Through The Shattered Glass

by Jeanie Clarke

  Renamed ‘Superstar’ Steve Austin, he was now cast in a role which suited him; as an embittered former star from a major promotion. His character was to be a wrestler at a breaking point, riddled with stress and bitterness stemming from years of being held back and never reaching his true potential.

  Being held back is certainly something that Steve never experienced during his first appearance with the group on 16th September 1995. In his debut, he immediately took aim at Hulk Hogan, the star he blamed for his slide down the card at WCW.

  In the closing moments of ECW’s television show broadcast, the cameras frantically cut to a backstage altercation between New Jack and the promotion’s top tag-team, The Public Enemy. Joey Styles, who was the host of ECW’s weekly programming, sprinted to the back only to find a crazed Steve Austin, clad in a homemade version of the trademark red and yellow tank top and bandana worn by ‘The Hulkster’.

  Steve manically flexed his muscles and spouted the typical Hogan catchphrases before lampooning him and saying how tired his act had become, ripping off the shirt with disgust. He decried Hulk’s gimmick, saying that it was lame and not enough to get the job done in a promotion like ECW. Styles was speechless as a truly wired Steve stormed off, and the episode came to an abrupt end.

  His next appearance at the ECW Arena on 28th October was equally chaotic, as he was engaged in a wild pull-apart brawl with the reigning ECW Champion, The Sandman during his defence of the title against the young underdog Mikey Whipwreck. A few weeks later, Eric Bischoff was the next victim of ‘The Extreme Superstar’ as he dressed up in a jet-black wig and suit, impersonating his former boss with fervour and sheer vitriol in a hilarious backstage skit that again mocked WCW’s ageing headliners.

  Although he had not yet been cleared to wrestle due to the muscle tear, Steve had propelled himself into the main event picture with his interruptions of the company’s top matches and by turning heads with his outlandish antics.

  When he did eventually return to action on the 18th November, he was immediately pushed to the top, competing in matches for ECW’s top prize from the onset.

  Even though Extreme Championship Wrestling did not provide the same level of long-term security that his contract with WCW had provided, I was relieved that Steve had found an opportunity to find work so quickly after being released. It provided a boost to his self-esteem and it was clear he was having fun with his character.

  I never had the opportunity to see Steve perform at any of Heyman’s shows, as I had become quite independent with my full schedule back home. The Barney parties were still going strong, I was keeping busy with my church commitments, and the raising of my two daughters was making the time pass quickly while he was away.

  When Steve returned from Philadelphia, he was a man with a renewed sense of purpose. With the reinvention of his career, it seemed that he had finally regained control over his own destiny. I hoped that he was now willing to communicate some of the discontent that had been brewing inside him for months.

  Unfortunately, Steve never did share his innermost feelings, whether he wanted to express angst or joy. Instead, he simply wanted to convey a directive that would affect his family.

  While he was away working for Paul, he had made a firm decision regarding our future.

  “We’re moving,” he ordered.

  I was in complete and utter shock; I felt truly blindsided by the decision.

  For over three years, our family had gradually created the beloved home that I had always longed for as a child, and even as a young adult. I knew that Steve still harboured resentment towards WCW, but he never once told me how much he had been hurt by their decision to release him.

  But this was the first time I had ever heard Steve express a desire to leave Georgia, and his conviction stunned me.

  I felt so powerless that my fate had been decided, and I was saddened that he had not even asked for my input. I would have understood if he only told me that our home harboured too many negative associations with his former employer, but he would remain silent when I asked his reasons.

  Because he never spoke, I felt wounded. Relocating seemed like such an extreme measure.

  As I tried to get my head round the impending change to our lives, another was on its way.

  Steve had received an offer to join the WWF.

