By Scott Bowden
February 13, 2003
In Perfect Memory
Scott Bowden recalls what made Curt Hennig damn-near perfect
Nearly four years to the day his childhood friend Rick Rude (Richard Rood) died of heart failure at the age of 40, Curt Hennig, 44, was found dead in a Tampa hotel room Monday afternoon.
Hennig, best known for his run as Mr. Perfect for World Wrestling Entertainment in the late ’80s and early ’90s, was to work an independent card later that night promoted by Jimmy Hart. Reportedly, the show went on, with Hennig honored with a 10-bell salute in front of the nearly 450 fans who showed up.
Later that night, WWE’s RAW program opened with a photo and graphic announcing of his untimely death. Hard to believe it was 10 years ago, on the very first episode of RAW, that Hennig and Ric Flair brought the house down in a bout that sent the Nature Boy packing for Atlanta.
It’s hard not to think of Hennig’s death without recalling the other boys who were taken from us far too early—Rude, Eddie Gilbert, Brian Pillman…even Rick McGraw—without speculating on the cause of what is becoming an-all-too-tragic trend. But out of respect for Curt and his family, I think I’d rather focus on the memory of a guy who was at one time my favorite wrestler.
The son of longtime wrestler Larry “The Ax” Hennig, Curt first appeared in Memphis in 1987 to defend the AWA World title against Jerry Lawler. Curt was the latest in the long line of World champions who passed through the King’s backyard to defend his organization’s top laurels. I remember thinking that I was impressed that the no-frills Hennig walked to the ring carrying a small white towel in his hand—a homage of sorts to longtime AWA kingpin Nick Bockwinkel, who always came off like a different breed of wrestler (i.e., downright regal). No gimmick. No peacock-like robes a la Flair. No cape. In fact, none of his attire was out of the unusual—unless you consider the working shoes he brought with him on this night—and, really, pretty much every night. That is to say, even in 1987 he was already getting a rep as one of the best workers in the business.
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In that sense, he was a throwback of sorts to the classic NWA champs like Dory Funk Jr., Jack Brisco and Harley Race. He had the ability to carry most to a decent bout, which would come in handy later in his career when was unfortunately stuck in WWE WrestleMania bouts with the likes of Brutus Beefcake and the Big Bossman.
Even on this night with Lawler, he was already displaying a few “guaranteed” spots that would become a staple of his repertoire years later. Similar to Flair’s bump off the top rope, or the trademark flip over the turnbuckle, Curt pegged his opponent’s big comeback to start with a series of kicks that would see the AWA champ take a series of crazy bumps against the ring ropes. When Lawler pulled the strap on this night—the traditional start of the King’s comeback (like Popeye with his spinach), Hennig was sent reeling with a series of punches. When he collapsed against the ring ropes, Lawler went for the legs. Hennig was sent for a loop at least three times with the crowd popping huge each time. And even though I’d seen the spot already in a couple of bouts on the AWA’s TV program on ESPN, at 15 and seated in the third row, I cheered like I hadn’t before.
Like so many times before, however, Lawler didn’t win the big one. In an ill-fated attempt to get over a new heel who would be Lawler’s opponent in the weeks to come, Brickhouse Brown hit the ring in drag to the surprise of no one in the ringside area. Brown had been pointed out several times by fans earlier in the night and finally had to be escorted to the back by police to avoid being attacked by the ever-loyal drunken ringside regulars. Hard to disguise a chiseled 220-pound man as a woman. As a guy who was starting to grasp what was good booking (e.g., most of Lawler and Jerry Jarrett’s stuff) and what wasn’t (e.g., the Randy Hales era), I couldn’t understand why they didn’t change that finish after Brown’s cover was blown. A drag indeed.
And like the previous programs with Bockwinkel, the AWA champ reappeared over the next year or so, with a variety of stipulations added to the title bouts. In one, Curt’s dad, Larry, was in his corner. Now this finish, I did pop for: I’m not sure if the referee was distracted or knocked senseless (more likely), but as Lawler lie prone on the middle ring rope, Larry caught Lawler with the dreaded Ax, his finisher from days gone by. Lawler, who rarely did a pinfall job for any World champ, sold it like as if he’d been hit with a sledgehammer. (Well, like a pro wrestler would have done in those days. Now a guy takes one of Triple H’s shots and kicks out. It’s enough to make Katie Fick spin in her grave.) Curt gets the pinfall, and gets major Southern heat in the process: “Yeah, you needed your daddy to beat Lawler!”
Leave it to Lawler’s Fargo-figure to even the score. In the weeks leading up to the match, the Memphis wrestling show promoted a 900-number (1-900-GET-MARK, if I recall) to decide the special referee for what was billed as “quite possibly” the King’s last shot at the throne: Memphis legend Jackie Fargo or Larry Hennig. In a scheme that would even make 900-carny-extraordinaire “Mean” Gene Okerlund embarrassed, the promotion claimed that Hennig had posted the number “in Minneapolis.” Lawler even went so far as to imply that the voting was tight and that it was up to the fans to pull down the proverbial strap and shell out some out some money to ensure the King at least had a fair shot in his court. After all, this has been OUR quest for the belt, hasn’t it?
Amazingly enough, in a script even a guy from the RAW writing team could have written, Fargo was elected by the slimmest of margins in a late “Memphis surge.” Whew.
