I'm not going to lie: there were multiple options and choices that could have made their way onto the countdown for the day that commemorates my own date of birth. The temptation to venture out and compile a "Top 10" list for something like The Simpsons' "Treehouse of Horror" episodes was certainly there, as was discussing my favorite and least favorite remakes found within the genre itself. Then, I realized there was a crossover between the realm of terror and another longtime interest (that could arguably be considered a vice) that I had never touched on before: WCW's series of shows that were charmingly-dubbed Halloween Havoc.
For those of you (un)fortunate enough to know me for more than a few years, you should be fully well aware that I have an unabashed adoration and love for the wonderful, wacky, and often-times violent world of professional wrestling. During the years of 1989 and 2000, the now-defunct promotion known as World Championship Wrestling ran an annual Pay-Per-View titled Halloween Havoc, which was always guaranteed to take place as close to the holiday that it shares its namesake with. These shows have been notorious for featuring some absolutely great moments in the history of the sport (Bill Goldberg v. Diamond Dallas Page from 1998, Dean Malenko v. Rey Misterio Jr. in 1996), and others that are best left drowned with multiple bottles of moonshine (pretty much any match featuring Hulk/Hollywood Hogan as a featured attraction). During one particular day of reminiscing, I came to the realization that I have never watched the inaugural Havoc itself. And, given that this is my own blog and I can be allowed to stray from the path once in a while, I figured heck, let's give this a try. Also, I must apologize for any spoilers, but there's a good chance that most who decide to read about this one will be fairly apathetic towards wrestling anyway.
Taking place at the long-gone Philadelphia Civic Center in front of a crowd of 7,300 paying customers, we kick off the show with the voices of a very young Jim Ross, who damn near any fan of the sport will be able to identify within a span of three seconds, and Bob Caudle of NWA fame. My familiarity with the latter is admittedly very poor, but he plays the role of the classic announcer fairly well, choosing to take no side before, during, or after the matches. It is during this introduction where I noticed that the immortal Gordon Solie (Georgia Championship Wrestling) has been relegated to working as a backstage interviewer for this PPV, which seems like the biggest of insults.
Opener: Mike Rotunda (sporting a sketchy mustache) vs The Z-Man
This one had the potential to either surprise or bore me to death. Unfortunately, I think it fell closer into the second category, as the performers themselves just do not have good in-ring chemistry with one another. Younger fans will recognize Rotunda as both evil tax collector Irwin R. Schyster (I.R.S.....what subtlety these companies had) and the father of current WWE signees Bray Wyatt and Bo Dallas. His opponent is Tom Zenk, who despite facing the former caption of the evil stable known as "The Varsity Club" (he's still sporting their initials on his attire), the crowd can't seem to decide if they like or not. Personally, I've always been fairly indifferent to the former Can-Am Connection partner. Is he talented? Sure. Did he scream main card attraction? Well, if you happen to dig people who appear as though they came out of the first floor of the "create-a-wrestler" factory, then perhaps. As for the match itself, it's an affair that lasts for nearly fifteen minutes, with some of the only highlights coming from Zenk hitting a very nice-looking modified arm drag, Rotunda kneeing him in the balls in plain view of the ring official (which apparently does not warrant a disqualification), and the future taxman aggressively tossing the thirty-year-old to the concrete floor, which elicits the loudest reaction of the match. Its end comes from Rotunda landing a diving cross body into a pin, though Zenk just flips him over and racks up the win. At this point on, I was fully convinced that the crowd's noise towards the end came from remembering what was to come after this.
Before our second contest for the evening, we are treated to an interview with wrestling icon Bruno Sammartino, who will be officiating tonight's main event. I often forget that following his nasty fallout with Vince McMahon and the World Wrestling Federation, he did make the occasional appearance for another brand or two. Admittedly, I also clearly couldn't remember how much of an Easter Island head he has as well.
2nd Match: "Dr. Death" Steve Williams & The Midnight Express (w/ Jim Cornette)
vs
The Samoan Swat Team & The Samoan Savage (w/ Big Kahuna)
The white meat, rambunctious good guys from the U.S.A. taking on three Samoan-Americans who are being portrayed as nearly-uncontrollable Neanderthals? Noooo, wrestling has always been racially sensitive you silly goose. In a card that is full of strange bookings and pairings, perhaps the oddest thing to behold is seeing longtime heel Jim Cornette acting like a lively, babyface cheerleader. Opposite of him is Big Kahuna, the newest nickname of underrated 1980s accomplice Sir Oliver Humperdink. Amusingly enough, my only memorable exposure to the Pepsi version of Captain Lou Albano was seeing him as a joyous, happy manager during his very brief tenure in another big name promotion that was owned by someone with the initials VKM.
