by Dan Severn
Right after they announced it, they quickly amended the announcement with an addendum declaring that Ken Shamrock and Dan Severn were the only two wrestlers who weren’t allowed to participate in it.
As soon as they told me I wasn’t allowed to be in the Brawl for All, I walked out. I figured it would be a waste of time standing around to hear more about an event I was prohibited from participating in. The whole thing sounded stupid anyway, with the wrestlers only getting three one-minute rounds to fight, and being forced to wear twenty-ounce gloves.
When the announcement was made, I assumed the WWE’s upper management had gotten bored one day, and they sat around fantasizing about what it would be like if all of the company’s tough guys actually got to fight each other for real. This would be their method for determining who the real cock of the walk was.
In that case, it made sense for Ken and I not be allowed to participate. If the objective was to find out who the toughest pro wrestler truly was, having two UFC stars beat down the entire roster would have defeated the purpose. That’s what I assumed the situation had to be, or otherwise this was just another plot device cooked up by the creative team that was so complex that no one in the company could possibly have understood where the storyline was headed except for the guys who’d planned it out.
Most of the members of the creative team were a bunch of ass kissers, particularly Vince Russo. Most of the shit Russo came up with was so complicated, I started to ask people, “Was this guy ever a wrestler, or does he even understand what wrestling is?”. Of course, the answer was, “No.” And, yet, Russo still takes full credit for the WWE’s success during that period.
Later on, I learned the Brawl for All was intended to be the company vehicle for introducing ‘Dr. Death’ Steve Williams to the world. After I’d lost to Steve in the NCAA tournament, he’d gone on to become a big wrestling star in Bill Watts’ Mid-South Wrestling promotion, and then he went on to become just as big a star in Japan. To top it off, he was best friends with the voice of the company, Jim Ross, who was himself from Oklahoma.
The Brawl for All had already been underway for a few weeks, and I was lying around in the locker room waiting to see what was planned for me that evening. One of the agents came up to me and asked me if I wanted to be in the Brawl for All that night.
“Against who, and how much do I get?” was my response.
“Against the Godfather, for five thousand dollars above your guarantee,” he said.
“Okay, but I don’t want to wear those stupid ass gloves,” I stated.
“You have to,” he insisted.
“I’ll never throw a single punch,” I promised. “I just want to be able to do my normal throws and takedowns.”
As everyone knows, they still made me wear the gloves, and I went out there, took the Godfather down repeatedly, and easily won my Brawl for All match.
At least that’s how I saw things from my perspective.
During the broadcast, the announcers kept suggesting that all of my takedowns weren’t legitimate takedowns, and praised the punching of the Godfather, although he’d barely touched me and never held an advantage at any point in the fight.
In fact, between the second and third rounds, they actually flashed a graphic to the viewers at home suggesting that, somehow, the Godfather was winning the fight 10-5. It appeared as if the fix was in.
When it came to the Brawl for All, we were told that clinching and takedowns scored points, and I was taking the Godfather down and should have been awarded the points. This was not a boxing-exclusive event; the Brawl for All was about using any methods we were capable of using to acquire an advantage.
Rightly, they announced me as the winner, even though I’m sure a lot of fans watching at home were very confused by what they’d just seen.
In hindsight, I wish I’d just removed the gloves once I was out there and had the match anyway. The quality of the moves would have been better, and the audience would have popped from the thought of me fighting with bare knuckles. Regardless, the gloves were so big that they left me extremely limited in terms of what I could do.
As soon as I got back to the locker room after the fight, the same road agent came up to me and told me I was once again out of the Brawl for All. I didn’t understand what the constant changes were all about, since they told us Ken and I weren’t allowed in the Brawl for All, then they put me in and yanked me back out again. Because of my removal, the Godfather got to advance to the next round anyway.
I know the WWE presented the fans with some story suggesting that I pulled out of the Brawl for All, but they actually removed me themselves. At the time, I didn’t question why they pulled me out, and I thought maybe the Godfather asked me to be brought into the tournament just so that he could prove to the boys in the back he could take me out.
In retrospect, when I look at the Brawl for All bracket along with the dates, I think they were trying to keep me from derailing Steve Williams’ push. If they kept me in the tournament, I would have faced Scorpio and won, and then I would have been slated to fight the winner of the Steve Williams fight against Bart Gunn. If Steve Williams had won the fight against Bart, as management was probably hoping, he would have been facing me in the semi-finals.
The problem the WWE would have had was the Brawl for All tournament prize was on the same level of the winner’s check from a UFC tournament! Aside from my guaranteed WWE dates, which came to an average of five per month, I could have cleared the rest of my schedule simply to train for the Brawl for All tournament the same way I would have trained for a UFC tournament. For the money that was being offered, it would have been well worth the effort.
Steve Williams was a former NCAA All-American wrestler, and one of the best I ever faced, but he hadn’t been involved in real competitive grappling, let alone no-holds-barred fighting, for at least a decade. If he’d faced me under those conditions, especially if I’d trained, Dr. Death would have had no chance, and I’m pretty sure the WWE management knew it. I’m almost positive that’s why they pulled me out of the Brawl for All once I’d won my match against the Godfather.
