The Phantom of the Ring returns with an insightful review of Broken Harts, by Martha Hart.

The Phantom of the Ring

Brave Hart

Broken Harts
Martha Hart
M. Evans and Company, Inc., 2002
$15.95

Just a cursory look at the glut of wrestling biographies, autobiographies and memoirs that currently flood the market is enough to give even the avid reader pause, not to mention a pain in his wallet. It seems everybody and his sister-in-law is writing of his and her experiences in the business.

Given that there is not nearly enough time, or money, to read these tomes (and also given the fact that one bad book or two is enough to discourage even the hardiest wrestling fan from ever purchasing another in his lifetime), it is enough to discourage those with good stories from crashing the publishing world. Thus, the stories that need to be told go by the wayside while the fluff continues unabated, making chumps of those who buy the books in order to actually learn something.

Martha Hart could have been easily silenced in this manner. Thank Goodness for us wrestling fans that this wasn’t the case, for she has written one of the most important books on the subject of professional wrestling to hit the stands in a long while. Quite simply, it is an indictment of the business from the viewpoint of a wife who lost her beloved husband for the amazingly low price of only $68.00. That was the cost of the defective harness that cost Owen his life.

Along the way, Martha also upends two long-held and cherished wrestling myths: McMahon as a promotional genius and the Hart family as wrestling’s version of Camelot. Vince is exposed as someone who didn’t have a clue as how to promote Owen, instead either wrapping him under a hood as the Blue Blazer or making him a teammate of the grossly obese Yokozuna. It was the return of Owen to the Blue Blazer gizmo that would spell his early doom.

As for the Harts, they, of course, play the central role in our story – a story of girl meets boy, girl likes boy but not his occupation, girl marries boy, and tragically, girl loses boy, all against the background of the Hart family, most of whom were more of an impediment than an actual help.

Stu and Helen Hart, far from being portrayed as the royal couple of wrestling, come off instead as the Canadian version of Ma and Pa Kettle, replete with kids and animals running everywhere, including the kitchen table, hulks of cars littering the yard, and a life that just boggles the imagination: Helen’s on the sauce, the kids (and animals) are out of control, and Stu is obsessed with the next big payday, drafting his kids into the business as participants. Despite the fact the his children, especially Owen, hated the business, Martha portrays Stu as basically a good man, one who loves his kids and wife deeply, but who is at the same time committed to his demon – his profession. The portrait of the other Harts is one of a family trapped by the business. Helen despises it. That not only her sons followed their father’s footsteps but that her daughters also married wrestlers only added to her mental claustrophobia.

According to Martha, the plan was for Owen to work a couple of years until the house they were building was finished and then retire to a life of domestic bliss while he was still young enough to enjoy it. Unfortunately, as we all know, that dream never came to fruition. Owen was back in his costume as the Blue Blazer, working some sort of weird angle, possibly copying the Crow-inspired antics of Sting in WCW. It gets more ironic as it goes on. The Crow was someone who returned from the dead. Sting’s career was somehow supposed to be “killed” at the hands of the nWo, and so he eschewed his old facial paint for a new morbid look. To complete the farce, he was lowered into the ring from the rafters, almost like a death angel from Ed Wood’s play, “The Casual Company.” Apparently, Vince liked the flying antics because he incorporated this into the Blazer’s entrance. However, there was a significant difference, one that would later prove to be one of life and death. While Sting’s rigging was a state-of-the-art production, meeting safety standards, Owen’s, by contrast, appeared to be jury-rigged; a last minute sort of thing.

In terms of the imagination, Owen’s entrance looked way better because his rigging was flimsy to the point of invisibility, thus maintaining an illusion of flight while one could see that Sting was lowered into the ring. Why McMahon, who had exposed the business himself years before this, wanted to maintain any sort of illusion is clearly beyond me, but also beyond my understanding is why he didn’t have this apparatus more closely inspected by his insurance agents.  Did Vince, or whoever booked this angle, believe their apparatus was somehow superior to that of WCW?

I saw a game show recently where the contestant had to “fly” from elevated box to elevated box and grab the ticket to crash the previous box. Her harness was nothing short of formidable in its appearance; it told us the producers were taking no chances. In a similar vein, a like harness on Owen could not only say the same thing, but could also be tailored into the Blue Blazer outfit without a radical restyling.

