Through The Shattered Glass

by Jeanie Clarke

  It would be the final night for Hall and Nash that would inadvertently create the foundation for Steve’s opportunity.

  On 19th May, at a major house show at Madison Square Garden, The Clique would give an unauthorised public farewell to two of its members.

  Early in the event, the villainous Hunter Hearst Helmsley had faced Hall, who was wrestling under his popular Razor Ramon persona. In the cage match main event, the heroic Shawn Michaels wrestled his bitter nemesis Diesel, who was wrestling as a heel. Moments after the main event, Hall and Hunter entered the ring, and the four embraced in front of a puzzled crowd. Their actions, which broke the wrestler’s code of kayfabe, overtly exposed the business as pure entertainment and created a backstage scandal for WWF management.

  With Hall and Nash gone, the management decided that they needed to make a statement that such unsanctioned behaviour would not go unpunished. With Shawn positioned as the reigning flag-bearer of the company, this created a difficult predicament for McMahon. It was decided that Hunter, who was in the midst of a huge push towards the upper card, was to become the scapegoat. His planned crowning at the upcoming King of the Ring tournament in June had just been cancelled.

  As Hunter saw his fortunes crumble with one loss after another, it was a match loss for Steve that increased his freedom as a performer.

  Nine days after the incident at MSG, the WWF hosted the second part of the In Your House 8: Beware of Dog pay-per-view. Steve had found out that Ted DiBiase had decided to accept a role with WCW, and would be finishing up as his manager that night. The exit plan explained that Ted was to be banished from the WWF after Steve lost a strap match to end his television feud with Savio. The loss of Ted meant that Steve would no longer have anybody else doing his talking. He had his own voice and he intended to use it.

  With no reason to remain lumbered with the strap or finishing hold made famous by DiBiase, Steve immediately seized the opening to freshen up his act. He introduced a new finishing move, the Stone Cold Stunner, into his evolving arsenal of no-nonsense offence. During interviews, his straight-talking Texan gravel was showcasing his quick wit to a broader audience.

  Free from the hindrances that had curtailed progress in his first few months with the company, Steve was finally portraying a character that was closer to his real self. Moreover, the intensity of his solo performances had started to impress McMahon. Vince had made a decision; Steve would be the man to fill the slot previously earmarked for Hunter. The promised opportunity had finally arrived.

  It was Sunday, 23rd June 1996: the night of the King of the Ring pay-per-view. With the spotlight on the tournament, it was Steve’s chance to excel. After defeating his old colleague Marc Mero in the semi-final contest, Steve was rushed to an ambulance for over a dozen stitches to his mouth after a kick to the face tore open his bottom lip.

  Steve had progressed to the finals, and was set to face Jake ‘The Snake’ Roberts for the throne. One of the biggest players during the golden years of the WWF’s national expansion, Roberts had just returned to the company after spending four years wrestling across the world. A recovering alcoholic and drug abuser, Jake had become a born-again Christian. He had started to quote the Bible during his interviews, claiming that his faith had led him to sobriety.

  However, the tournament had not been set to focus on the unlikely comeback of a veteran. It was the night for a hungrier, younger star to shine.

  Adamant that his mouth injury would not curtail his efforts, Steve entered the finals with tremendous fire. Within minutes, he vanquished Roberts in rapid order to win the tournament. It was now his time to be declared the new King of the Ring.

  Steve looked fatigued, but he was determined to make a statement. He trudged his way towards Michael Hayes, who had since joined the WWF as an on-screen interviewer called Dok Hendrix, to deliver his coronation speech.

  Spouting fire from his swollen and bloody mouth, it was a post-match address that would gain infamy as the most memorable wrestling promo ever delivered.

  Steve Austin post-match interview, WWF King of the Ring, 23rd June 1996, Milwaukee, WI: “You sit there and you thump your Bible and you say your prayers, and it didn’t get you anywhere. You talk about your Psalms, talk about John 3:16… Austin 3:16 says, I’ve just whipped your ass!”

  The fans erupted at the ferocity of Steve’s controversial words. In his eyes, I could see such anger when he looked into the camera and spewed his feelings towards Roberts with such fury.

  I realised immediately what had inspired Steve to reference John 3:16, but something else became very clear to me. Steve was making a statement that he would not tolerate anyone preaching the gospel. He closed his speech by putting the WWF on notice: Austin had arrived, and stated that it was only a matter of time before he was the World Wrestling Federation Champion. Uncensored, the voice that had been inhibited for months had just spoken, and it was used to make an impact beyond all imagination.

  ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin had taken his opportunity and maximised it. The world had just witnessed the conception of Austin 3:16, which would soon give birth to the highest-selling T-shirt in the entire history of professional wrestling.

  Meanwhile, as Steve spawned a cultural sensation, I was preparing to deliver something far dearer to the world.

  16 GEORGIA ON MY MIND

  My third pregnancy should have been such a wondrous journey, a time to celebrate the joy of life creation. Unfortunately, I will always remember the autumn of 1996 as such a bittersweet season for our growing family.

