He has "Help Me!" written backwards across his
forehead. He carries a mannequin's head in his hands
that he calls "The Head." He is constantly carrying
on a conversation with this "head." He refers to it
as "They," meaning he hears more than one
voice. For his own good he was sent to
the Philadelphia-based Extreme Championship Wrestling
(ECW). The renegade operation known for
its employment prerequisite of suicidal tendencies
sent him back. He was simply too
dangerous. What brought the man once
known as Leif Cassidy, who also competed in the World
Wrestling Federation as Avatar and Shinobi, to this
desperate mental state? He may have suffered for his
art too long without appreciation. In
many respects, professional wrestlers are artists.
They are craftsmen who work on canvas, not with
paints or oils, but with blood, sweat and tears.
However, some calling themselves artists work
primarily for mass consumption, simply looking to
recreate the emotion associated with a once original
piece time and time again. Instead of displaying
creativity and new works of art, they simply hold up
a painting first done in 1984 and expect
cheers. Despite changes in styles or the
audiences' tastes, the appreciation of fellow
artisans is often the most sought after, but the most
difficult response to attain. At any event, both
critics and fans of the artists' work peer through
curtains or stare into television monitors as the
craftsmen display their latest offerings. As an
eyewitness to these public showings, the critics can
be brutal. Praise, when given, is truly
earned. A man who consistently earned
praise from his fellow artists throughout his career,
Al Snow's career began in the humblest of settings.
Who would have thought, with the gallery of work he
now possesses, his career very nearly never got
started? Right after high school graduation in 1981,
Snow sold his car for bus fare and the registration
fee to try out for the Anderson Brothers in North
Carolina. In his own words, Snow has
described the ordeal as "barbaric." A group of about
20 young men from all over the country wanted to
learn the art of professional wrestling from a
renowned veteran. Instead, they paid $250 each to get
their asses kicked. After what seemed
like thousands of Hindu squats and push-ups and an
agonizing array of sprints and dashes, it was time to
get into the ring. The 18-year-old Snow
just wanted to be a wrestler. He would now finally
have his chance. With his legs quivering from having
run the arena steps thousands of times and a lactic
acid burn in every muscle of his body, Al Snow would
soon lock up with Gene Anderson. First,
he witnessed several other wannabes get a chance with
one half of the Minnesota Wrecking Crew. Anderson
punched, kicked, clawed and bit until each young man
had had enough. With the ring cleared, it
was Al Snow and Gene Anderson. Following the brutal
pummeling, Snow went to take a shower. He saw Gene,
who told him he'd never make it. With no
money, he had to walk five miles to get to the bus
station and back home to Lima, Ohio. Why,
16 years following this incident, did he finally
snap? It wasn't the struggle to become a pro; it was
the fight for recognition. He lived for his art and
suffered because of it. He'd been called "the
greatest wrestler you've never heard of" on numerous
occasions and was voted the most underrated wrestler
more times than he could count. His peers
spread the word of his skill in locker rooms
throughout the country and he found himself with more
work on the independent scene than he could
handle. That is, however, like being the
richest of poor men. How many $50 pay days does it
take before you begin to starve for your art? When
you have a wife and two young children, it's faster
than you think. Each opportunity was "the
big one." His wife had heard it hundreds of
times. An offer to work in Tennessee for
the Smokey Mountain promotion was his biggest break.
It was still a regional territory, but it was a
chance to display the body of his work for a company
that was a critical success. However,
like the independent film, if no one sees it does it
really make a sound? His artistic struggle continued.
1996 would be a turning point in his
career. With Smokey Mountain down for the
count, an offer to work fro the World Wrestling
Federation came on the heels of his contemplating
retirement. Who would have guessed that the thought
of quitting would bring about his life-long
dream? They said, "We've got an idea that
you're perfect for!" First it was the
masked Avatar, which never saw the light of the ring.
Next it was Shinobi. Another meaningless mask. Two
strikes for the "office" with Al Snow. What about the
artistic respect that was now in jeopardy? The third
strike would be Leif Cassidy--take a great wrestler
and put a goofy grin on him and add a never fully
explained love of 70's music. That is
what Al Snow did to his pride and his art in order to
be in the World Wrestling Federation.
Slowly, the losing and humiliation started getting to
him and Al began to unravel. He was labeled a
"malcontent." For a laugh, the "boys" would come over
and get him started. He would flip out, retelling the
story of the "Carrot and the Stick," a tragic tale of
use and misuse by the front office of the World
Wrestling Federation a million times. The
final straw was the night he flipped after losing on
television and got in Jim Ross's face.
For his own good, Al was loaned by Vince McMahon to
Paul Heyman of ECW. Despite the fact that
Philadelphia is only 140 miles from Stamford,
Connecticut, there is an entire world separating the
two companies. Al was isolated and alone.
Just like when Gene Anderson told him in 1982 that
he'd never make it, Al knew deep down inside that he
couldn't quit. Since he didn't work for
Paul, he wasn't one of "Paul's guys", the inner
circle that controlled the power in the outlaw group
and Vince thought he had seen the last of Al Snow the
night he made the call to Heyman. Al
trusted no one and harbored ill will toward both
companies. One night, he says, he heard a
voice--several voices, in fact. He found "The Head"
amongst the trash in one of the nondescript locations
in which ECW conducts business. He
finally found someone on his side. Someone who
appreciated his art. When Al Snow
returned to the World Wrestling Federation, he
screamed about wanting to meet with Vince McMahon. It
seems that the man who throughout his career had
lived for the appreciation of the audience and fellow
competitors now wants to know why he wasn't
appreciated here before. Perhaps he wants to
recapture the self-respect he'd sacrificed in
1996. Perhaps Al wants revenge for the
mistreatment that culminated with casting him off to
hell on earth. There was never anything wrong with
his work in the Federation--it was merely hanging out
of the public's view and it was poorly
lit. When a painter's work doesn't sell,
does he blame the gallery? In Al Snow's case, the
World Wrestling Federation treated his Picassos like
"Dogs Playing Poker," and then blamed him for their
not commanding a higher price. Now
halfway through 1998, front office personnel
adjustments under Vince McMahon will prevent that
from happening again, hopefully. In any
case, has irreparable damage been done to one of the
greatest artists this sport has ever
seen?
Raw Magazine Aug 1998
Kevin Kelly
WHAT HAPPENED TO AL SNOW? Or...How it all finally
went to his "head" -- By Kevin Kelly