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BOOK DETAILS Paperback: 377 pages Dimensions: 6x9 Publisher: Crowbar Press Photos: 203 b&w Cover: Full color ISBN: 978-0-9844090-5-1 Item #: cbp14-sh Price: $24.95
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"The Last Outlaw" is available exclusively from Crowbar Press.
All books will be shipped via Media Mail (U.S.), Priority Mail, or International Priority Mail (Canada/overseas). "Stan Hansen was as important as anyone could possibly be. He knew what it took to draw money and he knew being physical was necessary. He could have been a star anywhere, but I thank God he came to All Japan for us." — Terry Funk In addition to the stories about his time in the U.S., Stan Hansen's account of his wrestling career is a veritable guidebook of professional wrestling in Japan. In "The Last Outlaw," he tackles every subject imaginable as he educates and entertains readers with his stories about the promoters and their promotions, how the Japanese promoters operate their business behind the scenes, touring the country on the wrestling bus, the nightlife in the big cities, and how the sport in Japan differs from that in the U.S. Stan also shares stories of his time in Georgia, Florida, Louisiana, Texas, Oklahoma, and tells countless road tales about fellow wrestlers, like Andre the Giant, Terry Funk, Giant Baba, Jumbo Tsuruta, Bill Watts, Dick Murdoch, Ole Anderson, Harley Race, and Antonio Inoki. He goes into detail about his time in the AWA, how he came to win the AWA title, his confrontation with Verne Gagne prior to walking out, and what he really did with the title belt when he left the territory. Stan tells about wrestling in the WWWF, giving a detailed description of the match in which he broke Bruno Sammartino's neck, the matches that followed, and the subsequent problems he had with Vince McMahon Sr. Stan relates hundreds of great stories about his runs with both New Japan Pro Wrestling and All Japan Pro Wrestling, including details of his meeting with Giant Baba that led to him leaving one for the other. And what would a "Stan Hansen book" be without personal stories about the time he spent with Bruiser Brody: how they first met, the story behind their becoming a team, spending time in the evenings on the streets and in the clubs of Japan, and his own, personal insight into the "real" Bruiser Brody. Stan usually did what he was asked him to do, but he didn't want promoters to direct his life, so he became independent and took care of his own bookings. He refused to conform to what everyone expected. Most of all, he didn't follow a script. He was innovative and ad lib, two characteristics that took him to the top of the wrestling business. As the wrestling business changed and became "sports entertainment," he persevered and continued to wrestle "his style," which was "act and react." Just as Stan reached the pinnacle of success in his chosen profession, his story is also destined to become one of the most informative books ever written about professional wrestling. Travel down the road with Stan Hansen — The Last Outlaw.
Excerpt from Chapter 2 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal During the visit, I was shown around campus by Phil Hampton, a senior center on the team. I had already visited several other colleges, so I was expecting to be shown the dorms where I would be living when I came to the university. Phil walked me from one side of the campus to the other, but he never volunteered to show me his dorm room. I wanted to see where he was staying, so I finally summoned up the courage to ask. He seemed to hesitate before answering, but he finally agreed. When we reached the door of his room, he hesitated again and told me that all football players have roommates. He also said he had a roommate, and that we don’t normally have a choice as to who our roommate will be. When he opened the door, the first thing I noticed was there were two beds — one on each side of the room. It was as if an invisible line was painted down the center of the room. On Phil’s side were a neatly-made bed and a desk on which his books were neatly stacked. His closet was open and the clothes were all hung neatly inside. His side of the room would have passed an Army inspection. The other side of the room was a different story. It was messy beyond belief. Newspapers, trash, food, and food containers were everywhere. Just like Phil’s closet, the hangers were hung neatly in a row … but there wasn’t a stitch of clothing on a single one of them. Dirty clothes were piled up on the floor and draped over the back of the desk chair. There were no sheets on the bed, and a big guy was sleeping on the bare mattress. As we walked in, he woke up. This was two in the afternoon. He rolled his eyes, said, "Hi," turned over, and went back to sleep. That was my first meeting with Frank Goodish, who would later become a big name in professional wrestling as Bruiser Brody. Years later, when Frank and I were both wrestling, we would laugh when we talked about our first meeting. Excerpt from Chapter 3 