  I was so full of love, elated to be carrying a new child, but I had spent most of my third trimester packing our belongings to leave our settled home. At Steve’s urging, it was time for us to leave, as he wanted to return to Texas. The mere thought of leaving really marred by pregnancy; I had developed such a fond attachment for the log cabin, but also the whole life we had established in Georgia.

  Uncertainty had also crept into my life in another way. At the end of August, Steve and I had received a notice from the Internal Revenue Service stating that we owed the United States federal government a significant amount of unpaid back taxes. It was a complete and utter shock.

  During the latter days of my management of Genies in Dallas, Chris had connected a hot-shot accountant by the name of Tony Cooper to Steve and I. Chris had claimed that Tony had done wonders for him, and promised he could turn around our finances as well.

  Unfortunately, he did turn around our finances but in an illegal way. Unbeknownst to us, Tony had swindled the system by not properly filing our tax returns and pocketing a fraction. We were now faced with the huge stress in figuring out how to would manage this substantial debt. But no amount of anxiety could hinder the memory of my third labour.

  With Steve running an arduous full-time schedule in the WWF, his mum Beverly had flown in to Atlanta. She had missed the birth of Stephanie but was able to see the arrival of her second grandchild.

  Two weeks later than expected, my waters finally broke, and Beverly drove me to the hospital. I was in so much pain, I could hardly talk. Upon arrival to the maternity ward, I was given an epidural to numb the pain.

  I was begging to see Steve. He had been wrestling in another town that night, and I knew he would have wanted to see his second child come into the world, but I was heavily in labour and accepted that my body had to give birth.

  To my surprise, he arrived, just in time to see the arrival of his second daughter.

  Holding Cassidy Skye in the hospital, 1996.

  Born on 28th September 1996, our new baby completed our family. She was a glowing ray of sunshine into an autumn which had become increasingly bleak.

  When Steve laid eyes on his new child, he doted on her with a tender affection and said the sky was the limit in her future.

  It was only natural that we included that into her name, Cassidy Skye.

  Within minutes, Jade and Stephanie came in to the ward to visit their new little sister, and we were soon join
ed by our neighbours J.L. and Ann.

  After the birth, Steve could not hang around and left after a few hours in the hospital.

  He was needed back in the ring, as he had been booked to wrestle Savio Vega the following daytime in a matinee card at Madison Square Garden, the prime venue of the WWF’s operations in New York.

  The next day, we received the largest, most beautiful bouquet of flowers. They had been sent by Steve’s new bosses, Vince and Linda McMahon. I was so touched at the act of kindness. Two people whom I had never met had reached out to show support and love towards our family.

  Despite the care and support of friends both old and new, there was little time for our family to relax.

  With Steve back on the road, Beverly and I were making an effort to get along after I was released from the ward. Although I still never felt fully accepted as her daughter-in-law, she was thoughtful in helping me pack for the impending move and was a solid hand around the house before heading back down the road.

  The ongoing problems that we were having with the IRS were preventing us from purchasing a home in Texas, as the collateral from our log cabin was insufficient.

  Nevertheless, Steve was headstrong, and found a rental property situated on the outskirts of San Antonio. His uncompromising haste towards leaving was starting to splinter our family.

  Now a teenager, Jade had acted out in rebellion at Steve’s will to relocate, and aggressively refused to leave the house with us. Having settled and made a community of friends in her own life, she understandably wanted to stay in Georgia. We agreed that she could stay with one of her friend’s parents for the couple of months that she needed to complete her school term.

  Fully packed, we got into the car and prepared to drive away.

  Our home in Georgia was a retreat filled with wonderful memories, and between our neighbours and church friends, I knew we were surrounded by a loving community who genuinely cared about our well-being. The undying kindness of my close neighbours J.L. and Ann gave me nurturing love that I had always craved in my unsettled childhood.

  I wanted to celebrate the arrival of Cassidy with the closest thing I had to a family. Now that we were leaving, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to.

  It was inevitable; Steve would return to the road, and I would have nobody around to share in the joy of our new baby.

  With tears streaming from my eyes, I waved goodbye to Jade and our beloved home. Our family were journeying out to the state where Steve and I had first met.

  We were returning to Texas.

  Our lives were turned upside down as soon as we arrived into our temporary dwelling in San Antonio. With Cassidy being under three months old and Stephanie still in her infancy at four years of age, I was finding it hard to create a homely atmosphere for our children.

  The purpose of the rental was purely intended to be short-lived, and simply serve as a brief stopping point until we had agreed on a permanent location. With this looming in the back of our minds, we unpacked the bare essentials and never truly settled. All the items which would have made our house a home were still in sealed boxes stacked all over the garage.

  It was the opposite of the stable environment that we had been living in for years. My loneliness would intensify as the increasing demand for Steve meant he was rarely around.

  I was miserable, struggling to cope with the melancholy of a severe post-natal depression which had clouded my outlook on life. My despair had heightened to the point I was constantly tender and wallowing in a prison of my own emotions.

  In this new unfamiliar town, I didn’t have anyone to talk to and share my pain. With nobody to listen, I felt incredibly isolated.

