It’s hard now to return to an empty house. After a while, I needed to break away from the past, so I sold our place in Tampa. Now I have a place in Fort Lauderdale. Young or old, a relationship is not always about sex; it’s about having someone to talk to, to kiss, to hold. I’m not sure if I could meet someone today and have a real, meaningful relationship. I’m not looking, that’s for sure. If it happens, it happens. I bring my friends or my sister on cruises or trips now, just to have someone to share the experience, but if I’m alone that’s all right, too.
I realized I experienced closure about two years ago. Mick Foley was the one who finally mustered the guts to ask me about that day. Louie’s passing is one of the few things he remembers from the day of that match with Taker. He hugged me while his tooth still hung by his nose. (It’s a wrestling thing, and you might not get it. But look it up on WWE Network.)
I had just started to talk openly about being gay and how difficult it is, still, to open up. Guys like Mick Foley always respected the fact that I was not fully comfortable talking about this with just anyone. But on that day, he finally said what was on his mind.
“Pat, can I ask you a question? When Louie died . . . He had his heart attack during King of the Ring . . . Did Louie die during my match?”
“Goddamn it, no, you crazy bastard. He died three hours before the show.”
Mick was relieved. “So, I didn’t kill Louie?”
He’d harbored that guilt for thirteen years. That day I laughed for the first time while speaking about losing Louie. I needed that. Mick, thank you, my friend.
So goodbye my friend
I know I’ll never see you again
But the time together through all the years
Will take away these tears
It’s okay now
Goodbye my friend
I’m not much for keeping mementos in my house, but that frame with a golf bag is a daily reminder of my Louie.
WRESTLEMANIA, THE ROYAL RUMBLE, AND THE MONTRÉAL SCREWJOB
“And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing to think I did all that”
At WrestleMania 29, I hid in the crowd near the main camera. I’ve tried to do it every year since. Now don’t go and look for me — it would ruin my ability to reflect and enjoy the event. I want to just feel the moment, and I got very emotional that first time. Right after the show started, I went backstage and straight up to Vince.
“I know you’re busy, but I have to tell you something. I just came back from sitting in the crowd and it was so beautiful that I was crying.”
He said something that made me cry all over again. “Patrick, you helped build this. Thank you.”
Before anything else, I was a fan and a performer. How could I have imagined when I first left Montréal for Boston that I would find myself in a football stadium, five decades later, for a show like WrestleMania, in a promotion that I helped build? WrestleMania 29 in New Jersey was a very emotional night. It scared me to think I might have spent all that time working in a factory in Montréal instead.
We don’t work as closely now, but Vince and I will always have a special bond. Not that long ago, I was with Vince on the company’s private plane and I was telling him how much I appreciated riding with him, but that maybe my place should go to someone who contributes more.
“You are where you belong,” he said. “You helped build this place. Some people don’t know how important you are. You mean a lot to me. It’s really the other way around . . . If you were not with me on this plane, they should all be wondering, ‘How come Pat is not with Vince?’”
Referee for the main event of the first ever WrestleMania!
It amazes me to think of all we’ve achieved on that private jet. Sometimes we’ll land at 1 p.m. and two hours later we’ll still be in there, talking about the old days. We still have a great time together. The limousine picks us up and brings us directly to the arena, and we do it all over again. That’s how I like it. It always brings me back to a time when things were simpler.
Like the first WrestleMania. I was the referee for the first ever WrestleMania main event.
I have all the respect in the world for Muhammad Ali, but when he showed up to be the referee for that match between Hulk Hogan and Mr. T against Paul Orndorff and Roddy Piper, I realized right away that he would not be able to perform a normal referee’s duties in the ring. Vince agreed and it was quickly decided that it would be my job. I had put the match together, and I could help if they needed it — and I could run interference if one of the guests felt a little bit too courageous. That might seem crazy today, but back then we were so secretive about everything that celebrities wanted to jump in on the action. In the end, when Ali jumped in the ring looking to fight, everyone was nervous. It was up to me to keep the peace. Piper needed to hit someone after losing, and I wound up being his victim. I was always ready to take one for the team, no matter the circumstance.
Billy Martin, the famous New York Yankees manager, was the ring announcer that day and he wanted to fight, too. I don’t know what gets people going when they’re watching the matches, but everyone thinks they can battle with the best of us.
At least Liberace and the Rockettes didn’t want to rumble . . . And people from the office had a great time with all the celebrities at a private party at Rockefeller Center after the show. Simple pleasures, maybe, but it was still unbelievable for that little Montréal kid who moved to America with twenty dollars and a suitcase.
My mother would have been so proud — I was working with her hero.
Years ago, when my family got our first television, we put it on top of the refrigerator. It was never easy to watch something. With eleven of us, there was just not enough room. But one night a week, my mother had to be alone for a half hour — to watch Liberace in black and white. We all got out of the house. It was the least we could do for our mom. She was just madly in love with Liberace. Years later, in San Francisco, I was having breakfast one morning and reading the paper when I discovered an ad saying Liberace was going to be in town the next day.