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal To this day, football players in Texas tell stories about "The Fat Man," which was our nickname for [Coach Joe] Kerbel. Of course, we only used that name behind his back and when he wasn't within earshot. Many of them sound bizarre and unbelievable, but I have no doubt the biggest percentage of them are true. Bobby Duncum, a pro wrestler during the ‘60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s, played for Kerbel before I arrived at West Texas. During one game near St. Louis, he was sent to the hospital for heat exhaustion. In the meantime, the team lost the game. Several players who were there told me that after the game, Kerbel had the bus driver make a detour to the hospital. He got out of the bus and found Bobby sitting in the emergency room, hooked up to IV lines. Kerbel walked up to him and told him, "The bus is leaving. Get your ass on it right now." When Bobby didn’t move, Kerbel pulled out his IVs and proceeded to drag him off the stretcher and out to the bus. Over the years, many of us, who played for Kerbel and ended up wrestling, would talk about how we were all treated pretty harshly by Kerbel at one time or another. We would all laugh about our shared experiences and considered them to be a rite of passage that we had to endure. Bobby was the only one who never laughed. He still harbors ill feelings towards the Fat Man. Excerpt from Chapter 4 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal When we got into the ring, Gordon [Nelson] showed me how to get a headlock, and what to do if somebody got one on me. I learned the basics of the body slam, and the proper way to apply an arm bar to an opponent. A month or so later, when I was working a match with Gordon in Colorado Springs, we were scheduled to go fifteen minutes broadway. I was still green and stiff. During the match, Gordon told me to get him in a headlock. After I had held him for a few seconds, he said, "Squeeze harder." I did what he said, but each time, he would repeat what he had said. "Come on. Squeeze harder!" After a few minutes, I discovered I couldn’t squeeze at all. My muscles had tired out and were limp. I held his head in my arms so loosely that I could barely feel his head. Gordon then whispered to me, "This is how you’re supposed to hold your opponent. It’s called working." That was one of the first, great lessons I learned. Excerpt from Chapter 5 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal I was ready to head back to Amarillo at the end of July. On my next to the last night in the territory, I was booked against Don Carson at the Jacksonville Coliseum. Carson was a middle-of-the-card heel who had just come in from Tennessee. He wore a black welding glove on one hand and used it to get heat during his matches. He would work over his opponent with the glove, leading the people to think he had something in it that gave him an illegal advantage, and then refuse to let the referee inspect it. During our match that night, when he threw me into the ropes, I pushed myself up and onto the top rope, catching myself just before I went completely over. My intent was to pull myself back in, but being hot and sweaty, I lost my grip and slipped over onto the ring apron. In most wrestling territories, one of the things we weren’t allowed to do was throw our opponent over the top rope. If we did, we were automatically disqualified. In this case, the referee had no choice but to disqualify Carson, even though the match was set up to promote Carson, who was the new heel in the territory. When I went over the ropes, I was declared the winner of the match. As Carson exited the ring, he went out where I was laying. As he jumped to the arena floor, he gave me one last parting shot with his glove. I went down and sold it. It was the least I could do to help him get over. It was his first match in Jacksonville, so he wanted to impress the fans with a strong match, but my getting him disqualified had deprived him of that opportunity. When I got back to the dressing room, Carson was shouting at Eddie Graham, ranting and raving about having lost the match. He knew I was green and that I was leaving the territory. Jack Brisco, Paul Jones, Buddy Colt, and all the other top guys were there, as well. When I walked into the room, Carson vented his rage towards me. I was shocked by the anger he showed towards me, but I realized he was doing it in order to look important to the other guys. What he didn’t realize was that I wasn’t going to sit back and take it. Excerpt from Chapter 8 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal In September 1974, I told Dory Funk Jr. it was time for me to get out and find work in other places, and that I would appreciate it if he could help me get booked. Karl von Steiger had told me that Portland, Oregon was a good territory. It covered a small area of the Northwest, the trips were fairly short, and a wrestler could make $500 each week working underneath. I also told Dory that the two places I didn’t want to work were Kansas City and Louisiana/Oklahoma. Both territories were well-known for long trips