the way of things, making him an attractive commodity on the personal appearance, after-dinner-speaker circuit.

Professionally fearsome though he once was, 69-year-old Maurice Vachon has mellowed into a natural comic with a gold mine of war stories honed to perfection by years of telling.

Wrestling with the Past, which gets its first airing on The Comedy Network on Wednesday, is a documentary hour of those behind-the-scenes stories. It's packed with hilarious perspectives from some of the more colorful characters from the small town and big city wrestling circuit of 30 and 40 years ago. They wear their lives in their faces and their eyes glint with mischief.

The format is simple: Mad Dog and his brother Paul "The Butcher" Vachon, sporting dyed-black beards with grey trim, sitting in a bar telling stories. Because it's The Comedy Network, the brothers and others do some exaggerated mugging for the camera but it isn't really necessary. Truth is stranger than fiction and it's also funnier.

Unlike most contemporary wrestlers, the Vachons knew how to wrestle before they saw the commercial prospects of adopting the handles Mad Dog and The Butcher. Maurice wrestled in the 1948 Olympic Games in London and won the gold medal in the British Empire Games in New Zealand in 1950. He knows the moves.

"I was 5-feet-7 inches and 175 pounds and should never have made it in wrestling," he says. "But I was determined to work hard and succeed. That's the message I give to kids when I speak at schools. Like I say, it's not the size of the dog in the fight that matters, but the size of the fight in the dog." He's used that line a few times.

Maurice turned pro in 1952 after quickly realizing that people weren't going to buy tickets to watch a purist amateur, however good his moves were. By the time he quit the game 34 years later, he had won every American Wrestling Association title there was to win -- most of them several times over -- and become a legend in the world of The Crusher, The Destroyer, The Bruiser, The Sheik, Jesse (now Minnesota governor) Ventura, Baron Von Raschke, and the rest.

He was 55 in 1984 when he left the AWA to try the World Wrestling Federation for size. Then he bumped into the likes of young, mountainous characters such as Hulk Hogan and decided, two years later, to throw in the towel.

Of the characters who crop up in Wrestling With the Past, you have to like Baron Von Raschke, Mad Dog's tag partner in the 1970s, and the delightful, intelligent Sensational Destroyer who dispenses streetwise philosophy and some inventive analogy from behind the mask he wore in the ring.

The Baron was plain and bashful Jim Raschke before Mad Dog advised him to trade on his German background and become a stereotype, Nazi-like character.

"Once I became The Baron," he says, "all those inhibitions I had -- the deep psychological restrictions I put on myself -- as Jim Raschke, were completely wiped out."

Mad Dog lost his leg in 1987 while visiting relatives in Des Moines, Iowa. He was walking at 6:15 a.m. on Oct. 7.

"I heard a car coming," he says, "saw a light and that's all I remember."

With a phrase that could bring tears to your eyes, brother Paul recalls the public affection that poured Maurice's way after the accident.

"When Mad Dog fell," says Paul, "it was as if the whole country stopped to pick him up."

Ordinary folk, of course, can tell the good guys from the bad.

Like Mad Dog says of the friends who once made a living tossing each other about on the pro circuit: "Some wrestlers aren't what they seem to be."

Wrestling with the Past: On The Comedy Network, Wednesday at 9 p.m. ET
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The New WAWLI Papers (Wrestling As We Liked It) No. 502

(ED. NOTE -- The spin of events has altered plans for the WAWLI editorial board to take a couple of weeks off, but the shocking death of Owen Hart in Kansas City Sunday night has at least brought the wrestling business back into focus, not only for us, but for the most respected name in the game. Here is the first issue of the "new" WAWLI Papers.)

LOU THESZ TELLS THE TRUTH

(http://thesz.scoopscentral.com)

By Lou Thesz

I don't think I have ever felt as old or as out of touch as I do today. My heart breaks for one of my peers who has lost a child and the family that loved that child. Owen Hart was a daring young pro wrestler to you, but to me he was a kid. A kid that deserved better than we gave him.

Better than the promoters gave him, better than the fans gave him and better than those of us who just "didn't watch" gave him.

I have "copped out" to all your questions about today's wrestlers by saying, "I don't watch it," which translates to, "I don't care." I have told myself they were just "making a living" and "giving the crowd what they wanted." I told myself that what I said didn't matter. I didn't want to look like I was saying "sour grapes." Well, I am going to speak my piece and let you draw the conclusions you want.

THERE IS NO PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING TODAY!

There is no semblance of wrestling, no pretense of wrestling and there are no wrestling fans. I don't recognize what I see on TV or in live matches. Have any of the fans ever watched an amateur wrestling match? Mea culpa ... wrestling matches were predetermined in my day, but there was a reason, a story, a morality play of sorts and most of all the respect of the fans. They may have hated me in the ring, but they respected me as a person and professional.

It has taken the death of a friend's son to make we admit how sick the industry I devoted by life to has become. When I went to St. Louis to assist WWF in honoring Sam Muchnick, a man who devoted his life to the presentation of an honest, family oriented wrestling card in one of the world's most devoted venues for professional wrestling, I should have spoken up. Sam was a man who honored the profession, dealt squarely with the wrestlers and cared about the "boys" and the fans. Thank God, at 90-something, he was not astute enough to catch the "performance" of one of the young "stars" as he walked through the public areas in the new Keil Auditorium to the hospitality suite for the honored guest. Accompanied by his lovely daughter and son-in-law, Sam was greeted by one of the more popular "stars" baring his rear in the public hallways. If you find this amusing, I have to wonder if you would have liked this to happen to someone you respected -- or do you respect anyone? Is there any respect for anyone in pro wrestling in 1999?

The "boys" of today are pushed to the brink of disaster every day. They not only face the dangers we faced years ago - constant travel, faulty rings, inexperienced opponents, too much attention from the wrong kind of people, too much money, loneliness and depression -- they have to be stunt men who are deprived the illusions film stuntmen are granted. All this is for the acceptance of the promoter who wants a bigger payday and the fans who have no idea what a wrestling move looks like. All for the brass ring called "success." I know some of the other "stars" of today, and I know they are fine young men who are loved and cherished by their families, as Owen Hart is. I have told myself they are entitled to their choices and it is none of my business, but it IS my business -- the only business I have every loved. I am taking my head out of the sand and looking at it for the first time in years - and I am stunned by the language, vulgarity, stupidity and futility of it all. These traits are prevalent in the fans as well as the performances.

In the Hart tragedy, the most resounding comment I heard on the news and read in the paper was, "I thought it was part of the script." What kind of respect can exist if a form of "entertainment" could possible be a young man falling 55 feet? What possible entertainment could be derived from such a heinous spectacle? If you are a fan of "today's" pro wrestling, or if you are in a fringe industry, or if you participate directly, please ask yourself some hard questions. Does this entertain you? Do you respect anyone there? Do you just want to see the danger and mayhem? Do you think this is healthy? What do you get from the experience? The most important question we all, myself definitely included, have to ask is:

What could I have done to keep this from happening to Owen Hart?

THOUSANDS WITNESS ACCIDENT; TELEVISION AUDIENCE DOES NOT

(CNN, Monday, May 24, 1999)

KANSAS CITY, Mo. -- A World Wrestling Federation tour was set to continue on Monday while an investigation looked for the cause of a fatal plunge by Owen Hart, a Canadian wrestler who went by the name "Blue Blazer."

Hart fell 50 feet, hit his head and died Sunday when a wire holding him in the air either broke or became disconnected while he was being lowered into the ring during a WWF match at Kemper Arena in Kansas City, Missouri.

There were more than 16,000 people in attendance but viewers watching the event on pay-per-view television did not see the fall, which occurred about 75 minutes into the show. Recorded highlights of Hart's career were being shown at the time.

As Hart's fellow performers were boarding a plane in Kansas City on Monday for a cross-state flight to St. Louis, WWF President Vince McMahon Jr. said the death had provoked grief among the team.

"Wrestlers were openly weeping last night," McMahon said, his eyes filling with tears.

The WWF canceled the encore and replay Pay-Per-View program that was scheduled for Tuesday and Thursday. The following live events were also canceled: Peoria, Illinois; Winnipeg, Manitoba; Hamilton, Ontario; Montreal; and Ottawa, Ontario.

Hart, 33, the younger brother of Bret (The Hitman) Hart, a star with rival World Championship Wrestling, fell as he was being lowered from the arena's ceiling as his match introduction was about to begin.

It was a stunt he had performed before.

Some witnesses said the cable snapped, while others said it appeared Hart was somehow disconnected from it.

They said his head snapped backward when he hit a turnbuckle, one of the padded pieces of metal that hold the ropes together in each corner of the ring.

Hart was given CPR inside the ring as the ring announcer haltingly told the audience that the incident was not scripted, as professional wrestling matches openly are.

The wrestler was pronounced dead at a hospital.

"He was supposed to be lowered down into the ring," said Michelle Hindorff, a paramedic and dispatcher for Kansas City's ambulance service.

"It didn't get hooked on to him. He thought it was hooked on," she said.

The World Wrestling Federation said it is investigating what went wrong.

"We at the WWF are saddened by the tragic accident that occurred here tonight," McMahon said Sunday. "We have no answers as to how this happened yet. We will shortly."

Hart was known for his acrobatic stunts and some members of the audience thought his fall was part of an act.

"We thought it was a doll at first," said 15-year-old Robert McCome. "We thought they were just playing with us. We were really shocked when we found out that it was no joke."

"He was moving pretty fast (as he fell)," said Jesse McDonald, who was sitting near the ring. "His chin and neck hit the top rope."

The arena fell into silence.

"I didn't see it, but from what I can gather, somebody slipped up," Hart's 83-year-old father, former wrestler Stu Hart, said from the family home in Calgary, Alberta.

"You don't get up 60 or 70 feet in the air without being properly anchored down," he said. "I haven't talked to Vince McMahon yet, but somebody was careless or missed something or else Owen would still be here."

The WWF is one of the biggest draws on cable and pay-per-view TV. The WWF admits that its events are more entertainment then sport.

Hart's fall happened in the second part of an event called "Over the Edge." The first portion, called "Sunday Night Heat," was televised live on the USA cable network.

The TV audience was being shown a montage of Hart's clips when he fell and the camera panned through the crowd while paramedics worked on him. The show stopped for 15 minutes before Hart was taken away, and the matches resumed.

All seven of Stu Hart's sons entered professional wrestling, with Owen joining in 1989. He had recently told a magazine that he was planning to leave wrestling when his contract was up.

Survivors include his wife, Martha, and two young children.