  15 A WORLD OF OPPORTUNITY

  Spawning from the Capitol Wrestling Corporation, the World Wrestling Federation was founded in 1963 by promoters Vincent James McMahon and Toots Mondt. By 1982, the promotion had changed hands, as the young Vincent Kennedy McMahon and his wife Linda had bought out the assets of his father’s company. Together, they set their sights beyond a primary operation of the New York area.

  After an audacious national expansion of operations in the mid-eighties, the Connecticut-based World Wrestling Federation had reigned supreme as the undisputed market leader in the professional wrestling industry.

  However, fortunes had changed for the Federation by the mid-nineties.

  It was hurting due to a series of sex scandals and as a result of a costly trial with the federal government during an investigation into allegations of steroid distribution within the company.

  It was not long before the bad public relations caused by the court case had a negative impact on the WWF’s revenues. The promotion had suffered a downturn in attendance, and the inevitable reductions in pay forced some of the WWF’s upper level talent to seek work elsewhere.

  Meanwhile, under the leadership of Eric Bischoff, WCW had become a credible threat to the WWF’s position, and both companies were vying for domination within the industry. The competition was intensified following the advent of the live WCW Monday Nitro show in September 1995, which ran at the same time as the weekly broadcast of WWF Monday Night Raw on the USA Network.

  With heightened tensions between the two market leaders, the head-to-head ratings battle soon became known as the Monday Night Wars.

  As many of the WWF’s veteran stars had since fled to Atlanta, there were some gaping holes in Vince McMahon’s roster. His response was to showcase fresh talent into the main event picture, branding them ‘The New Generation’.

  As one of the top stars in McMahon’s locker room, Kevin Nash had been thriving under this youth drive. Renamed Diesel, he had left WCW as a lower card talent with limited prospects and within two years of joining the Federation, had held every championship within the company. Nash also wielded a lot of power backstage, and was part of a posse of five friends known within the industry as The Clique. The group (which was comprised of Nash, Scott Hall, Shawn Michaels, Sean Waltman and Hunter Hearst Helmsley) were infamous for pressurising the weakened company with demands on the creative direction of the product.

  Kevin had maintained a solid friendship with Steve stemming from their time in WCW. As soon as he learned of Steve’s availability, he recommended that McMahon sign him. During their negotiations, Vince had said to Steve that he was not offering him a spot with his company but, rather, an opportunity.

  It was a bittersweet moment for Steve as he concluded his short but memorable run with ECW on 9th December, facing The Sandman and Mikey Whipwreck in his final appearance. But having found himself as a performer with Heyman, he was now ready to grasp the higher-profile role that was being presented by McMahon.

  Although the WWF was the most famous wrestling organisation in the world, Steve was more than a little bit sceptical about Vince’s promises. The WWF had a reputation for repackaging its new entrants, and moulding them into cartoon characters. Steve entered with a bit of a chip on his shoulder, knowing that he would no longer have the same creative freedom with his character that he had been given by Paul. Steve had really found himself as a performer in ECW and feared the worst as he prepared to make his transition as a WWF Superstar.

  For a number of weeks on WWF programming, ‘The Million Dollar Man’ Ted DiBiase had been promising to bring in a new talent to the Federation.

  By the late
eighties, DiBiase had become one of the greatest villains in wrestling, but he was now performing as a megalomaniac heel manager after suffering a back injury that ended his career in 1993. He had been promising to scout the world and find a wrestler worthy of being declared his new Million Dollar Champion, an unsanctioned title he had originally brought to the WWF in 1989.

  The time had finally come and, on 8th January 1996, Steve finally made his first appearance for the World Wrestling Federation. As DiBiase unveiled his new star, out walked Steve, complete with a new blonde buzz cut and green trunks.

  Except it wasn’t really Steve. The man appearing on our screens was to be known, simply, as The Ringmaster.

  As soon as he was given the mic, The Ringmaster outstretched his hand to the camera, pleading with the audience to reach out to him because he was destined for success. As soon as I saw it, I realised it was a satire of the televangelists that Steve had been mocking when I was studying the various facets of faith.

