Lonely no more: Mike Jones, better known as former WWE wrestler, Virgil, passes away at the age of 61
I know it seems like every single wrestler from yesteryear that passes away was a favorite of mine in some way shape or fashion, and after twenty years of brogging, there’s no shortage of wrestler eulogies that I’ve written in my own way, at this point.
But Virgil, this guy, was truly a guy that I can’t say was necessarily a favorite of mine, but he was something of an icon in his own way, that I was fixated with, pretty much from the time I learned of his existence until the day he passed.
When I first got into wrestling, a lot of it had to do with the fact that I actually got into a WWF video game first, the arcade version of WWF Superstars, before I actually parlayed it into indulging in the real life variant of the game on television, into the life-long fandom that still maintain today.
In the game, the final bosses were the tag team of “Million Dollar Man” Ted DiBiase and Andre the Giant; but before you actually started playing against them, there’s like a 12-second cutscene prior to the match where you see “Mean Gene” Okerlund interviewing both DiBiase and Andre, but also standing with them was a jacked black guy in a shiny tuxedo counting money.
When I started watching wrestling, and the first time I laid eyes on the real-life Million Dollar Man, sure enough, there was the same jacked black guy accompanying him, holding the money, and that was when I first learned of the existence of the real-life Virgil.
Little did I know that he was named Virgil, as a personal attack from Vince McMahon to rival promoter/booker/wrestler Dusty Rhodes, whose real name was actually Virgil, and in only a manner that could come from Vince McMahon, he slapped basically a slave persona onto a black man and called him Virgil.
But throughout the years, it became quickly apparent that despite Virgil’s imposing stature and menacing scowl, he was tantamount to the WWF’s punching bag to the stars, and in just a few short years of getting into wrestling, I’d seen Virgil get his ass beat by Hulk Hogan, the Ultimate Warrior, Macho Man Randy Savage, and Hacksaw Jim Duggan among others. He was a jobber before I even knew what a jobber was, a term I wouldn’t learn until like 12 years later.
In 1991 though, a storyline emerged where Virgil was getting a little tired of the years of abuse and being basically Ted DiBiase’s slave, and he would turn on his wealthy employer, going under the wing of Rowdy Roddy Piper, culminating at SummerSlam that year where he would defeat his former boss, taking the Million Dollar Title away from him in the process. The pop from the crowd was pretty impressive, and it was apparent that the fans who were still in the dark about the realities of the business, could get behind and relate to a guy like Virgil, and his journey from being the abused whipping boy of his despicable employer, to the man who knocked him off his pedestal.
The WWF wouldn’t capitalize on this, and it was apparent that Creative then had literally no idea what to do with him beyond his feud with DiBiase, and in short time, he would somehow lose the Million Dollar Title back to DiBiase, and my last memories of Virgil in the WWF before I went on a forced hiatus from wrestling because my parents cancelled cable television, was Virgil defeating a debuting Bastion Booger, which was odd in itself because debuting talent basically never lose, but then a week later they would wrestle again which I thought might have been a replay of the previous episode of Prime Time Wrestling, but Booger would get the W on Virgil, and that was the last I’d see of him, and pretty much any professional wrestling for about five years.
It wasn’t until 1998 that I really got back into wrestling, because I had lots of friends now that were also into wrestling, and I had convinced my parents to subscribe to cable again, and was able to watch wrestling on the regular. By this point, WCW had clawed their way to the top of the heap, and was in the midst of their 86 Weeks™ of being on top, with the WWF being in an unfamiliar second place.
Only through bits and pieces and hearsay and occasional lucking into professional wrestling at like hotels or just hearing about it from my friends, did I know of the nWo, and how it was basically like the hottest ticket in WCW. And I remember the first episode of live wrestling I got to watch as soon as I got cable back, was an episode of WCW Thunder on the Superstation starting at 8:05 pm, 7:05 central.
The first match was a grungy dirty Kidman beating Prince Iaukea, and then it was like they got the requisite cruiserweight opener match out of the way, and pretty much the rest of the episode was just nWo segment after nWo segment, and me sitting back and recognizing faces from yesteryear every which way; obviously Hulk Hogan had gone Hollywood, Razor and Diesel were simply Scott Hall and Kevin Nash, Macho Man and a non-wrestling Ted DiBiase were there. But then I’d see Mr. Perfect now going under his given name of Curt Hennig coming out with Rick Rude, and outside the nWo, I’d see guys like Ray Traylor (the Big Boss Man) and the British Bulldog, and it was almost like I’d never stopped watching wrestling over the last five years.