His older brother Bret "The Hitman" Hart, the current heavyweight champ with the rival World Championship Wrestling, canceled a scheduled appearance on "The Tonight Show" Monday to fly home to be with his family in Canada.

The WCW issued a statement on Owen Hart's death:

"We are shocked and saddened by this terrible tragedy. Our thoughts and prayers are with Bret Hart and the entire Hart family."

WRESTLING 'ANALYSTS' DECRY WWF DECISION

(Detroit News, Tuesday, May 25, 1999)

By Ted Kulfan

Professional wrestling analysts say the death of Owen Hart on Sunday during a World Wrestling Federation pay-per-view telecast, and the fact that the show continued after the accident, gives the industry another black eye.

Hart's death occurred at a time when professional wrestling is being criticized for excess violence, profanity and sexual content. Hart, 34, fell 90 feet from a catwalk to his death at Kemper Arena in Kansas City, Mo. His head snapped backward when he hit a padded metal cuppling that holds the ropes together in a corner of the ring.

"Fans didn't know whether it was fake or real," said Alex Marvez, a syndicated professional wrestling columnist. "It's what wrestling has come to. If you're (WWF President) Vince McMahon, how do you continue the card after one of your longtime employees has just died? McMahon has to live with that decision the rest of his life."

The event resumed approximately 15 minutes after Hart's fall. Some observers say two story lines that ran after Hart's accident were in poor taste and should have been reworked or deleted.

Approximately 10 minutes after Hart left the arena in an ambulance, McMahon also was taken away in an ambulance after apparently suffering an injured ankle. A pretaped skit involving wrestler Hunter Hearst Helmsley destroying a casket also was shown.

"Extremely poor taste," said Dave Meltzer, publisher and editor of Wrestling Observer Newsletter. "The (Hart) incident was a horrible, horrible thing for everyone involved, for both wrestlers and fans watching. You got the sense on television that the show must go on, but it was handled very poorly."

Sunday's show was titled "Over The Edge." The television audience was shown clips of Hart's career after Hart fell to his death. After the accident, cameras panned the crowd of 14,000 while paramedics worked on Hart.

Professional wrestling, especially the WWF, has been riding an unprecedented wave of popularity since going to a more explicit form of entertainment.

"What happened kind of was really a mirror image to a circus going wrong, with someone falling off the high wire, or falling off the trapeze," Chris Jericho, a star with rival World Championship Wrestling, told Toronto radio station The Fan.

"That's the way you can sum up what we do. We're almost a live-action circus act. And tonight one of our guys fell off the high wire, and the net didn't catch him."

"Wrestlers were openly weeping last night," a tearful McMahon said Tuesday morning as wrestlers boarded a plane at Kansas City International Airport for St. Louis. McMahon said an investigation into the accident is ongoing.

The WWF's weekly Monday Night RAW show was held in St. Louis. The show opened with a 12-minute tribute to Hart and a 10-bell salute.

"Wrestlers have died before, but this one was right before your very eyes," Meltzer said. "It will be difficult to get wrapped up in the angles after what has happened."

Homicide detectives Monday were inspecting the rigging that was to lower Hart by cable from the catwalk and were talking to stagehands to determine what went wrong, police representative Floyd Mitchell said.

Mitchell said the cable did not break and detectives believe something went wrong when Hart's harness was being hitched to the cable. McMahon said Hart might have accidentally pulled a release mechanism.

VIEW FROM CALGARY: STU & HELEN HART, ED WHALEN COMMENT

(Calgary Herald, Monday, May 24, 1999)

By Sasha Nagy

A four-story fall in front of thousands of fans and a worldwide pay-per-view audience on Sunday killed wrestler Owen Hart, a member of Calgary's famous wrestling family.

Hart, 33, fell head first from a cable suspending him more than 12 meters above the ring in Kansas City's Kemper Arena Sunday afternoon, killing the World Wrestling Federation superstar.

The 13-year wrestling veteran is survived by his wife, Martha, son Oje, 6, and daughter Athena, 4.

The accident occurred between matches as Hart prepared to enter the ring from the rafters in his role as the Blue Blazer.

Stu Hart, Owen's father, tried in vain to gather information on the accident while watching the event on TV.

The accident occurred while a video montage of Hart played and the cameras panned the crowd while paramedics worked on Hart for about 15 minutes before removing him from the ring.

It wasn't until WWF chairman Vince McMahon called Owen's wife around 5 p.m. that the family discovered their youngest of 12 children was dead.

"I don't know what happened, what went wrong," said a distraught Helen Hart, his mother. "But he fell and landed on his head and he's gone."

Hart was wearing the costume of the Blue Blazer, a character he portrayed on the WWF circuit. He is the younger brother of Bret (The Hitman) Hart, a star with World Championship Wrestling.

Stu Hart said that Owen has done the stunt before and didn't fear it.

"It should be safe enough, he was in kind of a sling," said Stu Hart. "It's part of being a professional wrestler. Owen was quite a spectacular wrestler. He was known as one of the high-flyers in the business. He was actually a very skilled wrestler.

"I heard about it on pay-per-view television a little bit. He was up in the air about 50 feet or so, and he had to swing down on this cable. And I don't know whether the hook came down or broke," said Hart. "Something happened, he came down about 50 feet, and crushed his heart from what I've gathered."

The arena fell into silence. A few seconds later, several WWF officials and Kansas City police officers rushed to Hart's aid.

Kansas City Fire Department spokesman Jim Bradbury said the harness carrying Hart was not properly attached.

"He was up on some scaffolding above the ring," Bradbury said. "They were going to lower him down on some sort of cable, and apparently the cable wasn't hooked up. He landed in the ring."

Witnesses said the crowd couldn't determine if the fall was staged or not.

"Once he hit the ground, I turned to the guy next to me and said, 'I don't think this was planned,' " said Todd Feeback, a photographer. "He said, 'It was planned.' Then paramedics came and worked on him and the referee was there just stunned.

"I said, this is not an act. It was very quiet, nobody was sure if it was part of the show."

McMahon issued a statement following the tragedy. "We at the WWF are saddened by the tragic accident that occurred here tonight," he said at a news conference. "We don't have any answer as to why this happened. There is an ongoing investigation."

Paramedics rushed Hart to Kansas City's Truman Medical Centre where he was pronounced dead. As he was being carried out of the arena, the crowd burst into applause for the fallen wrestler. The matches continued. That upset some fans.

"I think they should have stopped the show out of respect for Owen," said Richard Lisenbee of Kansas City. He left with his five-year-old son, Zane.

Kevin Brice left the show with his 12-year-old nephew and 10-year-old daughter in tow.

"It was disgusting" for them to continue the show, said Brice. "For kids to see that, for this to be so-called family entertainment, for them to continue on as if nothing has happen, is just sad."

Helen Hart said Owen would always try to call or be present for the Hart family on Sunday dinner. She always worried about one of her sons becoming disabled in the ring.

"It's a dangerous sport in more ways than you can know," his mother said. "I just never thought one of my boys would be killed."

Owen was a popular member of the Hart wrestling family. Stu Hart said there were few people who could take issue with his easy-going manner.

"Owen was one of the most popular individuals that I've ever known. He was my son, I shouldn't be talking that freely," said Hart. "But I'd say he had very few enemies and many, many friends. He was much loved in the wrestling business."

Ed Whalen, the host of Stampede Wrestling until it ended about 10 years ago, remembered Owen as an extremely talented amateur wrestler -- and dedicated.

"He learned all the skill and science of the ring. And his speed. He was extremely agile," said Whalen, who learned the news late Sunday and immediately called the Hart family to express his sympathies. "I mean he had real talent as a wrestler. He was not just one of these stomp and groan types.

"But more than that he was just a hell of a guy. Would you believe he didn't even swear? He was a good, clean-living guy. Wrestling was his life, and more than that, his family."

Whalen remembered the youngest Hart hanging around the ring and the dressing room as a child hoping to learn the moves.

"I knew him when he was wetting his diapers. I'm absolutely, totally stunned," he said.

When he grew up to become a wrestler himself, Owen never tired of talking to children and signing autographs like some athletes, said Whalen.

Whalen said though Hart was under contract with the WWF, he thinks he was trying to move away from the theatre of the WWF and get back into the sport of wrestling.

Hart was a Canadian champion as an amateur wrestler, and also fought with the University of Calgary Dinosaurs.
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The New WAWLI Papers (Wrestling As We Liked It) No. 502

(ED. NOTE -- The editors of The Wrestling Gazette web site tipped us to the following, rather remarkable letter posted on the Dory Funk Jr. web site. For those who want to see for themselves, the URL is: http://www.dory-funk.com/alljapan.html)

WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE

I suppose the proper thing to do when someone dies, including a money grubbing lazy asshole genius, is to say, "God Rest His Soul," but the best I can muster is, "God Rest His Money Grubbing Asshole Genius Soul," and to the woman who stood by his side and laughed at him behind his back, Compai!!! (Salute). You now have what you want, the money, the power, and away with his carcass. Your beat goes on!!!

Saturday, April 17, the country of Japan morned the passing of Giant Baba and on May 2, at the Tokyo Dome there was a memorial show in his honor. Perhaps the Japanese people will truly miss this huge man, the first of his kind in the weird and fascinating life of professional wrestling.

Giant Baba was a genius. He was one of two men in Japan to understand the value of the American Style of puroresu (pro-wrestling) and its appeal to the Japanese market, the other being the handsome and cosmetically appealing Antonio Inoki, the founder and owner of one of the largest wrestling companies in the World, New Japan Pro-Wrestling.

Giant Baba never overcame his fear and jealousy of Mr. Inoki. It was a lifelong obsession and My Lover was his second jealous obsession. Giant Baba's body was always a paradox to him. It guaranteed his infamy but also was the cause of much of his pain and mental torture. He and his Queen, Motoko, thrived on having power over people . As an interesting sidenote, Motoko told me in 1983 they slept in separate bedrooms for the last two years, hinting that his plumbing had died.

Motoko Baba also enjoyed the game of strife and rife on the backs of the "little people" that worked for them including the Gaijins. The word Gaijin is the equivalent of the "N" word for the Americans who worked for them. The proper term for a foreigner is Gakokojin meaning, "foreign person." Of course in all the years around them they never once had the courtesy to call any of us Gakokojin, just "Gaijin."

I was held captive on more than one occasion to keep any spotlight off of myself or my husband or for that matter any "Gaijin" the press had any interest in. The whole purpose, as I was to later understand, was the gripping mental torture over his twisted body and the jealousy over Mr. Inoki and Mr. Dory Funk Jr. and their athletic abilities in the ring.

