Pat Patterson (born Pierre Clermont in Montreal) parlayed a love of wrestling, charm and a flair for showmanship into a celebrated pro wrestling career. Perhaps even more surprising, the kid who never finished high school and left home after coming out to his family — and who barely spoke a word of English — would build on his WWE career by getting into broadcasting, producing and helping run the business alongside head honcho Vince McMahon Jr., a fellow trailblazer with a flair for the dramatic.

I always told my family when I was competing, but they never came to see me. I wished they had been there just like they were when my brother was playing hockey. The first time my parents saw me in the ring was many years later in San Francisco. It was quite the shock for them as I picked them up in a Cadillac and brought them to my big house. My mother kept crying in the car because she had never before even sat in a Caddie. And she could not believe my place was actually my house. I was headlining the Cow Palace, the Montréal Forum of San Francisco, at the time … But there I go again, getting ahead of myself.

My dad and I kept arguing about me getting a real job. Men didn’t show affection back then, not even fathers and sons. I had nothing in common with him anyway. We never found anything to bond over on any level. The reality was the family was just too big and everyone just wanted to get the hell out as soon as possible. Everyone was always invading everyone else’s space when we were together at home. Dad was strict and I hated all the rules. And I was always looking for affection — that was not his strong point.

The reality, too, was that on a personal level I still really didn’t know who I was. I’d tried going dancing with girls like any other boy, but I knew almost from the start that it wasn’t for me. I never knew why, but girls just weren’t doing it for me, even if I found them cute. I had a friend in my class who was gay. At the time, he knew where the gay tavern was, so we started going there Friday nights. When the waiter spotted us, he told us we were too young, but then he told us to be quiet and sit in the corner. I don’t know why he didn’t kick us out, maybe because he wanted to help. It was quite the sight — everyone in there was cruising me. I was a good-looking young man. After going a few times, I finally met a guy my age — I must’ve been 16, closer to 17 — at this tavern. As they say, he was very good-looking, too. We started talking and one thing led to another.

He brought me to his place because his parents were out of town. It was incredible, and I felt so good afterward. There was tenderness and affection. We were just two people, together, sharing their feelings. It was a strange sentiment. In fact, I couldn’t think straight anymore.

I got back home around 1 a.m.; I had missed my curfew, so every door was locked and I had to ring the doorbell to get in. I knew I would wake up everybody but I didn’t care. My dad was doubly pissed — because I wasn’t home on time and now I’d woken him up — and my mom tried to play peacemaker. While I wasn’t completely drunk, I was still floating on the alcohol I’d had plus the incredible evening I’d experienced. That’s when, with the alcohol helping me muster my courage, I completely opened up.

“I need to tell you something: I think I’m in love.”

My mother was happy for me, telling me how good that was. Then I added that it was another boy who made me feel this way. More than likely it was the buzz speaking for me, but I felt too good to keep it a secret.

My dad was like, “Quoi?” What? “Don’t tell me you have become a tapette?”

I defended myself the best I could. “I’m not a tapette.”

“I won’t have a tapette in my home; you’re going to have to move out.”

My mother started to cry. “Gérard, you can’t do that to our son.”

He snapped: “I can’t have a tapette in my house. What will everyone say?”

This was the turning point. I’d wanted to leave home for the circus but hadn’t had the guts. I knew I had to get the hell out and the sooner the better. My mom ended up winning that argument and I was allowed to stay a little longer, but I had learned that Dad was not ready to share this with me. Things would get smoother as the years went by, but I was in New York before we truly spoke about that night again.

I was working at the shoe factory around that time and I gave all the money I made to my mother. She would give me back a little money, and with that I would go to the tavern. I had found a place where I could be myself, where people understood me, where we would talk until closing time.

Fast-forward a few years to the end of 1960: I was still working for Samson outside the city. The Boston promoter Tony Santos came to Montréal to check out the talent and he brought some people to his territory. One night, I got hold of him on his way out of the matches at Paul Sauvé Arena, on the corner of Beaubien and Pie-IX.

“Me. Talk to you. Want to wrestle for you in Boston. Give me start.”

To which he answered, “Argh, take my card!”

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When I think about it now, he was trying to blow me off, but I took that as a yes. There was no stopping me; my mind was made up. I found an old suitcase in the garbage and put everything I owned in there. My mom could not believe I was leaving, but I was. When I finally left, my dad told me he didn’t want me coming back, knocking on his door ever again, and I never did. I promised myself not to. Strangely, that made him mad, even though he was the one who said it in the first place.

I wished I could have spared my mom from all the s--- she went through when I left home. I borrowed 20 bucks (a lot of money at the time) from my sister Claudette and left for Boston on a Grey-hound bus. I was 19 years old, had no plan, and barely any money. What was I thinking? I guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t thinking too much, because today I’m glad I left. Little did I know, I was going to meet my soulmate and embark upon a career that, more than 50 years later, I still love.

Excerpted from Accepted: How the First Gay Superstar Changed WWE by Pat Patterson. Copyright © 2016 by WWE. All rights reserved. Published by ECW Press Ltd. ecwpress.com

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