On the other hand, why did Owen agree to such a dangerous stunt? There’s an old saying in wrestling that if you don’t do it, they’ll get someone who will. The hidden meaning in this is that, if that were to happen, the next sound would be that of the door hitting your ass. Owen could have gone to WCW, or he could have gone to Japan. Only Owen knows why he stuck it out as the Blazer; maybe a promise of better things down the road, such as a championship.

Be that as it may, Owen climbed to the catwalk above the ring at the Kemper Arena and waited for his match. He knew what he had to do. The Blue Blazer was a sort of farcical super hero, much along the same lines the Hurricane was to play. The plan was for Owen to seamlessly glide into the ring, take a few steps and fall flat on his face, emphasizing the clumsiness of our hero. When the introductions were about to be made, the equipment man clicked him in and the crew began to lower him. But, as we all know, the equipment disengaged in mid-flight and Owen dropped to the ring like a stone. Given his weight and the velocity of his drop, he never had a chance, crashing into the corner turnbuckle and dropping onto the mat. He had practiced the drop that afternoon and everything went well. But this time, his outfit prevented the gear from locking correctly and it came apart in midair.

I remember being in the hospital at the time, being treated for blood clots resulting from by my wild youth of steroid use. I had the television on and was reading a book when a teaser for the 11:00 o’clock news came forth. I’ll never forget it. “Wrestler killed at match, full coverage at eleven.” Well, that certainly got my attention, and my mind went blank trying to figure out who the poor soul was. When I discovered it was Owen Hart, I was devastated. Here’s one of the brightest lights in the WWF menagerie, and he has to die like a trained animal in a circus bit. A few people told me later (including two who bought the PPV) that they didn’t believe McMahon would continue after that, but, then, the show always goes on. Upon viewing the tape of the PPV later I was amazed that the fans were disbelieving at first, thinking this was another wrestling swerve, but, no, this was no joke . . . unfortunately for all concerned. He was rushed out by paramedics, and I felt the hope (even two weeks after that fact) that all people in a helpless position feel, that somehow he’d survive. But it was not to be, and the show went on without him.

Reading the book, all those feelings came back, only intensified, because they came from the viewpoint of the widow herself. Martha relates where she was that night and how she got the news. I could feel the sadness coming forth, followed by the anger that this was ever allowed to happen, which itself was followed by the inevitable second-guessing. That she can evoke such powerful emotions in the reader without descending into the maudlin is testimony both to her integrity and her integrity of style. This allows the reader to feel the full impact and break down the wall between the reader and author, a rare feat, especially with this kind of work.

The question of the moment now became one of how McMahon could let the show go on after Owen’s death. It seemed, and still seems, callous to act as if nothing happened. However, Owen was declared dead backstage. It was not fully known if he was dead while he lay in the ring, and the paramedics moved fast to get him to the back. We now know more than we knew at the time and can so make an informed judgment. But at the moment, such a judgment was impossible to make, so the decision to let the show go on was, looking back, the right one, considering the crowd and the PPV audience. It was a terrible blow to the organization, especially in terms of public relations. McMahon, of course, wasted no time flooding the air waves and print media with tributes. He even took over Owen’s funeral, and despite Martha’s objections, turned what should have been a solemn occasion into a scene right out of Nightmare Alley. The grieving Hart family came off as background compared to the antics and dress of the other wrestlers attending. Most were dressed with all the dignity of Klotsky’s Klowns and managed to hit the absolute lowlight of the funeral by toasting their departed comrade with a clink of beer cans.

McMahon may have been extremely forthcoming with the tributes, but there was still the case of responsibility, and so Martha was forced to sue for damages against the WWF and the makers of Owens’ rigging. After much haggling in court, the suit was settled and Martha awarded damages to tune of about $18 million.  It was small consolation, considering what happened, and no consolation compared to a life with Owen. Still, Martha refused to let it get her down. She finished college and put the money to work in helping others. Life must go on, despite the setbacks.

It’s odd, but I can’t watch a WWE event today without thinking of Owen and his tragic sacrifice to the gods of showmanship. I watch the style today and think of others who are dying a slow death in the ring, taking the increased pounding on their bodies the current style demands. I have the sneaking suspicion that Owen Hart is not the last wrestler whose death I shall witness on television. I think the business is beginning to demand it.

– The Phantom of the Ring