It's been widely reported that he was a baseball star before his run with wrestling. The truth is he only played two games and was so bad they just used him for an attraction, "and so it would be his whole life." He was a brilliant manipulator of people, but would never overcome the fact he was just an attraction to the masses. However, he did figure out how to become a millionaire and always played the part of the wealthy Japanese living in Japan. The truth: he lived in Hawaii.

He and Mrs. Baba loved to shop, eat expensive food, and spend, spend, spend and pretend to be Americans, not Japanese. They would stay up all night and figure how to skin the next American who worked for them.

Twenty five years ago Mr. and Mrs. Baba received $17,000 a week from NTV Television for the Americans that would work on the TV show.

NOT ONCE HAS ANY AMERICAN RECEIVED THEIR TELEVISION MONEY.

It was business as usual for them to market the Americans. Their young ring boys would sit and copy the "Gaijin " signature, then Mrs. Baba would sell them to the Japanese people as "AUTHENTIC AUTOGRAPHS" of their favorite American star!!! AMAZING !!! The whole "Dog and Pony Show" was built on wolfing the Japanese people out of their money. Was anything Real? Well, Hell Yes, the American men who worked their Funking asses off.

Those Americans also taught the street urchins the Babas picked up to be decent sports entertainers. Did they ever produce any real talent? Well, Hell yes! One, JUMBO TSURUTA and to some extent MR. TENRYU and Misawa/Kawada/Koboshi beyond that, your guess is as good as anybody's.

"God forbid anybody come close to Baba's throne." Well, what's left for Mrs. Baba now??? She can still shop and spend and live in Hawaii and pretend to be a Big Cheese to the Japanese people, however the board of directors has informed her that the business of wrestling is a MAN's world and she should bow out gracefully and leave the business of Puroresu (Pro-Wrestling) to the Men !!!

Well, they fired Jumbo and ran Dory Funk Jr. off. So, the question, "where the F@#$k are the MEN ??? :-)))

There were 12 people on the board of directors , including Jumbo and Baba. Hmmmm, wonder how many now??? Of course, Mrs. Baba may have the last laugh yet, because she owns the marketing company for All Japan, called KINGS ROAD and she has the marketing contract on all those MEN !!! What will they do about that??

The lines of power are divided at this time. There is Mrs. Baba and the sons of the late legend Rikidozan, Ricki and Yoshi Momoto on one side. The rest of the board and Misawa + Talent on the other side. This might be a no brainer, but if I was Nippon TV, I would think that Misawa, Kawada, and Kobashi would put more butts in an arena than Ricki Momoto and Motoko Baba (DUH) so with the May 2 hoopteedo over, who is the TV going to give the nod to?? If you are a TV producer , and these were your choices to generate revenue for your company , who would you chose??????

Peace and love,

Marti Funk

HARLEY RACE HAS A TAKE ON THE SAD END OF OWEN HART

(Kansas City Star, Tuesday, May 25, 1999)

By Jason King

Professional wrestling legend Harley Race has grappled in rings with ropes made of barbed wire. He has tangled with grizzly bears. Under Race's left eye is an eraser-size scar, his prize from a steel-chain match with Terry Funk.

And about three inches above his navel: a deep, hollow hole.

"My intestines burst," Race said. "(Hulk) Hogan was lying on a table outside the ring. I jumped off the top rope and tried to land on him. He moved out of the way."

Outrageous stunts are nothing new to wrestling. In fact, some veterans said Owen Hart's attempt to be lowered into the ring from the ceiling of Kemper Arena would be considered safer than the majority of the sport's most common stunts.

Hart, 34, died Sunday when he fell nearly 90 feet from a catwalk above the ring.

"It's always been dangerous," said Race, 56. "It's just that people didn't always know about it because there wasn't a national TV audience. You could go through a table in Amarillo, Texas, but it would take people on the East Coast two months to hear that you did it. It's more publicized now."

Mick Foley, a WWF wrestler known as Mankind, is notorious for his high-risk antics. During a pay-per-view event, Foley once was body-slammed onto a bed of thumbtacks. He left the ring with broken ribs and a tooth protruding through his upper lip. Another time, the nearly-300-pound Foley fell from the top of a 20-foot steel cage onto an announcer's table.

Race said such moves -- which he calls "start-stop" -- cause the most wear and tear on the body. Especially when the person falling 13 feet is a 300-pound man.

"Even if you do it right, every organ in your body gets rattled when you land," said Race, a Kansas City resident. "All you're doing is shortening your life."

Lighter wrestlers, known as cruiserweights, risk injury through acrobatic stunts. It is not uncommon to see a wrestler jump from the top rope, do a backflip and then land on his opponent. One false move, wrestlers say, and a broken neck is almost inevitable.

World Championship Wrestling star Marcus "Buff" Bagwell suffered a brief stint of paralysis last spring because of a neck injury. He is now back wrestling for WCW.

"It's not easy," Race said. "But that's why they call them professionals. They have a belief in themselves that they can do it. It's when you doubt yourself that you get hurt, when you're out there with reluctance."

Even after the match is over, danger is still a possibility.

"When I wrestled, the main thing that worried me was getting from the ring back to the dressing room," said Roger "Nature Boy" Kirby, who retired in 1985. "I've been jumped and stabbed and had things thrown at me."

And that wasn't all. As he waited in his hotel room for friends one evening, Kirby heard a knock. When he opened his door, a bitter fan shot him in the abdomen. The assailant was never apprehended.

As invincible as wrestlers may seem on television, the grind of a professional career can alter one's life. Race, who held the National Wrestling Alliance world title eight times, said he still can't escape the sport's effects.

"I was OK with it for a lot of years -- I could take it," said Race, staring at nothing in particular on his kitchen floor. "But as you get older, a lot of that stuff starts to catch up with you. My instant memory is horrible now. I have to start making checklists for yourself to remember your wallet and your driver's license. I've left here for the grocery store and turned back because I couldn't remember what I was going for."

Race looked up, sneaking a drag off his Marlboro as he peered out his kitchen window.

"Now that I think about it," Race said, "I have no earthly idea how I let myself get involved in a lot of that stuff."

FATAL PLUNGE A PRODUCT OF PUBLIC THIRST FOR THRILLS?

(Dallas Morning News, May 25, 1999)

By Bill Marvel and Thomas Huang

The death of a professional wrestler -- who fell 90 feet during a stunt that went awry on Sunday -- was the byproduct of a "Can you top this?" mentality in which wrestlers, stuntmen and other entertainers increasingly put themselves at risk to win the attention of a thrill-seeking public, cultural experts said.

Owen Hart, 33, a member of a legendary Canadian wrestling family, fell from the ceiling of Kemper Arena in Kansas City. His head hit a turnbuckle. He was pronounced dead at a hospital. The death of Mr. Hart, known as the "Blue Blazer," occurred before 16,200 fans. The World Wrestling Federation's pay-per-view national TV audience was watching archive footage and did not see Mr. Hart fall. He was supposed to make his grand entrance while being lowered on a cable from the arena ceiling.

Investigators are still trying to determine whether the wrestler was attached to the cable when he stepped off into space. But one factor in the accident, said Bill Hill, a longtime student of wrestling, had to be the demand by fans for greater thrills in professional wrestling -- and the pressure on producers to come up with a better show.

"Wrestling continues to push the envelope," said Mr. Hill, chairman of the department of communications at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. "Because of the nature of the business and how it sells its product, it always has to go one step further to compete. But, to my knowledge, this is the first accident."

Efforts to reach officials with the World Wrestling Federation were unsuccessful.

While Mr. Hill points to wrestling and its fans, other experts said the accident was part of a larger trend: People's hunger for death-defying spectacle.

"People have, for as long as recorded history, loved watching people do things that may end up in their untimely death," said Robert Thompson, director of the Center for the Study of Popular Television at Syracuse University.

"What we're seeing now is the electronic version of this," he said. "We no longer have to go to the circus or the Niagara Falls or wherever Evel Knievel was doing his stuff. We can sit back in our living rooms with our remote controls and, on some evenings, catch two or three things like this simultaneously."

Don Beck, director of the National Values Center in Denton, agreed. "It's like we're back to the Roman Coliseum, with the crowds shouting for blood," he said.

"Our athletes have changed into entertainers and celebrities." And gladiators, he added.

Lowering a wrestler into the arena from the rafters has become common, Mr. Hill said. In an earlier World Wrestling Federation match, a wrestler known as "The Undertaker" was lowered into the ring, handcuffed, then raised to the ceiling again. "On the same card Sunday," Mr. Hill said, "they had a wrestler who had a broken arm -- supposedly had a broken arm -- and part of the contract was that he had to wrestle without a cast.

"But by the law of averages, as wrestling continues to do this, you increase the chances of having an accident," he said.

"They're very lucky with some of things they've done."

In other recent matches, he said, wrestlers have been thrown from the top of a 16-foot steel cage, placed in a casket that was then set on fire, and tossed into a Dumpster that was pushed off a 10-foot stage onto a concrete floor.

"They take risks, but that's what it takes to compete," he said. Movie stunt people are frequently called upon to help stage wrestling violence, according to Scott Roland, a movie stunt coordinator who has worked on the set of Walker, Texas Ranger and a number of feature films.

The World Wrestling Federation "has called upon stunt coordinators to set up air bags and crash pads for one of their falls," he said. While there's no formal safety code in the film industry, stunt people regulate themselves, Mr. Roland said. But for a stunt such as the one that took Mr. Hart's life Sunday, a professional stunt coordinator would have at least one additional person to check equipment, he said.

"If you do one thing for the audience, next week you have to do a little bit more in order to maintain interest," he said. "You take some step further in some form or fashion, whether in the language you use or number of females or the violence."

Dr. Thompson and other cultural observers said that, as TV networks compete more and more with cable and the Internet for consumers, they have chosen to air programs that cover everything from "extreme" sports such as bungee jumping and parasailing, to stunt motorcyclists trying to jump across canyons, and real-life videos of melees, airplane crashes and natural disasters.

"With so many [media outlets] competing, and wrestling on so many TV stations, and live 'shock-.umentaries,' you've got to shout a little louder to get someone to watch,"

Dr. Thompson said. Barry Vacker, a communications professor at Southern Methodist University, says that when professional wrestlers push the envelope -- and people pay to see it -- it's part of a larger trend toward "edg.ism -- a new kind of individualism that finds its expression on the edges of the cultural norm," whether through extreme sports, tattooing or body piercing.