  It was the second time that I had witnessed Steve taking elements of Christianity into his character, as he had been using the title song from the Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice 1970 rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar as his ECW entrance theme.

  Nevertheless, despite a passionate entrance, some of the frustrations Steve had experienced in WCW were starting to resurface within weeks of performing for the WWF. He felt that The Ringmaster gimmick had eroded the sense of identity he had finally found during his hiatus from the mainstream.

  After all the years of scrambling to develop his own persona, he was now being forced to adopt a gimmick fabricated by someone else. To make matters worse, he was carrying Ted’s old title belt, and using Ted’s old finishing move, The Million Dollar Dream, a version of the Cobra Clutch sleeperhold.

  It was clear from Steve’s early WWF appearances that there was no vision for him to rise above mid-card status or be anything other than a vehicle for DiBiase’s managerial role. McMahon viewed The Ringmaster as a ‘mechanic’, a solid in-ring performer who would be used as a utility to make stars, and not to become one himself.

  Furthermore, DiBiase was generally handling most of The Ringmaster’s interviews. Steve would often stress his displeasure; he had a voice of his own and did not want anyone else talking for him.

  For Steve, his entry into the WWF had felt like a false start, and he sensed it was very much the opposite from an opportunity. Voicing concern about the longevity of his character, he explained that he wanted to take the gimmick in another direction.

  One evening, we were sitting on the couch flicking through TV, and Steve’s blue eyes slowly became fixed to the screen. He still harboured a fascination with the morbid, and he was captivated after stumbling on a chilling documentary about the sadistic contract murderer, Richard Kuklinski. The media had given Kuklinski the moniker of ‘The Iceman’, as he had frozen his victims to conceal their time of death.

  I could almost see the wheels turning in Steve’s mind as he was drawn to this callous, calculating serial killer.

  ‘The Iceman’ was the personification of sheer evil, and his no-frills approach in terrorising his victims without any sign of remorse hit a nerve with Steve.

  He now had a vision for his character. Steve wanted to be wrestling’s embodiment of an emotionless killer, a methodical figure who would get a kick from torturing anyone who stood in his way.

  After calling the WWF front office, Steve explained his new idea, and how he envisaged the direction of his character. He was told that the marketing team would discuss his notion, and return with a suitable new handle which could replace his dreaded Ringmaster name.

  We were astounded by the creative team’s suggestions as they sent through a fax listing potential new names for Steve to consider. The team had taken the temperature element of the Kuklinsky precedent to form a series of names that would give Steve the lethal credibility he had been seeking.

  As soon as we received the fax, Steve called Brian Pillman, and put him on the speakerphone. He read out the options that the Federation had devised for him.

  “Otto Von Ruthless… Ice Dagger… Fang McFrost…,” listed Steve, as he waited for Brian’s response.

  After a short pause, the pair burst into hysterics. They could not believe that these were legitimate suggestions from the Connecticut brain trust. But they were.

  Within minutes, it was contagious. I was now in stitches simply at the cacophony of Steve’s jock guffaws and Brian’s raspy cackles. It was not long until the laughs faded and Steve was still stuck with the quandary. He was sitting at the edge of our bed, staring at the floor in meditation.

  Being English, I did what we Brits frequently do when we are faced with a dilemma; I went to the kitchen and put on the kettle for a good old cuppa. I returned to the bedroom and put Steve’s tea next to him and went about tidying the room.

  Despite the tea being placed nearby, Steve never moved. Motionless, he just sat there without drinking a sip. I could tell he needed reassurance, so I went over to him.

  “Don’t worry, something will come up... Just drink your tea before it goes stone-cold.”

  Within a split-second, I turned round with excitement,

  “That’s your name! Stone Cold!”

  With wide eyes, Steve looked up at me, grinning in disbelief. I could immediately tell that he loved the name. After weeks of hunting, he had finally snared the elusive identity that would give him a chance at stardom.

