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Back at the hotel before we parted ways, Art reached into his pocket and gave me his room key. Because Art and Eddy were exploding as big-time draws for AAA, they had top-floor suites in the Plaza complete with a VCR, fridge, and stove. I was in a normal room, so this was like giving me the gold key to Disneyland. It was also strange because, to my knowledge, Art had never given his key to anyone and he certainly had never given it to me. He told me I was welcome to watch movies, cook dinner, or just hang out in his huge room. Then he gave me a hug and said, “I love you man.”

Saying “I love you” is not something that guys feel comfortable about, but it takes a real man to be able to tell another man that you love him as a brother. I reiterated the statement and we parted ways. Forever.

A couple of nights later after watching a few movies in Art’s room, the phone rang. I answered it and was surprised to hear Magic’s voice. I asked him what was up and a chill enveloped my body when he spoke two simple words: “Art’s dead.”

Time went into half speed. I looked at the push buttons on the phone and tried to figure out what they were for. I was infatuated with the numbers on the squares embedded into the base of the phone: 1, 2, 3...I hit the floor before I got to 4.

My knees turned into water balloons and wouldn’t support my body. I collapsed like a house of cards. Some would say I fainted except I didn’t black out. I could still smell the dust on the brown carpet and the polish on the oak night table.

A zombie spoke into the phone: “What are you talking about?”

“Art is dead. He died at home.”

I felt as paralyzed as my mom. My limbs weren’t responding to my commands and I couldn’t pick myself off the floor.

Magic explained that Art had died during the night while his young son Dexter slept beside him.

“Magic, what are we going to do? What are we gonna do?” I kept asking over and over. “What are we gonna do?”

I couldn’t grasp what I’d just been told. I didn’t understand how a guy who had eaten a hamburger and discussed Loverboy only days earlier could now be dead.

I hung up the phone, grabbed a pen and paper, and just started writing. In some way, writing a letter to Art helped me to comprehend what I’d just heard. I poured my feelings onto the page, covering it with the ink of my emotions, and the next day I faxed it to the inside trade paper The Wrestling Observer. It was printed on the front page of the following week’s issue. I felt weird reading it because I didn’t remember a word of what I’d written until I read it back.

When You Lose a Brother

Trying to forget the news

That you’re gone so soon

It leaves me crushed and broken

I don’t know what to do

A brother is more than blood

More than just a name

Even though we have different families

We were brothers just the same

We weren’t brothers in flesh and blood

We were brothers of circumstance and means

Sharing stories and good times

Sharing the same visions and dreams

I remember so many times

When each other was all we had

Helping to conquer the difficulties

Of being two strangers in a strange land

Yet I’m very thankful

At the end of that one day

When we exchanged the words “I love you”

As only true brothers can say

Because even though you have gone

To a place we all shall see

We shared respect, love, admiration, and fun

And you will always be with me

Lionheart Chris Jericho

Mexico City

Thanksgiving, 1994

Art’s death is still a mystery. There are lots of conflicting theories and reports as to what happened but I have a theory of my own. Art took a lot of pills during his everyday life. I believe that as a result of taking so many his body became confused about when to wake up and when to go to sleep and as a result it simply stopped working.

When I finished writing Art’s requiem, I went back into his room to do a cleanup operation. I didn’t know what I’d find, but I knew that his death would be a huge story and I didn’t want the police to discover anything that would cause his family any further pain. There wasn’t all