for little money, much like Amarillo, and I was tired of traveling long distances. I made my preferences real clear to Dory. A week later, he told me he had me booked in Louisiana … one of the places I had specifically told him I did not want to go. I had no choice other than to take the booking. In those days, when a promoter went to bat for someone and got them booked in another territory, they were expected to fulfill the obligation. Looking back on things, though, I can’t fault Dory for what happened. There’s a very good chance that Louisiana was the only place that would take me. However, other than the time when Vince McMahon Sr. booked me to New Japan in January 1977, that was the last time I depended on somebody else to book me into another territory. I promised myself then and there that from that day on, I would take care of my own bookings. Excerpt from Chapter 9 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal On this [Stan's first] tour, we spent a great deal of time trying to figure out the Japanese style of wrestling and determine what we should be doing. One of the first things we were told was "there is no noise," which meant the audience didn’t make noise. In America, the audience was never quiet. They were always cheering, booing, yelling, or screaming. If it was anything close to quiet in an American arena, then you can bet you weren’t doing your job. We were told not to worry if the Japanese people didn’t react to things we did. For the first week or so, it was really strange, because when [Bobby] Jaggers or I would grunt, we could hear it echo through the arena. In an attempt to rile up the audience and get some feedback, Jaggers yelled at the people at ringside. He didn’t get a response, whatsoever. He just got blank, seemingly uncomprehending, stares. "That’s out," he muttered to me. It was so very different from the States, and it took a long time before we got used to it. Of course, by the early ‘80s, that began to change and the crowds [in Japan] became a little more vocal. Today, there is a lot of noise, and the audience reacts much like they do here in the States. Excerpt from Chapter 11 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal I was really excited the first night I walked into Madison Square Garden. My thoughts immediately went back to the time when my dad and I watched the Friday night boxing matches from the Garden on television. I’ve always had bad vision, and I remember thinking the building was so big that I couldn’t see the fans at the top of the grandstands. The show itself didn’t sell out, but it drew 17,493 fans, which was still a respectable number. Little did I know that my first match with Bruno would end in disaster. Eight minutes into the match with Bruno, I hit him with my Lariat move and put him on the mat, after which I brought him up into position for a body slam. When I was in the Dallas territory, I had several matches with "High Chief" Peter Maivia. I did a move where I caught Peter coming off the ropes and scoop slammed him. In a variation of that move, I would sometimes reach past the middle of his legs to the outside when I picked him up for the slam. Since my shoulders were stiff and Peter was really stocky, I would do it that way so Peter could slide down my back. He could then avoid being slammed by rolling me up with a pinning move. That habit would result in disaster for Bruno. During my match with Bruno, I scooped him, just like I did Peter. However, Bruno wasn't expecting me to do that. Being uncertain of what I was going to do, he stiffened up. His reaction threw me off balance, and when I tried to go through with the slam, I ended up slamming him on the back of his head and the back of his neck, rather than flat on his back. I went around behind him, pulled him up to a sitting position, and got a head lock on him. Concerned, I held it for a few seconds before whispering, "Are you all right?" He didn't say anything right away. He just sat in place. He finally said, "Give me a few seconds." Excerpt from Chapter 13 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal One of [Bill] Watts’ traits was that he liked to spell out, move for move, all the details for the end of a match. His ideas would often be long and very complicated. In 1977, when he wasn’t able to personally attend a house show, he would send over a tape recorder with his ideas on how he wanted things to go. It was comical in many respects because, as we listened to the tape, there was always background noise, and Watts constantly started and stopped the tape as he added idea after idea. Often, I would picture his face in my mind as he described in detail what and how things could go, more often than not punctuated with curse words. You had to try and filter out the curse words in order to keep up with the flow of his thoughts. As the referee held the tape recorder, we would look at each other and silently laugh as we tried to filter out the extra adjectives and adverbs. That said, I always thought his ideas were good, and in many respects, they were innovative. I was never in a room when Watts made the