"We've got an escalating exposure to this kind of chaos," Mr. Beck said, referring to TV shows with death-defying stunts. "And I think it's doing great damage to young minds, quite frankly. Many of the young minds can't tell the difference between reality and hype."

On Sunday, fans at Kemper Arena initially thought the fall had been scripted, like most of the mayhem during a professional match.

As paramedics tried in vain to revive the injured wrestler, the ring announcer repeatedly told the crowd that the accident had not been part of the show. Mr. Hill said he is not surprised that fans were unsure whether Mr. Hart's fall was real or scripted.

"Fans have become numb," he says. "They've seen such extreme occurrences, anytime something happens, it gives you pause. You say, was that real or not real?" As a result of Sunday's accident, he said, "Some people could say, enough is enough. Don't push your wrestlers this far."

-0-

The New WAWLI Papers (Wrestling As We Liked It) No. 503

(ED. NOTE -- Before we dive back into the halcyon years of professional wrestling history, let's devote an issue to a few vignettes from the Gunslinger file at Dory Funk Jr. -- and wife/producer Marti Funk's fascinating web site, where you, too, can enjoy hours and hours of wrestling lore at:

http://www.dory-funk.com/gunsling.html

Here are just a few items from an overflowing menu, which expands on a weekly basis, and which includes a grand selection of photos, past and present. A site well worth visiting.)

JACK BRISCO MEETS TEXAS GOVERNOR

As told to me by Don "The Lawman" Slayton

Fall of 1973, Jack Brisco was NWA Champion. He won the title from Harley Race July 20th. Six weeks earlier, Harley had won a disputed decision from me in Kansas City. These conditions were great for business in the Amarillo Territory. Brisco was champion after having chased me for years and yet, he never beat me for the belt. A Funk vs Brisco match in the Amarillo Territory is a natural to do great business.

Terry Funk is on the phone with Abilene wrestling promoter, Don Slayton,aka The Lawman. The Lawman is upset! Abilene runs on Friday nights. The Amarillo Booking Office had dates on the NWA Champion. The champ would appear in Albuquerque on Sunday, El Paso on Monday, Odessa on Tuesday, Lubbock on Wednesday, Amarillo on Thursday, and return on Friday to wrestle Keil Auditorium in St. Louis. Abilene, The Lawman's town didn't have the champion. The Lawman knew the world champion in his town would draw him money.

The NWA President Sam Muchnick received a salary of three percent of the gate on all appearances of the champion. President Muchnick would rather book the champion in St. Louis with a guaranteed gate of twelve thousand people than Abilene where attendance could not compare with St. Louis.
Conversation between Terry and the Lawman centers around securing Jack Brisco for Abilene Texas. Texas Governor Dolph Briscoe carries the same family name as the NWA Champion. Terry and the Lawman decide they will entice Jack to come to Abilene, with the carrot of the governor of Texas wanting to meet his namesake Jack Brisco. It would make for great publicity with champion Brisco meeting Governor Briscoe.

Great idea! A call goes to NWA President, Sam Muchnick. He confirms that Jack Brisco will appear in Abilene for one match the week following his St. Louis booking. The Lawman is satisfied. He schedules a return Championship Match, Dory Funk Jr. vs Jack Brisco. A sellout is assured with six weeks to promote the show.

The Lawman assumed Terry would contact the Governor's office. Terry Funk assumed the Lawman would contact the Governors office, besides that, nobody really cares if they have a governor. The important thing to a promoter is a rear end for every eighteen inches of seat space in the building. A Funk Brisco world title match would accomplish that.

Three days before the show, a call comes from Sam Muchnick's office that they want pictures of Jack Brisco meeting the governor of Texas. Furthermore, Jack is going to make a speech to the Governor and present him with a Brisco Brothers T-shirt. To say the least, The Lawman is up a creek. He has no Governor Dolph Briscoe and Jack Brisco is not one to be messing with. The Lawman must come up with a Governor.

The History: The Lawman is unfamous as a ribber, most noted for the time he induced Amarillo Promoter, Jerry Kozak to drive all the way to Abilene to arrive at 6:00am for a deer hunting trip with the Lawman. Kozak wound up pumping twelve rounds of ammunition into an old dead deer with rigamortis, tied to a tree. (That is another story for a later time)

The Set Up: The Lawman gets his old buddy Martin Pryor, a Ford car salesman in Abilene to get a bright red Lincoln from the company. He also has one of his clean up boys from the wrestling matches dress up like a chauffeur.

The Objective: They must keep Jack away from the local people in Abilene because any idiot in Texas would know old paunchy sly talking Martin Pryor isn't the governor of the State of Texas, Dolph Briscoe.

Small Problem: Wrestling strong man Ivan Putski is also scheduled into Abilene on the 11:00am flight from Dallas. Ivan is from San Antonio and would surely know what the Governor of Texas looked like. They must keep Ivan from telling off on the governor. The Sting: First off the plane is Ivan Putski. The Lawman quickly shakes Ivan's hand and says quietly, "Ivan, we are going to pull a little joke here on Jack, just go along with what ever you see take place.

Following Ivan Putski off the plane is Jack Brisco, NWA Champion dressed in suit and tie carrying a Brisco Brothers T-shirt to present to the governor. The Lawman shakes Jack's hand, looks right at him and says, "Jack, I-- I'm sorry to have to tell you that the Governor Briscoe isn't going to be able to meet you today. He had to go down to Mexico, you know where they had that earthquake."

As they walked to the terminal, they saw a twin engine aircraft. propellers turning. The Lawman said, "Jack I-- I believe that is his plane over there warming up right now." By now Jack was really depressed. He never really wanted to come to this town in the first place.

The four, Lawman, Jack Brisco, Ivan Putski, and another one of the Lawman's helper, wanna be wrestlers, Lawman Jr, leave the airport together in the Lawman's old Ford Station Wagon. In those days, from the Airport into town was a good distance on a country road.

As they left the airport and made the first turn into town The Lawman was the first to speak. "Well my golly, That looks like, I believe it is, It's him, it's governor Briscoe, It's him!!!" The Lawman slams on his breaks and the red limousine does the same. A cloud of dust flies up in the air as the two cars come to a stop. The Lawman gets out of the car and says, "My gosh Governor, we thought for sure we were going to miss you. Jack Brisco is out of the car and the introduction takes place. Jack Brisco thinks he meets the governor of Texas, Dolph Briscoe.

The Rest of the Story: Jack Brisco came prepared to meet the governor, give a speech, and present the Governor with a Brisco Brother's T-shirt. Come hell or high water he was going to do just that. Right there on a lonely dusty road in Abilene Texas Jack began his speech. It was something about long ago the two families were from Oklahoma, they split and their names were spelled different but sounded the same. As quick as he got started, he forgot his speech. While Jack was stammering and trying to remember what he was going to say, The ol' Governor just laughed and said now Jack, I know your family but, I want you to know those Funk Boys are pretty tough hombres. Jack didn't really hear a word the governor was saying as he raced to the car as in the excitement he had forgotten his Brisco Brothers T-shirt. He was actually fumbling with the latch on the Lawman's old Ford station wagon to get the Brisco Brothers T-shirt before the Governor left. Jack finally got the door open and the T-shirt out and made the presentation to the Governor.

Verification: This event is recorded on old 8 mm movie film for posterity in the wrestling business. The film was taken by Lawman Jr. and features Jack and the Governor (aka Martin Pryor) conversing at the T-shirt presentation. Periodically you can see Ivan Putski walk into view with an old Polaroid taking snap shots of the presentation.

Time was short and soon the Lawman reminded the Governor about his plane warming up for the trip to Mexico. The Governor apologized but wished Jack good luck and said he had to get going. "You know Jack I have just got to get down to Mexico." The Governor was in the red limousine and in a cloud of dust was gone.

The Finish: Now all was quiet, the governor was gone. The Lawman, Jack, Putski, and Lawman Jr. were in the old station wagon. The first to speak was Jack, "Lawman, I just gotta tell you, that rib that you pulled on Jerry Kozak when he shot that old dead deer was one of the funniest ribs I have ever heard of."

And Finally: For the next six months our office in Amarillo received many calls from the St. Louis office requesting pictures of Jack Brisco meeting Governor Dolph Briscoe. We had the pictures, but couldn't send pictures of Jack and the paunchy old car salesman.

And as You Would Know: Everyone in the wrestling business knew the story of Jack Brisco meeting the Governor of Texas, but everyone was afraid to tell him the truth. At least six months went by without anyone telling Jack he didn't meet the Governor of Texas. In the end Harley Race told Jack he was had.

I don't recommend that anyone mention this story in person to Jack Brisco.

A GIANT OF A MAN, SHOHEI BABA, MEETS DORY FUNK JR.

I first met my future boss in Albuquerque, New Mexico, in 1963. He was a giant of a man, standing 6'10' tall and weighing nearly 300 pounds. He looked awesome. I reached out to shake a hand that reached around mine. I said, "it's nice to meet you." He looked into my eyes and offered a nod. I was shocked. I thought that all Japanese people were small. His company in Japan was only a dream, one that would have great success. The event in Albuquerque was professional wrestling. Giant Baba would go on to be NWA World Heavyweight Champion Pro Wrestler and President of All Japan Pro Wrestling Co.

A meeting was arranged in Las Vegas in the fall of 1969. At the meeting was Japan Pro Wrestling Representative, Charley Moto, my father, Sam Muchnick and me. Mr. Moto told us what the financial arrangements would be for me to wrestle in Japan. I took him at his word. In those days as was the case throughout my career in Japan, there were no contracts.

My father traveled with me on that first trip to Japan. In Hiroshima, we visited the Peace Memorial. I will never forget the dome, the statue of the woman protecting her child, and reconstructed scene of Hiroshima after the bomb. As we left, words could not describe my emotion. I felt totally inadequate as I wrote in the register, "Please God, Never again," and signed my name.

My first match for the World Championship in Japan was in the winter of 1969 against Antonio Inoki. We were both in excellent condition and evenly matched. At ringside, I remember seeing Yoshimura, Young Riki Momota and Haru Eigen. In my corner were my father and Harley Race. As the bell rang, Harley Race growled, "Don't let that &%#@!* get the best of you." I remember thinking, "I hope these people don't speak English." I looked at Inoki. He was a dangerous wrestler. I looked at my father and Harley Race. They were more dangerous, and mean. I thought, "It is easier to fight Inoki than to face Harley Race and my father if I don't do a hell of a job against Inoki."

