After all, the nWo? It really is for life. Maybe Hall put it best when he was inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame the first time, as Razor Ramon. “Bad times don’t last,” Hall said, closing his speech. “But Bad Guys do.”
Rating: 5/5
“The world is fake, and wrestling is real.” —Rick Rubin
That’s where the nWo was born, at the intersection of genuine and phony. Lines became blurred. The antiheroes became the main characters. And pro wrestling was never the same again.
His promoter felt otherwise. Vincent James McMahon told Hogan that he was in the WWF’s storyline plans and there just wasn’t time for him to jet off to Hollywood to film a movie. The elder McMahon issued Hogan an ultimatum: If you do Rocky III, don’t bother coming back to the WWF. Believing that sharing time with Stallone on the silver screen would do wonders for his profile, Hogan walked out on the WWF and took the role. Rocky III ended up doing very well at the box office, becoming one of the highest-grossing movies of 1982. The only two films that made more money were E.T. and Raiders of the Lost Ark.
Hogan’s testimony also killed the government’s case. They expected him to say McMahon bullied his wrestlers into taking steroids. McMahon ended up being acquitted due to lack of evidence. It was evident to everyone that Hogan had indeed lied on the Hall show, that he didn’t practice the principles that his character talked about on the air. Somewhat disgraced, even in a profession already treated by many as a disdainful fake sport, Hogan’s career was at a crossroads. Perhaps more television and film opportunities were in the future. One thing he had always promised to McMahon, though, was that he’d never compete against him in the wrestling business.
Some of the Kliq members were babyfaces in the WWF script and others were heels, and the hand signal was their way to show unity in a world where they were not supposed to socialize behind the scenes. Some have called it the “too sweet,” but The Kliq called it the Turkish wolf, due to its other origins as a Turkish nationalist symbol. It was first done by the group during a European tour and thought up by Waltman, who later would popularize another, more obscene gesture that went viral long before viral was a thing. “When we did [the Turkish wolf sign] originally, we were sneaking it into places where we could get away with doing it,” Levesque said. “A lot of it was breaking the rules, anyway. It really was more about sneakily breaking the rules and seeing if anybody catches on that we’re doing it.”
“Then, when Kev came along, when Diesel came along, we taught him the way we thought business should be done,” Hall said. “When Kid came along, Kid had to do business the way we thought it should be done because he was in our clique. And later, Triple H came in, we taught him, ‘This is how we do business, this is the way we think it should be done.’ ”
The group even started to use its own signature hand gesture that they would flash to acknowledge the camaraderie. They would put their middle and ring fingers together with their thumb and point their pointer finger and pinkie upward. The gesture originated at North Carolina State University. The school’s sports teams are nicknamed the Wolfpack, and fabled women’s basketball coach the late Kay Yow has been credited with popularizing the sign going back to the 1970s.
The Kliq loved to push boundaries and was gaining power as a unified force, inside and outside of the ring. Michaels even started to call his fan base “The Kliq” on screen as a nod to his backstage buddies.
In wrestling, promos are as important as the matches, arguably more so. A promo, which is short for promotion, is a talking segment (or interview) that builds to a match or the next beat in the story. Promos explain the storyline, the stakes at play, and what a character’s motivations are. They are the essential connective tissue of professional wrestling. If you’re a good promo artist and you can get people to believe in your persona, it almost doesn’t matter as much if you can’t perform entertaining matches in the ring.
A classic promo can define a wrestler’s career. Flair’s 1985 monologue about being a limousine-ridin’, jet-flyin’, Rolex-wearing son of a gun exemplified exactly what his character was supposed to be. Same for the blue-collar Dusty Rhodes’s promo about the working class and falling on “hard times” from the same year. In 1987, Savage’s “cream of the crop” interview, complete with tiny plastic half-and-half containers, is remembered as much as any of his matches. A promo can come in many forms. The WWF has long preferred a script written by a writer with input from the wrestler. In other promotions, the wrestlers write promos themselves or go on screen with a few bullet points memorized and fill in the rest themselves. The most talented wrestlers on the microphone can go out there in front of a crowd with just an idea in their head and construct their words on the fly, listening for the crowd to send them in the right direction.