tapes, but I believe he came up with most of the ideas on his own. When it came to putting those ideas into action, we knew we had better do what he wanted. His word was final. Excerpt from Chapter 14 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal As time went by, that changed, along with everything else, when Nippon Television [NTV] became more involved with the programs. At one time, they told me they wanted me to do specific moves in my matches. I refused to let them dictate to me. When they would come and say something about what they wanted, I would act like I didn’t understand what they were saying. I would then go to the ring and do what I felt was right to get my match and opponent over. I’m not sure why I developed that attitude. I realize they got a lot of feedback from viewers on what they liked to see, but I didn’t see myself in the TV business. I was in the wrestling business. In addition to that, I respected the wrestling promoters because they knew the wrestling "business," but I had no desire to listen to someone tell me how to do my job when they knew next to nothing about our business. I always liked to go out and do what came to me in a split second, and then wait for my opponent to react to what I did. I felt that was much better because it was an authentic reaction to my impromptu action. Excerpt from Chapter 15 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal Within a week or so after Abdullah’s first appearance, Shinma asked to meet me in private after one of the shows near the end of the tour. He tried to reassure me that my position with the company was secure. He also said I was the focus of their future business plans. But then he said something which shocked me. "Don’t worry about Abdullah. He is a fat piece of sh—. He will be dead in a few years, so don’t worry." I was really taken aback by his statement. If he said that about Abdullah, who was a major player in the wrestling business, especially in Japan, then I wondered what he was saying to others about me. That was when I lost respect for Shinma. It also was when I came to the realization that professional wrestling in Japan was a cold, hard business. I wasn’t friends with Abdullah. He was my competition, but I respected his ability and the position he had worked so hard to get. A few days after bringing him over from All Japan, Shinma was already saying negative things about him to me. It sure it was done to put me at ease, but he shouldn’t have put him down as a person. He was a major talent who would help their business for many years. That one statement told me a lot about how New Japan looked at their talent. Perhaps they only viewed the gaijin talent that way, but they made me realize that we were just pieces of meat. It also made me remember what Jack Brisco had said to me about getting what was due me, and that things didn’t last forever. Excerpt from Chapter 16 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal I arrived at the show early and went to the dressing room. Not too many people saw me when I walked in. There were a number of smaller dressing rooms in the building, so Brody and Snuka were dressing alone. Brody was in a bad mood. When I asked him why, he said the office kept him completely in the dark about me coming to All Japan. Of course, he knew about it because we had discussed it in Nagoya, but he felt like the office should have included him in such an important piece of business. As their up-and-coming young talent, his pride was hurt. Of course, Baba and Terry Funk had promised me to keep it a secret, and perhaps they weren’t sure just how Brody would respond to me coming over. Brody might not have trusted the Funks as much as I did, for whatever reason. He also had his tag-team partner and good friend, Jimmy Snuka, to think about. My entry into the mix gave Brody some things to discuss with the office about his own position with the company. I felt Brody’s participation was important. Even then, I didn’t think of myself as being separate from Brody in stature with the company. I wanted us both to have a successful run, so I determined to smooth things out. I sent word to the office that I wanted a meeting with Baba, Brody, Snuka, and the Funks. We agreed to meet at the Takanawa Tobu Hotel, which was located two blocks from the Shinagawa train station, and where the All Japan gaijins were staying. Excerpt from Chapter 17 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal I also was placed into the "outlaw" group of wrestlers due to my relationship with Brody. I believe we were labeled "outlaws" way back in the early days, when we were both in Louisiana, and there was no questioning the fact that promoters looked at us as outlaws when we wrestled in Japan and Puerto Rico. When we were the U.S. tag-team champions in Louisiana, we didn’t show much respect for the belts. When we walked into the TV studio, we would drag the belts on the ground behind us, or toss them around. To us, we were just showing our displeasure on being booked in the second-tier towns. It also enhanced our rebel characters. I don’t know if Watts minded