LEGENDS’ HOUSE

“And may I say, not in a shy way,
Oh, no, oh, no, not me,
I did it my way”

When I first agreed to be a part of the Legends’ House reality program on WWE Network, I was not planning to tell the whole world I was gay. In fact, I didn’t want to even be a part of the show when it was first mentioned to me. I said no without even considering it, but my friend Kevin Dunn kept the pressure on and kept telling me it was perfect for me.

I didn’t know it at the time, but they wanted me on the show from the get-go. Sequestered in a house for weeks, with a bunch of old wrestlers, being filmed all the time, without access to a television, phone, or even a radio?

Hell no — and that was my final answer.

They kept insisting.

I finally beat the names of the other participants out of them — and that was only the first rule I broke on that show. I would be joined by Roddy Piper, Jimmy Hart, Tony Atlas, Jim Duggan, Howard Finkel, and Hillbilly Jim. Mean Gene Okerlund was also going to be on the show, and that actually changed my mind about the whole thing. If he could do it, I could, too. He is closer to my age and I could have fun with and relate to him while we were in the house. Even Vince himself pushed me to do it. He told me I was going to steal the show. Look, I know they were trying to con me into it, and they ended up getting their way. They know me all right. And I did steal the show, if I say so myself. You know me by now, and it’s clear I’ll do anything for an audience.

But let’s make something clear: never again.

I would never be part of another reality show, unless it was with younger talent like the NXT crew. I would not mind being a trainer on Tough Enough or something like that. I would like to be the Yoda character, the wise master, just like Chris Jericho calls me. Yes, I think I would enjoy that — but I would never be sequestered in a house again.

During Legends’ House, I made a point with the production crew that they needed to pay me on our bet or I was done filming their scene over and over.

First off, not everything at Legends’ House was about me being gay. It was no picnic, but we had some fun — and no, I’m not talking about performing as a Chippendale dancer in Las Vegas. The worst day of shooting for me was when we went fishing with Shawn Michaels. Four hours without catching anything — it was boring. And no offense, Shawn, but if Ray Stevens couldn’t get me into that kind of thing, no one can. The worst part is when we got off the boat, there was a real steep ramp to walk up. The camera crew wanted to shoot us as we got out of the boat.

“OK, everybody ready? Get out of the boat.”

They had cameras following us all the way to the top, but when we got there, they said, “We’ve got to redo it.”

OK. So we got back into the boat and “got off it” all over again. After the fourth time, I got hot. And so I said, “Obviously you guys don’t know your shit.”

Doing that four times seemed stupid to me. But I don’t understand the business of filming like they do . . . So I told one of the producers, “I’ll bet you ten bucks you’re going to screw it up again.”

“Not this time,” he said.

We walked all the way up the ramp again . . . and of course they had to redo it. So I told the crew, “I’m not moving until you give me my ten dollars.”

They gave me my ten. And then we did it again.

The funniest story that made the air came out of an art show. Tony Atlas was actually very good. We should have had him do all the paintings. But I was doing all kind of shit, too, most of which never even made it to the gallery. We had the big presentation one night. People actually came in to see and buy our paintings, with all profits going to charity. This one guy spent $300 on one of mine.

“I bought the painting for you. I’m from Rio de Janeiro and you won the first Intercontinental Championship there.”

I felt bad — and almost wanted to say something. Thank God it was for charity.

As I’m sure you figured out, I’ve never been to Rio. Even if, according to wrestling “history,” I was there. I have been just about everywhere else in the world . . . For so many years on WWE television, they made it such a big deal about me winning the title there. I think I need to plan a vacation to Brazil, just to be able to say I was there for history’s sake. If I do, I will bring the Intercontinental Championship with me and take plenty of pictures. Actually, that would be funny. Somebody from WWE should make that happen.

There’s some good stuff that happened during the filming of Legends’ House that they didn’t air. Halfway through the shoot, Mean Gene and I asked for a day off. Two elderly gentlemen like us found the schedule grueling. It was against the rules, but we didn’t care. I told the producer that we were either going in town to have a drink or we were going home. He told me that I couldn’t.

“I don’t care. Tell the others we are shooting something together downtown or we are packing our bags and leaving.”

We were serious. We knew the company had invested a lot in the show, but we needed a break. They reluctantly accepted our ultimatum. And it was worth it.

It was about 5 p.m. and we went downtown in a limo. We were free — and it was great to get away. We went to this Mexican restaurant where there were a lot of older people — a lot of older ladies, in particular — having cocktails and stuff. My God, Mean Gene started chatting with one woman, and then another, and before you knew it, there he was talking with five or six of them. They were falling in love with him. He was telling them all kinds of stories. I was ordering drinks when I realized we’d already been there for an hour. I whispered into Gene’s ear that I wanted to see if we could find a karaoke bar. I told him not to tell any of the women because, for crying out loud, they would have followed us. Anyway, I went out into the street and walked around and found a very good karaoke bar nearby. I couldn’t wait, so I went back to where Mean Gene was, had a couple of drinks, and we decided that we were going to go singing.

