WrestleMania III was right around the corner and was shaping up to be the biggest event in the sport’s history. Andre the Giant, McMahon’s “Eighth Wonder of the World,” had recently returned to the promotion after filming The Princess Bride in Europe and would figure prominently on the bill. But his heel turn and challenge of Hulk Hogan for the WWF world title took a lot of his fans by surprise, even though much of the smart crowd knew it was coming. The shock on Hogan’s face when Andre violently tore his shirt during a segment of “Piper’s Pit” was palpable. Both wrestlers were considered unbeatable, only adding to the thrilling nature of the match. Randy Savage and Ricky Steamboat were slated to battle on the undercard, as were Roddy Piper and Adrian Adonis. Adding to the mystique of the program was the venue itself, the massive Pontiac Silverdome outside Detroit, with a seating capacity of 80,000 for football. But without the need of a field, there was the potential for more than 90,000 spectators and a possible world-record audience.
While Steamboat and Savage were expected to put on a clinic, the Hogan–Andre matchup was more about emotion and drama than fundamentals. Andre was past his prime, suffering from a bad back, and had wrestled only once since September. Hogan was versed at wrestling sizable foes and did a pretty standard routine, but Andre’s condition limited everything. But the storytelling was the most important factor, and for WrestleMania to live up to the hype, Hogan and Andre had to deliver. On March 29, 1987, the legendary Aretha Franklin opened the show with “America the Beautiful” as a reported 93,173 fans looked on. Vince McMahon proved once again he knew what he was doing. The production values, sound, and commentary were top quality, and the finishes were sound. Piper went over Adonis, Harley Race beat Junkyard Dog, and the Honky Tonk Man defeated Jake Roberts.
The charismatic Jim Duggan, a transplant from the UWF, didn’t have a regular spot on the card, but he still made an impact by interfering in the tag bout between the Iron Sheik and Nikolai Volkoff and the Killer Bees (B. Brian Blair and Jim Brunzell). His actions got the Bees disqualified, but his patriotic gimmick won over the crowd. Steamboat pinned Savage to capture the Intercontinental belt in the best match of the evening, and to this day, is fondly remembered as one of WrestleMania’s greatest of all time. In the main event, Andre and Hogan carried the passion of the energized crowd. Just before the 12-minute mark, Hogan slammed his 500-pound opponent, landed his legdrop, and covered Andre for a successful pin. The scene was remarkable, and represented a symbolic passing of the torch from Andre to Hogan. The program wasn’t perfect, but the enormity of the spectacle and the sheer awesomeness of Hogan and Andre displayed the extraordinary power of WrestleMania.
Taking into consideration the live gate, merchandise sales, closed-circuit, and pay-per-view, the extravaganza generated over $17 million.344 Interestingly, the attendance of WrestleMania was later disputed, assessed at about 78,000, but the true significance lay in just how far out front in the wrestling war McMahon was by 1987.
Who was even close? Jim Crockett Promotions and the UWF were making progress expanding their syndication networks. But could either promotion draw 78,000 to a venue anywhere in the country? Could they draw even half that number? The UWF was losing ground in its base region, and house numbers at the usually reliable Superdome in New Orleans were sinking fast. The AWA and World Class were a tier below, and in the remaining “territories” (Florida, Alabama, Memphis, and Portland) business was topsy-turvy. And if they were struggling in their natural areas of operation, how were they a threat to McMahon?
They weren’t, of course, but that didn’t mean the war was over. There was ample room for talent stealing, pay-per-view squabbles, and quarrels over arena rights. After WrestleMania III, the WWF added Bill Eadie and Barry Darsow as Ax and Smash in the tag team Demolition, as well as Ken Patera and Bam Bam Bigelow. In May and June 1987, it grabbed five others while simultaneously hurting the UWF, JCP, and AWA. One Man Gang was a recent UWF world champion, having lost his claim to Big Bubba Rogers on April 19 in Oklahoma, and debuted in the WWF on May 12. Three days later, Ted DiBiase declared his WWF loyalty in Houston. After a May 22 program in Richmond, Rick Rude, holder of the NWA world tag team belts with Manny Fernandez, jumped ship and made his first appearance for the WWF in early June. Lastly, the Midnight Rockers (Marty Jannetty and Shawn Michaels), left the AWA and made their debut on June 3.
