Straight from the Hart (40 page)

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STRAIGHT FROM THE HART
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memorabilia and then proceeded to tear a strip off my mom for having allowed my dad to appear on
RAW
.

Subsequent to that, my sister-in-law, Martha, called, furious that my dad had been on
RAW
. She announced that she and Bret wouldn’t be accompanying my parents on the trip to Ottawa and angrily vowed that my parents would never see Owen’s kids, Oje and Athena — whom they were quite attached to, again

— all of which I thought was petty and over reactive.

Speaking of overreacting, the next morning Bret even went so far as to call the Governor-General’s office and demanded that they rescind the Order of Canada honor to my dad — a request which, of course, was refused. Dave Meltzer, the publisher of the
Wrestling Observer Newsletter
and a big supporter of Bret’s, subsequently slammed my dad for having appeared on
RAW
and suggested that the only reason my dad had even received the Order of Canada in the first place was because he was Bret’s father and not for any of his own accomplishments.

While I’ve always had a lot of regard for Meltzer, both as a friend and as a journalist, I thought that was unwarranted. If he’d done a bit of research, he’d have found that my dad had a huge body of work in wrestling long before Bret ever set foot in the ring, not to mention having been a tireless pillar of the community for decades and that Stu Hart was a more than worthy recipient of the honor.

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The day after my parents returned from the Order of Canada ceremony in Ottawa, I went up to the house to see them and was anxious to hear all the details about their big celebration. Instead of regaling me with all the happy details, my mom, near tears, was despondent and told me that Bret and Martha’s overreaction had ruined the whole thing. She asked why they had to be so cruel and insensitive.

I had no answers but was dismayed that a once in a lifetime, crowning moment like that had been ruined, simply because, once again, Bret was being a mark for himself and couldn’t seem to let go of the Montreal fiasco — which was ridiculous.

Sadly, the Order of Canada honor proved to be the last hurrah for my mom, as a few months later, in September, she suffered a serious seizure, which landed her in the hospital, in a coma, fighting for her life.

The week after my mom entered the hospital, this ill-conceived book entitled
Under the Mat
, which had been written by my sister Diana, hit the bookstores.

I’m not sure what possessed Diana to write it — whether it was vindictiveness, or if she may have been quite unstable at the time. In any case, the book slandered damn near everybody in the family: my parents, myself and my wife and, most
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of all, Bret and Martha — both of whom she crucified. When the book came out, the first reaction by everyone in the family was concern for how my poor mom would react to it, after she emerged from her coma.

Near the end of October, she rallied and briefly emerged from her coma, which gave us hope that she might recover, but she then suffered another even more serious seizure and we were summoned to the hospital to pay our last respects.

On the night my mother died, about an hour before she passed away, Bret showed up. Seething over what Diana had written about him in her book, he immediately made a beeline for her and grabbed her by the throat, over my mom’s body. He began screaming at her for what she’d said about him in the book. With Diana screaming hysterically, hospital security was summoned and they had to physically remove Bret. All of this turmoil was hard as hell on my poor dad — having to deal with that while his wife, who was the love of his life, was on her deathbed.

Later that week, the day before my mother’s funeral, I was driving home from school and turned on the radio to this talk radio station. I heard a familiar voice — it was my sister Diana, talking about her book and the radio announcer said that they’d now be taking calls. I hadn’t heard what Diana had said before but heard another familiar voice as the first caller, my brother Bret. Bret’s first words, to my horror, were “You’re a fucking liar!” I thought the station had bleep delay, but apparently not. In any case, hearing my brother and sister engaging in this sleazy
Jerry Springer
type conflict on a national radio broadcast was just another in a series of embarrassing and almost surrealistic scenarios that took place that fateful week.

The next day, prior to my mom’s funeral service, family members and friends were gathered in the waiting room, outside the main chapel. At some point, Ed Whalen — who’d also been denounced in the book — came up and was expressing his displeasure to Diana over something she’d said about him, when Davey Boy, who was still with my wife, but apparently trying to make an impression on Diana, interceded and threatened to punch Whalen out.

