Forgiven: One Man's Journey from Self-Glorification to Sanctification (44 page)

Within the next few weeks, Theresa set up a pitch meeting with the then-head of Fox, Sandy Grushow. In a matter of a month I was flying out to L.A. to pitch my idea,
Rope Opera
. Remember, this is now a few years ago — reality television was just beginning to see the light of day. One of the first series that played with the genre was
The
Larry Sanders Show
, starring Gary Shandling, and to this day it stands out as one of the best in the history of television. If you’re not familiar with it,
The Larry Sanders Show
was based on a late-night talk show, much like Leno. Only aside from seeing what happens in front of the camera, we were taken backstage and shown a glimpse of the

“real” world of late-night television — what
really
goes on in putting a show together. This was my model for
Rope Opera:
taking the viewer behind the curtain of sports entertainment and showing them a world they’d never seen before. The whole thing would be seen through the eyes of the head writer, Sal Trucco — who was, of course, yours truly.

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So I flew out to L.A. and I met with Sandy Grushow. What an experience. It was every movie concerning the “Hollywood Process” that I had ever seen. The best comparison I could make is to
Seinfeld
, when George and Jerry pitch their show about nothing to Hollywood executives. I swear to you, it was the same thing. Sandy’s people laughed when Sandy laughed, they were silent when he was silent, and when he spoke, they all agreed — much like Vince’s yes-men.

The meeting was priceless. Once again, I sold my spaldings off, did the Irish jig on the coffee table, and by the time all was said and done, Sandy said . . . “Go write the pilot.”

There was only one problem — Vince didn’t know any of this was going on.

Theresa wanted to go public with the story in
Variety
— she wanted to make an official announcement, that Greenblatt-Janollari Studios had made a deal with wwf head writer Vince Russo. I begged Theresa, telling her, “You can’t — not until I tell Vince.” She agreed to give me some time.

Now understand — I was not under contract with the wwf. I was simply an employee who received a paycheck every two weeks. Even though I was hired as the editor of the magazine at $60,000 per year, and I was now the “head writer” of the creative team, making $350,000 per year, Vince, for whatever reason, never even brought up the notion of putting me under contract. And that was fine by me. I hate being bound by legalities. If I decided that I wanted to take my ball and go home, I wanted to have that freedom. So as far as my deal with Greenblatt-Janollari was concerned, as long as I worked on my own time there was nothing Vince could do about it. The truth was, I didn’t even have to tell him — but I didn’t work that way with Vince, I was always honest with him. There was a side of me that wanted his blessing. I was really growing tired with our product —

and I felt this opportunity could once again stir my creative juices.

So I met with Vince and told him of my opportunity with Greenblatt-Janollari. At that point I hadn’t signed a legal, binding contract with Theresa either. To be honest — I didn’t know how 321

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Vince Russo

Vince was going to react. I had been his best-kept secret for so long, and now people on the outside — Hollywood people — were beginning to take notice. No, I didn’t know what Vince was going to say, but my mind was made up — I was writing
Rope Opera
.

To my surprise, Vince took the news well and seemed very supportive. Common sense would tell you that it was in his best interest to keep me happy — and working on my own project would do just that. Vince loved the idea of
Rope Opera
, and asked me to give him a treatment of the show — just so he could take a look. I’ve got to tell you, the meeting went better than I ever dreamed. After I left Vince’s office, I called Theresa and told her it was a go. I gave her the green light to get the word out via press release, or whatever Greenblatt-Janollari had in mind.

The next day I dropped off the treatment in Vince’s office. A few days later I was called up by Beth, Vince’s assistant, who told me Vince wanted to see me. When I walked into his office, I could see
Rope Opera
on his desk. It was marked up.

“Vince, I read your treatment,” he said. “I like the idea . . . but I would make some changes.” Vince than proceeded to give me
his
spin on
Rope Opera,
how he would do it. Again — it was typical Vince —

in my opinion he turned my Shakespearian work into some sopho-moric,
Three Stooges
bs. I hated his ideas — but I didn’t say a word.

