$3.25 in Canada!
When I was little, professional wrestling was tits. All I needed to make my life was a bag of Keebler’s Pizzaria’s Pizza Chips, my mish-mash collection of Ninja Turtles action figures, and a few fat hours of AWA Saturday morning wrestling… or NWA, or WWF. I wasn’t picky. I had my favorites in every federation.
The Hulkster was the greatest, but Sting wasn’t far behind. The Road Warriors could have probably stomped both of them to death, or at the very least, spiked them unapologetically with their Mad Max shoulder-pads.
My uncle Randy—who spent his days peddling wares to indigent folk at Avenue Rentals—used to tape all of the programs fit for viewing, and I’d come over on Saturday evenings and watch Nick Bockwinkel put Verne Gagne in a cross-face chicken-wing while I pored through stacks of Pro Wrestling Illustrated, gaping in terror at gore-rific photos of Abdullah the Butcher with a fork stuck in his head, or Bruiser Brody howling at an invisible nemesis in the sky, his forehead a travelogue of scar tissue and feigned insanity.
One night—years after my notions about the Ultimate Warrior’s true strength had been dispelled and crushed like so many skulls underneath a steel folding chair—I got drunk and ordered some vintage issues of Pro Wrestling Illustrated from eBay.
And removed from my youthful confines of ignorance, with nary a bag of Pizzaria’s in site, I realized something: this was a truly awful magazine.
I know, I know. You’re shaking your head and saying, “well fucking DUH, dude.”
But honestly, you have no idea.
First, the cover:
Seriously. Who wants to join my fantasy wrestling league?
The headline proclaims: “Wrestlemania VII Shocker! Who is Secretly Plotting to Destroy Hulk Hogan Before March 24?” First point of contention: the issue is dated May, 1991. Either this issue is from the future and a slow-learner, or PWI is a little behind on their coverage. There’s a photo of the Hulkster in the center, surrounded by five photos. Is it Randy Savage? Is it Ultimate Warrior? Is it Roddy Piper? Sgt. Slaughter? Earthquake?
Though I can’t remember the specifics, I believe it was Earthquake, nee John Tenta, aka Avalanche, aka the Gargoyle, aka the Shark, aka Golga, aka the Canadian Earthquake (clearly, Tenta was running out of ideas in the autumn of his career). Tenta, a real life friend of Hogan’s, died in 2006 at the age of 42, likely because he was 500 pounds. Rest in peace, Quake, I dedicate the remainder of this column to you.
Elected Official Jesse Ventura.
Opening the magazine takes you to your first ad. Ads are a running theme throughout the periodical. Out of the 65 pages of material (yes, you read that correctly—this issue was 65 pages. Of writing. About wrestling.), an astonishing 18 are devoted to some sort of advertisement. While a grand majority involve subscriptions to and the purchase of back orders of PWI and its sister publications (Inside Wrestling, the Wrestler), there are a handful of wrestling schools being touted, entry forms for fantasy wrestling leagues (yes, this was a thing. Instead of real wrestlers, however, you picked cartoon warriors like “Bishop Hell” and “Galactic Punisher.” I’m not sure how in the hell it worked, but I think I might send in one of the order forms—5 games for $37!—and report back) and my personal favorite, a full-color back-cover mindblower for a Jesse “The Body” Ventura hotline that promises “tough talk” and the “inside scoop.” (though I doubt the number is still in service, you’re welcome to call 1-900-53J-ESSE. $2 per minute. I’m not even kidding.)
