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RASSLIN' BOOK TAKES MCMAHON TO THE MAT
(By Mike Jenkinson, Edmonton Sun, February 24, 2003)

The old saying about those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it has never been more fitting when applied to Vince McMahon.

The gruff owner of World Wrestling Entertainment - formerly the World Wrestling Federation - is without a doubt the most successful professional wrestling promoter who has ever lived. Over the last 20 years, he's turned his father's regional wrestling league - that was centred in the northeastern United States - into a worldwide powerhouse that is now the only remaining major wrestling troupe in North America.

Yet in the course of his conquests, McMahon was losing money hand-over-fist in the mid-'90s and is currently watching his promotion sink slowly into red ink once again.

And that's where the "doomed to repeat it" axiom comes in, because as Edmontonian Scott Keith explains in his new book Tonight ... in This Very Ring, McMahon conquered the wrestling world almost by accident. While he was successful in driving rival promotions out of business in the 1980s, a series of scandals contributed to a dwindling WWF fanbase in the 1990s just as his arch-rival organization, World Championship Wrestling, caught fire and overtook the WWF as the No. 1 promotion in North America.

But WCW made a huge series of promotional errors that eventually led to McMahon regaining his top spot in the wrestling wars and ultimately buying WCW for the equivalent of pocket change.

And then, notes Keith, McMahon turned around and copied every stupid idea WCW ever had, contributing to the current decline of his own product. For a genius, McMahon isn't always the smartest guy around.

Keith's second wrestling book is a sort-of sequel to his 2001 debut, The Buzz on Professional Wrestling that was more of a primer on wrestling for new fans, offering a quick history of the pseudo-sport and a series of biographical sketches of the biggest wrestling stars of the last 20 years.

Back with a book focused solely on McMahon's empire, Tonight is billed as a "fan's history" because that's what it is: the 28-year-old Keith is a lifelong wrestling fan who has made his name as one of the Internet's top wrestling writers. Hey, scoff all you want, but he's being paid real money by real publishing houses to write books on wrestling. So more power to him. (Disclaimer time: I've known Keith for a long time. I think he's funny and a great writer. I'm biased. Deal with it.)

The book takes a sarcastic and opinionated look at the WWF's recent history, chronicling the highs and lows (and there were more of the latter than the former) of McMahon's ongoing attempts to sell his unique brand of "sports entertainment" to the masses.

What Keith shows is that McMahon's real talent has always been to steal concepts that work in other wrestling promotions and adapt them to his own product.

The problem, of course, is that now McMahon essentially has no competition. And without new concepts or wrestlers who have already become big stars in other promotions to steal, McMahon has spent the last two year's floundering, watching his monopoly promotion shrink in value on the stock market as his TV ratings and pay-per-view buy rates fall.

To that end, the best part of Tonight is its afterword, which amounts to a three-page prescription for the company's creative problems that should be mandatory reading for every person in the now-monikered WWE who is involved in the writing and production of its product. It's almost scary how a 28-year-old fan can figure out what's wrong with the promotion better than the folks who actually run it.

The only real nit to pick, and it's hardly Keith's fault, was that he finished the book a year ago and a series of publishing delays kept it from hitting the market until now. While it makes his narrative history slightly more dated than it should be, fortunately it does nothing to undercut his accurate analysis of why the company is experiencing its current doldrums.

With Tonight having barely hit the shelves, Keith has already started work on his third book, which will pick up where Tonight left off and continue his look at the ongoing evolution of Vince McMahon's wrestling empire.

Tonight ... in This Very Ring is available through all major booksellers, including Amazon.com and Chapters and Indigo bookstores.
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BOBBY THE BRAIN: WRESTLING’S BAD BOY TELLS ALL
(By Wes Lukowsky, The Booklist, September 1, 2002)

Heenan, Bobby and Anderson, Steve. Bobby the Brain: Wrestling's Bad Boy Tells All. Sept. 2002. 208p. illus. Triumph, $19.95.

Heenan has been involved in professional wrestling since the 1960s. He's worked empty small-town arenas where a curtain with painted-on faces was used to simulate a packed house for the television audience. He's worked prime-time network television. Jesse Ventura and Hulk Hogan are among his peers and sometimes clients. Heenan's ongoing role has been that of manager, and if you know the "sport," you know that managers usually show up in a suit, tout their guy, and then wind up in the ring after insults are exchanged. It's all high drama or low theater, and it has played very well to more than a few generations of 13-year-old boys. Heenan relates 30-plus years of often-hilarious, self-deprecating anecdotes, profiling along the way some of the unique individuals attracted to this hybrid of sports and soap opera. Heenan even gets a bit personal, revealing his search for long-lost family members and reflecting on his ongoing battle with cancer. A very entertaining memoir from a man who's been on the inside of a uniquely American entertainment medium.
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IT'S GOOD TO BE THE KING ... SOMETIMES
By Scott Williams

I don’t know if Jerry Lawler has a split personality, but his book certainly does.

About 80 percent of "It’s Good to Be the King … Sometimes" is an interesting look about Lawler’s rise from being an artist with aspirations of being a lower-rung wrestler to the man known as the king of wrestling in Memphis in the 1980s.

Lawler tells some great stories about the territorial era of wrestling, which was at its peak when Lawler was, in the 1970s and 1980s.

The last chapters of the book, however, range from pitiful to downright creepy.

Lawler details (and I do mean "details") his relationship and breakup with Stacy Carter, known to WWE fans as The Kat. Even sadder than the breakup story (she left him after he temporarily lost his WWF job, which he gave up after the company fired her) is how Lawler attempted to rebound from it.

The book chronicles Lawler’s quest for a new valet, only he is looking for much more than someone to handle his crown and jacket at ringside. Lawler describes using a talent agent almost as a pimp, auditioning prospective girlfriends with promises of fame and travel.