None of it mattered anyway, because Bart Gunn knocked out Steve Williams a few weeks later to screw up the creative team’s plans. Not protecting Steve Williams probably cost the company a lot of money. Then again, not letting Ken and I actually participate in the tournament probably cost them a lot of money as well.
As either a reward or a punishment for winning the Brawl for All, Bart Gunn was granted a legitimate boxing match at WrestleMania XV against Eric “Butterbean” Esch.
Like me, Butterbean was a Mid Michigan resident. Unlike me, Butterbean weighed around 400 pounds, and he was the reigning IBA Super Heavyweight Boxing Champion. I’m not sure what the WWE was thinking at the time, but Bart had no chance against a trained world champion boxer.
Butterbean knocked Bart out in thirty-four-seconds.
I actually had a few matches against Butterbean later in my career, usually in worked boxing contests. I definitely would’ve declined a real boxing match against him, but if Butterbean wanted to fight me in a true no-holds-barred contest at WrestleMania XV, I would have had no problem with it.
WHEN I started working with Owen Hart, there was a feeling-out process. Owen grew up in this business, of course, with his dad running Stampede Wrestling in Calgary forever. Most of his siblings were involved in the sport at a high level as well, the most obvious example being Owen’s older brother, the legendary Bret ‘The Hitman’ Hart.
Even now, there’s a younger generation of Hart’s that are continuing to wrestle at a high level and doing very well at it.
Owen clearly knew what the industry was all about, and you could tell he had a mischievous behavior pattern. He loved pulling ribs and jokes, and having fun with everyone backstage. Even when he did the Blue Blazer gimmick, you could tell he loved being able to play a super-heroic, or super-villainous masked character.
As we got to know each other more a
nd more, Owen opened up and we bonded over our mutual fondness for amateur wrestling. He even mentioned seeing me compete for the U.S. in the amateur wrestling World Cup and Canada Cup events.
When I was at the Hart residence preparing for my role as the referee in the Dungeon Match between Owen and Shamrock, the WWE’s production crew was setting things up, and that was when I got to sit and talk to Owen’s legendary father, Stu Hart.
From his Calgary home, Stu had prepared countless professional wrestlers for success in the industry, including many of the greatest wrestlers to ever perform. He also utilized many of his trainees, along with several other wrestlers, as regulars on the roster of his Stampede Wrestling territory.
Stu would tell me stories about his time as a shooter, and he’d also ask me about my career as an amateur wrestler and my experiences in the cage. Given Stu’s background, I wasn’t at all surprised he would have a great deal of interest in my career as a shooter outside of the professional wrestling ring. In fact, when Owen saw me a few weeks later, he presented me with an Owen Hart shirt, autographed by his father.
“Stu wanted you to have this,” Owen said as he handed it to me.
Since it was on one of Owen’s shirts, I’m not sure if it was a rib or not, but I’d certainly like to think it was a kind gesture from his father for whom I had a lot of respect as a real shooter.
Even at such an advanced age, Stu was still revered in Canada. I don’t get recognized as often as I used to in the U.S., but Canadian fans seem to show me far more respect when I travel north of the border.
The U.S. seems to be a more forgetful society in general, but Canadians also seem to have more of a general reverence for older pro wrestlers and mixed martial artists. Even if you’re older and moving a little slower, they have a deeper appreciation for the legends that are out there and still handling their business.
The Dungeon Match itself was an interesting concept. The Hart Dungeon was Stu’s famous training room in the basement of the Hart house, and it had a very low ceiling. You couldn’t raise a guy too far off the ground to do much in terms of a wrestling match.
With the limited amount of space available, we put together the best possible match, and my role was very simple as a referee trying to maintain order between Ken and Owen.
Again, Ken and I had the bare minimum interaction with one another. There was never much of an exchange between us other than a nod of the head to acknowledge the other’s presence. It was standard alpha male behavior.
When the WWE transitioned from the Dungeon Match to the Lion’s Den match, I don’t think I was used correctly, but it wasn’t my idea in the first place. The creative team came up with that idea, and half the time the creative team was very lame with their creativity.
The coolest thing about being involved with Owen and Ken’s Lion’s Den match for me was that it took place in Madison Square Garden, even if it involved a miniature steel MMA cage.
When you summarize your career to people after it’s all said and done, there are certain things you lead your story off with for the sake of effect. Thankfully, I can honestly tell people I was involved in a match that took place in Madison Square Garden.
I always tell people that titbit because it sounds impressive. In retrospect and in reality, was it really that impressive to be there participating in that match, and primarily as a spectator? No... it was a lackluster role.
The actual cage was really small, and if they’d put a little more thought into it, they could’ve had me on the railing at the top, or they could have had me get physically involved in the match. They might have had me drop into the cage and begin suplexing one or both of them around.
I understand the Lion’s Den Match was meant to imply some sort of advantage for Ken, just like the Dungeon Match was meant to suggest an advantage for Owen. The funny thing is, if they’d come out to my place to do a Coldwater Match or a Beast’s Lair Match, or something like that, I’m sure they would’ve liked my facility, and found that it was actually very easy place to do video production. It also would have been a far more attractive setting to do an actual match than either of the two specialty matches we’d been involved in up to that point.
