Content warning: this article discusses allegations of sexual abuse and assault, human trafficking and workplace impropriety.
Vince McMahon recently attended the Super Bowl, a rare public appearance for the 79-year-old billionaire and former World Wrestling Entertainment promoter. He’s been somewhat scarce since his one-time employee Janel Grant’s sexual abuse and human trafficking lawsuit against him was announced last year. Among its many disturbing claims is an allegation that McMahon named sex toys he assaulted her with after wrestlers.
But the timing of his Super Bowl outing signaled McMahon’s public re-emergence may be just beginning. Days later, his lawyer announced that federal prosecutors had dropped their investigation into his potential cover-up of sexual misconduct.
There’s no denying that the man has left an indelible mark on pop culture. Aside from “Saturday Night Live”’s Lorne Michaels, no showrunner has had a longer consecutive run producing American TV than McMahon. “SNL” entered the zeitgeist in the 1970s, while McMahon broke through in the ’80s with “Wrestlemania.” But it was his flagship show “Monday Night RAW,” which launched in 1993, that set McMahon apart in running a yearround—Michaels’ comic juggernaut operates on a seasonal basis—weekly show for three decades, making him one of the most prolific television producers of all time.
His pro wrestling events helped to establish the domestic pay-per-view market and became a ratings draw on network TV specials. But there’s so much darkness in McMahon’s story that it would take a book to properly explore all his scandals. Indeed, “RAW” itself served as a escape route for McMahon out of a 1993 steroid scandal that almost sank his company, which was then known as the World Wrestling Federation.
So let’s stop for a moment to acknowledge the reason we’re here: to celebrate the fact that McMahon’s dreadful, deranged, and dehumanizing showrunning no longer dominates the WWE landscape.
Or does it? Ongoing lawsuits against the McMahons could still mean big trouble for the WWE brass currently running the league in its new streaming era. His Super Bowl appearance and legal victory haven’t been the only signs that McMahons could be coming out on top. Vince’s wife and former WWE executive Linda, who was named with her husband in a 2024 lawsuit alleging they ignored the sexual abuse of “ring boys,” was just appointed as Trump’s Secretary of Education.
Not to mention, Netflix is paying $500 million per year for exclusive rights to live broadcasts of McMahon’s brainchild “RAW” for the next five to 15 years. The WWE’s off-season-free schedule makes it a prize for streaming platforms looking to keep international fanbases endlessly entertained.
Even the streaming platform itself appears to be hedging its bets when it comes to the promoter. Netflix released a six-part docuseries entitled “Mr. McMahon” ahead of “RAW”’s arrival that explores McMahon’s villainous story while essentially priming audiences on WWE’s upcoming history—a move that could be seen as a both-sides cash grab.
Hall of Famer and former WWE world champion Kevin Nash said the docuseries made McMahon sound like a serial killer. WhatCulture Wrestling did an explainer on the atrocities Netflix left out in a video that serves as a fundraiser for the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network.
The man is certainly not without his critics. McMahon is an admitted union buster who insisted on classifying wrestlers as “independent contractors” to deny them of their right to organize. Big money was at stake, given that sports are television’s financial juggernaut, with leagues like the NFL, NBA, and MLB commanding astronomical broadcasting rights deals. To this day, the league’s talents are touted as having the social importance of athletes in the NFL, NBA, and MLB or even the must-see star power of Hollywood stars—without any of the union representation or revenue sharing afforded to such figures.
Among the gross and macabre broadcasts McMahon produced over the years is his interview with Melanie Pillman, the widow of wrestler Brian Pillman, who died at 35 years of age in a hotel room while working for McMahon. The promoter cruelly asked her on the nationally broadcast “RAW” in 1997 about how she intended to provide for her family with her husband gone: an unjustifiable, sadistic ratings ploy.