One of the very first things I noticed about this came from how astonishingly young the Swat Team (who would later be repackaged as The Headshrinkers in WWF) look. The future Rikishi (who shares the same day of birth as I do) was wrestling for the big boys by the time that he was only twenty-four, and unlike his partner, he isn't sporting a housewife/Miss Elizabeth perm during the match. Despite the "foreign" team being advertised as a legitimate danger to deal with, a good chunk of the match's offense goes to the team of Stan Lane, Bobby Eaton, and Williams. Speaking of the latter, it isn't hard to see that this crowd views the former All-American as the main attraction here. He is built like a brick shithouse, acts just as tough as he looks, and is treated like he is a tier above everybody else inside of the arena. Sadly, it still didn't protect him from Bart Gunn's fists of fury. Though it does feature a relatively lame conclusion (and a cringe-inducing botched neckbreaker from the usually reliable Stan Lane), it was more far more enjoyable than our opener.
3rd Match: The Cuban Assassin
vs
"Wildfire" Tommy Rich
vs
"Wildfire" Tommy Rich
We are lucky enough to be treated to an interview with Terry Funk and his manager Gary Hart. Technically, it happens right before this clash begins, but I feel that it deserves a special mention because these two are just a hoot to listen to. The hardcore icon says that he is going to start a new dance called the "10,000 watt boogie," and will introduce fried chicken to the audience after they push Ric Flair against an electrified fence. You just don't make promos like these anymore, though perhaps that is simultaneously good and bad.
Another reason as to why I decided to have that precede the review of this match was because of how atrocious this was. With all due respect, Rich is in terrible shape here, looking like he spent most of his paychecks on purchasing cheeseburgers topped with fried oreos. Truth be told, neither of these two men is an Adonis specimen, but given the very faint chant of "Tommy Rich Sucks" that I heard, I believe that physical appearances would have been irrelevant anyway. Clocking in at under nine minutes, the only non-boring aspect comes from the finish, which involves Rich landing a Lou Thesz Press (utilized later by Steve Austin and Randy Orton) and turning it into a pin. I know for a fact that both men can do better than this, but this felt like a relic from the 1960s that should have stayed buried. Don't waste your time.
4th Match: The Dynamic Dudes (w/ Jim Cornette)
vs
(C) The Fabulous Freebirds for the NWA Tag Team Championship
Though I know that I have a plethora of friends who have fond memories related to them, I will stir up the pot a bit here: The Dynamic Dudes are awful. Mind you, not as in-ring performers, but the gimmick is so unbelievably dumb that it was no wonder they were booed in Philly (and this was BEFORE the rowdy crowds of ECW started turning up). I'm sure WCW's Executive Vice President Jim Herd thought that they were going to be adored, but if your tag team can't even ride the skateboards that they jog to the ring with, then you are just asking for trouble. At the very least, Shane Douglas can breathe easy knowing that in less than ten years' time, he will be able to convince the crowd to eat out of his hands when he is rebranded as "The Franchise." Despite my immense dislike for Michael Hayes as a person, he and Jimmy Garvin are just fantastic here. No matter what the heels do, this gathering is ecstatic to see them in their own city, and cheer during every single cheap shot thrown by the duo. There are several spots of comical selling by the man later renamed "Dok Hendrix," and several chants for the wrestling maneuver known as the DDT. Yes, I know that the man most famously affiliated with it didn't actual invent the move, but it still weirds me out to hear a crowd call for that finisher whenever he isn't around. Johnny Ace, a.k.a. John Laurinaitis (yes, that one) manages to pull off a nice duel headscissors takedown on the Freebirds, but once the heels are ousted from the ring because of it, he is drowned with jeers and hatred by the Philadelphia crowd yet again. This very entertaining scrap wraps up after Garvin gets the pin off of a botched atomic drop from both members of the DD.
We move on to a backstage discussion with Rick Steiner and brother Scott, who in the future, will be the go-to name once somebody thinks of the term "Roidy McGoo." The Steiner Brothers' mic skills have always been....well, unique, and they even flub this promo at first, with Rick just kinda rambling on afterwards. If they wished to give the impression that he may, in fact, be mildly retarded, then you passed that test with flying colors. When asked about what will happen if previous accomplice Woman makes the conscious choice to interfere in the match, he implies that he is going to grab her and choke her out. Yikes. Eerily prophetic anyone?