Of course, a Beast’s Lair Match never happened. The creative team never invited me to be involved in the planning of anything, nor was I ever asked for my input.
It all made me wonder if Russo and the creative staff were going out of their way to sabotage me by giving me roles that amounted to less and less every time I went out there, in the hope that the WWE management would ultimately forget about me and release me from the company.
It became abundantly clear as more and more time passed that the company had no idea how to use me. I know it routinely frustrated Jim Cornette, who had far better ideas for how I could be utilized, or how to utilize talent in general. Yet, even someone with all of Jim’s experience, which included both booking matches and running wrestling events, couldn’t even get an opportunity to pitch ideas to management during that timeframe.
If you’re not going to listen to someone like Jim Cornette, who has an incredible creative mind, you’re putting too much stock in the wrong people, particularly Vince Russo. And, if they weren’t going to listen to Jim Cornette, why on earth would they ever listen to Dan Severn?
Keep in mind, during my entire run in the WWE, I was the reigning NWA champion. First the company acknowledged it, then they didn’t, and then they acknowledged it again. They couldn’t make up their minds. In the meantime, I was defending the NWA championship at plenty of independent shows.
It would have taken no effort to send Owen Hart to one of my events with a WWE camera crew in tow, and to have Owen jump me, then challenge me, cheat to win, and show up on RAW the next week as the NWA champion like he’d won it fair and square.
At that point, I would’ve demanded a rematch at the next pay-per-view event and won the belt back. That scenario gets me over as a WWE talent, it gets Owen Hart over for being a world champion, it gets the NWA championship over, and it adds another cool match to a pay-per-view event.
In fact, if they’d done something like that, it would’ve turned out to be the only world heavyweight championship reign that Owen Hart would have ever had.
Of course, that scenario makes so much sense in the context of booking matches, and it’s so practical from every aspect of running a traditional wrestling company. That means the idea probably wouldn’t have come anywhere close to being in the wheelhouse of ideas the creative team was considering at the time.
Maybe they would’ve thought the idea gave the NWA too much of a rub, but they knew the NWA was no threat, and that belt could have been used to get multiple WWE talents over. I know Dennis Coralluzzo wouldn’t have minded his championship being used in that manner.
The NWA championship had also been the centerpiece of World Championship Wrestling at one point in time, so why not play up the angle that the real, credible championship from WCW is now present on WWE’s television program?
In the long run, I think a lot of the WWE management team’s decisions boiled down to my contract, which allowed me to come and go as I pleased. They didn’t have a control mechanism over me in an industry that’s very distrustful to begin with.
THIRTY
ONE MONTH AFTER THE LION’S Den Match, I walked out to the ring in Detroit for a Monday Night Raw episode with the NWA belt over my shoulder for the first time in months, and I had a submission match against Owen Hart.
During the match, Owen hit me with the same inverted piledriver he’d used on ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin that nearly broke Austin’s neck. The idea was that Owen would hit me with the piledriver, and I would sell it like I’d been paralyzed. It would result in the match ending in “no contest” because I wouldn’t be able to submit, Owen would be traumatized, and then I would come back months later wearing a neck brace and swearing revenge.
The only problem was, Owen wore too much baby oil to make his muscles glisten, and I
slid when he dropped me. My head slipped below his legs, and he actually spiked me on top of my head when he did the piledriver.
As a result, I wound up with a stinger that ran down my spine and down my leg, and the look you’ll see on Owen’s face where it looks like he’s scared to death is totally real.
Owen was in the ring freaking out while I was lying on the ground spitting my mouthpiece out. I’m sure the visual of me pushing my mouthpiece out with my tongue and having it roll across my face made for a compelling visual. Again, what was happening at the time wasn’t just being done for theatrical purposes.
“Squeeze my hand if you’re okay,” Owen whispered. “Please.”
I didn’t squeeze it, even though I could’ve. I was pissed.
When the match was over with and I was recovering backstage, Owen hastily ran up to me.
“Why didn’t you squeeze my hand?!” he asked, frantically.
“Why did you drop me on my head?!” I replied, accusingly.
At that moment, I wasn’t a happy camper. In my opinion, Owen had broken the trust between us as performers. In this industry, you and your in-ring partner are responsible for one another’s wellbeing.
Like I said, I was truly pissed at Owen.
This is why I always tell people I’ve been hurt much worse during my pro wrestling career than I was ever hurt during my MMA career.
For several weeks afterward, I wore a neck brace on camera during the WWE’s events and accused Owen of causing the injury, but I still had NWA championship matches to compete in on the independent shows against guys like William Regal, who was known as Lord Steven Regal back then, and also against Hack Myers.
At these NWA events, I would come out wearing the neck brace, selling the injury from the match with Owen, and I would apologize for being unable to defend the championship at that show. Without fail, the heel would come out and berate me, and it would always lead to a seemingly impromptu match that was easy to get over with the fans, because the heel could just club me in the neck with forearms the entire time.