Anybody, anywhere who does not fear the name Abdullah the Butcher is either an insane fool or they’re lying to ya! – “Playboy” Gary Hart
The first live wrestling show I ever attended was in my East Texas grade school gymnasium. I was 8 years old and the Main Event that night was One Man Gang vs. my childhood hero, “The Modern Day Warrior” Kerry Von Erich. I don’t remember a thing about the rest of the show, but I remember this: One Man Gang beat Kerry bloody with a chain in front of a sea of children, then threatened to do the same to me and a few of my friends as he left the ring. It was terrifying; it was awesome.
Several years ago, I saw One Man Gang at a wrestling convention but I didn’t approach him. I’m a grown-ass man, pay all my bills, travel the world in search of fun and adventure, but the second I saw Gang up close, I was 8 years old again. It wasn’t that I was still afraid of the man; I just wanted to hold on to a bit of that feeling I felt as a kid watching him lay waste to my heroes.
I know times have changed regarding the manner in which professional wrestling is presented, but even as a kid I knew things were predetermined. But, you see, the magic wasn’t in One Man Gang convincing me pro wrestling is real. The magic was in him convincing me he was real.
“One, Two Freddy’s After You…”
I am not a fan of the horror movie genre, but I saw my share in my youth. As a child of the ’70s and ’80s I’m also well aware I grew up during its apex. The very year (1984) I became a wrestling fan, A Nightmare on Elm Street was released. A burned up bastard with knives for fingers, hunting you down in your dreams? Thanks for the trauma, Wes Craven.
That same year, Jason returned to the scene with the 4th installment of Friday the 13th. Sure, plenty of those movies are ridiculous, but a big-ass walking corpse with a hockey mask and a machete is gonna always be enough to tap me out.
Reality Is Scary
Scaring the hell out of kids is a lost art in professional wrestling. One of the coolest things about hitting my stride as a wrestling fan in the mid-‘80s was the presence of so many classic “monster heels”. With the wrestling business still closely guarded at that time, young fans invested emotionally in many of the more talented characters of that era, particularly those with a sense of realism to them. Stan Hansen scared me to death when I was young. Why? Because, being a Texas boy, I could relate to a lunatic redneck, flailing wildly at everything within swinging distance. I called him Uncle Thomas. After spending a few deer camps in close proximity to a bunch of East Texas lunatics gettin’ drunk and firing off guns, buying into the Borger, Texas native hook, line and sinker was easy.
The aforementioned One Man Gang was another wrestler capable of putting fear in young heart. Why? Because he was a massive, chain-wielding biker with a wild-ass hairdo and a surly disposition. Those dudes existed in my town! Hell, my dad, then a defense attorney, represented tons of ‘em!
Turning the volume up on characters like that, two crazed and out of control men with very little regard for social mores, just made sense to me, especially during that era of professional wrestling. Thinking about it in terms of the horror movie genre, Stan Hansen and One Man Gang weren’t all that different from Leatherface. What made that dude a scarier prospect than, say, the Wolfman? Simple: Leatherface could have actually lived on the farm next to mine! This is a messed up world, and we’ve all watched plenty of nightly news. A crazy dude wearing a dead skin mask and cutting people to ribbons with a chainsaw? For a country boy, this is a completely plausible scenario, folks!
The Madman From Sudan
Another legendary monster of that era (and the character that scared me the most as a young wrestling fan) was Abdullah the Butcher. His name made children cringe, and his entrance, particularly when he was led to the ring by the evil genius Gary Hart was perfection. Watching Abdullah rock back in forth in the corner with that hood over his head built anticipation. After Hart removed the hood and Abdullah unleashed his brand of uncontrolled madness on your favorite wrestlers, you had no choice but to believe. There was never a time in my youth when I didn’t have a subtle gnawing at my stomach before an Abdullah match.
The Butcher’s body of work with Bruiser Brody alone, whether in Puerto Rico, Japan or World Class, resulted in a decade-long bloodbath. I still remember sitting on the floor of my living room, 3 feet from the television, equal parts enthralled and horrified at the sight of Abby working that fork over Brody’s forehead. He was far from a technical wizard and Brody would just flat beat people up, but they fought all over the world for years thanks to their ability to make fans believe everything they were seeing, all while staying monsters.
The Butcher borrowed heavily from the horror film genre, his vacant eyes a window into the soul of a man who wanted nothing more than complete carnage.
“Ki Ki Ki Ma Ma Ma…Ki Ki Ki Ma Ma Ma…”
There was no shortage of pro wrestling monsters back then. The Missing Link slammed his own head into turnbuckles that were supposedly meant to be used to harm his opponents. The Sheik hurled balls of fire from his fingertips into the eyes of popular babyfaces. The Great Kabuki was a martial arts killer sent from Japan to put an end to our beloved Von Erich family. Kamala the Ugandan Giant was an African headhunter. Yeah, a headhunter, and throughout my childhood the heads he was after were those of The Von Erichs, Hulk Hogan and Sgt. Slaughter, all “good guys”, all massive fan favorites.
Back when Pro Wrestling Illustrated was something you could pick up at any gas station or grocery store, I can recall flipping through pages and running across black and white photos of Lord Humongous in a Mid-South steel cage against Jake Roberts. The Humongous gimmick, which is still being played sparingly today on the Indy circuit, was a great example of an unstoppable monster. The character, a take on “the Humugous” from Mad Max II: The Road Warrior, was yet another “monster heel” created to instill fear in the hearts of young fans. He wasn’t there to do moonsaults; Lord Humongous was a silent stalker of prey. A guy jumping off a ladder? That’s scary for him. The idea of never being able to get away from a masked killer, despite you moving as fast as you keep while they seem to be moving in slow motion? That’s scary for you.
By the mid-‘90s, monsters just didn’t get protected the same way they did in previous decades. Overexposure is likely the main culprit, but the pro wrestling business going out of its way to hit us over the head with the word “entertainment” didn’t help either. Remember what I wrote earlier: the magic wasn’t in One Man Gang convincing me pro wrestling is real. The magic was in him convincing me he was real.
For a short while, Kane perfectly encapsulated what it means to be a “monster” in pro wrestling: silent, methodical, and single-minded in his need to destroy. The Boogeyman also had a short, scary run in WWE as well, but the company was quick to pivot into comedy with both characters. Abyss was a great monster in the early-’00s, until TNA sent him to therapy and turned him into a lawyer.
Let Him In
Today, Bray Wyatt and his Fiend is the only guy I can think of actively trying to scare the audience on a psychological level. The months of build through his Firefly Funhouse segments have been sinister, frighteningly funny and with just the right amount of jabbing at his former self: a cult leader character with all the promise of many of the previously mentioned monsters, ultimately prostituted by WWE in the name of “putting smiles on faces”. It would nice if the company would protect the Fiend’s “fear factor” the way classic monsters like Abdullah the Butcher and The Missing Link did decades prior.
Whether WWE holds up its end of things or not, one thing is certain: Bray Wyatt is doing everything in his power to rekindle that element of terror. By worrying more about making you afraid over making you smile, he’s proving there’s still plenty of room at the top of the industry for a guy who just wants you to believe.