I didn’t say a word. I went downtown to the box office. There was a young girl behind the desk and I told her, “I’d like three front-row seats for Liberace.”
“Sir, those tickets are gone.”
“Don’t tell me that. Come on, you’ve got to be able to do something.”
There was a guy working in the box office who turned around at that point. He said, “Hey, Pat Patterson — what’re you doing here?”
“I really need to get three tickets in the front row.”
“For you, we’ll do it.”
He gave me the tickets. When I got home, I told me my mom, who was in town with my dad, “Tonight we’re going to see a special show, Mom. We’re going to see Liberace.”
I was choked up, you know? We’re there in the front row, and when he came out, I mean, she was crying. Then the son of a bitch came over to the front row and grabbed my mom by the hand and kissed it.
Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable.
She’d never imagined something like that would happen to her and it’s a great memory for me. '
Working with Liberace at the first WrestleMania. What a moment!
What a lot of people don’t know about the first WrestleMania is exactly how much Vince gambled on that show. It was everything — and I really mean everything. I will always remember him saying, “If this doesn’t work out, Patrick, we’ll all have to find another job.”
That made my small appearance at WrestleMania XXX even more special, as they decided to shoot a little salute to the first WrestleMania. I had a great line in the skit with Mean Gene and the four participants of the match. I came up with the line myself. “You want to fight? You’re going to hurt each other!”
In 1996, I went into the WWE Hall of Fame, the same year as Killer Kowalski. Who would have though
t that was possible when we were paired up in Australia as a tag team for the first time? Or when he signed my picture in the Forum dressing room? That’s the journey life takes you on. Today the Hall of Fame ceremony is a much bigger event, broadcast all over the world on WWE Network. Back then, it was more intimate. Still, it meant the world to me.
When Burt Reynolds was at WrestleMania X, I personally walked behind him to make sure no one tried to pull his hair. I told Donald Trump about it, too. Fans can get crazy at times, and they might try to pull his hair. He thanked me for the advice. Celebrities generally can’t imagine how out of hand things can get when our fans get really excited.
I was there when Lawrence Taylor was training for WrestleMania XI. He scared me because he wasn’t afraid of trying anything — including jumping from the top rope. I told him he was going to break his leg or worse, but he told me not to worry. He was a natural, easy to work with, and a very good listener. I had a good time being the referee for his match against Bam Bam Bigelow. It’s too bad about what’s happened to LT since.
I will never forget the match Bret and Shawn had at WrestleMania XII. I was not working for WWE at the time — I was in the midst of one of my many retirements — but Vince told me I needed to come and watch WrestleMania in person.
“What’s the main event?”
“Bret versus Shawn, Iron Man.”
“I’ll be there.”
That match was my idea, but what I like most is that they tore the house down. It’s nothing less than what I expected them to do, and I cried watching them. This is exactly the type of match I would have loved to perform on a stage like WrestleMania.
People can say what they want about wrestling, but to us, it’s real. The performance, the pressure — it’s all real. So when you accomplish something like the main event of WrestleMania, it conjures up real emotions. WrestleMania VI was in such a big building, Toronto’s SkyDome (now the Rogers Centre), that after the show we actually could not find Ultimate Warrior. There are different dressing rooms everywhere in that building, and no one could figure out where the hell he was. We were screaming our lungs out looking for him. Finally, we opened this door that we figured was probably a broom closet or something. He was in there, sitting by himself in the dark, crying with the championship on his lap.
“Are you OK?” I asked.
“Pat, I can’t believe how you guys took care of me.”
“It’s OK, take your time, I understand. Just wanted to check and make sure you were all right.”
I had been crying earlier myself in the crowd with Vince, watching Ultimate Warrior’s match against Hogan, as our vision came to life.
It’s the same in any form of live entertainment, I figure. Let’s say you’re Frank Sinatra and you give it all you’ve got and tear the house down . . . When you get back in the dressing room, you don’t want to be bothered. You don’t want to talk. You just want to feel it, inside of you, for as long as possible.
Not finding guys for up to an hour after big matches happens more than you think — they need time alone to let their emotions out. It’s hard because we’re supposed to be tough guys, but the business generates a lot of emotions in us.
And that’s as real as it gets.
When I had a match like that, I just could not sleep afterward; there was just too much adrenaline coursing through me. The emotions carried me all night. I would relive it in my mind over and over again. I wanted to party and have fun while letting it sink in forever. If only you could experience it the way we do, you would see what we do in a completely different light.
But the crowds, the fans, are always a part of it. Once you hook the people, once they’re happy, they give you so much energy. That’s why I loved performing — it’s something that’s almost impossible to explain.
In 1996, I was inducted in the WWE Hall of Fame — the same year as my idol Killer Kowalski.