The Rockers didn’t have much of a shelf life. In fact, they were gone before anyone knew they were even there, promptly fired after an incident away from the arena. But there was a much more visible out-of-the-ring episode, one that made national news and hurt the image of the WWF. On May 26, 1987, “Hawksaw” Jim Duggan and his wrestling nemesis, the Iron Sheik, were driving together on the Garden State Parkway in New Jersey toward Asbury Park, where they had a show that night. They were stopped by a state trooper and found to have an open container of alcohol, a small amount of marijuana, and three grams of cocaine.345 Both men were charged, and the WWF suspended them. Since Duggan was a good guy and the Sheik a rulebreaker, the situation was a public relations nightmare, and the media didn’t let it slide. Wally Patrick of the Asbury Park Press wrote, “So forget about the allegations of alcohol and drugs. What were the Sheik and Hacksaw doing cruising down the Parkway together?”346
Regardless of Duggan’s troubles up “north,” he was still missed by Bill Watts and UWF fans. At a time of expansion for UWF, the losses of Duggan, One Man Gang, and finally Ted DiBiase were painstaking, and put a major crimp in its positive growth. Going into 1987, the Universal Wrestling Federation was syndicated in more than 80 markets and possessed a boast-worthy locker room of grapplers. With venues booked from Atlanta to Los Angeles, Watts was angling for his first national run. Ticket sales were good in Kansas City and Albuquerque in January and February in advance of the UWF’s first West Coast swing, beginning on March 25 in San Bernardino. Watts smartly used Chavo Guerrero, an old Los Angeles favorite, in a primary role, and at the Olympic Auditorium on March 27, Guerrero won a Bunkhouse battle royal. In Stockton, Chavo also co-won a special I-Quit First Blood Battle Royal with Steve Williams. The California tour wasn’t a bad first attempt, but Watts wasn’t making enough money from his live shows to pay his expenses. Syndication costs alone were doing him in, and Watts was dropping $50,000 a week.347 In April, he reached his breaking point and agreed to sell his entire operation to Jim Crockett Promotions for more than $4 million.348 Watts was headed off for retirement.
Crockett’s purchase gave him a ready-made product, established feuds, and a broad network of television stations. JCP was a greatly strengthened wrestling organization, and, on paper, was now better suited to engage the WWF in terms of manpower and exposure. Between the syndication packages of JCP and UWF, the company had nearly 200 stations, and aside from some overlap, Crockett was now in the same stratosphere as Vince McMahon, who was up and over the 200-station mark. The UWF Wrestling and Power Pro Wrestling telecasts were highly rated as well, which was a huge benefit to Crockett. Once finalized, on May 1, 1987, the deal all but guaranteed that the wrestling war was a two-promotion field down the stretch.
News of the sale was reported on May 6, 1987, and it was suggested that Crockett’s purchase of the UWF gave “it more professional wrestling events per year than any promoter in the nation.”349 It was an impressive statement, if true, and seemingly shifted a lot of momentum in JCP’s direction. All year, Crockett and booker Dusty Rhodes had been fostering a national circuit. Starting in January and continuing through April, they invaded Amarillo, Hammond, Waco, Houston, Boston, and Phoenix. On February 15, in conjunction with promoter Angelo Mosca, JCP returned to Toronto for the first time since June 1984, and staged a TV taping in Brantford, Ontario, the next day. Crockett was increasingly bold, and it was appropriate going into WWF strongholds. But JCP was also showing a certain amount of aggressiveness toward fellow NWA members. On January 16, 1987, JCP promoted a show in Hollywood, Florida, without CWF cooperation or approva
l.