Inoki and I matched each other hold for hold,. It was the kind of match I enjoy, fast paced competitive, and for the highest stakes in the business, the world championship. I made an attempt to take him off his feet and he blocked, pushing me toward the corner of the ring. I released and turned using his momentum to crash him backward into the corner. I threw a forearm blow to the body, and one at his chest. In a flash o anger, he swung a punch at me and in seconds, this great wrestling match turned into a brawl. We fought through the ropes and on to the floor, both of us swinging wildly at each other. In an effort to red myself of Inoki's punches, I reached for his head, and wound up with a handful of hair,. I grabbed tight and threw him off. He landed against the announcer's table and sagged to his knees. With a breath of air, I returned ot the ring. As I looked back, my father was standing over Inoki. He reached out to help him back into the ring. When my father touched Inoki, the fans were on their feet protesting. They thought he would hurt Inoki. From the second balcony I could see a projectile hurdling toward my dad. It must have been thrown by a pitching ace for on of the Japanese baseball teams. Landing with a thud against my father's chest was an orange, it split open and there was fresh orange juice running down my father's new gray silk suit. In anger, dad shook his fist at the balcony.

The final 10 minutes of the match were bedlam. My dad was on the ring apron several times, the fans were on their feet, and periodically oranges would fly into the ring. Now, the bell was ringing. The one hour time limit had elapsed. This match was a drew and I knew I would retain the World Heavyweight Championship Belt. I walked to Inoki, shook his hand and told him, "Great match."

My second trip to Japan was in the summer of 1970. The featured match of the tour was again in Osaka. My opponent was Giant Baba. I knew Mr. Baba as an exceptional athlete and professional wrestler. His athletic career began as a pitcher for the Yomiuri Giants in the Japanese Professional Baseball league: however, he was soon attracted to professional wrestling as the, "New Hot Hope" of the legendary "father of professional wrestling in Japan," Riki Dozan. After the death of Riki Dozan in 1963, Giant Baba had taken his place as the Number one wrestling star in Japan.

Every seat had been sold in advance. The building was packed. NTV was there to record every move for a live television audience that would number in the millions. In Osaka, on July 30th, 1970, there was no air-conditioning, the temperature in the building was 105 degrees farenheit  and in the ring under the TV lights it was extremely hot. it was so hit in the ring you could fry an egg on the mat.

One of the other wrestlers on the card that night, Brute Bernard returned to the dressing room after his match, dripping in perspiration. He said, "My god, anyone who is in that ring wrestling for more than five minutes in going to die." Thoughts raced through my mind, "I am not going to beat Baba in five minutes, and I'm not losing in five minutes. I am not going to die in the ring in Osaka, Japan, 8,000 miles from home." I knew the risks I faced. I also knew the planning, expense and hard work that goes into a major wrestling production. I decided to accept the consequences.

I entered the ring dripping in perspiration. Flower girls were in the ring, dressed in colorful kimonos. The ring announcer was wearing a black suit and tie. An official, dressed in suit and tie was holding a proclamation he would read before that start of the match. They were all dripping in perspiration. I looked over the audience fanning themselves with what ever they could find---- fans, programs, wrestling magazines--- but nobody was leaving. Giant Baba came into the ring. I wondered, "Are we all crazy"-- the TV People, Mr. Baba, the flower girls, myself and yes, even the wrestling fans too. The show would go on.

We fought from our hearts that hot sweltering night in Osaka, Baba would not quit, I would not quit, the people would not quit, and even the referee, Oki Shikina, who was over 50 years old, wouldn't quit. I remember it as a great wrestling match, after 55 minutes we fought through the ropes down on the floor and continued the match outside the ring. The referee counted us both out of the ring and stopped the match. It was a draw. I was thrilled with the decision.

That match was the most difficult and hardest physical event I have ever lived through. It was the toughest match of my career and it was that night in Osaka that I learned what a great competitor and athlete Giant Baba was. On that night, he was the best I have faced.

After the match as I laid, exhausted on the floor of the dressing room, unable to move, the referee from the earlier matches came in and said, "C'mon Funk, we party tonight. The cabarets are waiting, let's go." I just looked up and said, Turko, There is no way. I'm lucky to be alive tonight.

On my third trip to Japan, a meeting was arranged between my father, Dory Funk Sr., Sam Muchnick, myself, and Japan Pro Wrestling agent, Charley Moto. Arrangements were made for a return match for the World Championship in Osaka against Antonio Inoki.

I was happy to wrestle Inoki again for the World Championship. I came to the arena that night in Osaka expecting one of the most challenging matches of my career. I expected it would compare with the first match with Inoki in 1969. The match never happened.

Inoki did not show up that night and was replaced by former World Judo Champion, Seiji Sakaguchi. I was fortunate to gain a victory and leave Osaka still the Champion of the World. Inoki claims he is Japan's greatest wrestler but, that night in Osaka, he was Mr. Chicken.

That third trip in 1971 was the last time I would wrestle for the old company, Japan Pro Wrestling. For reasons that I was not aware of the company had fallen on hard times and would go out of business. After the last match on that trip, I went ot get my pay for wrestling on the tour. Mr. Endo, representing Japan Pro Wrestling Company sat across the desk from me. He paid me first in $100 bills. He then reached into his inside coat pocket and continued to count my pay out in $20 bills, and then $10s. Finally he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his bill fold. He counted out the rest of my guarantee in five and then one dollar bills. He stood up and shook my hand. We had an agreement and he lived up to what he said he would do even if it meant taking money out of his own pocket. His word was his bond.

Japan Pro Wrestling Co. folded. Antonio Inoki had left the company. Giant Baba was soon to meet my father, Dory Funk Sr., in regard to securing American wrestlers to come to Japan to wrestle for his new company, All Japan Pro Wrestling.

In the 27 years of All Japan Pro Wrestling there has never been a tour that did not have Funk's talent on it.

GUEST REFEREE: KEITH FRANKS, AKA ADRIAN ADONIS, IS THE MAN

After a difference of opinion in the ring in Hartford CT, Adorable Adrian Adonis was pissed. As he came down the ramp and under the bleachers I could hear him cursing. He was going to settle their differences right now. Adorable Adrian stomped past his door and continued down the hallway to Danny Spivey's dressing room.

Dressing room fights seldom occur in Pro Wrestling or other major sports. The guys are professional and almost always leave their feeling in the ring or on the playing field. When dressing room fights do occur, they are usually short and sometimes nasty. There is an unwritten rule in wrestling that if a fight occurs, don't break it up until someone has the advantage, the theory being, if nothing is settled, tempers will flair again and there will be more trouble. There is another theory too, we are all in the same business trying to make a living for our families and fighting among us is non productive.

I followed Adrian to the opposite dressing room in hopes a disaster wouldn't happen.

***

Adrian (Keith Franks) was a tough kid when he was in the Amarillo Territory. He came in with the hardest gimmick in wrestling, "Beat the Champ." It was a straight offer to anyone in the house, a thousand dollars to anyone who could beat Adrian in ten minutes, not cash, silver dollars, in a bank sack.

The challenge was up every night. In effect, every night Adrian was beating up one of the fans. His heat was building and we were doing capacity business.

Adrian was a good wrestler and a tough street fighter. (A hard combination to beat) Each night, the challenger selected was asked to sign a release, then stepped in the ring with Adrian. His standard match consisted of some good wrestling by Adrian until the challenger had a sense that this wasn't going to be too tough, then from out of the blue Adrian would cut loose with a hay maker, a straight fist or elbow smash to the face and from that point the fight was over. With the challenger in a daze, Adrian would win with a leg drop, elbow drop, or drop-kick, not normally devastating moves, but the challenger usually wanted out of the ring by this time.

I watched as Adrian went through at least fifteen challenges for the thousand dollars. Taking on anyone in the house is a tough thing to do. Adrian gained respect among the wrestlers and added to his heat and drawing power.

One Thursday night in Amarillo at the old Sports Arena Adrian's challenger signed the release and stepped into the ring and peeled his shirt off. He was cut, and weighed about 190 pounds. The first thing I noticed, this kid was no mark. I didn't know where he got them but he was wearing, "real wrestling shoes."

Adrian as always took his time, feeling his opponent out. Sure enough, Adrain could out wrestle the kid. He slipped behind almost at will and took him to the mat. Each time the kid would move immediately to the ropes and the referee would break the hold. On about the third time when the kid went to the ropes, Adrain slid to the floor. The kid was on his back. As the referee called for the break.

Adrian cut loose with a blind side punch to the chin. As soon as the punch landed, the kid was on the floor looking Adrian right in the eye. The rules had been broken and now this kid was free to fight like he had been trained, a Golden Gloves Texas State Champion. The damnedest bare fist fight you ever saw in your life erupted. They fought right through the fans to the back row of ringside. The match was counted out and the two fighters were separated.

The return match the next Thursday night in Amarillo sold out. Adrian Adonis vs Terry Daniels, Special Referee, Dick Murdoch. There is another unwritten rule in pro wrestling, "Never let a mark get the best of a wrestler." Referee, Dick Murdoch laid down the smack and let both men know he would stand for no bare fist punching. Adrian being a good wrestler won the match.

That was the end of the, "Thousand Dollar Challenge." Adrian came out of it fine and his drawing power remained throughout the rest of his stay in the Amarillo Territory and so did his pride and respect among the boys.

***

Adorable Adrian Adonis busted the door down to the, "Good Guys Dressing Room," in Hartford Connecticut. The front room was empty. Adrian busted through to the back room. Dan Spivey rose to his feet to protect himself. Adrian said, "C'mon Spivey, let's see how tough you are." It happened in a split second. There was no chance to break it up.

Adrian took the wrestler's position and lunged forward for Spivey's legs. Spivey who is six feet six and has an ungodly reach caught Adrian with a vicious left to his left eye and cheekbone. It splattered like a watermelon and blood went everywhere. Spivey came with one more right to the face and the fight was over before anyone could break it up.

In a mere three seconds a reputation was gone, an ego busted, over a fight that neither one in their right mind would have wanted to happen.
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The New WAWLI Papers (Wrestling As We Liked It) No. 504

WHO WILL BE NEXT SACRIFICIAL LAMB?

(New York Post, Tuesday, May 25, 1999)

By Phil Mushnick

"Vince McMahon has always had this mentality about treating wrestlers like circus animals ... When it's over, they sort of take you out back and put a slug in the back of your head." - Bret Hart, older and more famous brother of Owen Hart, from the 1998 documentary, "Wrestling With Shadows." THE public at large and the media at large still don't grasp the perversity of modern pro wrestling as dictated by its most popular entity, Vince McMahon's World Wrestling Federation.

