Straight from the Hart (34 page)

10/8/10 5:09:13 PM

♥
BRUCE HART
♥

I’d been told before the Canadian Stampede pay-per-view by Pat Patterson that, as a follow-up to what we’d done in Calgary, my dad and I were supposed to go up to Edmonton the next day for
Monday Night RAW
, at which time we were supposed to be guests of Jerry “The King” Lawler for his King’s Court segment. “Stone Cold” Steve Austin was supposed to come out, supposedly angry that we’d cost him the match the day before. We were supposed to then shoot some kind of angle between him and me — which would lead to my being brought into the mix. Since Austin was the hottest thing in the WWF

at the time, it sounded like a great opportunity and I was pumped about the possibilities.

After having driven the three hours up to Edmonton the next day, my dad and I were kayfabed at the back door by the same security guys who’d embraced us with open arms the day before. They said that the WWF had told them no backstage access for anyone but the wrestlers. I explained to them that Pat Patterson and Vince had instructed us to come up because we were supposed to be appearing on
RAW
to shoot the angle, but they refused to let us in. I finally asked them to get Owen, Bret or Pillman to come out and they’d vouch for us. After close to an hour wait outside, Pillman finally came to the back door.

He was steamed that Bret had vetoed the whole thing because he was pissed off that all the kids had come in the ring the day before and figured I’d invited them in, just to upstage him — which was so ridiculous that it was laughable, except that unfortunately, it wasn’t actually funny.

While I was pissed off at having gotten my hopes up only to have them dashed again, by now I’d almost come to expect getting swerved — like Charlie Brown having the football pulled away by Lucy. I felt bad for my wife and kids though — who, for the past few years, had seen Bret, Owen, Davey, Neidhart, Pillman and several other guys whom I’d helped launch in Stampede Wrestling all making big money, driving hot cars and living in fancy shacks, while we continued to struggle to make ends meet. After the rousing success the day before in Calgary, they’d been excited about the supposed angle that was going to take place on
RAW
and had all gathered in front of the television with their friends to watch their pop in action. Once again though, nothing happened and I suspect they must have figured that I’d maybe made the whole thing up. In
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♥
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♥

any case, when I came home the next day, nobody said much, but I could see they were really disappointed, my wife especially — which would have a major impact on things down the road.

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Two days after the
RAW
deal in Edmonton, I received a frantic from Brian Pillman’s wife, Melanie, who said that Brian was supposed to have arrived back in Cincinnati on Tuesday afternoon after the
RAW
taping. She hadn’t seen or heard from him yet. I told her which hotel the boys stayed at up in Edmonton and about fifteen minutes later, she called me back and said that Brian had been found, apparently still sleeping in his hotel room in Edmonton.

I was happy to hear he was okay, but the fact that he was still asleep nearly two days later was pretty worrisome. I asked her if Brian, like a number of other wrestlers I’d known, had a drug problem.

She kind of broke down and told me that this hadn’t been the first time something like this had happened and that the past few months he’d been taking heavy painkillers for a leg injury he’d sustained in a car wreck. She said that they seemed to be getting out of hand.

She intimated that she was worried sick that he might wind up like Eddie Gilbert, “Quick Draw” Rick McGraw and other wrestlers who’d died of drug overdoses. She said that she suspected one of the reasons Pill had been hoping I’d get booked into the WWF was because he hoped I could perhaps help him get back on track.

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♥
BRUCE HART
♥

I called Pill the next day and he initially denied that he had any kind of drug problem, but after talking to him for a while, he acknowledged that he’d been taking some heavy-duty painkillers and was concerned that they were becoming a problem. I told him that he should take some time off and get checked into a drug rehab clinic, but he told me he had an expensive mortgage, car payments and a stack of bills to pay and couldn’t risk getting fired — which he figured would likely happen if the WWF found out that he had a drug problem. I called Owen afterward and asked him if he could perhaps room with Pillman or try to get him into rehab, but he told me that his wife, Martha, would blow a gasket if she found out he was rooming with a womanizing playboy like Pillman. He said that he’d talk with Pill and try to convince him to get some help.

I spoke to Brian a few more times over the summer and while he still didn’t sound great, he assured me that he was weaning himself from the heavy painkillers (like Percodan, Placidyl and Soma) and that he was getting back to normal. I had my doubts, but he assured me he was okay. I told him, in any case, to feel free to call me, anytime, if he needed someone to talk to, or whatever else.

On the afternoon of Friday, October 3, I came home from school and my wife told me that Brian had called that afternoon from the “sky phone” on the plane, en route to Minneapolis where the WWF was wrestling that weekend.

When I asked her what he wanted, she told me that it was kind of strange —

that he didn’t really seem to have any reason to have called but nonetheless kept her on the phone for over half an hour, just talking about nothing, as if he needed to talk to someone. I had no idea how to get a hold of him, but made up my mind that I would call him when he got back to Cincinnati after the
RAW

taping on Monday night. I told my wife that I might take some time off from teaching to fly down and see if I could be of some help.