On to the Letters:
Yes, letters. From real readers. How do we know they’re real? Check this shit out:
“I have always liked Kerry Von Erich, but I do not like the “Texas Tornado.” Kerry, you have changed the way you wrestle, you have changed the way you look, and you have changed the way you talk. In the past when being interviewed, you talked as though you were very smart and had a heart. Now you talk as though you are following a script…”
-Donna Latvis, Norfolk, VA
Donna’s letter went on for several more sentences, but I cut in down for the sake of bandwidth, and because it was terribly stupid. I wonder what Donna’s up to these days? Hopefully NOT forgetting the extra sour cream on my Nachos Bell Grande, and hopefully NOT procreating,
Next up:
A section called “Ringside,” written by the preeminent wrestling journalist, Bill Apter. Reading this was akin to staring at a Magic Eye poster while riddled with glaucoma. I think it was about “Diamond” Dallas Page and Butch Reed… it was really long… like, REALLY long. Continued on page 50, in fact. I chose not to continue it on page 50, as my comprehension levels were suffering after just a few paragraphs.
Same with:
The next section, a fake editor’s note from a (possibly?) real editor, Stuart Saks. The title of this regular feature? “From the desk of…” What else?
Stuart wants to tell me about The Sheik and Bobo Brazil’s classic feud, and Ric Flair’s most recent NWA title triumph (over Sting!) and Butch Reed, again. I want to tell Stuart to shut the fuck up. His strange, epic missive carries on for three pages. Seriously. It’s continued on page 48.
On Deck:
Is a profile of Michael Wall Street. Michael Wall Street does NOT work on Wall Street, as his name would seem to indicate, but instead wrestles professionally. Later, he would become Irwin R. Shyster, and when that gimmick crashed and burned, plain old Mike Rotundo.
This profile is four full pages long—pages full of text, no less—and I lost interest after the second paragraph when scribe Andy Rodriguez explains, “As the victories pile up, Wall Street becomes more and more confident that he has chosen the right path, a path lined with microchips and briefing papers and humiliated foes.”
Oh, there’s certainly humiliated foe here, Andy. We call it literacy.
Grappler Sonny Blaze
Bob Smith’s Segment:
Bob Smith titles his column “The Steel Cage.” It is illustrated with a prehistoric computer graphic of a steel cage, and this installment is about “jobber” Sonny Blaze. For the uninitiated, a jobber in pro wrestling is someone who gets “squashed,” or “loses miserably to superior talent” in the dark matches at live events. Why Sonny Blaze warrants 1,500 words of print is beyond me.
I hope that somewhere, some place, at this very moment, Bob Smith is sitting arthritically in a rocker, apologizing to his pudding for this piece of shit article.
Speaking of Shit:
Here’s “Off the Top Rope” by Eddie Ellner. From what I can tell, OTR, as it’s known by no one, is a Dear Abby style inclusion, solely for the mentally deficient folks who choose to write into wrestling magazines. Eddie plays the role of “heel” (wrestling term for “bad guy”), who responds to a Desert Storm combcatant (yup) by saying, “come home safely to America, and I will gladly go to the mats with your stupid, hillbilly butt. Just make it home, that’s the request from this end.” Nice cover, Eddie. You just threatened to beat up a soldier BEFORE praying for his expedient return.
Not sure where you are these days Eddie, but I hope that wherever you are, your anus is being eaten by the death-worms that are infecting Bob Smith’s cock. Cheers!
The “most hated” column is kind of hurtful.
And Then This Happened:
Are you prepared for the “official ratings” section? Of course you’re not. This two page spread gives PWI’s top ten rankings of every professional ballerina, from the WWF (champion Ultimate Warrior) all the way down to the IWCCW (champion to be determined—Vic Steamboat is the number one contender). Just how official are these ratings? How do they determine the best wrestlers in the world? Nobody REALLY knows, but PWI says this: “Top 10 and Tag Team ratings are based on won-lost (sic) records for the past month, quality of opposition, and inherent skills of each wrestler or team.” So, kinda like the BCS before the NCAA got their collective head out of their collective ass? Pretty much. Also, they want us to know that the Most Popular and Most Hated ratings are based on “nationwide telephone and arena surveys of wrestling fans and on the volume and character of mail that comes into our offices.”
THEY HAD OFFICES. The early 90’s were a simpler, more prosperous time, to be sure.
Upon Further Review:
There’s a whole page about the ratings system that is meant to explain the ratings system, yet completely fails to explain the ratings system. Whoops.