Naturally, being WCW, the end of the show was a giant beatdown of WCW guys at the hands of the entire nWo, and who would I see being a part of this giant schmozz than none other than Virgil himself, clad in a black and white nWo shirt, jeans and Oakleys, which was like the requisite uniform for most members. Except now, he was going under the name Vincent, and knowing what I know about the naming of Mike Jones throughout his career, it’s clear that they were naming him after Vince McMahon.
Which is unsurprising, because as I more and more familiarized myself with WCW, it was apparent that Vincent’s position in the promotion was no different than Virgil’s position in the WWF. He was clearly the job guy of the nWo, the one guy that could take televised L’s and not hurt the reputation of the stronger members of the group. In the few times where WCW stars got the upper hand of the nWo, it was always Vincent who was left in the ring while Hogan, Hall and Nash ran away, and had to eat countless Scorpion Death Drops, Bionic Forearms and other WCW guy finishers.
I remember when the Goldberg train started to pick up steam, and they began acknowledging a streak of victories, there was an episode of Thunder where Goldberg was in the ring awaiting his opponent, and then the trademark nWo music hit, and me thinking “oh shit, Goldberg’s finally going to get an nWo opponent!” But then it was Vincent who emerged from the tunnel, and I just knew that here comes another automatic L, and sure enough, not only was it another L, it was one of the fastest squashes that Goldberg had, which is impressive considering how many of his matches were merely squashes. Vincent got no offense in, and I’m pretty sure was speared and then jackhammered instantly after the bell rang.
After the nWo craze eventually fizzled out, there really wasn’t that much left for Virgil’s wrestling career. A brief stint as, naturally, the fall guy for the West Texas Rednecks, now going under the name “Curly Bill,” and then his WCW time was basically done. I’m not sure what he did immediately after that, but he would re-emerge for brief cameos on (now) WWE television throughout the next decade or so like when Ted DiBiase, Jr. emerged and wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and needed “a Virgil,” before it turned out that he could get the actual Virgil, who was able to milk another week or two of appearances out of it.
I think there was an even more recent cameo, where Edge and Christian were doing their WWE Network original, and there was an episode where they were wandering around the WWE archive warehouse, and stumbled across Virgil who just happened to be floating around in the building as well, and at this point I think genuinely was the last time anyone really saw Virgil on television again.
But like it occasionally turns out to be the case for lots of wrestlers of the 80s and 90s, it really would be after his wrestling career did awareness for Virgil really trend upward. Not necessarily for all the right reasons, but post-wrestling, Virgil became somewhat of a meme, thanks to the internet, mostly on his exploits of trying to milk his persona from yesteryear into appearances and drawing power.
“Lonely Virgil” became a notorious meme, chronicling his life after wrestling, where he would randomly show up at conventions, wrestling events, comic shops, or pretty much absolutely anywhere he could get away with setting up a picnic table to hang his banner that was originally created for him and Ted DiBiase to appear together, but because in most cases he was running solo, it was always (poorly) folded so that it would read just “Virgil, WWE Superstar,” to hawk autographed photos and/or sell the opportunity to take pictures with fans.
Apparently, at some point there was an unfortunate falling out between Virgil and Ted DiBiase, over post-career appearances, in that Virgil wanted to do more appearances than Ted did, because it was apparent that he needed the money more. And regardless of if Ted were available or not, Virgil would go ahead and book them as a duo, upsetting and angering promoters and event coordinators every time they thought they’d get the two of them, and just getting Virgil, alone.
And to make matters worse, Virgil would keep tabs on when DiBiase was doing appearances, and whenever he was scheduled to appear somewhere, Virgil would contact the events or promoters and try to get himself booked, sometimes showing up regardless of if he were booked or not. This would create a rift between the former partners, but at least not to the point where DiBiase wouldn’t sign the 8×10 I originally got from Virgil, featuring him, DiBiase and the late-great Andre the Giant.