I guess you should give Lawler points for not holding anything back, but some of his autobiography lands squarely into "too much information" territory.

Still, the bulk of "It’s Good to Be the King … Sometimes" is an interesting look a the bygone era of regional wrestling through the eyes of one of the brightest guys in wrestling, and I recommend picking it up. I also recommend skipping everything after the end of Chapter 29.

During his career as a top wrestler in the south, Lawler came up with a number of great gimmicks for matches and wrestlers.

One of the most enduring was his 1982 concept for a new monster to oppose him in Memphis.

Lawler has read about a Doctor Kimala doing research in Uganda, and he hit upon a brainstorm. That brainstorm combined with veteran wrestler James Harris to make Kamala, the Ugandan warrior. Kamala wreaked havoc throughout the Tennessee, Mid-South and Texas areas of the 1980s, and became a frequent opponent of Andre the Giant and Hulk Hogan in the early days of the WWF’s national expansion. He was seen most recently on the nationwide stage at Wrestlemania 17 in 2001, where he got a thunderous crowd ovation that belied how long he had been out of the national spotlight.

These days, Kamala is not active regularly, but is still available to rain destruction and menace on a per-night basis.

Scott E. Williams is a news reporter and a longtime wrestling fan.
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THE 'NEW' WRESTLING REVUE

(Reviewed Feb. 2, 2003 by J Michael Kenyon)

For someone who's been stirring around wrestling nostalgia since Truman was president, I'm not much of a collector. I have only a few mementos from a half century of following and researching professional wrestling ... autographed pics of Lou Thesz & Verne Gagne, one or two favorite show posters, unsigned pictures of Wild Bull Curry and Maurice Tillet (French Angel), and a couple, panoramic-lens shots of old Kiel Auditorium and the Arena in St. Louis, filled to capacity, with Wild Bill Longson in the ring, along with fellow main-eventers Thesz and the Swedish Angel, circa mid-'40s. Oh, and a few magazines: some of the N.W.A. Official Wrestling series from the early '50s and a few of Stanley Weston's pathfinding Wrestling Revues, dating from 1959 on, and even the first issue of Weston's sort-lived Wrestling Illustrated from January 1965.

But I think I'm going to add Brian Bukantis' revived Wrestling Revue to the list of "savers."

I can still recall my excitement, as a 16-year-old, when WR first hit the stands. There previously had been entire magazines devoted to wrestling -- but not many, and with nowhere near the production values of WR. Weston, who had warmed to the task by publishing the equally slick Boxing Illustrated-Wrestling News, gave us that featured the best mat photography in the world at that time. The work of Bob Verlin and Bob Sabre was incomparable. Every issue had two or three pages of concise, punchy (and real) letters from readers, ratings and full-page advertisements prompting us to buy back issues of BIWN or WR. (Did you know that the Kangaroos and Paul Anderson were featured in the first BIWN in December '58?)

As I write this, I'm glancing backward through Steve Yohe's favorite WR, the April 1963 issue which had "The Sensational Destroyer" on the cover. On page 63 is a classic shot of The Sheik, looking very Sheik-like in the dressing room. Bill Miller -- "From MILLER to MR. 'M' -- and Back Again" -- is featured inside, with a lovely group of candid pics. An epic array of action photos from the Dec. 8, 1962 "Lord Layton International Tournament' begins on page 48 (Lewin, Torres, Blassie, Jonathan, et al, in furious poses). Dick and Wilma Beyer and their boys -- "HOME LIFE OF A DESTROYER" -- is on page 29. Profiles of six midget stars -- Farmer McGruder, Chico Santana, Little Boy Blue, French Semard, Pee Wee Lopez and Tiny Bell -- grace pages 26 to 28. Blood and guts galore is the theme of a pictorial display of a wild match in San Angelo, Tex., between Cowboy Bob Ellis and El Mephisto (Frankie Cain), opening on page 22. "THE KILLER'S FRANTIC SEARCH FOR PEACE" -- Walter Kowalski is followed around by the WR cameras -- is on page 16. And Benji Ramirez -- "MUMMY WITHOUT WRAPPINGS" -- is revealed as the man inside wrestling's most uncomfortable work clothes, beginning on page 8. And every issue was just as fascinating to a staunch young wrestling buff like myself.

Fast forward 40 -- F-O-R-T-Y -- years (time flies when you're having fun) and Bukantis, who's been around the wrestling business for almost all that time, is out with the January-March 2003 issue of Wrestling Revue. Via a complicated transaction, whereby Bukantis purchased the Pro Wrestling Enterprises library/catalog from longtime publisher Norman Kietzer, WR has been revived. It's being aimed, remarkably in a day where demographic decisions are the backbone of marketing, at a select audience ... and one not too much larger, I would guess, than all of us 16-turned-60 year olds who cut our wrestling magazine teeth in the '60s and '70s -- and still can't get enough.

The debut issue features Rowdy Roddy Piper -- "I COULD SAVE PRO WRESTLING" -- and all sorts of good stuff, including a two-page spread on Tony Vellano's blossoming Pro Wrestling Hall of Fame in Schenectady NY, interviews with Superstar Billy Graham and Bobby Heenan, Mike DuPree's column about wrestling nostalgia sites on the Internet, a preview of Greg Oliver's long-awaited tribute to Canadian wrestlers, and a splendid variety of "pages from the programs." The latter includes such old arena titles as Super-Pro Wrestling, Major League Wrestling, All-Star Championship Wrestling, The Ringsider, Big Time Wrestling, A.W.A. All Star Wrestling, Stranglehold and Body Press (the latter two upon which Bukantis cut his publishing teeth).