It’s the same thing when the show doesn’t go as you might have hoped — you can’t sleep either. But that’s how you learn and get better.
When I give ideas to guys today, I visualize myself doing what I’ve suggested in the ring. When they go out there and make it come to life, it’s just as if I’d been in there myself, just like for the match between Shawn and Bret I mentioned earlier.
I remember a thing or two about other big shows, like Survivor Series and the Royal Rumble as well.
Chuck Norris enjoys a kind of cult popularity today because of those cute jokes about how tough he is. My favorite is “They once made a Chuck Norris toilet paper, but it wouldn’t take shit from anybody.” That’s pretty much his whole gimmick now. Back in 1994, he did Survivor Series for WWE as a ringside enforcer. He was at the height of his Walker, Texas Ranger popularity. Let me tell you, he was so nervous. Celebrities were never sure whether the wrestlers would play along or, in his case, try to test his tough-guy persona.
“Don’t worry, I’m Pat Patterson; I will take care of everything,” I said.
And you know what he said? “I’m Chuck Norris and I trust you.” Ain’t that something?
Somebody should put that on the internet: “When Chuck Norris gets nervous, he trusts Pat Patterson.”
Everything went as planned: Jeff Jarrett took a big fall for him and everyone was happy.
I used to love to sit at the bar and have a drink with the talent. Bret was one of my favorites. He was not a big drinker, but we would talk about the business, family, or what was going on in the news. I became real close to him and considered him a friend.
When the Montréal Screwjob happened in 1997, they made sure I wasn’t in the know, because I would have tried to find a way to talk Vince out of it. The issues between Bret and Vince had run deep. I was never consulted and, in hindsight, that’s probably for the best. It bothered me because it was two guys I cared for over the years. But Shawn was a little bastard back then, and Bret was as stubborn as only Bret Hart can be. I think they both look back at it now and realize how foolish it all was.
To make a long story short, Vince decided to take the championship away from Bret without telling him. When I found out about it, I was so angry that I wanted to quit. I was in gorilla (that’s what we call the place where Vince and all the producers sit during the matches, named after my friend Gorilla Monsoon). It’s funny now, though it wasn’t at the time. Everyone who knew what was going to happen took off just before the end of the match; I was suddenly . . . alone. Anyway, I stood my ground because I needed to be there for Bret. I remember thinking: He’s going to nail me, and if he nails me, he nails me. I was face-to-face with him as he came through the curtain. Right away, I said, “Bret, I had nothing to do with that. It was fucking news to me.”
He just kept walking.
I was furious, and I really couldn’t believe what had just happened. I grabbed my briefcase, I went down to the arena garage, got in my car, went to the hotel, and ordered a cocktail. In my mind, I said that’s it. I’m going to quit the business. I got another drink. And then the more I thought about it, the more I figured I looked like a guy who ran away. I went back to the building and up the escalator. Backstage was almost all empty. I asked a security guard, “Where’s Bret?”
“He’s down in the locker room.”
“I’m going in.”
“Pat, you shouldn’t go in there.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Vince got into it, and Bret hit Vince.”
“I don’t care, I’m going. If he has to hit me, let him hit me.”
I knocked on the door and asked to come in. They opened the door and I walked in. I grabbed his hand, and I said, “Bret, look me in the eyes. I’m looking at you. All the work we did together, I’ve helped you, and I really respect you. I swear to you I had nothing to do with this goddamn thing and that I didn’t know. So please, if you believe me, shake my hand.”
He wouldn’t
shake my hand. I said OK and then I left.
That went on for a long time.
For years, he was sure I was in on it. Everybody trusted me, so I felt really bad, and I wanted to help fix things.
Bret Hart is a special talent, and we have a special bond from sharing the same passion for our business.
All the wrestlers trusted me even though I worked for the office. I would always try to find a solution that made everyone happy. I guess I was just . . . patient. Behind all that posturing and jockeying for position was a bunch of insecure performers. I decided to never let myself be afraid that someone was going to have a better idea than me. I want the best idea possible for the show, and everyone I worked with seemed to appreciate that.
Bret was angry at everyone and especially with the company. Every year at the Cauliflower Alley Club in Las Vegas, I would say hi to him, and he would be polite, but not very vocal, and we would never really hang the way we used to. The weird thing is, I felt like I let Bret and Vince down. In the end, I needed to smooth things over between the two sides.
Finally, in Las Vegas one year, I pulled Bret aside in a hotel staircase.
“Would you fucking wake up you, stubborn son of a bitch?! I’m sick of it. We were so close, and you still give me the cold shoulder every time we meet. You’re just being stubborn now, because you know I had nothing to do with that night. Stop playing games. Give me a hug and shake my hand.”
I was so happy he did.
I also asked if he’d mind if I talked to Vince about him.
“Pat, Vince would never take me back.”
“Are you kidding? You can still do many things; you have a big following. Unlike you, I don’t know what Vince thinks, let me mention it to him.”
Accepted Page 18