5th Match: The Steiner Brothers (w/ a GREAT entrance theme)
v.
Doom (w/ Woman)
For those curious, Doom, who were making their PPV debut here, are the masked team of "The Natural" Butch Reed and future WWE Hall of Famer Ron "Faarooq" Simmons. Much like their opponents, they are yoked, muscular titans. Mercifully, the African American duo would lose their disguises not long after this, and they were lucky enough to avoid being attached to any gimmick such as, say, a pair of wrestling slaves. Keep it classy southern promoters. Several minutes in, commentator Jim Ross divulges a funny conversation that he had with Rick Steiner that relates to the babyface's newest bulldog tattoo on his arm.
Ross: You got a new tattoo! Why didn't get something like a wolverine?
Rick: Because I wanted a dog.
Ross: Well, why didn't you just BUY a dog?
The Oklahoma native also mentions that before his brother convinced him to join the wonderful, wacky world of wrestling, Scott was supposed to become a school teacher. Though such a dream will sadly never come to fruition, I can certainly imagine what it would sound like.
All jokes aside, something just doesn't seem to gel here. Perhaps it was the jitters from new arrivals Doom, or the nervousness about following the previous tag match. This surprisingly boring affair ends with Woman sneaking something into one of her performers' masks behind the referee's back, which they use to headbutt and knock out Rick with, leading to a pinfall. All four of these men are supremely skilled, but perhaps watching their rematch down the line for the tag belts (and the Steiners' own feud with the Freebirds) would have made for a better viewing choice.
Lex Lu---erm, excuse me. To quote the lads over at OSWreview.com, time for an interview with YER BOI LEX LUGER, a.k.a. the future NARCISIST. Though nowhere near as jacked as he would be later on in his career, he is just as arrogant. But for the love of god, look at Gordon Solie for even just a second when you're talking. I believe that the best promos conducted during pre-recorded segments should have equal amounts of time dedicated to staring at the camera and the correspondent.
6th Match: Brian Pillman (w/ cheerleader section and a very thrashy entrance song)
vs
(C) Lex Luger for the United States Championship
Oh man, if you can not get behind seeing this duo face each other in their prime, then you may need to check your pulse. "Flyin" Brian is in phenomenal shape here, and it's a damn shame that drugs and injuries shortened his career before he passed eight years later. For those who complain about the forced, obnoxious push of guys like Roman Reigns, I would politely ask that you need to shut your mouth and pay attention to how much fellating the 1994 Royal Rumble co-winner received during the late 1980s. Having only been competing in the sport for a mere four years at this point, he had already held this prestigious title three times, and our beloved commentary team make it a point to continuously rain praise upon him when he's doing even the most basic of moves like a running clothesline or picking Pillman up to drop him on the ropes throat first. On the positive end of the spectrum, he seems to be relishing portraying a pseudo-tweener during this time period. My eye-rolling aside, the two take some time to find their footing and chemistry with one another, and end up turning in a solid middle-of-the-card matchup (save for an awkward ending). It's a damn shame that neither of these men are in the WWE's Hall of Fame, as they have long been deserving of it (the same can be said of the Steiner Brothers).
Our second-to-last backstage meeting involves Paul Ellering and his clientele, the legendary Road Warriors. Though the articulate and intelligent manager is just sort of hanging in the shadows behind Hawk, all three are just so fucking great at doing their job.