Oh, and there is even a reprint from Boxing Illustrated-Wrestling News of June 1959: "DON LEO JONATHAN ... WRESTLING'S 'MR. BIG' ... pretty prescient stuff, now that Don Leo is about to be honored at CAC 2003. Still other features number Percival A. Friend's "And That's the Way It Was," and a piece by Kietzer himself, amply illustrated, describing "The Patriot," the cartoon series illustrated by a (very) young Jerry Lawler.

Those of us who loved that era, and who love to wallow in the memory of it, can only hope that Bukantis' target audience will be enhanced by a fewer of the younger mat buffs, those who better remember Ric Flair than Buddy Rogers ... but who appreciate Nature Boys, and good wrestling mags, for all seasons.

(For subscription and other info, check out the new Wrestling Revue web site here.)
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WRESTLER ADMITS HE’S NOT SO INCREDIBLE ANYMORE, BUT SAYS HIS CAREER ISN’T OVER
(By Aaron Wherry, National Post, January 2, 2003)

In the first sentence of his new biography, Hulk Hogan refers to himself as the "Babe Ruth of wrestling." The lofty title is not merely a bit of aggrandizing for a man whose job demands an affinity for self-promotion and larger-than-life character creation; the Babe Ruth label is testament to his legendary status within the wrestling industry and permanent place in the pop-culture lexicon.

Just as the Sultan of Swat changed America's pastime, the man with the 24-inch biceps who told kids to take their vitamins and say their prayers changed America's most guilty of guilty pleasures.

In the 1980s, Hulk Hogan was the biggest attraction in wrestling mogul Vince McMahon's three-ring circus of muscle-bound giants and freaks. As the World Wrestling Federation (now World Wrestling Entertainment after a messy legal dispute with the World Wildlife Fund) champion, he sold out hockey arenas and football stadiums, body-slammed Andre the Giant, scored movie roles in middle-of-the-road star vehicles, made red-and-yellow tights fashionable and generated millions of dollars for himself and the company.

But in a new decade, the WWF decided it needed a new generation of stars. It dumped Hogan, only to see him sign with the rival World Championship Wrestling and turn it into, for a brief time, the No. 1 wrestling company. But after WCW was swallowed up by WWE, Hogan was left without a main event ring to headline.

In hopes of one last run, McMahon brought him back into the fold, and the fans, by now used to the middle fingers and over-sexed vignettes of WWE, welcomed back their hero with a warmth not even Hogan expected. After a triumphant performance last March in Toronto at Wrestlemania, popularly referred to as the industry's Super Bowl, the "real American" hero of the wrestling ring seemed to be back.

But after outshining a few of WWE's younger stars, he was gone again.

In Toronto recently to promote his new biography, Hollywood Hulk Hogan, the wrestler said he had hoped his comeback would launch a return to old-school wrestling -- when the industry didn't rely on over-the-top controversy to attract audiences. Though still officially with WWE, his contract expires this month and he says he won't return unless the intentions are as pure as they get in the wrestling world.

"If they want to get Hulk Hogan back out there in a very high road, positive fashion, I'd love to come back. I'm doing this because I want to, not because I have to. It's fun, it's great, it feeds my ego, it feeds my family. It keeps me busy, makes me feel worthwhile, but it has to be the high road for me. I have a hard time with my son, explaining some things," he said.

"I figured everything would come up with [my return]. I just thought that that would be the new raising of the bar -- that we'd all be real positive. I wasn't thinking that one segment would be Hulk Hogan fighting The Rock and the fans cheering and cheering and the next segment would be like Torrie Wilson French kissing Dawn Marie. I thought we'd get back on a high road."

McMahon and WWE long ago missed the exit for the high road, and a few minutes of their most recent television programming will tell you it's full speed ahead on the raunch -- from hot lesbian action to necrophilia.

And it is at this point that the Babe Ruth comparisons become more ominous than awe-inspiring. While the home runs are what most people remember, Ruth ended his career a broken man -- reduced to a sort of sideshow attraction struggling around the bases for the hapless Boston Braves, crippled by poor health, and blinded by ego and a refusal to admit his best years were behind him.

For its part, wrestling has a long tradition of ruining its greatest legends. The oldest of the old-timers left the sport with no money and only cauliflower ears and chronic arthritis to show for their work. More recent stars such as Terry Funk and Mick Foley barely got out with their health. Jake "The Snake" Roberts collapsed into drug addiction. Calgary's Hart family has all but been torn apart by the sport it once thrived on.

But Hogan insists he's not hanging on like many of his peers. And sitting beside his still-massive arms, listening to the surprisingly quiet, polite voice of man normally seen growling on your television set, it's tough to disagree -- at first glance, he is a still-impressive physical specimen.

"Sometimes when I think about wrestlers hanging on, it's for a couple of reasons. On a personal level they haven't had enough publicity, ego wise. Which could be a fault of mine -- I like publicity. And there's an ego there that Hulk Hogan can still do this. I also think wrestlers are hanging on because financially they need to. In my situation that's not the case," he said.

"I like it because I like to prove that I can still do it. A lot of people misconstrue this business and think that you have to do a drop kick off the top rope, but what this business is all about is generating revenue and selling tickets, and I can still do that given the right scenario and the right people to work with."

He can certainly still draw a crowd, as the throng that awaited him in Toronto will attest -- some of whom slept overnight at the movie theatre where he appeared for a chance to see their hero. And because of this popularity, opportunities abound. Wrestling organizers in Japan are trying to woo him. Fox wants him to do a reality series.

But the father of two cannot hide the physical scars his career has left him with. In his biography, much space is devoted to detailing his various ailments and gruesome injuries, and in person he can name a booboo for most body parts. And it's tough not to worry about a man who admits he's addicted to the industry and has yet to figure out "when enough is enough."