The on-the-job death of Owen Hart will bring the kind of heat -- no matter how fleeting -- on an industry that long ago should have been made to walk the plank of public outrage.

Yet, Hart's death, in its raw form, appears to have been accidental. But his was a sensational death in full view of thousands, thus it was front page news.

The news that has belonged on the front pages for years -- the deaths of pro wrestlers due to institutionalized drug abuse -- receives little or no attention. All the media cares to know is that wrestling's red hot, so let's join in the fun and get our piece of the action.

Just last month, Rick Rood, a known drug-user who wrestled, naturally, as "Rick Rude," was found dead, medicine bottles at his side. He was one of the older victims of his profession. He was 40. Pro wrestlers, in their 20s and 30s, die at a clip of about four or five per year.

But because of the desensitization process that pro wrestling breeds in its fans -- especially the young -- and because of pro wrestling's enormous popularity, these deaths are rationalized as something that comes with the territory. Besides, a new, even ruder star will be along any minute.

After Hart's death, a watery-eyed McMahon sat before news cameras and told America how sorry he is. But how sorry was he? Was he sorry for Hart and his family or sorry for himself because of the heat he'd now feel? An excessively cynical view of McMahon? I don't think so. This man has a history.

Let the record show that Sunday, after Hart fell to his death performing an over-the-edge stunt during a pay-per-view show titled "Over The Edge," McMahon did not stop the show. Hell, there'd be no refunds. There was money on the table and kids to be entertained through violence and sexual deviance.

And let the record show the WWF's desensitization process has become so thorough that Sunday's TV announcers had to implore their audience to believe that Hart's death wasn't part of the show, that he was really dead. After all, there's no knowing just how low McMahon will go. Therein lies the popularity of his WWF.

Consider that minutes after Hart was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, McMahon's sensitivity is such that he held to his pay-per-view storyline and had himself rushed from the arena in an ambulance, the "victim" of a staged assault at the hands of one of his wrestlers.

Consider that in 1997, immediately after WWF star Brian Pillman was found dead of a drug-related heart seizure, McMahon exploited Pillman's death in his ratings war with Ted Turner's WCW, a war McMahon has won in a rout primarily because he provides more lurid shows.

McMahon's USA Network show, the night after Pillman's death, eagerly promoted the appearance of Pillman's naive widow for an interview with McMahon. They saved her for later in the program. The widow of one day was used by McMahon as a come-on, a ratings ploy. And it worked. Of course it worked.

Consider that Owen Hart's role Sunday was to mock McMahon's critics by performing as an excessively good good guy. His "Blue Blazer" character was designed to ridicule McMahon's detractors who have noted that McMahon has removed the "good guy" from his shows.

Instead of Good vs. Bad, the WWF now presents Bad vs. Worse, something McMahon readily -- and proudly -- admits.

Perhaps one of those critics that Hart's character was designed to mock was his brother, Bret, a far bigger star than Owen.

Bret had left the WWF for the WCW, unhappy with his new assignment as a remorseless pig after years of playing the baby face. Bret also had made it known that the WWF had become so vile that he no longer allowed his children to watch.

And it was Bret who had decked McMahon after his last WWF performance. McMahon had betrayed him by having the ref signal that Hart had submitted to his opponent before a packed arena in his native Canada. Bret, who actually took his role-model status seriously, figured he was safe from McMahon in his final WWF show because the ref was a good friend.

But just as Bret's brother relied on McMahon to make a living, so did that ref.

Consider who Owen Hart was to wrestle Sunday: "The Godfather," a black man in the role of a stereotypical black pimp who offers his "hoes" (whores) to opponents for the entertainment pleasure of our young. The sale of hateful racial and ethnic stereotyping is a McMahon specialty, too.

Consider that several years ago, after the WWF's physician, Dr. George Zahorian, was sentenced to prison for distributing drugs to McMahon's stars -- including Hulk Hogan and McMahon -- the WWF boss held a press conference to announce the strictest drug testing known to man.

A naive media, failing even to recognize the deal behind the press conference, filed stories that portrayed McMahon as a leader in the war on drugs. McMahon must've laughed himself to sleep that night. McMahon that day named his new drug czar: Dr. Mauro Di Pasquale, legendary among body builders for his writings on how to beat drug tests.

But even if the WWF had been serious about drug testing, who'd get the results? Who'd act on those results? There's no independent commissioner. It would be McMahon, an admitted steroid user and successful broker of steroid-swollen actors. He could do what he wished with those results. The press conference was just another Vince McMahon show.

Now consider McMahon's response to the drug-testing issue in the Dec. 5, 1998 issue of TV Guide: "If we found a syringe filled with steroids, we'd say, 'What the hell are you doing?' But the audience doesn't give a damn. No one cares." So much for his war on drugs.

Consider that the WWF and WCW assiduously avoid staging shows in Oregon, once a hotbed for pro wrestling. McMahon calls Oregon a "red tape" problem. But Oregon is known as the one state that conducts real-deal drug testing of pro wrestlers.

The WWF, cable TV's runaway ratings champ, long ago entered the over-the-edge business. Its prime-time, nationally televised shows, watched by millions of kids each week, are now so obscene that we can't print exactly what's said and exactly what's done.

Suffice to say that kids are being suspended from school for emulating what McMahon has wrought. Ten-year-old boys now refer to 10-year-old girls as "hoes," courtesy of the WWF. Twelve-year-old boys now point to their crotches and holler "Suck it!" the WWF's signature salute.

Even McMahon's biggest current star, "Stone Cold" Steve Austin, who specializes in giving the finger, says the WWF sometimes goes too far.

But, because it goes too far, the WWF is No. 1, top of the trash pile. And, as Stone Cold knows, and the late Owen Hart knew all too well, you can do it McMahon's way, or you can do it elsewhere.

Owen Hart, dead at 34. Next!

SAFETY: ENOUGH OF A PRIORITY?

(San Jose Mercury News, May 25, 1999)

By Sam Farmer

A bungee jumper plunges to her death while practicing for a Super Bowl halftime show. A motorcycle stuntman is killed when his jump goes awry at a monster-truck rally in Miami.

And Sunday, before a sellout crowd at Kemper Arena in Kansas City, Mo., professional wrestler Owen Hart dies after falling 90 feet into the ring while being lowered from the ceiling.

"Something like that makes you take a deep breath and make sure you're doing everything you can to put safety first,'' said Michael Olmstead, president of Sunnyvale-based Olmstead Productions and 49ers entertainment director for the past 26 years. "We have one overriding principle in everything we do: Safety comes first.''

It's not uncommon for Olmstead to reject a proposed halftime show in the interest of safety. He passed on the woman who climbs into an exploding coffin. He scrubbed a sky-diving jump at a Clash game at the first hint of bad weather. He turned back a 49ers fan who wanted to set himself on fire on the field while wearing a flame-retardant suit.

"I thought that would not only be dangerous but would cross the line of good taste,'' Olmstead said.

There is no shortage of people who will risk life and limb to thrill a roaring crowd. With indoor events, the stunt of choice involves rappelling, swinging on ropes or rocketing down a "zip line'' from one end of an arena to the other.

Two months ago, Sharks mascot S.J. Sharkie was left dangling 50 feet above the ice when a piece of his rappelling equipment, known as a Figure 8, got caught in his jersey. It took a crew of eight people 12 minutes to rescue him, although Sharks officials insist he was in no real danger.

"It almost got to a point where he was so stuck we weren't worried about him (falling to the ice),'' said Jason Minsky, director of event presentation for the club. "We were just concerned about how we were going to get him up or down.''

Sharkie returned to earth safely, but the episode was a reminder of the importance of planning and practice. He was supposed to rip down a banner on his descent (something not normally incorporated in the act), missed on his grab and got stuck when the people above him cut the banner free.

Normally, the Sharks hire professional climber Rob Chang to coordinate their rope-related stunts. Chang was not involved in that ill-fated endeavor, however.

"Any time you change the parameters of a stunt -- whether it's a banner, smoke bombs on the feet, anything -- you should consult the person who designed the stunt,'' Chang said. "Those small things can really change the end result.''

For the most part, the Sharks take great pains to ensure that such stunts don't endanger fans or the mascot. Chang meticulously checks and tests his equipment, consults a mechanical engineer to determine such things as force on the ropes and works with the performer for days, if not weeks.

Not everyone is so careful.

"When you're a new mascot, you should have a minimum of 15 to 20 hours of training in rappelling,'' he said. "I know for a fact that some other people have shown somebody after an hour and said, 'OK, you're fine.' It's a roll-of-the-dice kind of thing.''

It's unclear what caused the accident that killed the wrestler at Kemper Arena. A police spokesman in Kansas City said the cable suspending Hart did not break, and detectives believe something went wrong when Hart's harness was being hitched to the cable.

Hart, 34, died after his head struck a padded turnbuckle, a metal coupling that holds the ring's ropes together.

Vince McMahon, president of the World Wrestling Federation, said the organization will stop performing the stunt that killed Hart, who at 5-foot-11, 227 pounds was billed as an acrobatic stuntman. But McMahon said other stunts will continue.

"Stunts like this are performed at major sporting events on a routine basis in Hollywood,'' McMahon told the Associated Press on Monday. "We compete with Hollywood for entertainment.''

Hart's brother, Bret, a star wrestler nicknamed "The Hitman,'' was scheduled to appear Monday in a match for the rival World Championship Wrestling on "The Tonight Show With Jay Leno'' but canceled.

Owen Hart might have been copying the antics of "Sting,'' a wrestler named Steve Borden of WCW, who for the past couple of years would descend from the rafters into the ring on a cable.

Wade Keller, editor of the Pro Wrestling Torch newsletter, said Hart's fatal accident is the only one he is aware of in U.S. wrestling since 1969, when Mike DiBiase died of a heart attack during a match in Lubbock, Texas.
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The New WAWLI Papers (Wrestling As We Liked It) No. 505

THE READERS ALWAYS WRITE . . .

Mr. Kenyon:

I know you don't normally publish readers' letters or comments.

However, I feel the need to respond to Lou Thesz' article in WAWLI issue #501, and I hope you'll consider making an exception.

Mr. Thesz, I have the utmost respect for you and for your accomplishments, as well as those of your peers. I had the honor of meeting you briefly in Newton last month, and I can honestly say it was one of the most exciting and humbling experiences I've ever had.