Hall’s promo on May 27, 1996, has gone down as one of the best of all time, as much for its unprecedented content as for Hall’s delivery. “Where is Billionaire Ted?” Hall went on, referencing the WWF’s skits. “Where is the Nacho Man? That punk can’t even get in the building. Me? I go wherever I want, whenever I want. And where oh where is Scheme Gene? ’Cause I got a scoop for you. When that Ken Doll lookalike [Bischoff], when that weatherman wannabe comes out here later tonight, I got a challenge for him, for Billionaire Ted, for the Nacho Man. And for anybody else in [here Hall puts on an exaggerated southern accent] ‘Dubya Cee Dubya.’ Hey, you want to go to war? You want a war? You’re gonna get one.”
As Hogan made his way to the ring, Heenan on commentary exclaimed: “Yeah, but whose side is he on?!” It could have been an all-time gaffe if things didn’t end up so overwhelmingly successful. When Hogan got to the ring, Hall and Nash cleared out. Hogan played to the crowd like he always did—and then dropped his signature leg drop on a prone Savage. The crowd didn’t understand what was going on. “Hulk Hogan has betrayed WCW,” Heenan said on commentary. “He is the third man.”
“I didn’t back off,” Hogan said. “I could have pulled back a little bit on the verbiage, but I’m like, ‘Nah.’ I just shoved the gas pedal down.” What came out almost seemed therapeutic. Hogan told the fans to shut up, compared them to the garbage in the ring, and told them to “stick it.” Hogan said he was fed up with the fans’ reactions after all he had done for them and for charity. He intimated he only did it to line his own pockets. As far as WCW went, Hogan said he was bored, and that Hall and Nash represented “the new blood.”
Cutting a promo is an art unto itself—an art within an art.
Weber had been the WWF’s head of media relations in the 1980s at the height of Hulkamania. But this was something completely different. Hulkamania was something built up and carefully manicured. The New World Order was a spontaneous convergence that became bigger than anyone had counted on. “The whole thing was about the most organic, reactionary type of a thing I’ve ever seen,” Weber said. “And everything we did was reacting to it and then trying to like expand upon it. From merchandising, how it’s marketed, how it was promoted, how it was licensed and all that stuff.” The nWo needed a logo.
Leathers, Yother, and Wright told Sloan’s boss that they needed a logo—that day. And they only had the budget for one hour of Sloan’s time. No one involved remembered the exact dollar figure, just that the execution of such a thing would have normally been done by WCW in-house at its offices in Atlanta. But the Summer Olympics were being held that year in WCW’s home city and there were simply no production trucks available to roll for WCW television, so the promotion was using the in-house operations and production at its second home in Orlando. Leathers had come prepared with some ideas in his head. He spent hours perusing the magazine stands at places like Walgreen’s, buying biker and skater magazines and ripping out pages afterward in search of the right aesthetic. “I knew I wanted it kind of grungy,” Leathers said. “Something easily readable.”
Leathers, Yother, and Wright stood behind Sloan in the corner of a long editing suite, their backs to the huge window. Sloan sat in a red chair with a gray Macintosh computer in front of her and got to work. With a short amount of time, Sloan didn’t even have time to sketch anything out on paper. She said Leathers told her maybe just start laying out some ideas with the letters “NWO” on the computer, suggesting something that looked a little “rough” and like “graffiti.” “Of all the work I’ve ever done that was like the fastest, quickest, did-not-think-it-would-last-any-time-at-all [thing],” Sloan said. “I mean, they couldn’t even afford color. I was like, ‘All right, well, I guess a black T-shirt with a white logo.’ ”
Right before the dawn of the nWo, WCW had hired 4Kids Entertainment, a children’s entertainment and merchandise licensing company run by Alfred Kahn. 4Kids became the largest merchandise trading entity in the United States in the 1990s on the back of their work with Pokémon, Yu-Gi-Oh!, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. With the help of 4Kids, WCW was able to get nWo products sold at Spencer’s Gifts, a favorite mall store at the time for kids, teens, and young adults that sold offbeat items, as well as pop-culture merchandise. WCW and 4Kids licensed whatever they could with the nWo brand—“we went full tilt on everything,” Weber said—from sneakers to bandanas to baseball caps to women’s apparel to pennants to replica belts to action figures to credit cards to even a bowling league.