Now, there weren’t that many singers, but there were a lot of people watching. I couldn’t help myself and I couldn’t stop. I was in heaven. We kept drinking and just having a blast, a real great time. People were actually listening to me from the street and applauding. Eventually more people gathered to watch us and applaud. We were supposed to be back by 11 p.m, but it was already 10:30 p.m. and we were drunk. We realized we had to walk three blocks and I had to look after Mean Gene, who was staggering even more than me. We finally found a taxi stand, but there were no taxis. We waited and waited until I finally said to Gene, “Let’s go have one for the road, across the street.”

So we walked across the street, went to the bar, sat down, had our drink, and talked. It wasn’t long before Gene looked around the place and said, “Patrick, there ain’t too many girls in this bar.”

“I know. It’s a gay bar.”

It was so funny. This guy walked by and I told him it was the first time my friend had ever been in a gay bar and that he was nervous. The guy told Gene not to worry; he was a good-looking guy and that they were going to take care of him.

“How did you become gay?” Mean Gene said to him.

“Well, my father was gay.”

I couldn’t stop laughing. That should have been on TV.

We finally got that taxi, and when we got back to the house, it was close to midnight. When we went in, it was quiet. The outside lights were on, but inside it was pitch dark. I smelled a rat. Anyway, we staggered up to the front door, and I was afraid to open it, because I figured something was going to happen. But what the hell, we had to go in at some point. I turned the knob and the door opened. And that’s when I heard Hacksaw Jim Duggan yell, “Jimmy Hart, you dumb ass. You locked all the doors except the front door.”

They wanted to lock us out, but it didn’t work. And when they asked us where we’d gone, we just told them. What were we supposed to do? They were mad, but they also wished they were the ones who had escaped.

And thank you, Jimmy Hart. Leaving the front door open almost made up for the fact that you got me soaked with cold water in that car wash in Episode Three. (Stop denying it Jimmy, I know you did it.)

Sharing Legends’ House with Mean Gene almost made the whole experience fun.

That ultimatum thing only worked that one time, so we also tried to escape without telling anyone. Ray Stevens would have been so proud. Shawn Michaels had a big car to drive him to the house when he visited. Gene and I tried to get Shawn to help us by hiding us in the back. Not only doesn’t he help, he stooges us off. Shawn Michaels, of all people! After all I did for him, Mr. Anti-Authority sold us out, and the production didn’t even bother to film it. I think it would have made good television.

The Legends’ House producer told me after the final show that it was “fucking good television.”

If you watched the show, you know that at the end, we all shared something personal, something we never told any of the other wrestlers. I’m the one who actually started that shit. It gave us a great ending, a look at the real people behind the characters we’ve played. If I didn’t bring that up, I don’t know what would have been the show’s ending.

The problem was that the legends were always playing wrestler for the cameras. They were in character, true to their gimmick, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I kept telling them that the production wanted to know us, the real people that we are, and not just our characters. Jim Duggan doesn’t go to the grocery store with his two-by-four. The late Roddy Piper didn’t wear a kilt everywhere. You understand me, right? I didn’t tell anyone what to do, but I opened up the door for us.

As I said earlier, I spent my life protecting the business on one hand, while attempting to keep my personal life out of the spotlight on the other. I’d been hiding something for most of my life.

The thought of coming out did cross my mind when I said yes to Legends’ House. I thought it might be the place for me to let everyone know the truth. What I mean is this: while many people knew I was gay, I had never expressed it in front of a crowd. We had so much time to kill between what you saw on television and what was really happening that the thought kept coming back to me on a regular basis. By the time we reached the end, it finally felt right.

I realized the other guys also had things to say that they had never discussed, and that’s why I proposed the idea of sharing something personal. It was like we all had something we needed to let go. So I opened up in front of everyone like that, knowing I had the right to let go, to be myself, without playing a character for anyone. For the first time in my life, I said it openly in front of everybody. And the most important thing is that I did it on my own terms.

I can’t find words powerful enough to explain how important it was for me to tell the world I am gay. When it was done, I felt good about it — and I realize that’s how you get to really know someone, with the truth.