Serious Bidness:
The headline proclaims “Pro Wrestling Illustrated Strips AWA of World Title Recognition.” So this is a little like Sports Illustrated deciding that the Royals aren’t very good, and therefore no longer have the ability to compete for the World Series, right? I don’t get this. I’m no baseball scientist, but I don’t think this kind of thing is allowed. But apparently, it is in the post-apocalyptic, Mad Max-ian world of professional wrestling.
Sadly, Verne Gagne—the founder and president of the AWA—killed a fellow resident of a nursing home in 2009 by shoving the 97-year-old man to the ground. Though the incident was classified as a homicide, charges were never brought against 86-year-old Gagne, as he was found to be unaccountable for his actions due to dementia. Personally? I blame PWI’s disavowment of Gagne’s baby, the AWA.
I hope you’re happy, PWI, you ruthless piece of shit.
Color Makes it Better?:
A Lou Thez article. According to the article, Lou won his first title in 1937 when President Bush was 12 years old. Was he still wrestling in 1991? I guess. Yikes. This article was accompanied by pictures, which made me sad, as the septuagenarian was in way better shape than I am now. He died in 2002, but I bet he’s still in better shape than me. THANKS A LOT, KEEBLER.
The next color segment was about Rick Rude. Rude—also dead—had recently been “permanently banned!” by controversial WWF commissioner Jack Tunney for insulting Big Bossman’s mother—you know, just like in real life. Rude, known for his lothario persona and frighteningly erotic mustache, took 5 pages—FIVE PAGES—to give a fake interview to a fake journalist about his equally fake ban.
Jesus Christ. I’m still reading this.
And Finally (for the color section):
A painfully long article details Ric Flair’s hard-fought battle against Sting to capture his record-tying (Harley Race, ya’ll! KC represent!) 6th NWA title. This was a literal blow-by-blow account of the match. I suggest reading this if you’re severely constipated or terminally ill and looking to kill yourself. Either way, I’m sure you’ll find your solution.
Ah, the Hilarity:
Interspersed throughout the mag—only toward the back, really (thankfully)—are some cartoons. I will not tell you what these cartoons say, nor describe them in any manner. Because I care about you, the reader. You’re welcome.
Click on photo to get ALL of the results!!
Arena Reports:
I don’t even have a lame joke to make about this. Without pretense, gloriously self-unaware like some delightfully crazy hobo smeared in feces and sitting on the bench in Mill Creek Park, here are the arena reports. Were you wondering what happened in East Rutherford, NJ on 12/16/90? Well, diligent reader (and doubtless sex-criminal) Jason Croft has your back. He wants us to know that, at the Byrne Meadowlands on that date:
Shane Douglas defeated Black Bart, Big Bossman defeated Bobby Heenan, Sgt. Slaughter pinned Dusty Rhodes, Davey Boy Smith and Warlord battled to a double disqualification and the Hart Foundation and the Bushwhackers defeated Power and Glory and Rhythm and Blues when Bret Hart pinned Greg Valentine.
Seriously, he wants us to know that.
Just like Sam Quinbergh wants to share with us his monthly meetings from the NWA card at the Dorton Arena in Raleigh, and Keen Jones is eager to share the PNW results from the Sports Arena in Oregon on January 5th, 1991.
That’s right, 55 professional wrestling cards from AROUND THE WORLD (Big Van Vader beat Rambo to capture the CWA title in Bremen, Germany on 12/22/90, btw) that for SOME reason, you need to know about.
SEX.
I Can’t Believe This Thing is Still Going:
And finally, what we ALL came for, a pullout, back-cover poster of a hirsute, heavily-bearded Arn “The Enforcer” Anderson. My wife took one look at it and said, “um, that’s just a fat dude.” And although that is definitely true—yesterday’s grapplers looked more like your local muffler repairman than a chiseled, bronzed Adonis—Anderson oozed a certain sextitude, which is no doubt the reason for this poster’s inclusion.