Then Vince said, “Vince — forget this Hollywood studio you’re dealing with. I don’t think you’re seeing the big picture. I want the World Wrestling Federation to be an entertainment conglomerate. I want to do music, movies and television shows, and I want you to be a part of it. Let’s take this
Rope Opera
and let’s do it together.” I hated what Vince was saying — I hated every word. Excuse me, did I say Vince? Oh, I’m sorry I meant
Ted Turner!
Here he was again, attempting to become something he wasn’t. But you know what?

Whatever floats his boat. If Vince has all these dreams and ambitions, good for him, go for it. But in just one 30-minute conversation,
Rope
Opera
went from mine to
ours
. No! Vince didn’t own me, and I was 322

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going to do this project myself. I left McMahon’s office with him thinking we had a deal. But believe me, there was no “deal” — I just didn’t know what to do.

As I look back on that meeting now, I view it much differently. At the time, I had been with the wwf for about five years. As the cliché goes —

I had seen it all. My heart had become so hard, so calloused, that I just didn’t believe anybody — not even Vince, a man I once trusted. Without realizing it, the wrestling business had turned me into something I never wanted to become. I was just as paranoid as the boys. For all intents and purposes, Vince might have been sincere. He might have honestly been trying to help me. But again, I’d become jaded by being in the “bubble.” In my mind there was no way Vince was working
with
me — he was definitely on the “other side,” even though he was only protecting his own interests.

Meanwhile, I was getting pressure from Theresa. Fox wanted me to start on the pilot and I still hadn’t signed a contract with Greenblatt-Janollari. I told Theresa about my conversation with Vince, and she was more determined than ever to get me to sign. Man, I didn’t get much sleep. Talk about being caught in the middle. But then again, I knew what I wanted to do. I’m the kind of guy who has to move on.

After I’ve been there, done that — it’s on to the next project. That’s what I’m talking about when I say money don’t mean squat. I was making $350,000 with Vince, and that wasn’t even part of the equation. I knew what I had to do. There was going to be a showdown.

And it was going to happen the next day.

The only problem was . . . Vince beat me to the punch.

I guess after my conversation with Theresa she became nervous. She decided to issue a press release: that Greenlatt-Janollari had signed the head writer of the World Wrestling Federation, Vince Russo. Well, as soon as it went out, Vince somehow caught wind of it. I got a call from him the next morning, telling me that he wanted Theresa’s name, the 323

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Vince Russo

name of her firm, and her telephone number because he was going to call her up and put an end to this. I’m thinking, “What am I, 11? I’m almost a 40-year-old man — if anybody’s going to call Theresa it’ll be me.” And screw that — I wasn’t putting an end to anything. I wanted to go forward with
Rope Opera
with Greenblatt-Janollari! So I told Vince I’d take care of it and hung up.

It was back to the drawing board. I wasn’t going to take care of anything — I was going to continue with
Rope Opera
, even if it meant my job at the wwf. I had to tell Vince this — take the spaldings in hand one more time.

So I met with him yet again. I told Vince that, first of all, I didn’t agree with his revisions. I saw
Rope Opera
a certain way and I wanted to stick to my vision. Vince said that if I was going to write a show based on the likenesses of wwf characters, then it was his responsibility to get involved. The conversation was going nowhere, until Vince said, “You know what you should do, Vince? You know what you’re talking about? Forget Hollywood — I already have a publishing deal in place. What you should do is write a book about your experiences as head writer of the wwf — and I’ll let you say whatever you want.” He then went on to say that he would call the publisher personally and get the ball rolling.

I’m thinking, “What is this guy smoking?” Do you really think that Vince would have given his blessing to the kind of book I wanted to write? Vince then said in so many words that he didn’t want to talk about the Greenblatt-Janollari deal again — it was a dead issue. So I left his office with him now thinking I was writing a book.