our disrespect of the belts, but other wrestlers told us we should show more respect for them. Of course, most of them wanted the belts themselves. We held the belts for almost nine months, but in hindsight, Watts did the right thing when he took them from us. I never tried to do anything to dispel my outlaw reputation, and at the time, I thought of myself in those terms. Later, I thought of myself as an "independent," rather than an outlaw, and working for All Japan gave me that independence. Of course, to most wrestling promoters, being independent was what made us outlaws. Excerpt from Chapter 20 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal When Verne told me he wanted to put the belt on Nick, I looked him right in the eye and said, "I don’t think so." His mouth dropped open and he said, "What?" "I’m not doing it." Verne’s face turned beet red. He stepped up and got right in my face. I didn’t back down. I just stared at him, face to face, and with my peripheral vision, I kept an eye on Nick. I wasn’t really worried about Nick. He had too much class to do something like attack me, but situations like that were uncharted territories. I liked Nick, but I also knew he had worked almost exclusively for Verne for 16 years. Needless to say, his loyalty was with Verne, period, which was as it should be. Verne glared at me and said something like, "It’s my belt and you’ll do what I tell you ..." I interrupted him and said, "I didn’t ask for the belt, but I haven’t made any money and it’s too soon to switch it!" Verne edged closer and growled, "You’re dropping it!" Excerpt from Chapter 23 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal I wrestled Carlos [Colon] at a baseball stadium show. While the ring announcer was introducing us, a knife with about a 10-inch blade flew from the grandstands and the point buried itself in the center of the ring. If it had hit either one of us, it would have buried itself to the hilt. Carlos and I turned our heads to look at each other. Simultaneously, we grabbed hold of each other, fell down to the mat in a heap, and began rolling around the ring. The fans thought each of us was trying to wrestle and get the advantage, but in reality, we both were trying to pull the other one on top of himself to protect himself from another knife or thrown object. Excerpt from Chapter 25 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal A few years earlier, I had a run-in with Heyman at an independent show in Alabama. At the time, he was a photographer and writer for the Pro Wrestling Illustrated magazine. He strolled into the dressing room like he owned the place and without any introduction, asked me what had happened between Verne Gagne and me. I didn’t know who he was. As far as I was concerned, he was a mark ... and he was in my dressing room. I tried to be polite and told him to "get out of here," but he just stood there and repeated his question. At that point, I pointed at the door and yelled, "Get the hell out of here!" When he didn’t move fast enough for my liking, I stood up and chased him out. He stumbled as he ran, giving me enough time to stop and pick up a folding chair, which I proceeded to throw at him. When he saw the chair flying in his direction, he took off running down the hall. I yelled after him, "If you come down to the ring during my match, you’ll regret it!" I probably peppered the threat with a few choice curse words, but that was the gist of what I said. Later that night, I went to the ring. Heyman didn’t come down. Excerpt from Chapter 27 Copyright © Stan Hansen & Scott Teal Going to and from the ring with thousands of people chanting my name, Hansen! Hansen! Hansen!, was something I can't even describe. I've heard that before over the years, but I must say, that time, it really hit an emotional chord with me. Pete Roberts used to tell me that I never understood how over I was, but I never thought about it. I just went out and did my job. On that night, however, as the fans poured out their feelings, it humbled me. I can never give back what they have given to me, not only that night, but through all the years I wrestled in Japan. I didn't realize it until my retirement ceremony, but one of the things I'm going to miss the most is the wrestling fans. I was a heel, so I never set out to win fans, but inevitably, over time, some began to like me. I still can't figure out what it was about me they liked. Perhaps it was the wildness, or the style which didn't change over time, that attracted those fans. However, even when I realized that I had a following, I stayed in character and never tried to work to them. Today I consider myself blessed to have had the support of those fans, and I'm thankful for everyone who has supported me over these years. There are a few fans who have stuck with me for more than twenty years, and I have special relationships with individuals in Osaka, Tokyo, and Nagaoka. They were just kids when I first met them. Now they're grown up, married, work a variety of jobs, and have children of their own. I wish them luck.
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