He acknowledges he's worried, too, and can't imagine another 10 years of professional wrestling. But even one might be too much. With any luck, he and McMahon can find the in-ring conclusion Hogan is seeking, and we can be spared the sight of wrestling's Babe Ruth grasping at the last strands of fame.

"I never thought I'd be 49 years old and have some of the physical crinks and kinks I've got. After the three knee surgeries, thank God we got it right because my knee feels great. It's the other stuff -- my lower back. If I have a normal 12-hour day I'm cool, but if I'm up 16 hours my back starts going out. All the torn muscles -- when I hurt this wrist it was 1981 and it's coming back. I'm not as comfortable as I wanted to be," he said.

"Right now, as we speak, that ring is 22 by 24 feet -- I can run and hit those ropes like a maniac if I have to. It's a hop, skip and a jump to jump over somebody's body that's lying down and hit the ropes. But to tell you the truth, I can't run. There's one limitation right there. I don't want any more."
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HULK AT 49: OLDER, WISER, TEARIER
(By Murray Whyte, Toronto Star, December 21, 2002)

All pretense gone, wrestler revels in the script But Hogan's return isn't without regrets Toronto Star Even in the over-the-top, histrionic world of professional wrestling, it's an odd moment. Hulk Hogan, the beefy 49-year-old dinosaur of the pro wrestling circuit, is asked about the moment he cried.

It was Montreal, in May of this year. Hogan, in one of many identically choreographed matches on the tour, was facing The Rock, wrestling's currently anointed hero. The Rock was scripted to win, but the crowd's adulation of Hogan made him a little verklempt.

"You guys either respect the hell out of me or just feel sorry for me, I been around so long," said Hogan yesterday at the Paramount, his leathery face stretched into a wide grin. "Thank you guys for making a dream of a lifetime come true."

Melodramatic, sure - in the spectacle-rich, highly staged world of wrestling, where vengeance, verbal abuse, chair-smashing and "super-wedgies" are the norm, anything less would be a disappointment. But this time, it was sincere.

Hogan, an aging star resurrected to help revive the ailing pro wrestling industry, had serious doubts. His appearances in Montreal and in Toronto in March, at the record-breaking Wrestlemania X8 at the SkyDome - where the crowd booed The Rock as he finished Hulk off - helped put that to rest.

"In my heart, I was starting to freak out. I wondered if I could pull it off," said Hogan, passing through Toronto yesterday to flog his new autobiography.

"They said my career was over. They said I couldn't do it. They said, 'The Rock has sold more merchandise than you, you're finished.' But nobody has ever made me feel more welcome than you guys, right here."

Indeed. At the SkyDome in March, a record crowd of 68,237 turned on The Rock and backed Hogan all the way. And the reaction he received yesterday in an appearance at the Paramount Theatre was testament to his enduring appeal.

As he entered to strains of Jimi Hendrix's "Voodoo Child," the improbable bulges of his massive upper body corseted by a black Spandex T-shirt, the crowd rose to its feet, chanting and bowing: "Ho-gan, Ho-gan."

Now, almost a quarter-century after he first donned the tights, Hogan's through with the mythology - the merchandise reference being your first clue. Speaking to his adoring public, Hogan utters off-handedly what was once sacrilege in the pro wrestling world.

"We all know wrestling is predetermined. We all know wrestling is entertainment," he said, to a chorus of 'No!' And he's candid about the arc of his career, as well.

"I wouldn't be here today if all those guys hadn't said, 'I'm going to beat your butt, Hulk,' and then let me win. That's this business. That's entertainment."

For many, though, it's been so much more than that - one young man in the audience thanks Hulk for "helping me growing up" - but not as many as in Hogan's mid-'80s heyday.

As an entertainment enterprise, World Wrestling Entertainment is faltering. Viewership for its two top shows, RAW and Smackdown! is down 35 percent from 1999, according to Nielsen Media.

So enter Hogan (the name that has all but erased his real identity of Terry Bollea) as a desperate attempt to revive it. It was he, after all, who served as centrepiece to the beefcake smorgasborg that was Wrestlemania 3, in Detroit in 1990, which drew 90,000-plus fans.

If he's back, though, it's not without some regrets.

"As an entertainer, I have a huge problem with it," Hogan said of wrestling's recent storylines, which have become much more racy. Drinking, whoring, drug use and sex have soured Hogan, who used to beat an evil opponent's head in and then remind kids to train hard, take their vitamins and say their prayers. "I know wrestling's going through a transition," he said. "But we don't need the Jerry Springer, hot lesbian action to sell tickets."

Hogan's current physical state isn't much to be proud of, either. At 49, he's still a sculpted mass of brawn, but life in the ring - staged though it now admittedly is - is not without its costs.

"If I try to sleep on my side, my hands go numb," he said. Given the punishment his knees have absorbed, "I can't even run a mile. My body can't do it."

So what's he doing here, then?

"They're always dangling the carrot - 'The exposure! The money!' - and I never dreamed, at 49 years old, that the carrot would be so big," he said.

"For some reason, though, I'm still a junkie for it. Right now, I still want to be at the centre of it. I never dreamed at 49 years old I'd still be addicted to it, but I am."
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WHOO-O-O! FLAIR TOPS ALL-TIME LIST
(By Tim Baines, Ottawa Sun, January 5, 2003)

The greatest wrestler of all time?

It's not like baseball where you can use won-lost records ... or career hits. This is purely subjective. But former SLAM! Wrestling writer John Molinaro has tackled the monsters of the mat, with The Wrestling Observer's Top 100 Pro Wrestlers of All Time.