  By early December, we received a call that the sale of the log cabin had been finalised. Our move from Georgia was permanent, and the realisation that Jade was still there further saddened me.

  My only consolation was the belief that our domestic situation was temporary, and we would soon all be together, looking for a new home for our family.

  Despite the disarray caused by relocating, we continued to have so much fun whenever Steve was back from touring. We would go out, and spend as much quality time together as we could. Because we were new to the area, it became an adventure exploring the local sights and landmarks. We still didn’t really know anyone in town, but it didn’t matter. We had each other.

  Whenever he would go back on the road, I would count down the days until his return.

  In February 1997, Steve returned with an announcement. While we were still living in Atlanta, Beverly had suggested to him that we pick out a property in Boerne.

  She had told Steve that she wanted her babies back in South Texas. He had since selected a property that he felt matched our needs, and his heart was set on the move.

  I was stunned. The excitement and freedom of choice in finding the perfect home for our family had just been ripped away.

  When we were looking for a house in Georgia, it was an inclusive process which brought us closer together. I was resentful that our family had not been included in the selection process for a home in which the children and I would spend the most time.

  Furthermore, I couldn’t understand quite how Steve could manage to secure the property, with our seeming inability to finance it.

  Steve revealed that he had thought of a plan to ask the WWF to underwrite our mortgage, on the agreement that he would pay back the loan directly from earnings within his contract.

  Without delay, he called McMahon to explain his unique request.

  “How much of that fire-water have you been drinking Steve?” Vince chuckled.

  Vince was sympathetic to our predicament, and once again offered support for our family.

  “Thanks to you guys, I’ll now be able to say that I own a property in Texas!” he joked.

  Vince bought us the house, and we would be moving before the end of the month.

  Although I was still annoyed that Steve had decided on a property without even letting his family see it, I was grateful that Vince had helped bring a sense of stability to our lives by securing us a house.

  For the second time in three months, we were set to relocate into a new home.

  Reclusively sited from civilisation, we drove for miles to view our new property.

  It was the last house on the left of a long, secluded road. With only one neighbour, it was a desolately positioned Spanish hacienda, sited amongst stark trees and barren plains which extended as far as the eye could see.

  When we entered our new abode, it had a chilling atmosphere to it, and with scorpions scurrying around the grounds, it was very daunting and rather scary. Sinister and spooky, even Steve named it the ‘Amityville House’, likening it to the dwelling from the 1979 horror movie The Amityville Horror.

  Neither of us were particularly enamoured with the house when we first viewed it, but Steve was keen to conclude the sale and refocus on his career.

  His momentum had skyrocketed, and he sought sanctuary in the solitude offered by Boerne. He wanted to live in an environment far removed from the media and the invasive enthusiasm of his ever-growing army of passionate fans.

  Meanwhile, I was just glad that Jade had completed her school term in Atlanta and had moved back in with us. She quickly made friends as we enrolled her in Boerne High School.

  Steve also sought solace in the prospect of hunting again, a hobby he had pursued for years. It gave him a sense of peace when he was not running hard to an exhaustive schedule.

  His hectic travel itinerary and diet of daily physical punishment had escalated dramatically; he needed to regroup in the lead up to the biggest match of his life.

  After returning to the company in October 1996, Bret Hart had been determined to show his worth, and prove he had not lost a step in the months that he had been away from the industry. He had wrestled Steve in months prior, with the original intention of using their matches as the lead up to Bret’s lucrative return match with Shawn Michaels at WrestleMania 13.
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  However, the relationship between Bret and Shawn had vastly deteriorated, and their professional rivalry had escalated into a mutual personal dislike. In the weeks approaching WrestleMania, Shawn claimed to have suffered a knee injury that would prevent him from facing Hart in the ring.

  Just like the opportunity that had arisen at King of the Ring, Steve would benefit from having to substitute for another wrestler. The decision was made for him to face Bret, in a Submission Match at the ‘Mania pay-per-view spectacular.

  On the week of the event, Steve called with a really nice invite. He asked if I would accompany him during the weekend, and also attend a very special ceremony the WWF was hosting; The Slammy Awards.

  It was such a wonderful night, and I had the chance to meet so many of Steve’s new colleagues and their families. I spent an age talking to Shawn, but that evening gave me the chance to reconnect with my old USWA colleague Percy Pringle, who was now working for Vince as the manager of The Undertaker, under the guise of a mortician humorously named Paul Bearer. Anyone who ever met Percy will attest to his kindness. We pledged to keep in touch, and he became such a good friend to me.

  Going into the match, Bret was the hero and Steve was the villain. But that night, the pair expertly told a story in the ring that repositioned both men on other sides of the fence.

  For over twenty minutes, they went back-and-forth, furiously hitting each other with everything they had in front of a raucous Chicago crowd.

  Towards the end of the match, Steve had been cut badly, and was locked into Hart’s famous finishing hold, The Sharpshooter.

  I will never forget the visual as Steve valiantly refused to give in, blood coursing down his face. It became one of the most iconic images in wrestling history. After a few moments, ‘Stone Cold’ passed out from the blood loss.

  The fans knew he refused to quit, and cheered his gutsy performance.