McMahon negligently booked a stunt that plunged Canadian wrestler Owen Hart from a Kansas City arena’s rafters to his death on May 23, 1999. The showrunner was somehow able to have the crime scene cleaned up, and continued with that night’s pay-per-view event, for which wrestlers performed in a ring still stained with Hart’s blood.
McMahon’s own on-screen character with sexually aggressive with female talent, and wrestler Ashley Massaro stated in a sworn affidavit that his persona’s predatory behavior, including his penchant for workplace retaliation, provided a guide to precisely how the real-life McMahon operated. She later committed suicide. Her lawyers made the statement public in the wake of Grant’s lawsuit.
It was widely believed McMahon would only stop running WWE upon his death, and he always seemed to have another life left. He’s well-known for his talent of incorporating new technologies at the right time, such as selling an over-the-top media service of WWE’s live broadcasts and show library directly to fans. He was an early adopter of streaming, though ironically, by the time Netflix won the bidding war for WWE against FOX, NBCUniversal, and ESPN, McMahon had been forced off the mic. He missed out on bragging about his storied career’s final, great conquest.
Fatefully, McMahon also did all he could to promote his old friend Donald Trump, booking him for a 2007 billionaire-versus-billionaire “Wrestlemania” storyline. That was around the same time as “The Apprentice” reality show was also pushing carefully crafted fictional plots designed to prop up Trump. 10 years later, he was in the White House. For Trump 2.0, Vince’s spouse Linda McMahon has been confirmed as Secretary of Education, tasked with dismantling the Department of Education. Her appointment serves as a reminder that everything hanging over the McMahons‘ heads can go away under Trump’s friendly administration.
But there are other signs that Vince McMahon’s facade is finally cracking. Part of the reason why the promoter’s abuses were able to go unchecked because for decades was that wrestlers had no viable alternatives if they wanted to compete. That changed in late 2019, when All Elite Wrestling began airing on Warner Bros.-Discovery’s TNT channel, and later TBS platforms. As “RAW” began streaming on Netflix in 2025—other programs had started popping up on Peacock in 2021—AEW started simulcasting its two programs, “Dynamite” on TBS Wednesdays and “Collision” on TNT Saturdays, on HBO Max. For fans, this new era of availability signals another evolution in pro wrestling.
The pro wrestling world over which McMahon ruled ruthlessly, where he cast his shadow for 40 years, now has a chance to move on. WWE may be ready to whitewash his dangerous legacy, there’s no world in which anti-worker showrunners like McMahon should have a place in entertainment.
His mark on the league’s culture, however, seems built into the company DNA. Any time WWE makes a craven business decision or airs a tasteless segment, onlookers will be reminded of the executive’s specter. The league made one such a move during “RAW”‘s Netflix’s debut last month, when McMahon’s showrunner successor, his son-in-law Paul Levesque, approved an appearance by Hulk Hogan. Los Angeles crowd boo’d Hogan into oblivion. Hogan is detested by wrestling fans after making racist comments on the infamous Gawker-leaked sex tape. WWE would love for fans to forgive and forget—but audiences have made it clear that it’s not happening.
WWE might well consider crowds’ refusal to accept such such a creep in its future handling of McMahon’s legacy—and you’d think it wouldn’t have much of a choice after the Grant allegations. But it should be noted that fans cheered McMahon during his first WWE appearance in 2022 after his abuse allegations and hush money payments to women employees involved became public. His on-screen character was a ruthless mega-villain and it appears fans revered him for the same real-world behavior.
And perhaps that warm reception is even less of a shock given today’s climate, where the cruelty has become the whole point in the White House and beyond. There are arenas across the country full of Americans willing to celebrate the guiltiest, the most ruthless—just so long as they are white billionaires with their conspirators and co-signers.
Bay Area wrestling fans: AEW broadcast from the Oakland Arena on March 1, but it was far from your last chance to witness local bouts. West Coast Pro Wrestling league, lucha libre outfit Pro Wrestling Revolution, and underground sensation Hoodslam run shows throughout the year.