To that point though, in spite of the clown-like career he had in the ring, I remember being excited when I realized that I had the opportunity to meet Virgil in person at a really old Dragon*Con, like 20 years ago. The excitement fizzled a little bit when I learned that he was charging $20 for a photo, but in retrospect he was charging $20 for a photo as well as the autographed photo, which compared to what wrestlers charge nowadays was a bargain. But all the same, I remember being quite amused and pleased that I got to meet and get a picture with fucking Virgil.
And in ensuing Dragon*Cons, I would occasionally see Virgil multiple times, alone at his table, once in the Peachtree Center food court, and sometimes just wandering around the convention hotels. But there was one year where I actually didn’t go to the con itself, beyond a brief cameo on Sunday, because I was flying in from out of town, and upon getting off MARTA in the deep, dank cave-like atmosphere of the Peacthree Center MARTA stop, I would run into none other than Virgil, who was gracious enough to snap a quick picture with me, free of charge, probably because he was as high as he looked in the photo.
Admittedly, I couldn’t resist to snap a photo of the Lonely one when I went out to San Diego Comic Con, and he just so happened to have a table not that far from Chuck Palahniuk’s table, where I was camping at the time to try and meet my favorite author. And I’m not entirely convinced that SDCC didn’t invite Virgil out there, knowing that he’d have almost nobody go to him, even in a sea of 125,000 attendees, because the Lonely Virgil meme was very much live and rampant at around that time in 2013 too, and he too could be just another spectacle for attendees to marvel about, knowing that the real, live Lonely Virgil could be seen, from a distance, with nobody in his line, sitting quietly alone.
There was one point, when random GoFundMes started to pay out like lotteries, Virgil would create his own, where there was no altruistic goal or objective in mind, he just simply wanted to be a real-life Million Dollar Man, and was hoping that there would be a million wrestling fans who would be willing to donate a single dollar to help him accomplish the goal of amassing one million dollars. I think it maybe crossed like $300 at one point, but I didn’t keep tabs on this, funny as it could have been.
As far as my awareness of Virgil goes, this is where my journey kind of ended. Other than the errant hearing of his name in some retrospect, an occasional rare Lonely Virgil update, I wouldn’t hear about him again until the last year or so, when I started to hear about his deteriorating health.
Now, the most recent of news snowballed, and we are in a reality where Virgil has laid down and taken the last three count he’ll ever take. 61 does seem pretty young, when you consider the life expectancy being into the 70s; and it’s easy to blame the likely lifestyle of an 80s wrestler, who were known for all trying to catch Andre the Giant’s drinking prowess, while consuming more drugs than a CVS, but according to DiBiase, he wasn’t a drinker, smoker or indulged in any drugs. I knew of his dementia and history of having strokes, but I also heard that a form of cancer might have been in play, but at the time I’m writing this, the cause of death is still not known.
Seeing as how everyone who ever learned of the existence of Virgil ultimately gained a great deal of entertainment out of him being who he was, I do propose that he be given a little more respect in death, than he was when living.
Without question, Virgil is a great example of a wrestler whom creative had but just one singular idea for, like a gun with a single bullet in it. It doesn’t matter what happened before it was shot and after it was fired, when it came time to use that bullet, it really was one of the single best journeys there could have been. It wasn’t complicated, it was very linear, it was just a basic story of an employee who had had enough abuse from his boss, and his eventual defiance, resistance to punishment, and culminating with him defeating his oppressor and taking his prized possession away from him in the process.
As big of a jobber Virgil might have been before his turn on Ted DiBiase, and as much of a jobber that Vincent was when he went to WCW, it’s undeniable that in that brief window of 1991, when Virgil turned on DiBiase, trained with Piper, and ultimately defeated the Million Dollar Man at SummerSlam, the fans’ reactions were unmistakable. The roof came off the building when he pinned DiBiase and hoisted up the Million Dollar Title, and for a brief moment, he got a taste of what it could feel like to be in the main event.
Throughout the history of the business, there have been other instances of superstars who really have had one great storyline, but otherwise nothing else. I propose that to these workers in the business, while they are on their rare runs of greatness, that they be acknowledged as, pulling a Virgil.
Something positive for a guy who for all intents and purposes, did little (known) wrong in his career, always made others look good and never seemed to complain about being the guy eating more L’s than the city of Detroit. He deserves better than to be remembered as the sad lonely guy sitting at convention tables, and this is what I am going to try and work into my own wrestling speak to try and acknowledge positively, Virgil’s place in wrestling history.
Happy trails, Mike Jones.