Because of that, it breaks my heart to hear you say there are no wrestling fans anymore. Why do you think we drove hundreds, some of us thousands, of miles, just to shake your hand in Iowa? We read newsletters such as this one religiously, we pore over boxes of old magazines at garage sales and flea markets, we buy videotapes of "classic" matches, studying every minute detail until our eyes hurt.

Perhaps more importantly, we choose not to support today's promoters who have jumped on the violence bandwagon. We are vocal about our concerns, and try to make a positive difference in wrestling, rather than turning our backs on it. We realize that wrestling is like any marriage; there are good eras, and there are bad eras, but no matter what, you stick with it.

Personally, I am a 29-year-old fan who DOES enjoy amateur wrestling, DOES show respect to those who deserve it, and DOES enjoy watching current matches involving talented athletes like Chris Jericho, Bret Hart, Chris Benoit, Juventud Guerrera, Billy Kidman, Dean Malenko, and many others. I don't enjoy the dangerous and/or sophomoric behavior shown by some overzealous, immature wrestlers, and yes, I do think it's unhealthy for everyone involved. But I refuse to let them ruin the sport for me.

I can only hope that your words came from your grief, and not from an honest belief that your sport is dead. Because as much as it hurts that you don't recognize us, true wrestling fans are still around, and we always will be.

Carrie Brown

AND LOU THESZ REPLIES . . .

Dear Carrie,

It was a pleasure meeting you in Newton, and Newton is part of the reason I feel the way I do. Like you, for many years I have focused on the good kids who retain some semblance of wrestling in their matches, but your money goes to directly to fund the overall product. The only power in this sad situation is the dollar. I can no longer justify the madness that exist by saying it benefits a few good boys.

Every ticket, tee shirt, program, PPV, etc. stokes the fire and raises the level of performance to bring in more dollars and risk more lives and disassociate any form of the sport of wrestling. The only weapon of control in free enterprise is your money.

Because we live in a free country, I respect your right to control your dollars, or power, as you see fit. All my power, my energy and my reputation will go into amateur wrestling and the prayer we can bring to the forefront a more discriminating fan.

I have inquired, but not found the information. Did anyone leave the arena when Owen's death was announced or was it just on to more "entertainment"? I don't want to offend anyone, but anyone who understood wrestling would have been hard pressed to watch any more mayhem.

We all do what we feel is best for the sport we love. I do know there are wrestling fans, but cannot imagine anyone who enjoys and understands amateur wrestling would support the decline in the sport. I know I did many things I felt were not a good representation of the sport of wrestling and must face and accept my part in the decline, but I hope, with all my heart, we can stop the decay.

Forgive me if I have offended you. I spoke partly in grief for Owen and partly in grief for wrestling.

Lou Thesz

RESPONSE TO EARLIER THESZ WORDS

Amen to the great Lou Thesz' comments. The (business) has reached new lows long before Owen fell to his death. I remember Owen as a very respectful young man who, along with his brother Brett, had a passion for baseball. When I saw Owen, which was infrequently, he wanted a new umpire "war story."

I just saw a local news report on backyard wrestling. These boys, ages 12-20 are emulating their heroes by using garbage can lids, going through tables, and yes, blading. I was interviewed condemning the backyard boys and warning parents about the tremendous risks. If the guys wanted to try moves, why not copy Thesz, Gagne, or Bockwinkel.

Respectfully,

Larry Young

(American League umpire)

PRO WRESTLING OOZES INTO SEWER

(Providence Journal, May 27, 1999)

By Bill Reynolds

Somehow, when it comes to professional wrestling, we always seem to focus on the wrong thing.

Now it's the death of Owen Hart, who died Sunday night in Kansas City when he fell 50 feet from a cable during a World Wrestling Federation pay-per-view televised event. But it's not the death of Hart, however unfortunate it is, that should be the focus.

It's professional wrestling itself.

This is a sideshow, which always existed on the periphery of American sport and now has become a phenomenon, complete with great TV numbers and sold-out arenas. This glorified cartoon whose tentacles seem to keep getting bigger, fueled by marketing genius and an apparent insatiable public appetite for violence that comes with a story line. This is an abomination that masquerades as simple fun and plays to the lowest common denominator.

The problem with criticizing wrestling, though, is that the inevitable response is, "What's the big deal, it's just entertainment.''

As if that somehow justifies it.

Or why should anyone get too excited about something that glorifies violence, misogyny, confrontation, steroid abuse, devil worship, verbal abuse, an in-your-face attitude and just plain old bad taste as long as it's entertaining, right? Why should anyone get too excited about something that contributes to the further Dumbing of America as long as it's entertaining, right?

As if the values that wrestling espouses are taking place in some vacuum. As if they have no effect on kids -- simply running off of them as easily as dirt does under a shower.

Ah, if we all were so lucky.

Which is not to say pro wrestling is the sole reason why Littleton happened, too many kids seem to think violence is as American as apple pie and mom's meatloaf, or even the increasing feeling that America seems to be going to Hell in a handbasket.

But there's little doubt that pro wrestling contributes to the declining cultural climate. Little doubt that being exposed to an ongoing diet of this nonsense is going to have an effect on kids, just as having them exposed to an ongoing diet of vocabulary words might eventually make them learn a few new words more complicated than "yo.'' There's no mystery to this: If you let kids wallow around in a sewer long enough, eventually they're going to smell.

And spare me the argument that wrestling has been around forever, so what's the big deal now?

It's different now. Trust me.

Rest assured, Killer Kowalski and Haystack Calhoun didn't come into the ring dressed as pimps, followed by seductive-looking women who are called the "Ho Train,'' as some clown known as the Godfather does. Nor did they point to their crotches and yell a vulgarity that can't be used in a family newspaper, as some other wrestler does. Nor were the shows full of sexual innuendo -- all done with about as much sophistication as a junior high locker room.

The point is, pro wrestling is much cruder than it's ever been. More vulgar. More violent. More crass. More theatrics. More over the edge. More. More. More.

Don't believe me?

Listen to former wrestler Bruno Sammartino, once of the biggest name in the wrestling biz. Back 30 years ago, in what was a different era even for professional wrestling.

"Why do people watch this garbage?'' he recently told the Philadelphia Daily News. "I'm embarrassed and angry by what they've done to wrestling. I refuse to watch it.''

Hooray for Bruno.

It makes perfect sense if wrestling is ruder than it used to be. Isn't the entire culture ruder? From movies to music videos, from video games to attitudes on the street, from The Jerry Springer Show to Madonna's entire career, the culture seems to be on some descent into the primordial ooze. Just when you think it can't go any lower, it does.

Wrestling is just one of the reference points.

Plus, pro wrestling, as we used to know it, got played out a long time ago. There are only so many body slams you can see before it all gets a little tired, right? So many times a guy can bounce off the ropes, right? So pro wrestling has to keep pushing the envelope, has to keep getting more and more outrageous. Especially in this age of the TV clicker, when it often seems as if too may kids have the attention spans of hamsters.

So now we have this almost-nightly monument to everything wrong with the culture, all packaged and skillfully marketed. Violence as theater. Complete with sex, confrontation, verbal abuse, misogyny, and just plain old-fashion bad taste. Wresting, as a nightly TV freak show.

All in the name of family entertainment.

It makes you wonder.

But it's not the death of a wrestler in a freak accident that should be getting the attention here.

It's this nonsense that we justify because it's ``just entertainment.'' This nonsense that we justify because ``it isn't real.''

No, it's not real.

But the values it keeps sending out to kids are.

WRESTLING'S ACT OUT OF CONTROL

(Philadelphia Daily News, May 27, 1999)

By Bill Lyon

The temptation is to dismiss professional wrestling as nothing more than a cult sport, a perverse and garish freak show.

But during the last NFL season, the ratings for the long-living and prosperous Monday Night Football were eroded badly in head-to-head competition with the thespians of the squared circle.

And when the current NBA playoffs went up against wrestling, they were pummeled. In Philadelphia, until this season, the wrestlers regularly outdrew the 76ers. And even now they attract a larger crowd than the average Phillies congregation.

But now wrestling may have gotten more attention than it really wanted. It has lost a member of the brotherhood, Owen Hart, who plunged to a gruesome and well-publicized death in a packed arena in Kansas City on Sunday night.

All you need to know about the sad state of our society is that many in the crowd thought at first that Hart's death dive was just another stunt. These people have been conditioned to expect ever-escalating routines.

Wrestlers are regularly set on fire, buried alive, thrown from great heights, and whacked with two-by-fours, garbage-can lids and the ever-popular steel chair. The problem with having to ratchet up the outrageous is that you have to outdo yourself each succeeding performance, until the inevitable result is that a man plummeting to his death seems nothing more than another really cool stunt.

The scoffers say that wrestlers aren't really athletes. That can be debated. What cannot be debated is that most of them are incredibly athletic. They perform some astonishing acrobatics -- flamboyant flips and somersaults, from the top rope, from the pike position, sometimes from the top of a steel cage.

They are stuntmen, actually. Aerialists without nets.

Yes, it is all choreographed and scripted, but there is a definite art to knowing how to fall.

Or as Dr. J used to say of his chronically ouchy knees: "It's not the takeoffs, it's the landings."

Even knowing how and where to fall does not ensure freedom from injury. Periodically they have to go into the shop. Knees need scoping. Vertebrae get realigned. Joints get lubed, fractures casted. And then, of course, as soon as the wounded warrior returns to the ring, his cast is promptly targeted for abuse, usually from a handy sledgehammer.

Almost all that happens is predictable. Except for death.

So if Owen Hart's passing is to serve some useful purpose beyond hypocritical pontificating, it would be to make wrestling put on the brakes.

You can't ban it, any more than you can ban boxing. But it needs to be reined in, to be reformed, to be dragged back from the edge.

The favorite word in sports these days seems to be extreme. But once you've gone to the extreme, what do you do for an encore? Once you have stepped right up to the ledge of the cliff, where is the next step?

That's where wrestling is now. It needs to examine itself, and pull back from the edge.

And it most emphatically needs pressure from parents.

Wrestling has an appeal to children that is frightening. The allure is understandable -- extravagantly oversized men and women in exotic and bizarre costumes, strutting and preening and committing acts of random violence and rage . . . they are cartoon characters come to life.

But there is an important difference. Superman and Batman and the rest of them are not crude and lewd. They don't have suggestive nicknames and pornographic routines. They don't debase, ogle and humiliate women. They don't lead the audience in chanting vulgarities.

They have a constitutional right to stage their performances. But a large portion of their audience, especially that watching on cable TV, is much too young to be exposed to the raunch and the sleaze that now permeates professional wrestling.