  All he needed was the opportunity that he had been promised.

  Having been stuck in the mid-card for months, Steve was still floundering in the World Wrestling Federation. The new moniker of ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin did not forge the immediate path to stardom that he had anticipated, but he was starting to feel comfortable in his new persona. He had changed his look; wearing plain black boots and trunks, he had shaved his head bald and was sporting a goatee. Outwardly, his demeanour had changed into a pure bad-ass tormentor. It was a brave change, a far cry from the glitzy ‘Stunning’ Steve Austin character that had led him to success in the USWA and WCW.

  Moreover, he felt relaxed in his new environment, as the WWF locker room was filling with many familiar faces from his previous stint in Atlanta. Most of these talents were also hungry young stars looking to get to the next level, and Steve realised that he would have to be consistent in order to excel in his new role.

  He had been assigned a series of matches with Savio Vega in the spring of 1996 leading into the WrestleMania XII pay-per-view, but something bigger was on the horizon for Steve. I was expecting my second child with him. When I told him about the pregnancy, he acted in a different way than I anticipated.

  Frustrated, he seemed more concerned that the pregnancy was going to hamper his career, which was finally being given a second chance to develop after two years of faltering. I called Beverly to let her know of our exciting news, but she simply instructed me to understand the career pressures on Steve and be there for him. It was clear that I was not going to get the full level of support at home, so I would confide to my neighbours and church friends to find an outlet for my feelings.

  I had been going to coffee mornings a few days each week at the church, which had offered such a supportive network for an expecting mother. While there, my interest in the Bible continued to reach new heights, and my increasing appetite for truth led to me studying all forms of faith in my personal search for God.

  Meanwhile, I had started to notice some of the church patrons had been wearing Christian T-shirts. Stirred by an idea, I started to scour the Christian bookstores for a particular item that I had in mind. I decided that I wanted a shirt which proudly emblazoned the most famous verse from the Bible. The sheer thought of it filled me up with a joy I had not experienced since I had worn my cute duck-patterned dress as a child.

  I could not find one anywhere, so I was inspired to craft it myself using a plain grey top and some black fabric paint.

  Steve was home for a few days and we were
at a bit of a loose end, so we arranged to catch up with two buddies from our darts team, Jim and Dee. We had heard that the Georgia Renaissance Festival was closing up soon, so they offered to pick us up and spend the day there. The festival is an annual fair held in Fairburn, a small city about twenty miles outside Atlanta down Interstate 85.

  As soon as we parked on the grass field near the fair, Jim looked over and complimented my new tee which I was wearing that day.

  Steve looked at the shirt with a puzzled face, and asked about its meaning. I explained that it was in reference to John 3:16, which is in many ways the definitive passage within the Bible. In one verse, it explains God’s plan for the salvation of mankind through his only begotten son, Jesus Christ; the most elemental aspect of Christianity.

  Steve paused to absorb my explanation for a few seconds before dropping the subject. His mannerisms and smug remarks had made it clear that he was starting to get agitated by my religious convictions, so I had stopped communicating the aspect of faith within my life to him.

  We then arrived at the festival, which had a 16th century theme, and featured a variety of weird and wacky activities from the English renaissance period. We had a really nice day out at the fair, as Steve welcomed a break from the soaring demands of the WWF.

  As WCW was establishing a firm lead with Nitro, the ratings war was starting to take its toll on the crew of the WWF. But an immediate necessity from within had also placed increased pressure on McMahon’s mid-card talent to rise to the next level.

  A void created by three of its major stars created a drive to groom new faces for the main event picture. Bret Hart had been the mainstay WWF Champion in the post-Hogan era of the WWF but, after losing the title to Shawn Michaels, had taken an extended leave of absence to film a television series. Furthermore, two other key talents within the roster, Scott Hall and Kevin Nash, had decided to finish up with the company and sign with WCW, which was now looking to aggressively expand its roster with marketable stars.