The Scariest Night In WWE History | Tales From Backstage

By Michael Hamflett /

WWE

Owen Hart didn't want to descend from the rafters at the pay-per-view. He wasn't all that into the stunt, he wasn't all that into the gimmick, and per many that knew him well, he wasn't all that into wrestling that much anymore either. He'd had an incredible career all told, and though this wasn't exactly the apex creatively, financially it would have been insane to walk away during a commercial boom. He, smartly and honourably, was looking to earn as much as he could while he still could to benefit his family, then get out of the industry before it had gotten everything out of him. This of course only makes the heartbreaking end of his life even sadder. He was at the point in he game where putting himself through the rigours of the industry was only good for money rather than his health, and those that knew him knew this. Closer to the end than the beginning, and all that. Every wrestler says it, but most close to Owen attest that he was one that would have definitely followed through. Subsequently, and importantly considering how many different ways the disaster would be spun by anybody looking for their own angle; he didn't die "doing what he loved", as the old cliche goes. He died doing something he didn't want to, but for the bosses who compensated him so he could support the people he loved.

Advertisement

In 2019, POST Wrestling's John Pollock produced a documentary on the events of May 23rd 1999 that was both analytically and journalistically exceptional. In doing so, he tracked down fan Treigh Lindstrom, who was able to offer outstanding insights based on detailed anecdotes and recollections from a devastating day. Lindstrom was an airport autograph hunter that, over time, Hart had befriended. This practice was more common back then, with talent often finding help from fans-turned-friends when it came to driving them from place to place, helping them to arenas and back again, all just to get a bit of a closer bond with the stars they watched on television. The world without access to every piece of information about the town, your travel, your food and anything else you could possibly desire was a very different one - Lindstrom (and others like him that were seemingly able to aid workers without becoming the relationship becoming parasocial) was able to aid and assist, as well as inadvertently serve as quasi-confidants. From that day specifically, Lindstrom noted that Owen's phone never stopped ringing, particularly during an otherwise-routine gym visit the pair had made on the day of the show. Getting the workout in was standard, but hanging back from the building at all costs was less so. WWE were trying to get hold of him to get him to come and rehearse the grand entrance he was set to make for his Intercontinental Championship bout with The Godfather. Hart wasn't keen. On the rehearsal or the real thing. Per Lindstrom, his take was "If I'm not here, they can't do it...we can't do it" until allegedly Vince McMahon himself supposedly gave him two options - "be at Kemper Arena in 15 minutes, or no longer work for the WWF". There are so many micro-tragedies wrapped within the scariest and most consequential one of the lot. One of the very last decisions Owen Hart took about his own life was made with a threat to his livelihood hanging over his head.

As Pollock raises in the documentary, one of the reasons for the rehearsals was because of the inclusion of Max Mini in the stunt - and indeed the match. It goes under-reported, but that addition speaks to how trivial the whole thing was considering the risk attached to the entrance. This was route one stuff to add to a bit that wasn't really all that funny to begin with. Mini was a great worker and at times an incredibly useful utility player within WWE, but the gag here was that The Blue Blazer had just got even cheesier thanks to his miniature sidekick. That was it. A throwback moron in a world full of guys that were handsome and awesome and cool, Blazer was literally to become one joke strapped to another, with Mini donning his own blue attire while harnessed to the front of Owen in the apparatus. He too would have surely passed away had that idea not been shelved at the eleventh hour.

Advertisement

The rest, though, is catastrophic history.

As a video package played, the arena went dark to build hype, with the lights set to come back on as Owen "flew" closer to the ring as part of his arrival. Instead, he fell almost the the full height of the arena to his death. Jim Ross uttered something about "big problems" before throwing to a promo to buy more time. But there'd never be enough time. In life there often isn't. The cruelty of that was about to be felt by everybody that knew and loved Owen Hart.

Advertisement

CONT'D...