That brought Bret into the fray and he immediately got in Davey Boy’s face. It
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BRUCE HART
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looked like they might then reprise their celebrated SummerSlam brawl of a few years back.

In a matter of seconds, all hell appeared to be breaking loose, with everyone pushing, shoving and swearing while my poor dad — who was sitting in a wheelchair — was pleading for everyone to stop. Finally, things simmered down, but the whole scene was gut wrenching and heartbreaking.

My dad had asked me beforehand if I could speak at the service and, given what had transpired, I felt compelled to address the discord within our family: If there are any regrets, it’s been that the last few years, a time my mom should have been able to enjoy life, indulging in her grandchildren and reflecting on a life full of notable triumphs and accomplishments, were marred by stress, dissension and strife within our family — all of which, sad to say, probably contributed to her untimely passing.

Abraham Lincoln once said that “a house divided is a house in ruins” and I implore members of our family to keep that in mind. I realize that everyone, of course, has different opinions and perspectives, but brothers and sisters should be able to resolve their differences without incurring such acrimony and duress.

If I may, to reinforce my point, I’d like to allude to the horrific terrorist attacks that took place a few weeks back, on September 11, in New York City. Out of the ruins of that decimating tragedy, people of different races, creeds and socioeconomic backgrounds — many of which have been in conflict as well —

have now come together, with a renewed sense of brotherhood.

I’m hopeful that members of our family can do the same, because, in my humble opinion, keeping our family bond intact is the greatest honor we can bestow upon my mom’s legacy.

United we stand and divided we fall — the choice is yours.

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The message seemed to get through to most, as that Christmas, for the first time since before the Montreal screw job of 1997, there was “peace on earth” and most of the family attended — with the exception of Martha, who never had attended before, anyway, and Davey Boy and my wife, for obvious reasons.

Even though it was subdued without my mother, everyone seemed to be in good spirits — which was a nice respite for everyone, especially my dad.

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Like some Middle East peace treaty, the calm didn’t last long. Early in the new year Davey Boy was in the news again. Since he’d been released by the WWF and taken up with my wife, his life had been in a downward spiral. As he’d blown most of his money — reportedly on drugs — he had seen his house foreclosed, had his car repossessed and was now down and out, living in the basement of my mother-in-law’s cramped condo.

Things went from bad to worse for him in the spring, when he was caught on a surveillance camera breaking into Diana’s townhouse, where he stole her wedding ring — which he subsequently pawned for a few hundred dollars, allegedly to buy drugs.

He was subsequently arraigned on charges of breaking and entering and theft and was looking at some serious jail time.

Diana, however, decided to drop the charges and that seemed to rekindle some sparks between them, as a few weeks later, he showed up for Sunday dinner at my dad’s with Diana. Before dinner, he asked if he could have everyone’s attention and then stood up, and apologized for all the embarrassment and pain that he’d caused; he then announced that he and Diana were getting back
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together — which drew a loud applause from everyone, because, in spite of everything, he’d been a respected and much loved member of the family.

Beaming proudly, Diana then interjected that Davey and their son Harry were forming a new tag team, called the New British Bulldogs. She said that the next weekend they were heading to Manitoba to make their debut on a couple of indie shows out there.

Davey boasted that he and Harry would be even better than he and Dynamite had been — which was saying a lot because many considered them to have been the best tag team in WWF history. Davey then kind of broke down, tears streaming down his cheeks, and whispered, “I just want my life back.” Even though it was nice to see him trying to make a comeback, I still found the whole scene quite sad, because only a few years back, Davey had been at the very top of the mountain in wrestling and now, he was getting his hopes up at the opportunity to drive 1,500 or more miles for a $200 payoff.

After dinner, Davey asked if he could have a word with me. He and I went down to the Dungeon and he said that he wanted to apologize for having