Then there were the video games. Weber said a deal with developer THQ was signed late in 1995 and when the nWo started in July 1996 they had to hit the metaphorical pause button and overhaul the original plan to include the group. What WCW and THQ ended up agreeing on was a game cobranded as both WCW and the nWo. THQ was completely fine with that, Weber said, because they saw how “the nWo took over the business in days.” The group’s name, the New World Order, did not end up being controversial. Nash and Bischoff discussed its relationship with conspiracy theories and the idea that there was a higher power somewhere pulling the strings on everything, like “the World Bank and the Illuminati and the different Rothschilds.” They wanted a sinister theme for the group that had the curiosity factor that Bischoff pined for. The nWo fit the bill.
Once the logo was in hand, Merwin ordered nWo T-shirts at five thousand per clip from printers in Las Vegas and Atlanta. Most merchandise items, if she was unsure how they would sell, would be ordered starting with five hundred and Merwin would see how things went. The nWo shirt was a hot seller right from the beginning.
Hall and Nash were inspired by gangsta rap and the culture surrounding it. They started wearing bandanas tied onto their heads with the knot in front like Shakur did. The “4 life” came directly from West Coast rapper Mack 10, who debuted the single “Foe Life” in 1995. WCW had little to no urban appeal previously. It was still, at its heart, a wrestling company in the Deep South with a good old boys’ club in place.
Hogan wasn’t necessarily a part of that, but he wasn’t bumping to Westside Connection on his car tape deck, either. Hall and Nash felt like the real-life Terry Bollea was actually a pretty cool guy. He had played bass in local rock ‘n’ roll bands as a kid in Florida. But he was not exactly up to speed on hip-hop culture. Nash put him on to the likes of Doctor Dré and Run DMC. “He just basically sat down and goes, ‘Where are you guys getting this from?’ ” Nash said of Hogan. “And then we just thumbnailed some stuff for him to listen to and he was on board.” By 1997, the middle-aged Hogan was wearing wide-leg JNCO jeans, a staple of late-nineties streetwear.
Hall and Nash took over the broadcast desk and provided some hilarious commentary for the second hour. It was difficult for fans to boo the duo, because they were so entertaining. Not so much for Hogan, who spraypainted Savage’s bald spot with graffiti and later was in the locker room area tagging walls with “NWO.” Meltzer reported around this time that a woman called the WCW offices, furious that her five-year-old had spraypainted “NWO” on her one-year-old.
There’s another insider wrestling phrase for this: keeping someone strong. Even if a good guy must lose to a villain in order to advance the storyline, you can keep him or her strong by having the heel cheat to win. Cheating and using outside interference to win matches behind the referee’s back was long a heel trope in professional wrestling. And the nWo used it—excessively.
Gangsta rap crossed over into the mainstream during the mid-1990s. The group N.W.A.’s Straight Outta Compton was the first record from the genre to go platinum. Doctor Dré departed N.W.A. and released The Chronic in 1992. It went triple platinum. Yo! MTV Raps became a popular show on the music network in the early 1990s.
The battle between West Coast rap, led by Death Row Records and Tupac Shakur, and East Coast rap, led by Bad Boy Records and Notorious B.I.G., intensified toward the middle part of the decade. Shakur was shot dead after a Mike Tyson fight in Las Vegas less than a month after Hogan christened the WCW title with “NWO” graffiti.
Starrcade 1997 was still an overwhelming business success. Ticket sales added up to a WCW record $543,000, and $161,961 of merchandise was sold, another record, Meltzer reported. The show was sold out and the paid attendance (16,052) was the most ever for a WCW show. The estimated pay-per-view buys were 700,000, which made it the highest-selling professional wrestling pay-per-view of all time at that point. WCW had an all-time-high amount of people watching and delivered to them an all-time blunder.
“Just the fact that Sting doesn’t speak for a year and a half and the first thing out of his mouth is something in Spanish—‘mamacita,’ ” Nash said. “I mean, that’s what he yells to the hard mic when he goes over. I’m just thinking to myself, ‘Could you imagine if Neil Armstrong just took that step down [onto the moon] and was in it for himself, and said something about Coca-Cola?’ “[Hogan] had creative control. You can’t give a wrestler creative control. Can’t happen. Just can’t happen. He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”
Bash at the Beach took place July 12, 1998, in San Diego. The morning of the show, Manley had breakfast with Malone and asked how much Malone was getting paid to do the match. Malone told him $900,000, a figure he was proud of getting. Malone didn’t have an agent at the time, but negotiated with Bischoff with the help of Jazz owner Larry Miller. Manley told Malone that Rodman was getting $1,500,000 and Malone ended up hiring Manley as his agent. “He would have [wrestled] for free,” Manley said of Malone. “He loved it. He would watch it at home. He’d have vanilla cream waffle cookies and watch it from home—he loved it.”