In Conclusion:
Pro Wrestling Illustrated was terrible. It may STILL be terrible, I don’t know. The truth is, I couldn’t be bothered to do any more research after finishing this piece. My head was officially broken by this massive, pulpy thing full of words about a fake sport that was being written about as though it were a real sport.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a shot of whiskey and a cold shower. The Enforcer’s got me all worked up, apparently.
I’ll have to admit I like pro wrestling. It is so brutally over the top that I laugh harder at it than just about anything else on tv. Even funnier is attending it live and watching all the inbred mouth breathing idiots losing it because the referee missed a call. Some of them get so angry and red faced, they look like they are about to explode. They are even funnier than the performers in the ring which is really saying something.
Especially on older footage, before it was so widely discussed as being predetermined. Some of those old school fans were completely nuts.
Even now, with them admitting that it is just entertainment, some of the fans are still that gullible which is almost funnier. It’s like the people who watch “illusionists” and think something supernatural is taking place when something disappears.
Busy day Lefty? I remember the first time I snorted meth. Counted all the blades of grass in the yard and read the white pages.
Haha. It’s Hearne’s fault for going on vacation and letting me run wild.
Haha Lefty. Glad Hearne is on vacation this beats his Star and other personal rants he goes on about in here for months at a time.
Thanks, Dave!
Oh by the way Left drinking and e-bay are a bad combination to do at the same time.
I had a subscription to PWI back in the day…that’s not easy to admit. My seven year old son absolutely lost it last year when John Cena lost a “retirement” match. A memory I’ll never forget thanks to pro wrestling
Ha. Good stuff, Jimmy. Yeah, I remember getting worked up about the same kinda thing… Or, when someone would get “injured,” putting their career in jeopardy.
I didn’t have a subscription to PWI, but I did buy issues from the newsstand when I was a kid. I read it enough that I remember almost every “feature” you pointed out. Crazy.
I read it a lot growing up as well, but all I really remembered were the rankings and results sections. Probably because they were such weird freaking spreads.
So Hearne on vacation thats why you have run amuck. Deleting and blocking so many comments. Kid if you can’t stand the heat get out of the kitchen.
And your proof of that Big Bob?
No, Dave– he’s right. I deleted three or four of his comments yesterday, for precisely the reason I explained. He threatened to “do my wife.” I can’t allow him to say that kind of thing.
Yes you are right he’s an issue no doubt but I was speaking more on the run amuck comment.
Only thing running amuck in here is Big Bobs mouth.
To be honest you are doing better than Hearne running the joint.
Oh– I see. Thanks again, Dave.
You’re too kind.
You really are a persistent fellow, aren’t you? You comment several times under different names, pretending to be different people. TERRIBLY clever, but remember—I can see IP addresses, dude.
The reason I kept deleting your comments had NOTHING to do with the fact that you said I was a bad writer, buddy. It had EVERYTHING to do with the fact that you told me you’d “do (my) wife,” in your first comment. That has nothing to do with being “thin skinned.” It has EVERYTHING to do with the fact that YOU DON’T COMMENT NEGATIVELY RE: SOMEONE’S FAMILY, you piece of waste. It doesn’t MATTER that I mentioned her briefly in the piece. YOUR COMMENT WAS COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE.
Do you get that?
Thanks.
He probably doesn’t. He is probably one of those guys that thinks ‘rasslin is a legitimate competitive sport.
And your wife commented on my body. Tit for tat perhaps?Well yes you are both right. I was not on the juice like your heroes Hogan and the Warriors. One dead of the stuff I might add. But I was considered one of the top wrestlers of my era.
As a professional wrestler on a nightly basis we heard cat calls about wives, mothers, and our junks size. It comes with the territory.
But then we have a writer that gets bent out of shape and his feelings hurt. So yeah you can talk crap about me and my body type. You can dish it out and then not take it. And then of course after deleting the comments. You then rehash the stuff today. Instead of playing “I’m taking my ball home because we don’t play by my rules.” Why don’t you hold the standard of journalism which is not to censor very much. But of course you have never claimed to be a reporter have you. You are just of the one of literally thousands that say “junk” on line and then when offended delete what you don’t like.