No way. I wasn’t writing a book, and I wasn’t killing any deal I had in place. Vince didn’t own me. Maybe he owned others, but not me. Days turned into weeks as I agonized. At this point, I not only started hating my job more and more — I started hating my whole existence. Vince McMahon and the wwf had a stranglehold on my life — I no longer had any control. At that time Vince also wanted me to have a cell phone on me 24/7, so he could reach me at all times.

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Was he kidding me? I’m at the movies with my kids on a Saturday and Vince is going to call me during
American Pie
so we can talk about what Austin was doing on the next
Raw
? Screw that.

I used to have to drive into the city with Vince, when he would get his hair cut at some posh hotel, so we could talk about
Raw
during the 45-minute limo ride. That was messed up. I don’t even make my kids sit there while I got my hair cut. But I sat — like some jabeep —

waiting for Vince. What an idiot I was.

Something had to give. Amy was miserable — giving me the “single parent” bs, and I just didn’t want to hear it anymore. And on top of all that — I was now writing
Smackdown
as well as
Raw
, and Vince wasn’t paying me one cent extra. He’d doubled my workload and I wasn’t given one thin dime. Can you imagine the nbc execs telling Jerry Seinfeld, “Yeah, Jerry. We want you to write a spin-off —
The
Newman Show
— but we aren’t going to pay you any money for it. All right? Good.” I might also add that at this point my partner Ed was gone, mentally and emotionally, and barely there physically. Vince had already succeeded in driving him over the edge. He’d only stayed with the wwf because I begged him to — and Vince doubled his salary at my request.

You know, you simply can’t understand just by reading this, but McMahon was just so overbearing. Everything was about the company; every day, every hour, every minute, every second. After a while that wears on you. Subconsciously, I wanted out so bad — fired, quit, whatever it was. I was at the end of my rope.

And all it would take would be one phone call for it to finally snap.

A few days prior to my last meeting with Vince, I had just finished writing
Raw
and
Smackdown
when I called Steve Austin to go over the script. At the time, Austin had a boo-boo and claimed he couldn’t do certain things. Whatever.

So I call Steve at home, and he’s telling me he can’t do what I had written because he was “hurt.” Meanwhile I could hear him with his hunting buddies, drinking and having a good time. Okay — you’re 325

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making somewhere about five million dollars a year, you’re hurt so you can’t perform on tv — but you’re well enough to be out drinking and playing Ted Nugent. It was just a small incident — it had happened a million times before — but this time it pushed me off the deep end.

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Chapter 56

MY LAST MEETING WITH VINCE

I was so unhappy that, as I stated earlier, I probably wanted to be fired. I didn’t have the spaldings to quit. Let’s face it — you’re talking about walking away from $350,000 here. Unless
Rope Opera
took off, there was a good possibility I’d never see that kind of money again.

But at that point, money was secondary. What really mattered was my well-being and my family. So I set up another meeting with Vince, only this time I was just going to throw everything at him, hoping he’d say, “This guy’s fried — it’s bye-bye time.” It’s ironic, but seeing those words I feel like God was beginning to get more heavily involved in my life right at this point. Notice that what was once important to me, no longer was. And what once took a back seat was quickly moving to the forefront. There is no question in my mind that this was the start of my journey. No sane person ponders walking away from $350,000 without there being a faithful force behind him. It’s 327

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Vince Russo

just something that, in “this world,” we do not do.

God was clearly putting my priorities in the proper order. He was at work showing me what truly was important. Unfortunately, even at this point I would waste another two-plus years.

When I sat down to square off with the boss this time, there was no plan. No script was necessary. I was just going to reel off everything that was weighing heavily on my mind, in whatever order it flew out.

This wasn’t one of those “take your spaldings in your hand” kind of moments, because this time I honestly didn’t care what the outcome was.