The book is a colourful salute to wrestling, with many interesting anecdotes. It's heavy on foreign wrestlers, with Riki Dozan at No. 3, Antonio Inoki at No. 4, El Santo at No. 7 and Giant Baba at No. 8, breaking the top 10. As for No. 1. Whoo-o-o! It's The Nature Boy, Ric Flair. Lou Thesz is No. 2. Hulk Hogan rings in at No. 5, with Andre The Giant No. 6, Stone Cold Steve Austin at No. 9, The Rock at No. 16, Bret Hart at No. 25, Shawn Michaels at No. 47, Mick Foley at No. 53 and The Undertaker at No. 62. On the book's "next" list are: Triple H, Chris Jericho, Chris Benoit and Kurt Angle.

Helping out Molinaro were wrestling experts Dave Meltzer (publisher of The Wrestling Observer) and Jeff Marek, host of the Live Audio Wrestling program out of Toronto. The result is a mesmerizing walk through wrestling's past, present and future.
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BEHIND-THE-SCENES STORY OF OWEN HART
(By Maurice Tougas, Edmonton Journal, November 24, 2002)

Broken Harts: The Life and Death of Owen Hart by Martha Hart with Eric Francis ; Key Porter Books ; 259 pp., $24.95

If there are any skeletons left in the Hart family closet, Broken Harts should just about send the last of them running for cover.

Broken Harts is the behind-the-scenes story of Owen Hart, the youngest member of Calgary's Hart wrestling dynasty, who was killed in May 1999 when a wrestling stunt went catastrophically wrong. Hart was being lowered into the ring from eight-stories up in the Kemper Arena in Kansas City, Mo., during a World Wrestling Federation pay-per-view event when his harness opened, sending Hart hurtling to his death in front of 16,000 fans.

Author Martha Hart, Owen's widow, was always an outcast in the Hart family, never fitting in with Stu and Helen Hart's clan of 12 children and multiple in-laws. She hated the business, and claims Owen was at best ambivalent towards it. But blessed with a huge physique, plenty of personality and a natural affinity for the mock mayhem that is pro wrestling, he joined the family business.

All roads in wrestling eventually lead to the World Wrestling Federation (now World Wrestling Entertainment). It was in the WWF that Hart enjoyed his greatest success, and greatest frustrations. Hart was a good guy at a time when Vince McMahon was eliminating the good vs. evil storyline that had nurtured wrestling since its beginnings. The WWF had relegated him to a demeaning character called The Blue Blazer, an ultra-wholesome wrestler who was a parody of everything old stars like Hulk Hogan stood for in the pre-ironic days of wrestling.

After her husband's death, Martha Hart launched a multi-million dollar lawsuit against the WWF. The WWF fought back vigorously, trying any number of legal manoeuvres to quash the suit.

Considering the shocking degree of negligence on the part of the WWF, it's a good thing the suit never went to trial. The hugely profitable company was cutting corners, hiring second-rate stunt co-ordinators. Worse, it was revealed that the latch used to hold Hart was intended to be used on sailboats, not to hold up a mammoth wrestler hundreds of feet in the air.

Broken Harts comes as a surprise. I was expecting something similar to Under the Mat by Diana Hart, a wretched and libellous book that was taken off bookshelves after Martha Hart successfully sued. But Broken Harts is quite elegantly written, heartfelt and exceptionally well researched. It's as if Martha deliberately took the highest possible road to act as a rebuttal to her sister-in-law's wallow in the gutter. Using some of the $18 million she got in the settlement, she established the Owen Hart Foundation to help down-and-out Calgarians. The foundation is the only good thing to come out of yet another sad, sordid story from the netherworld of professional wrestling.
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SEX, LIES, AND HEADLOCKS
(By Shaun Assael, ESPN The Magazine)

Why would anyone in his right mind do what I did, which is spend more than two years delving into the world of wrestling and its most flamboyant promoter, Vince McMahon? Simple. Because nothing Hollywood could make up is as fascinating as the secret story of wrestling. And no one who has come into our living rooms over the last 20 years is as fascinating as Vince. Over the past two decades, he has nurtured nearly as many pop culture icons as MTV -- from Hulk Hogan to The Rock. He changed the landscape of his shadowy world by admitting his product was fake. (Oh, the Humanity!) And as a Hollywood outsider, he pioneered Shock TV while the networks were fighting over who had the most family values. But most of all, he has struggled with his own demons in front of us every week, live and in living color. Hollywood has tried to marginalize him, ignore him, even throw him off the air. But he has kept his hold as the king of the ring by fighting everyone from the government to Ted Turner. And with each battle that he has won, he has added another chapter to one of the strangest success stories in TV history. Unfortunately, you can't trust a professional prevaricator to tell his own tale. So longtime wrestling columnist Mike Mooneyham and I conducted more than 300 interviews and unearthed never-before-seen documents to tell the real story -- Sex, Lies & Headlocks -- of how wrestling came to dominate the cable airwaves, and how McMahon came to dominate wrestling.

Shaun Assael is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. Sex, Lies, and Headlocks is published by Crown Books. The book is available in stores everywhere.
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NEW BOOK CHRONICLES McMAHON’S RISE, WARS
(By Scott Williams, Galveston News, July 26, 2002)

Of all the figures in the colorful (and often off-color) history of professional wrestling, not one is as polarizing as Vince McMahon.

The World Wrestling Entertainment chief who turned a regional company into the most profitable wrestling empire ever is seen as a genius in some corners, a pandering profiteer in others.

The mainstream media alternately treats him as a savvy marketer of a bastard entertainment form, and as a man who peddles smut and violence to kids.