In an OK bout, with Hennig bouncing all over the place for Lawler’s repeated right hands, the Memphis native finally becomes King of the World in May 1988. Although I admit that I was royally ticked that Lawler didn’t win with a piledriver or his fistdrop. The winning move: A slingshot maneuver (which Lance Russell referred to as a “catapult”) that sent Hennig headfirst into the ringpost, knocking him out. No wonder Fargo was able to (mistakenly) count to four to seal the win for his “son.”
Weeks later, following the leads of far-crazier heels like Randy Savage and Terry Funk, Hennig showed up (for his first and only live appearance) in the WMC-TV studio and proceeded to rip the set apart. And we certainly knew Curt had been pushed to the edge in the days following the night his World title had crumbled around him because of his newfound five-o’clock shadow. Besides, who dares threaten a representative from the No. 1 Toyota dealership in the country. I mean, yeah, Savage bloodied Japanese photographer Jimmy Suzuki, but c’mon. (Suzuki, for the record, extracted revenge years later when he doctored photos from his collection to make it appear that Elizabeth had a season pass on Flair’s Space Mountain.)
A short time after Hennig redesigned the Memphis TV set, he signed with Vince McMahon Jr.’s gimmick machine in 1988. Billed as Mr. Perfect, the consummate athlete, Hennig debuted in a series of vignettes showing his perfection at various sports: sinking a hole-in-one, swishing a basket from mid-court, nailing the flawless dive, pulling off trick shots, etc. (Hey, even Ted DiBiase—generally acknowledged as one of the best ever—had to get over in Vince’s circus via the Million-Dollar-Man bits.) At the time, some speculated that the Mr. Perfect and Million-Dollar-Man characters were Vince’s visions of himself.
But then, Hennig could have done far worse to be repackaged in Vince’s image. Another highly touted star made his WWE debut around that time, with disastrous results. I even remember telling a friend of mine that Terry Taylor—Vince’s Lil Red Rooster—would’ve been a better choice for the Mr. Perfect gimmick. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Hennig became the gimmick. In hindsight, especially now, it hurts to look back at it. When Hennig debuted, he looked much like the same guy who was pinned by Lawler months earlier. In a conservative estimate, by the time he won his first WWE Intercontinental title in a 1990 tournament final over Tito Santana in Houston, he had put on about 20 pounds of muscle. His new build, combined with his well, now-perfect execution in the ring (especially when TV cameras were rolling) made Hennig the best in the business.
Months earlier, even without the IC belt and Bobby Heenan as his manager, Mr. Perfect had replaced even Flair as my favorite. (And Ric had replaced Lawler years ago.) Even then-Fed-critic Brian Christopher Lawler (who never puts anybody over) during his senior year in high school explained to his brother, Kevin, and me: “The problem with the WWF is that Curt Hennig is the best in the company and he doesn’t even have a belt. He should be the dadgum World champion.” Those who know Brian realize what a rarity that is. (To my knowledge, the only other performer in the business that Brian has ever put over is Trish Stratus—and for altogether different reasons.)
Hennig was probably most over, though, with Kevin Lawler, his best friend Jeremy Williams (who worked outlaw shows as the evil Mr. Sunshine…such a paradox) and me. Yep, we were the perfect marks. It was probably Kevin who perfected the chewing-gum-ritual first. (To show off just how perfect he was, Hennig spit out his gum upon arrival to ringside and slapped it with much disdain out into the crowd.) Eventually, we all three learned the gum-slap, but it was Williams who had Hennig’s quick stomps to the head down to perfection. And Gotch-damn, I loved Perfect’s theme music. I talked to Kevin on the phone the day Hennig died—we always seem to touch base whenever tragedy befalls one of the boys. We shared a laugh when we both admitted that we still did Perfect’s gum-slap to this day.
Hennig’s bump-happy style led to a severe back injury (which he blamed on a faulty turnbuckle), which led to Perfect dropping the IC title to Bret Hart at the 1991 Summerslam, a bout that helped get the Hitman over as a singles star. In incredible pain, Hennig reportedly asked Vince prior to the bout if he could pull an HBK and forfeit the strap. Realizing that Hart needed that extra push to get him over as singles star after years as a tag-team with Jim Neidhart, Vince asked Hennig to get through it. Not only did he gut it out, but Hennig and Hart had one of the best matches on the card—an easy feat, in some ways, considering that Hogan and Ultimate Warrior were headlining against the Iron Sheik and Sgt. Slaughter.
In a radio interview Tuesday, Bret remembered Curt’s professionalism, calling him a man with integrity. And like me, Bret admitted that Curt was his favorite wrestler. Again, that’s heavy praise coming from a guy like Hart.
Like others did when Ted Turner expanded his WCW rasslin’ kingdom, Hennig took the money and jumped ship. After stints as a member of both the Four Horsemen and the New World Order, Hennig eventually returned to the independent scene, working dates in places like Memphis and Tampa.
But then Vince came calling again, looking to spruce up the lineup for the 2002 Royal Rumble. After Hennig’s near-perfect showing, which was initially thought to be a one-time shot, he was signed to a contract. He was later fired after an incident in which he reportedly goaded Brock Lesnar into a fight during the infamous "flight from hell" trip back from Europe.
In the weeks before his death, Hennig had been working for Jerry Jarrett's NWA-TNA in Nashville, feuding with another second-generation star, Jeff Jarrett, over the reborn NWA title.
Although that perfect timing was long gone due to the back injury and getting older, Hennig was still a professional and, according to the boys, one of the best human beings and ribbers (pranksters) in the business. Not quite perfect anymore. But damn-near close.
We’ll miss you, Curt.