Even though the show wouldn’t air for a while, I didn’t mind the wait. I was at peace with it all. But I also don’t regret not coming out earlier — I just hadn’t wanted to come out and I didn’t see the benefit. I could only see it turning into something bad for me and the company. Even though Vince often said to me that I should do it, I didn’t think the time was right. But in the back of my head, the idea was always there. Who doesn’t want to be free? I kept telling myself that one day, I would do it, but until very recently, I never really had the time to focus on it. I shielded myself as I went on with my career, never letting anything or anyone get close enough to share who I really am with the world. A few years ago, I would have said that I never let it affect me, but today I realize it did. I needed to express the truth, and on Legends’ House, I was ready to let go of the burden of secrecy. I was ready to live my life just like everyone else, no more hiding.

I had spent a large part of my life always playing a character. It was a good life, but I could never really be myself, never really let down my guard. Everyone knew Louie, sure, but I would always defend myself if someone asked the question. I would tell them they were crazy, that I wasn’t gay. I knew many people knew something was going on, but as the years went by, people stopped asking about it. And I liked it that way. I never introduced Louie as my boyfriend. It was always “my friend Louie.” I still can’t call him my boyfriend. Somehow that feels wrong. He will always be “my friend Louie.” And to me that’s so much more than a boyfriend.

Everyone has something to hide. And no one really wants to be vulnerable on television. For us wrestlers, it’s all about protecting our image and our character. The other legends probably didn’t want to show that on camera; they wanted to project the image of always being strong. A few weeks later, after the final episode, Roddy Piper took me aside and said, “Pat, you came out. On the show. Thank you, from all of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had an idea you were going to say that.”

“So?”

“We support you.”

Listen, I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but I didn’t want anyone’s support.

Now think about it this way. I’ve always respected guys like Piper, Shawn Michaels, and Chris Jericho. They are small guys. I wasn’t a big guy either, but I was different. For a long time, those guys questioned whether what we were going to do with their character was going to help them. It took them all time to realize they’d reached a level where it didn’t matter what happened to their character. When I was producing them, I never made a big deal out of it: if we reached a dead end, I’d tell them to think about something else, that I would do the same, and that we’d meet again in an hour. Then they would come back with something new, or they saw the good in what we wanted to do in the first place.

That being said, still, it’s good for every wrestler to think about what they are going to do. It’s what the great movie actors do, too. They repeat their lines in their head until they can feel and become their character and give us a great performance. But later, when they go up onstage to receive an award, are they still that character? No, they’re not. No matter how famous Sylvester Stallone became, he never talked to you as if he was Rambo or Rocky, you know what I mean?

When Stone Cold first got to WWE, he was cast as The Ringmaster. He hated the gimmick and eventually said, “Screw this.” He went in a completely different direction. Out of that, a superstar was born. This is how you learn, by trying things. I tried many different things: Lord Patrick Patterson, Killer Pat Patterson, and Pretty Boy Pat Patterson. Various promoters loved those gimmicks, but that wasn’t me. Even still, I made the best of them and made them work. But even if I was in the main event, wrestling for the championship, it didn’t feel real.

I learned many valuable lessons doing this, however. Sometimes, people don’t want to listen, don’t want to change, because they’ve enjoyed some success. But if a promoter or someone in power sees something else in you, and if you want to learn, you should be open to trying new things. You can always try something else if it doesn’t work.

Today, obviously, I’m more open about my personal life, even if I’m still a bit uncomfortable. But the great thing is, I’m definitely more comfortable with old friends. Angelo Mosca, the Canadian Football League Hall of Famer and former wrestling star, called me after seeing Legends’ House and told me he loved me and that he had been moved to tears by the series.

I always loved Angelo when we were tag-team partners. I couldn’t resist making fun of him, even if he could have killed me with his bare hands. He was so nervous one night in California when we were wrestling Peter Maivia and Rocky Johnson. We were in a little town in the middle of nowhere, and when I would tag him, I would trip him as he was climbing into the ring without him knowing it was me. He thought he was tripping on the bottom rope. He kept telling me he was sorry.

I called him recently when I learned he was dealing with the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease. He told me he loved me and that he always would. He’s a big man, a big monster in our business, and it never mattered to him that I was gay. It’s been like that for so long in wrestling, maybe that’s why people felt that my big revelation wasn’t that big.

But it was for me, and it was for a lot of other people.

I’ve stopped counting how many guys have come up to tell me how proud they are of me and what an inspiration I am to them. I’m not used to that, since I was always making stuff up to hide the fact I was gay. It’s amazing to me, but it makes me happy that it’s helped. My favorite encounter happened in 2014 at SummerSlam in L.A. A FedEx truck slammed on the brakes in the middle of the street as I was walking on the sidewalk. The driver, who was a big guy, jumped out of his truck and came toward me to tell me he was gay, too. He gave me a big hug, thanked me again, took a picture, jumped right back in his truck, and drove off.