Even the wrestling community splits when it comes to McMahon. Some view him as wrestling’s version of the Antichrist – the one who spoiled the world of wrestling treating itself seriously in a world that never would. Other fans see him as the pioneer of a wrestling golden age rich in revolutionary ideas and unprecedented popularity. Still others see him as little more than the megalomaniacal overlord he plays on television.

The confounding truth of it is, they’re all correct. McMahon is all of this and more, and a compelling new book from Crown Publishers takes you as close to the inside of this complex mogul’s head as anyone outside his inner circle is likely to get.

Sex, Lies, and Headlocks, by Shaun Assael and Mike Mooneyham, captures McMahon’s complexities by successfully walking the line between the promotional prodigy admired by many and the arrogant schemer loathed by others.

The book starts with one of wrestling’s darkest nights – May 23, 1999 – the night Owen Hart fell to his death while attempting a bizarre ring entrance at a major wrestling show. The book answers the question, "How did wrestling get to this point?," by taking readers to the late 1940s and the formation of the cartel that would become the National Wrestling Alliance. For decades, the alliance was called "the largest sanctioning body of professional wrestling in the world."

Sex, Lies, and Headlocks chronicles the evolution of wrestling and the changes in the business deftly, capturing major trends and complex twists without wasting many words.

The focus, of course, is on the empire McMahon built, but Assael and Mooneyham also tell the tales of the other major players who would be friend and foe to the company that became the last survivor of the wrestling wars in 2001.

The book offers a handful of stories and points of interest for even the most hardcore wrestling fan, although those most ardent fans will know much of the material. It’s also written in a way that makes it accessible to anyone interested in learning about how wrestling got to be the way it is, even readers with little or no knowledge of the mat game.

To their credit, the authors manage to tell McMahon’s story without demonizing him for his flaws and bad choices, and without fawning over McMahon’s mythical image as the guy who single-handedly brought the wrestling business into the mainstream.

Their backgrounds account for their veracity. Assael is a longtime sportswriter who has also penned a "warts and all" book on NASCAR, and Mooneyham is a very sharp wrestling columnist from South Carolina.

The book is far from flawless, containing a smattering of factual errors and listing a few major events out of sequence. It also could have paid more attention to the denouement of the Monday night wrestling war between the WWF and World Championship Wrestling that dominates its second half. Still, these mistakes do not detract from the book’s strength.

That strength is its ability to paint a vivid, sometimes grisly portrait of Vince McMahon’s psyche and, by extension, the collective psyche of the throngs of people captivated by the bizarre pseudo-sport many still call "rasslin’."

Sex, Lies and Headlocks carries a cover price of $24, and is available at bookstores nationwide.
* * * * *
ONE OF THE BOYS
(By J Michael Kenyon, July 28, 2002)

Now, for your understanding, let me explain this to you. Ray knew that in order to bring the people back after tonight's match, "EVIL MUST TRIUMPH OVER GOOD! If Ray were to beat me tonight, everybody goes home happy and there's no reason to match us up again. This is the essence of good promotion, to tantalize the people like a good politician. Let them smell victory but don't let them taste it until you absolutely have to, and then, give it out in small doses. Make them beg for it, make them pay for it until the fury of the contest is at it's peak. When it has been milked almost dry — then the big blowoff  match ... one wrestler wins and the other one leaves town and we start the cycle all over again. Ray was a professional and relied on the fact that properly handled, we could look forward to three or four months of packed houses in Brussels.

Ray, still in the ring, could see the agitation of his king and queen. He leaped over the top rope landing on the floor in front of them, placed his left arm over his breast and raised his right fist in the air, exclaiming, "N'AVEZ PAS PEUR. JE VOUS AIDEREZ!" -- which is French for, "Don't worry, I'll take care of everything." -- and proceeded to beat me up on the floor.

THE SECRET OF THE IRON CLAW
(http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/stores/detail/-/books
/1553692160/reviews/ref=ase_kayfabememori-20/104-0062476-7644777)

Ron Mullinax moved into Adkisson home on Lake Dallas and "did my best to take care of him" until he died in September, 1997 … Met Kevin in 1993, when he was living in Jefferson TX … dropped by Mullinax house in Irving before returning home from visits to Jack in Denton County … when Kevin moved to Denton area, he introduced Mullinax to "Fritz Von Erich" … who wanted to learn how to use a computer to track his stocks … that was 1996 … says Adkisson had made "nothing less than a fortune" with his in-depth knowledge of the financial world … after working almost daily with him for eight months, cancer was spotted in late June, 1997 … hospitalized about two weeks at Baylor Medical Center in Dallas …

Doris and Jack divorced 1992, just a few short months before Kerry committed suicide …

Mullinax moved in mid-July to help out … chemotherapy once a week … Mullinax supplied marijuana at nurse’s suggestion …

Jack Bernard Adkisson, born Aug. 16, 1929 in Leon County TX, son of sheriff, and only child … grew up in Jewitt TX … to Dallas when he was 9yo … Crozier Tech H.S. … all-city defensive tackle, all-state discus in track … athletic scholarship to SMU, turned down music scholarship to UT … (clarinet) … frosh football … national frosh discus record … met Doris Smith as junior, she was 17 and just getting out of high school … couldn’t think of anything else … gets married in secret, still loses scholarship at SMU … tried out at Kentucky for Bear Bryant … enrolled at U of Corpus Christi instead … went to Dallas Texans tryout camp in Kerrville TX 1952 … played in a few exhibitions, bad knee ended the stint … Karl Sarpolis and Ed Lewis encouraged him to get into wrestling … two days before first match broke shoulder … lost first 13 matches on live television.

Went to Boston and New England for experience. Getting $3 a match some nights. There three months.

Back to Dallas, briefly, then to Des Moines … chose name Fritz Von Erich, latter part was grandmother’s maiden name.