Since the Montreal Screwjob, McMahon had become an evil authority figure character on screen, a caricature of himself. He was opposed mainly by Steve Austin, the goateed, bald-headed, beer-swilling, ass-whupping everyman who fans could not wait to see give the bullying boss his retribution. Austin had the same anti-establishment chops the nWo did and he took things to another level. His trademark gesture wasn’t a Turkish wolf or demonstrating “4” and “life” with his hands. It was a pair of middle fingers.
The match itself was not as impressive as Rodman’s debut a year earlier, but it didn’t have to be. Rodman wore a white “Rodzilla” T-shirt that had his head on it and the nWo logo stamped onto his blond hair. The shirt was still popular three decades later. Top boxer Devin Haney wore it during media interviews in 2023. Malone, meanwhile, wore purple spandex pants, similar to the ones worn by Page. He looked like a real wrestler and comported himself quite well.
By the end of 1998, Bischoff said he was so burned out between merger talks and the ongoing lawsuit with the WWF that he essentially removed himself from the creative process outside of simply greenlighting ideas. He could see things circling the drain and knew it was too late to stop it. “We were going to go back to what WWE did when I beat their ass,” Bischoff said. “That was the beginning of the end. The finger poke of doom was the manifestation of it.”
Dunn said Titan v. Turner wasn’t necessarily any more heated compared with other civil cases he has worked on involving competitors in the same industry. And it wasn’t necessarily more colorful of a case than others he has experienced in entertainment. But it was unique, in its own way. “It’s really all combined in the whole issue of, ‘Where do you draw the line between the individuals and the persona, and what’s real and what’s fictional?’ ” Dunn said. “And a lot of that is a line that’s deliberately blurred in professional wrestling.”
The WWE Hall of Fame induction was equally as ironic as it was deserving. This was the group of guys who left the WWF in the 1990s, when the promotion was struggling financially, and helped WCW became the top dog for a time. “I mean, you got four guys that were basically going at Vince as a shoot, pushing hard to actually try to take over—not put him out of business, but basically take his spot and be the number one company,” Hogan said. “So all of a sudden you’re inducting four guys in the Hall of Fame that twenty years ago were trying to stab you in the back.”
Nash said he was contacted by a company out of London in the early 2020s that was doing a documentary about Hogan, and they were going to bring up some of the more negative things about Hogan’s past. Nash called Hogan about it before deciding whether or not to cooperate with them. “Do you know anything about this?” Nash asked Hogan. “No,” Hogan replied. “Cool, then I’ll tell them to fuck off,” Nash said. “Thank you,” Hogan responded. “Love you, brother.” “It’s as simple as that,” Nash said of his relationship with Hogan. “I don’t have to be with him twenty-four/seven, but when it comes down to somebody trying to bushwhack him, I got his back, and I know he’s got mine.”
The nWo has been referenced in sports for years, whether it be the NBA, NFL, or college football. In 2019, Northwestern University offensive line coach Kurt Anderson started calling his line the nWo, asking for them to play with the ferocity of Hogan, Hall, and Nash. Even going back to the 1990s, the nWo made a major impression on sports—and not just Rodman and Malone, either.
“I’m going to lose the one person on this planet I’ve spent more of my life with than anyone else. My heart is broken and I’m so very fucking sad. I love Scott with all my heart but now I have to prepare my life without him in the present. I’ve been blessed to have a friend that took me at face value and I him. When we jumped to WCW we didn’t care who liked or hated us. We had each other and with the smooth Barry Bloom we changed wrestling both in content and pay for those… alot that disliked us. We were the ‘Outsiders’ but we had each other. Scott always felt he wasn’t worthy of the afterlife. Well God please have some gold-plated toothpicks for my brother. My life was enriched with his take on life. He wasn’t perfect but as he always said, ‘The last perfect person to walk the planet they nailed to a cross.’ ”