Since sleaze sells, they're not going to stop. Which is all the more reason for parental vigilance.

Wrestling also preys on the vulnerabilities and the appetites of the next age group up from children, the adolescents. Wrestling shows are shrewdly marketed with hormones in mind.

Women are invariably barely dressed and are slavishly subservient and surgically enhanced, and those who are not have degrading names such as PMS.

And, of course, there is the pervasive presence of muscles. Mounds upon mountains of muscles. Pumped and oiled, flexed and rippling. Veins thick as lead pencils.

A 15-year-old gazes at this engorged, oxygenated flesh and he wants a body like that. Well, it is available, in the weight room. But only to an extent.

To get big, to get really huge, you need pharmaceutical help.

Steroids.

The price can include hideous acne, high blood pressure, impotence, irreparable liver damage, kidney failure, wild mood swings and erratic, irrational behavior.

Do you think any of this can be a deterrent? In a survey, a disturbing number of teenage males said they'd trade an early death for a couple of summers of looking awesome on the beach.

So this is the market on which wrestling feeds.

In fairness, many of the performers could give lessons to other athletes in how to relate to the paying public. Many of them, once the costumes are off and the ring personalities shed, are amazingly accessible and cooperative.

And to a point, they can be captivatingly entertaining.

But they are being exploited, asked to do increasingly perilous stunts, asked to sell their bodies at auction. Some of them reply: "Yeah, but the money's good."

In the end, all that gets you is a fancier coffin.
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The New WAWLI Papers (Wrestling As We Liked It) No. 506

PUSHING THE ENVELOPE IS DEADLY

(Hartford Courant, May 27, 1999)

By Greg Garber

The World Wrestling Federation headquarters in Stamford are a corporate study in glass and metal. But inside those walls, less than a football field from I-95, the fabulists are at work. They create the spectacular storylines and scenarios that make professional wrestling one of the most popular forms of entertainment in America today.

WWF chairman Vince McMahon Jr., who oversees 200 full-time employees, has presided over wrestling's growing grip on the public. In the early 1990s, when he acknowledged that wrestling was "entertainment" -- i.e., fake -- the industry was suddenly freed to pursue increasingly absurd (and hypnotically compelling) "angles," as they call them in the business.

During Sunday's WWF pay-per-view show billed as "Over The Edge" at Kemper Arena in Kansas City, Mo., Owen Hart fell 90 feet to his death. While waiting for his entrance on a descending cable, Hart, 34, who wrestled as "The Blue Blazer," fell from the catwalk and his head struck a ring turnbuckle. He broke his neck and was pronounced dead on arrival at a local hospital.

McMahon was not made available to The Courant on Wednesday, but he has never shied from professional wrestling's questionable image. In March, McMahon granted ESPN an expansive interview and defended the WWF.

"Is there any other show on television in which you have soap opera elements, action-adventure elements, the athleticism of Olympic competitors, cartoon and talk show all rolled into one? The answer to that is absolutely not.

"We push the envelope in terms of creativity, sexuality, language and things of that nature. Do we go to the edge? Yeah, we get close to the edge. But compare us to anything else that's out there ... we're tame."

Investigators theorize the quick-release device on Hart's harness was triggered accidentally by his hand or feathered sky-blue cape. Clearly, in some measure, Hart's death can be attributed to professional wrestling's hunger to penetrate the American consciousness. Hart, after all, was terrified of heights.

The Hart family, which includes eight sons who were all involved in wrestling and patriarch Stu Hart, a legendary wrestler and promoter, has been quick to criticize the trend toward grand spectacle.

"We all feel that wrestling was getting too far out, and my poor brother Owen was the sacrifice for the ratings," said Elizabeth Hart from the family home in Calgary, Alberta, on Wednesday. "We all figured that sooner or later somebody was going to end up with a tragedy because of the direction wrestling was taking."

Owen's older brother Bret "The Hitman" Hart, who left WWF to join Ted Turner's World Championship Wrestling, is the most famous professional wrestler to emerge from Canada. Tuesday, on "Good Morning America," Hart decried the stunt his brother was asked to perform.

"You always sort of get pushed into doing things that maybe you're a little uncomfortable with," Hart said. "I can see this as a situation where Owen was, you know, this idea was taken to him. It was suggested that he come out of the ceiling. And I know there was a little bit of a discomfort about the danger in it.

"It's a shame, you know, the fans have sort of become wild dogs that sort of want more and more and more all the time."

Bob Backlund, once a successful amateur wrestler, worked for McMahon's father, Vince Sr., in the early days of the WWF. When Vince Jr. took over the operation in 1982 and brought in colorful characters like Hulk Hogan, Backlund left the organization in 1984.

"I just wanted to be Bob Backlund," said Backlund, a Glastonbury Republican who is seeking John Larson's 1st Congressional District seat in 2000. "I didn't want to change. I'm not saying he was wrong in asking me to change, and maybe be a bad guy. He was right in his decision, business-wise. Vince made a ton of money taking over the business. But I would still do the same thing.

"Vince and I have had some pretty strong differences of opinion."

Backlund said he objects primarily to the language and the obscene gestures, especially considering a fair portion of the audience is young children. A number of critics have compared professional wrestling to "The Jerry Springer Show."

"People say, 'Oh, my God, they're violent,' " said McMahon, 52, who is at once combative and charismatic. "Well, no one has ever seen anyone's guts spilling out on a WWF set, or a knife or anything. There is no portrayal of murder.

"The World Wrestling Federation is a model probably -- in all likelihood -- of what will be the future of television. I think we're better than Springer sometimes."

Paul MacArthur, a professor of radio and television at Sam Houston State University and publisher of "The Wrestling Perspective" newsletter argues that the level of violence hasn't changed much since wrestling became popular around the turn of the century.

"What are we talking about?" MacArthur asks. "Gratuitous violence. Pro wrestling has always been about gratuitous violence. It's always been two guys beating the crap out of each other. Well, allegedly beating the crap out of each other.

"I think the presentation has changed. You have to be more sensational to sell your product. Look at Hollywood. The special effects are better in 'Phantom Menace' than the original 'Star Wars.' You are always going to see technical advances when you're trying to dazzle people."

Last year on a WWF pay-per-view show in Pittsburgh, Mick Foley, known as "Mankind," fell 15 feet from the top of a steel cage through a table, then was thrown through the cage roof and sustained a broken collarbone and lost several teeth in a match billed as "Hell In A Cell."

"I couldn't believe it when he got up after the fall," said Don Laible, a columnist for Extreme Championship Wrestling Magazine and a 27-year veteran of professional wrestling. "I know it sounds like old school, but wrestling has to come back to the ring. They have pushed the envelope too far. The absurdity is way out there. It's like, 'Well, let's top that.'

"People in wrestling say, 'It's what people want.' Well, that's not true. It's what pro wrestling is giving them. Vince McMahon is a master salesman, the second coming of P.T. Barnum. Listen, even the circus trapeze artist has a net. A guy jumping out of an airplane has not one parachute but two. At some point, they've got to get back to wrestling so it's no longer a dirty word."

Technically, the last death in U.S. professional wrestling before Hart's was Mike DiBiase, who died of a heart attack in Lubbock, Texas, in 1969. But in a sport where big muscles are a prerequisite, a number of professional wrestlers have died young.

Rick Rude, a former wrestler, died in April after a long suspected association with performance enhancing drugs like anabolic steroids and human growth hormone.

In March, ESPN's "Outside the Lines" reported that at least 11 professional wrestlers have died in the last six years. Their average age was 36.

"Because wrestling is this hybrid of sport and entertainment, you're going to get the negative elements of both," MacArthur said. "Let's face it, there isn't a sport that is clean. To get the competitive edge, you have to look like bodybuilders. That's the reality."

Said Dave Meltzer, editor of the weekly "Wrestling Observer" newsletter, "There have been a lot of deaths in wrestling, but most were guys who were somewhat at fault with bad judgment. Owen Hart seemed to steer clear of most of that. He wasn't an egomaniac. He was a model employee. The sad thing is, he was just doing his job."

By any measurement, professional wrestling is a wild success.

The WWF and WCW reportedly combine for gross revenues in excess of $1 billion. The empire, which includes pay-per-view shows, home videos, publications, licensing and merchandising, is built around television.

Some 40 million Americans, on average, see some form of professional wrestling each week. During the February sweeps, 21 of the top-rated 25 telecasts on cable were wrestling. According to Nielsen Media Research, the six top telecasts for the period from April 29-May 23 were wrestling. Only the NBA playoffs and Nickelodeon's "Kid's Choice Awards" prevented a top-10 sweep.

More than any other demographic, wrestling resonates with the highly prized male aged 18-34.

The WWF rose to prominence under McMahon, spawning the popular Wrestlemania series and myriad cottage industries. But in the early 1990s, a new wrestling outfit, Extreme Championship Wrestling, entered the picture. ECW, borrowing from the absurdly violent productions in Japan, offered a product that made the WWF seem fairly pedestrian.

In September 1995, Turner's TNT network and the WCW "Monday Nitro" directly challenged WWF's Monday "Raw" on the USA Network. Adopting the ECW edge, the long-established but then racier WCW began to defeat the WWF in the ratings wars.

Two years ago, McMahon made a conscious decision to take professional wrestling even further over the top. There was more cursing and sexual innuendo. Val Venis, one memorable WWF character, was introduced as a former porn star. He had a suggestive finishing move called "The Money Shot," and, during one production, was involved in a faux castration scene.

The WCW, restricted by the conservative Turner, hasn't been able to match the WWF blow-for-blow and has steadily lost the ratings battle. In the most recent period available, the WWF and USA had the top six spots, and nine of the top 15, while TNT had four telecasts that ranged from No. 17 to No. 29.

Industry observers say this heated and lucrative competition is what has raised the bar for violence while simultaneously lowering it for taste.

"It's kind of changed now where two guys in a pair of trunks exchanging holds for 20 minutes isn't going to rivet a viewer's attention," said Chris Jericho, a WCW star. "In 1999, the storylines are the one and only most important thing and all of the personalities that are involved with them."

McMahon, who lives in the exclusive Conyers Farm area of Greenwich, said after Hart's death that the WWF will stop performing the aerial maneuver, but said other stunts would continue.

"We enjoy being perceived as the bad boys of television," McMahon told ESPN. "We're not, but that's the perception that, quite frankly, we hope we have.

"Compared to afternoon soap operas, we're Sunday school teachers."

MacArthur hopes Hart's death will have an educational effect on the business.

"I remember when 'Ricky Steamboat' started doing a fire-breathing trick in