Back to Dallas/Ft. Worth, then back up to Boston … for a few months … then back to Des Moines, where Doris and Jack, Jr. joined him … moved up to Minneapolis … after a back injury (Stan Kowalski), headed to Calgary … bought a mobile home … patented the name "Iron Claw" in Minnesota … call came from Toronto, settled in Niagara Falls, there off and on for seven or eight years … teamed with Walter Von Sieber (Waldo Von Erich) …

Back to Dallas to see family, then back up through St. Louis and Minneapolis … By then, Kevin had arrived (1957) … Morris Sigel called him to Houston, but had a heart attack and deal fell through … took off to Minneapolis (rushed back to Dallas in June 1958 when Doris’ brother had brain tumor and died, age 14) … went back to Minneapolis. Davis was born in July 1958 … Jack went home briefly, then to North Carolina for four months … then back up to Niagara Falls.

After driving 200 miles home from Cleveland one night, Gene Kiniski told him Jack, Jr. was dead, age 7 … hot wire left by mobile home park occupant … fell face down in puddle of water from melting snow and drowned … early in 1959 … A year later, February 3, 1960, Kerry Gene Adkisson was born …

Returned to Texas end of 1962 (?), with idea of re-settling in Corpus Christi … Ed McLemore convinced him to stay in Dallas, headlining Channel 4’s Studio Championship Wrestling … dropped the German persona but kept the name … two months on TV before working Sportatorium …

Beat Gagne at Omaha July 31, 1962 to gain AWA belt … united it with Minneapolis belt by beating Gagne on July 7, 1963 in Omaha.

Michael Brett Adkisson born March 2, 1966.

First overseas tour to Japan 1966 … faced Baba in Kitanomaru Park, Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo, Japan … beat him Dec. 3, 1966.

Chris Barton Adkisson born Sept. 30, 1969.

Von Erich vs Johnny Valentine that night in Sportatorium.

And so forth. And so on. Lotsa detail, but not the easiest reading. Check out the web site (above) and make your own decision.
* * * * *

BOESCH BOOK A CLASSIC
(By Greg Oliver, www.canoe.ca/SlamWrestlingReviews/020328_book-can.html)

In many ways, famed Houston promoter Paul Boesch (pictured) is responsible for two great wrestling books. There's his autobiography, Hey, Boy! Where'd You Get Them Ears? 55 Years in Pro Wrestling, which he wrote in 1988 and was recently published by his widow Valerie Boesch. It's a book that should be essential reading for anyone interested in how wrestling developed over the years.

But Boesch is equally responsible for 1974's terrific Whatever Happened to Gorgeous George? Author Joe Jares quotes Boesch throughout and credits him for being so open and accommodating during his research. Jares sees through Boesch, knowing at once that the man had seen it all and that any promoter needs more than a little huckster in them to succeed.

In the chapter 'Carnival Impresarios,' Boesch tells Jares that he was responsible for the cage match. "I begin to suspect that this charming man has a bit of Irish blarney in him, a compulsion to claim his adopted state started or invented everything from the cotton gin to the flying mare," Jares writes. "But, on second thought, Texas wrestling is just wild and nutty enough that it is possible he's not kidding me."

And we're not kidding you when we say that Hey, Boy! Where'd You Get Them Ears? is a hefty tome, coming in at almost 400 pages. But when a career in wrestling lasts 55 years, then there is lots to tell.

Boesch is initially more interested in documenting the origins of pro wrestling and celebrating the early stars like Farmer Burns, Frank Gotch and Ed (Strangler) Lewis. It is a slow start to his story, but the reward is there for the hearty reader who makes it through.

Once Boesch starts talking about his own in-ring career, which began in 1932 in New York, you'll be sucked right in. We're there as he starts wrestling, as he travels the world, as he serves his country in World War II, as his career in-ring is ended and he winds up being one of the first TV announcers of pro wrestling. Later, he falls into promoting.

The New York City-born Boesch promoted first in the Pacific Northwest while still a wrestler, then later took over Houston when Morris Sigel died. He had been the publicity man and announcer for the Houston promotion, and moved into the lead role easily. Boesch operated as an independent promoter for years until aligning with Bill Watts' UWF and finally the WWF. His take on the demise of the UWF and of the rise / invasion of the WWF is a true insider's perspective.

Be warned, however. It is a product of the times and adheres to kayfabe. Wrestlers really did fight in the spirit of competition and everything was on the up-and-up in the quaint days before Vince McMahon exposed the business.

Houston was the scene for Jack Brisco's NWA World title win over Harley Race in 1973, and Boesch took the time to crow. "The changing of a world's heavyweight title is the ultimate goal for any promoter. To have it happen under his jurisdiction is proof that his matchmaking skills and his assessment of talent justifies his position as a promoter and an authority on the state of the art in wrestling ... I knew the pride of having guessed right ... I had crowned a new champion. Now, all I had to do was find someone who could beat Brisco and do it again."

I loved that Boesch took the time to tell what it was like to travel to and from New Zealand or Hawaii, and what the exotic locations were like. He tells of the fans, the climate, the opponents. The excitement and thrill that he feels going to new places is obvious. His perspective returning to the same locales after the war are even more enlightening and one can hear his heart ache for the way things used to be.

In many ways, the book reads like a letter to friends, a cherished family journal that is at once both serious and jovial, light-hearted and sad. Boesch finished the book in 1988, a year after he stopped promoting in Houston and a year before he died. He had been working on it off and on for 20 years. Though finished in 1988, it was never published. Instead, manuscripts made their way around to various friends and family.

Valerie Boesch, his second wife, had the book self-published in Houston. That's important to note because Hey, Boy! Where'd You Get Them Ears? is not a polished, slick publication the way that many of today's wrestling books are. There are only a few photos, and more than a couple typos slipped through. A good editor could have chopped and moulded the autobiography into something more commercial, but then it would have lost all of its charm.