Crockett held an additional unilateral program in Jacksonville on January 21. As a result, the Tampa office felt betrayed for two reasons. The first related to a promise Rhodes made on the way out the door from CWF to Crockett. According to the Wrestling Observer, Rhodes said he’d never run opposition, and the local office trusted him.350 The second reason pertained to the National Wrestling Alliance and the adherence to specific territorial boundaries. Crockett and his Florida brethren, Hiro Matsuda and Duke Keomuka, had standing in the NWA and were privy to all rights and privileges. But considering the weakened state of the Alliance in 1987, what were those rights and privileges? Most sources were already referring to Crockett’s promotion as the NWA, discounting the membership of every other dues-paying promoter. In a spiteful move, a CWF announcer told viewers that Ric Flair was refusing to defend his championship locally to make the NWA titleholder look bad.351 Florida booker Kevin Sullivan then opened a back-channel line of communication to the Dallas office to discuss bringing WCCW world champion Kevin Von Erich to the region. Furthermore, there was speculation that the Florida office was going to band together with associates in Alabama, Kansas City, Portland, and possibly Dallas to form their own rival entity to JCP and the WWF.352 But before anything was decided, Rhodes and Crockett went to Tampa in mid-February and struck a deal. The terms were similar to the one JCP made with Bob Geigel for the Central States circuit. JCP would take over the territory, coordinate talent, and control television operations.353 In exchange, Matsuda, Keomuka, and Mike Graham would receive an even split from live gates after Crockett collected a 10 percent booking fee.
At about the time Florida was being scooped up by JCP, Crockett was realizing the irreparable flaws in the Central States promotion. Four months had been devoted to the project, yet houses were still in the 200–300 range in Kansas City, with St. Joseph faring a little better on occasion. Unwilling to lose more money, Crockett withdrew his wrestlers in late February, and on March 6, 1987, Bob Geigel resumed active control of the territory. The purchase of the UWF and the arrangement in Florida more than made up for the loss of business in Kansas, Missouri, and Iowa, and JCP appeared to be on the right track.
On the talent front, Crockett imported one of wrestling’s fastest rising stars, Lex Luger, from Florida, who didn’t waste any time in joining the Four Horsemen. He formed a team with Tully Blanchard for the second annual Jim Crockett Sr. Memorial Cup Tag Tournament, held on April 10 and 11, 1987, in Baltimore. The tournament featured 24 teams, and only one was from a non-JCP entity — Giant Baba and Isao Takagi from All Japan. Luger and Blanchard were an unstoppable duo, defeating the MOD Squad, the Armstrongs, and Baba and Takagi before facing off with Dusty Rhodes and Nikita Koloff in the finals. Rhodes and Koloff, the undeniable heroes, beat Bill Dundee and the Barbarian, Rick Rude and Manny Fernandez, and the Midnight Express (now comprised of Bobby Eaton and Stan Lane) to reach the deciding bout. With the support of the courageous Magnum T.A., who attended the event, Rhodes and Koloff beat their foes in 17 minutes to win the $1 million prize. At the gate, the Crockett Cup failed to live up to expectations. The Baltimore Arena didn’t sell out either night, and when contrasting production values to WrestleMania III, which took place days before, it was like comparing apples to oranges.
But JCP retained a gritty, old-school wrestling flavor adored by fans around the world — the antithesis of the bubblegum atmosphere created by the WWF. The promotions appealed to different audiences. JCP didn’t strive to reach the same people who watched Saturday morning cartoons. Ric Flair’s “Space Mountain” references, the gang mentality of the Four Horsemen, and the never-ending stream of bloody matches were geared toward adults. Crockett didn’t have animal mascots, nor did he force-feed wild gimmicks to his loyal patrons. When Lex Luger made his debut, he did so as a former football player strongman, and not wearing an over-the-top superhero costume to build some imaginary mystique. The WWF created characters, and in 1987, with Honky Tonk Man, the hair-cutting Brutus Beefcake, and Koko B. Ware, they were becoming all the more exaggerated.
Longtime fans gravitated toward Crockett and his “NWA.” But JCP had a number of challenges in its quest for supremacy, and raising production values on its larger-scale shows was crucial. There was also the question of whether Dusty Rhodes, in his position as booker, had overstayed his welcome on top of the promotion. Since 1984, Dusty had been a primary fan favorite and matchmaker, and his feuds with Ric Flair and Tully Blanchard were exhaustive. His Crockett Cup victory in April was another sign that “Dustymania” was there to stay. However, the overexposure of Rhodes was only part of the problem, and fans were tired of JCP’s angles across the board.
