Growling silenced

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This article was published 22/11/2013 (4518 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

MONTREAL — Maurice (Mad Dog) Vachon wrestled for 44 years, had about 13,000 matches and once said he did everything he could to make people hate him.

“I failed miserably,” he grinningly admitted of his attempts to arouse dislike.

That’s probably an understatement for the growling professional wrestler who achieved folk-hero status in his home province of Quebec — and adopted province of Manitoba — as he pioneered the now-familiar trash-talking of opponents straight into the TV camera.

Vachon died in his sleep early Thursday at his home in Nebraska. He was 84.

One of 13 children, including his brother and sometime tag-team partner Paul (The Butcher), wrestling sister Vivian and niece Luna, Maurice Vachon went on to alternate between being a ring villain and underdog hero.

He also brought a degree of showmanship to the ring that has influenced the over-the-top antics of today.

“He was the first wrestler to understand the power of television,” said Yves Theriault, who confirmed his death. “He was the first wrestler to speak to the camera. That was never done before.”

Now everybody does it, said Theriault, who who made a documentary on the wrestler a few years ago.

The death of the gap-toothed, bald brawler brought condolences from average folks on social media — the news was even tweeted in Turkey and Costa Rica– and from national political leaders.

“My deepest condolences to the family of Maurice ‘Mad Dog’ Vachon, a Canadian wrestling legend,” tweeted Prime Minister Stephen Harper.

Sympathies were also extended by the leader of the Official Opposition, whose party counted Paul Vachon as a candidate in the 1980s and 1990s.

“A true legend from the glory days of wrestling has just left us,” tweeted NDP Leader Tom Mulcair. “My condolences to the family of Maurice ‘Mad Dog’ Vachon.”

Married three times and the father of six children, Vachon represented Canada at the 1948 Olympics in London. He was also a wrestling gold medallist at the 1950 British Empire Games in Auckland, N.Z.

“It was to his great pride that he represented Canada at the London Olympics of 1948 when there was no tradition of wrestling in Canada and Quebec,” said Theriault.

Ironically, Vachon found it hard initially to get into the Quebec wrestling market.

Theriault said the sport in the province was dominated at the time by Yvon Robert, who was considered Quebec’s greatest wrestler. Instead, Vachon began his pro career in Sudbury, Ont., in 1950, winning a tournament.

From there, he went to other parts of Canada and the U.S. Midwest. He earned his legendary nickname in 1962 after a wild match in Portland, Ore.

Vachon appeared to go berserk as he waited for a late-arriving opponent, tossing him out of the ring when he showed up, along with a referee and a baton-wielding police officer.

Vachon insisted in a 1999 interview with The Canadian Press none of it was scripted and he was disqualified, fined and suspended.

“You looked just like a mad dog,” promoter Don Owen reportedly shouted in exasperation backstage.

The rest is history.

He starred for the Minnesota-based American Wrestling Association in the early 1960s, headlining many cards at the Winnipeg Arena. He also called Winnipeg home for years.

The five-time AWA world champion wasn’t always a pro wrestler. His father, a police officer, wanted him to become a boxer but a trainer suggested wrestling. He also worked as a longshoreman and in construction.

Vachon lost his right leg below the knee after he was hit by a car while walking down a road in Iowa in 1987. The loss of a limb didn’t sideline Vachon for long. He soon pondered climbing into another ring — the political one — with another gravel-voiced fighter, then-Liberal leader Jean Chrétien, in 1993.

But it didn’t pan out. In 1995, he ended up campaigning with his brother Paul, who ran unsuccessfully for the NDP in a byelection.

While Vachon will be best remembered for his evil grins and grappling in the ring, Theriault said there’s a big difference between Mad Dog and the man himself.

“He wasn’t a bad guy,” he said. “He had a heart as big as the world.”

— The Canadian Press