PS And your ability to “see” IP addresses isn’t working very well.
Good stuff, bro. Whatever you do, NEVER STOP COMMENTING. The world is a dismal place without you in it.
Well, as a former kiddie wrestling fan myself and follower of the WWE of late, I will say one thing about injuries. They do happen and are the one think the WWE cannot fake.
Oh sure, you can tell during some matches when the announcers are commenting that it’s part of the show. But the fact is, flying around like they do is serious business – scripted or not – and these guys pay the price.
And from what I can tell, they tend to make very light of and not talk about it when real injuries occur. Other than to sometimes refer to them when a wrestler returns after a long absence.
But the main difference in professional wrestling today from when I was watching it in my youth is how over-the-top the between match banter has become. OMG, it can be as much as half the two hour televised WWE shows.
The plot lines go on and on and stretch out for months on end – obviously pre-scripted. Btw, I attended the recent WWE match at Sprint that aired nationally Friday night and will have a few observations to share very shortly.
They actually are incredibly athletic and do get hurt. They do also have scripted injuries that are usually when the wrestler is making a movie or something. It is relatively easy to tell when the injuries are real as the announcers are forced off the script when they are real, as in when Owen Hart died at Kemper.
Haha– said this at almost the same time.
Great points– and yeah, that’s definitely something I remember from watching it in my younger days, as well. They’ll usually do some comprehensive, stretched-out storyline to explain a star’s absence when they were really out having serious surgery of some sort.
And you’re totally right– those guys take a ton of bumps and those things add up quickly. Lots of short careers because of it.
I doubt this will get read since the story is close to being bumped and I’m late in responding. But let me share a more accurate picture for the record. When one deletes comments and then shares their version of events they have alot of control of the narrative. I think a lot of the content and context has been lost by Brandon’s remarks. Now let’s hear my take on things.
I am the one that wrote two posts on Sunday. I don’t recall telling Brandon that he was a poor writer. Just that I was disappointed in my expectations of what this story was going to be.
Because Brandon stated he was this big wrestling fan I then cut a wrestling promo on him. A classic Loser Leaves Town type of promo where I challenged him and Glazer to a match. Among other things I stated if I lost I would clean the toilets at Glazer’s place. I thought Brandon would “get it” and appreciate the wrestling take so to speak.
In regards to doing his wife. Well again you are not reading the whole story or orginal content. What I actually stated was in reference to him NOT DOING his wife and reading 20 year old wrestling magazines instead.
Brandon had already brought up his wife in the story and since it was a wrestling promo which is obviously (well at least I thought) not reality I thought it was a funny line. Brandon doesn’t agree and if I offended him, his wife, or mother in law I apologize.
Brandon intially responded in a positive manner to the remarks and then in a second post became angry and blocked me.
Which leads to the point he continues to make that I am posting various remarks. If I am blocked I could not of added any more comments for him to delete until now when I have access to a different computer.
That being said let me close with two things. One Brandon was right what he told me in one of his Sunday posts, I should have better things to do then read or comment on posts about 20 year old magazines. So no need to block me I’ll do something more constructive. I just thought the wrestling thing would be of interest.
Many years ago Jimmy Conners was playing team tennis in Wichita. During the match a woman yelled “GO JIMMY!!!” He thanked her for the encouragement. I responded “Jimmy, don’t get to excited that was your wife.” He paused and said “No, that was your wife.”
Former playmate of the year Patti McQuire…her I would do.
Holy shit, man… calm down. It’s going to be okay.
Sounds like you were the one that s*it a brick. Glad the rest of the readers got to hear the real story. To bad they didn’t get to read it. Rick I may join u on the side line. Brandon good writer and kid. But he’s been infected. By Glazer’s ego and Hearne beating over his head he needs to be “edgy” and controversial. Should of just stuck with doing his own stuff instead of trying to increase numbers by being himself.