Crockett trusted Rhodes and gave him the keys to the kingdom. But wasteful spending, repetitive angles, and a lack of foresight were gradually killing their business. The UWF situation, for example, was a possible game-changer, but from the jump Rhodes failed to hit the right notes. He missed an important opportunity for an interpromotion feud — akin to WCW versus the NWO, and instead pushed a mid-card JCP grappler, “Big” Bubba Rogers, as the UWF champion. As part of the UWF buyout, Crockett attained the lease for posh offices in Dallas, and he spent an exorbitant amount of money on a new plane to shuttle his wrestlers from date to date. To be a big-time player, big-time investments were needed, and Crockett demonstrated, time after time, he was all in. But so was Vince McMahon.
The real rivalry was just beginning.
Chapter Eighteen
Loyalty versus Money
The rapid downfall of the Universal Wrestling Federation represented the harsh business reality of pro wrestling in the 1980s, and a lot of people who were not privy to insider information didn’t see it coming. After all, Bill Watts appeared to be highly successful. His television programs garnered above-average ratings with advertising rates high enough to add a significant revenue stream to his business. When it came to syndication, the UWF had placement on independent TV stations across North America, and seemed to cement its position as wrestling’s third-leading organization behind the WWF and Jim Crockett Promotions. But behind the scenes, Watts’s books were fried. Money was being lost hand over fist, and Watts, with few alternatives, sold out.
Unlike Watts, Verne Gagne hadn’t buried himself in television debt by trying to mimic what the WWF had achieved in syndication. Instead, he was embroiled in a constant fight to retain what was left of his once-powerful AWA circuit. The same went for his talent and office staff. Gagne had been pillaged almost constantly since 1983, losing wrestlers, commentators, and valuable production crew, all of whom he’d devoted time and money to training and building up. Finally, Gagne threw his hands in the air and asked, “Why should I invest in wrestlers who go to work for other people?”354 Seeing his current stars, along with AWA legends such as “Mad Dog” Vachon and the Crusher, head to the WWF was demoralizing. At the core, the departures damaged the credibility of the promotion, and Vince McMahon capitalized on it by running shows in Gagne’s cities with ex-AWA grapplers up and down his cards. The reasoning for the exodus to the WWF was basically the same for everyone.
“My decision to leave the AWA was based strictly on economics,” former AWA tag team champion Jim Brunzell explained. “I had stayed there too long, out of loyalty and friendship. When the WWF started taking over the country, AWA houses started to drop and the money got lower and lower. I went to Verne Gagne and asked for a guaranteed contract, so I could support my family. He told me I wasn’t worth it.” When asked about the comment, Gagne said, “I didn’t offer Jim a guaranteed contract because nobody had one back then. But I never said he wasn’t worth it. Jim is like a son to me.” Brunzell credited Gagne with making him the wrestler that he was and freely admitted that the AWA had been good to him. According to Brunzell, after learning about his exit, Greg Gagne, his former tag team partner and Verne’s son, asked him, “How could you do this after all we’ve done for you?”355
In a competitiv
e marketplace, Gagne needed to match salaries, offer guaranteed contracts, and provide the kind of high-profile exposure wrestlers could get elsewhere. For veteran promoters, this stuff didn’t come naturally. “Wrestling was never run on contracts but on handshakes,” Gagne said. “This used to be fun. Now it’s a business.”356
The fact that the AWA was still on ESPN was a miracle, and offered hope for the future if Gagne made a few positive changes. A full upgrade of TV production quality was mandatory, even if he had to borrow ideas from McMahon or Crockett. Better lighting, improved camera work, and enhanced graphics were all necessary, and for some reason, Gagne was neglecting these fundamentals. His show’s pacing needed help too. There was something to be gleaned from hooking viewers at the outset of a program and using creative techniques to keep their attention for a full hour. With finances stretched thin, Gagne needed additional revenue streams from international talent agreements, advertising sales, or merchandising. His Remco action figure deal “worked out quite well,” but everything needed to be magnified for it to make a real impact.357
Gagne was beginning to think selling out was the logical option. In 1986, he allegedly placed a $3-million price tag on the AWA and was willing to negotiate with the man who had caused him plenty of sleepless nights, Vince McMahon. The dialogue between the two companies went on for weeks.358 By the middle of the year, discussions ceased, though, and Gagne sought a potential buyer elsewhere. He remained firm on his price and the stipulation that his son Greg have a job with the new owners, and despite interest from at least one nonwrestling businessman, a deal couldn’t be reached.
Death of the Territories Page 24