7th Match: The Skyscrapers (w/ Theodore "Teddy" Long)
vs
The Road Warriors (w/ Paul Ellering)
Hey playa! The renowned Smackdown General Manager comes out first, accompanying a rather monstrous-looking team comprised of Sid "Don't Call Me Psycho Just Yet" Vicious and Dan "Please Don't Bring Up Waylon Mercy" Spivey. As intimidating as they may look, they aren't The Legion of Doom, who come out to an instrumental, looping version of Black Sabbath's "Iron Man." In a peculiar observation, the new heels actually dwarf the NWA veterans, but that doesn't seem to bother them whatsoever. As the contest began, I managed to type "If they know what's good for them, this ought to be booked mostly as a straight up brawl with tons of no-selling." Well, I am glad that late-80s WCW knew their audience rather well. Sid and Dan (who looks like Kiefer Sutherland's character from The Lost Boys, but with even worse hair) show some potential, with the former even kipping up from his back at one point to attack Hawk. Cheekily, the commentators state that "when they attack them, the Skyscrapers don't move," which immediately leads to Animal knocking Vicious to the ground with a strong-looking tackle. Though it was far from being considered a technical marvel, this bout makes for hellacious amusement. It's the type of competition that your family thinks of when you mention being a fan of this over-the-top sport. Sadly, the fun comes to a screeching halt, as Teddy Long tosses a giant metal key for his team to utilize as a weapon, which leads to a disqualification. For as much as I respected the Road Warriors for their contributions to the business, their frequent inability to lose clean did annoy me quite a bit. I mean, would losing to a couple of gigantic newcomers have hurt their stock in the long run? Hell, even Chris Jericho lost to Fandango, and that took place at WRESTLEMANIA.
By this point, I have come to the conclusion that despite the branding, there has been little in the way of Halloween-themed material at this event. Perhaps the only thing could be constituted as "scary" has been Sid Vicious' angry faces and massive shoulders. That, and the mere thought of Vince McMahon watching the last two tag team contests while furiously masturbating. So, will there be anything interesting related to my favorite month for the final thirty minutes?
8th/Final Match: Sting & Ric Flair (w/ Ole Anderson)
vs
Terry Funk & The Great Muta (w/ Gary Hart) in a Thunderdome match.
Special guest Referee: Bruno Sammartino.
The answer to this question is a resounding.....eh, I guess. Unlike the construction that bears the same name, this is merely a larger steel cage surrounding the ring, with no top to climb over. In a way, it's a precursor to one of WWE's more infamous setups, but with the added bonus of cobwebs and décor scattered across every corner and the looming threat of it supposedly being electrified (it never comes into play). Bruno has agreed to watch over this bout, and under company rules, the first team whose manager throws in the towel or audibly says to stop the match will be the losers. The heels are out first, with Funk even getting water thrown at him by an irate fan. It's a damn shame that stuff like this doesn't occur anymore, but like CM Punk said, if you argue or respond back to them in any sort of unconventional way (be it in person or on social media), they reprimand you for these actions and force you to apologize for not going off script. No, I don't think it makes a lick of sense either. Muta, who looks so youthful and vibrant here, is considered an icon in the realm of Japanese wrestling, but outside of some cool-looking spots that include an enziguri kick to the back of Ric Flair's head (OUCH), he felt very interchangeable during this final bout. Funk feels the need to test out the flimsiness of this cage by climbing it on multiple occasions, which depending on the situation, makes him out to be appear like an equal mixture of a nutjob and an idiot. Perhaps the edifice's charge was about as real as the Mountie's cattle prod.
During several points of the fight, Flair hits Funk with a knife edge chop that looked like it was powerful enough to cave a hole in a human being's chest. Sting is quite popular with the Philly crowd as well, who are thoroughly on board with the good guys during this timed exchange. Towards the end, Ric locks the Funkster in a Figure Four Leg Lock, with his surfin', do-goodin' partner landing repeated top rope slashes to the psychotic one's upper body while he is fearing for the safety of his legs. Muta, who at this point had just been acting uppity towards our guest ref, attempts to attack the WWWF legend, and gets decked for his actions. With managers Gary Hart and Ole Anderson both now in the ring, the latter hits the former hard enough that his own towel is accidentally tossed towards Bruno. Not even questioning as to whether it was a genuine surrender and admittance of defeat, it concludes with the longtime rivals (but then-current allies) raising their hands in victory.
In terms of sheer silliness, 1989's Halloween Havoc could have been far worse, yet is ultimately just remarkably average when you collect all of your thoughts and opinions into a single, discernable one. Aside from the Rich & Assassin match, nothing repulsed me or gave me a headache. In fact, maybe I should make it a habit to do more of these in my spare time! Alas, that shall depend on how much, if any free time that I will have coming up during these next few months. If you have a small allowance of $9.99, you can watch this debut PPV from WCW on the WWE's own streaming service.
Now, if you want me to review a truly terrifying special involving professional wrestling, then I should add THIS bad boy to my list for next year.
Tomorrow, it's back to business as usual, as we tackle another entry in the natural horror field that is often derided by even its own director.....though if luck is on my side, we may see another appearance from a more infamous goliath with far more hype behind him....
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