Any self-respecting fan of pro wrestling should have Hey, Boy! Where'd You Get Them Ears? on their bookshelf. I know mine is starting to get dog-eared already.

HOW TO ORDER: Paul Boesch's book is available by calling Minuteman Press in Houston at 713-541-2258. It sells for $29.95 U.S. Shipping is extra. The fax number is 713-541-5869. The address is Minuteman Press, 9000 Southwest Freeway, Suite 100, Houston, Texas, 77074.
* * * * *
BOESCH BOOK A MUST READ
(By Scott E. Williams, Galveston TX Daily News, March 28, 2002)

By almost any standard, now is not the best of times to be a wrestling fan.

Precisely one major wrestling company remains standing after a 20-year promotional war that claimed dozens of organizations, leaving fans with not much choice.

Pro wrestling has always been about looking ahead and promoting the next event, so paying attention to history has never been a priority.

For many fans that remember names like Bruiser Brody, The Junkyard Dog and The Fabulous Freebirds, looking back is much more fun. According to www.amazon.com’s numbers, many of the best-selling wrestling books deal with the grapplers of yesteryear.

Even fringe players are getting into the act. Missy Hyatt, perhaps best known as a valet for wrestlers "Hollywood" John Tatum and "Hot Stuff" Eddie Gilbert in the South during the 1980s, recently penned a book.

Her story is occasionally interesting, but pales next to biographies of former world champion Lou Thesz (whose career spanned from the 1930s to the 1980s) and the Dynamite Kid, who revolutionized high-flying wrestling in the early 1980s. Another great history book has just become available. The autobiography of Houston Wrestling promoter Paul Boesch, who passed away in 1989, is available from Minuteman Press Southwest in Houston. The book is a steal at $29.95. Call (713) 777-6977 for more information.

Ironically, the most modern medium has become a bastion of wrestling nostalgia. Numerous Web sites are devoted to pro wrestling of days gone by, when wrestling at least maintained the illusion of competition while weaving soap-opera stories into their athletic performances.

A few of these sites, most notably www.wrestlingclassics.com and www.kayfabememories.com, actually include contributions from wrestlers of bygone eras, which make for fascinating reading.

The latter site focuses on the mid-1960s to the late 1980s, a period in which wrestling was organized into tightly run territories.

Southeast Texas found itself at a crossroads of sorts, and played host to Southwest Championship Wrestling, World Class Championship Wrestling and Mid-South (later UWF) Wrestling through the years.

Site owner Vince Fahey, a fan since the 1980s, saw a lack of information about one of wrestling’s most important periods, and opened the site in June 2000.

"There was something about that era, where things made sense then, there was an integrity in a way, and a sense of fun and enjoyment we don’t have anymore," Fahey said.

The site’s name comes from the term "kayfabe," used to describe how people in the wrestling business were traditionally expected to "protect" it by treating it as a legitimate sport. That attitude is all but dead these days, for better or worse.

Fahey’s nonprofit site contains a collection of essays about the dozens of territories that used to dot the wrestling landscape, as well as reminisces from wrestlers active during that period.

One of the site’s most popular features is its message board, whose membership also includes a handful of current and former wrestlers. Unlike most wrestling message boards, the aim is not to give people a forum to rant about what they saw on last night’s episode of "Smackdown!," but to swap memories.

"The purpose of the message board is not only to share views, but to educate people, as corny as that sounds," Fahey said. "I even have been able to learn a lot of stuff from some of the people who post there."

The web site is not just for the readers, though, but also for its subjects, the wrestlers of an often-overlooked era.

"They wrecked their bodies, partially for our entertainment, and I wanted to let them see how fans appreciated them," Fahey said. "For many, they don’t see how fans still appreciate and care about them, and it’s firsthand storytelling from guys a lot of fans want to hear from."
* * * * *

KOWALSKI'S NEW BOOK FEATURED AT CAC 2002

(For more on this little-known facet of "Killer" Kowalski's career, read John Powell's review at SLAM! Wrestling, a portion of which is below and the entirety of which is reached by clicking here.)

There is no doubt that Wladek "Killer" Kowalski is truly a living legend in the pro wrestling business. A Canadian trailblazer and a record-setter whose influence on the industry is as strong today as it ever was, Kowalski's success opened the door for his fellow countrymen to follow in his footsteps. Operating his world famous wrestling school (The Killer Kowalski Institute for Professional Wrestling) outside Boston, Massachusetts, Kowalski has passed on his knowledge, love and respect for pro wrestling to his students. Such big name stars as Triple H, Chyna,  Perry Saturn, Albert, John Kronus and the late, great, Big John Studd all got their start at Kowalski's Institute.

At the mere mention of his name, fans may have visions of the 6'6", 280-pound behemoth from Windsor, Ontario, kneedropping Yukon Eric and severing a piece of his ear thereby earning his gruesome nickname or mauling his opponents as he gave that trademark glower that would strike fear into the hearts of friends and foe alike. In a new video -- Killer Tales...Killer Pics -- and book -- Killer Pics -- another side of Kowalski is revealed. A side that may shock and surprise many who thought they knew the Canadian superstar. Most would never guess that the 'Killer' inside the ring was an imaginative and sensitive artist outside the ring.

At the height of his career in 1960 Kowalski bought a Hasselbad camera became a photography buff. What began as a hobby to document his travels around the world soon became a life-long passion. Both the new book and video document Kowalski's stunning work...with varying degrees of success. (For remainder of the article, click here.)
* * * * *

UNDER THE MAT 
(By George P. Schire, director, Cauliflower Alley Club)