Two days later, my brother Owen called me from St. Louis and told me the distressing news that Brian had just been found dead in his hotel room in St.

Paul, Minnesota; the cause of death, he said, was an apparent heart attack, but that most figured it had been due to a drug overdose.

I flew down to Cincinnati later that week for his funeral and the night before the funeral, I had a chance to hang out with some of his longtime wrestling
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♥

buddies, including Les Thatcher, Mike Mooneyham, Kim Wood, Joey Maggs and Dave Meltzer. Though there were a few tears in our beers, as some sentimental cowboy poet once ruefully remarked, we had a nice time, reflecting on the life and times of one of wrestling’s most colorful characters.

The next morning, just before we were leaving for the service, Pill’s wife came up to me, upset and told me that Steve Austin, who was supposed to be one of the pallbearers and was also supposed to deliver a eulogy, had just faxed her this note, which she showed to me, it said, “Hey Mel, sorry I couldn’t make the funeral, a few things came up. Talk to you later, Steve.” Eighteen months later, when my brother Owen tragically died, the only WWF star not in attendance then was Steve Austin. Not to knock him, because he’s always been a nice guy to me, personally, but I wonder if that’s why he’s called “Stone Cold.”

As a pinch hitter for Austin, Pill’s wife asked me if I could deliver the eulogy for him. Although it was on exceedingly short notice, I told her I’d be honored to give it a shot and scribbled down the following on the way to the funeral: In the dog-eat-dog world of pro wrestling, where backstabbers, liars, ass-kissers and egomaniacs are the rule rather than the exception, true friends are few and far between. Through thick and thin, ups and downs, the good times and the bad, Brian Pillman was a true blue friend all the way.

I can recall, as if it were yesterday, the first time we met. It was the summer of 1986 and an acquaintance on the Calgary Stampeders football team called me and told me that one of his teammates — a linebacker named Pillman — had been having trouble getting along with the hard ass defensive coach and was looking to get into wrestling instead. I arranged to meet him and Brian the next day up at my dad’s infamous Dungeon —

which was where many other future stars also got their start.

Based on what I’d been given to believe, I was anticipating some kind of cocky, arrogant loose cannon type, with a chip on his shoulder, but instead encountered this self-effacing and
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♥
BRUCE HART
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quietly determined guy who respectfully asked whether I’d consider breaking him into wrestling, as it had been a lifelong dream of his to train in the Dungeon. We shook hands on it and that marked the beginning of a great friendship.

Though he was plagued by injuries, including recurring shoulder and ankle problems, and was also thought by many to be too small to make it big in the then heavyweight dominated world of big-time wrestling, Pill tackled wrestling with his usual fierce determination and within a matter of months was ready for his ring debut — which was attended by all his teammates from the Stampeders.

Brian’s career took off from the get-go and he soon was receiving rave reviews. However shortly afterward he messed his shoulder up quite badly, so much so that the doctors weren’t sure if he could wrestle again. That type of conjecture served to only fuel his fire more though and within a matter of weeks, he returned to the ring — even better than before.

I later came to learn that the shoulder injury had been just one of many seemingly insurmountable hurdles that he had to overcome. When he was only four, he was stricken with life threatening throat cancer and would endure several operations for the recurring condition. Later on, despite not being offered a scholarship because scouts deemed him too small, he — as a walk-on, which is almost unheard of — would go on to become an All-American linebacker at Miami University of Ohio and would go on to play in the NFL, for his hometown Cincinnati Bengals, as well as the Grey Cup champion Calgary Stampeders in the Canadian Football League. Time and time again, in his all too short life, he stared adversity squarely in the eye and then would throw it for a ten yard loss.

In wrestling, he not only rose to the very top of the ladder, becoming a superstar in both the WCW and the WWF, he also became the only non-family member to be welcomed into
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♥
STRAIGHT FROM THE HART
♥

the Hart Foundation. To me, my brothers Bret and Owen, my brothers-in-law Davey Boy and Jim Neidhart and my father, Stu, he was family, in every sense of the word.

Because of his often unconventional performances in the ring, many perceived Brian as some kind of certified loose cannon, but, in actuality, he was nothing like that. To those who knew him, he was a caring, compassionate friend who would unhesitatingly give you the shirt off his back. He was respected and held in high regard throughout the business and, in the very best sense, was “one of the boys.” Beyond that, he was a devoted family man, with an enormous heart.

Although this is a very sad occasion, rather than mourn Brian’s passing, I’d like to take this opportunity to celebrate his life — the triumphs, his beating of the odds, his unsinkable zest for life and for all the things he did that so enriched our lives and the wrestling business. This past week, I’ve found myself repeatedly running the gamut of emotions, from tears to laughter and back again — remembering the awesome matches and a few awful ones, too, the road trips, the ribs, the hopes and dreams we shared and I shall cherish those memories.