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Community Corner

In Memory of an Enthusiastically Unconventional Trevian

Remembering Larry Sweeney, 1981-2011.

In Wilmette it is nearly impossible to avoid falling into the trenches of the “win & succeed” mentality. Though I have no major qualms with the message of this developmental ideology, it does breed conformity. The average Trevian earns a GPA above state norms, excels in multiple extracurriculars, and goes on to attend a respected university. From there most of us seem to matriculate into graduate programs or use our privileged upbringings to seek out valuable connections so as to gain adult employment. We do so because we are designed to do so. It is expected of us and we tend to proceed on our given paths to the best of our abilities.

It takes a special kind of person to intentionally veer off the path. A person with strength, determination and confidence to venture forth into the unknown and try to carve out his own path.

Earlier this week we lost one of those special people.

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Out of respect to his family’s privacy I will refrain from using his real name. Instead I will refer to him by the name he chose for his public persona, Larry Sweeney.  Before he was Larry he was just another kid from the North Shore. He graduated New Trier class of 1999 and went on to attend a small college in Ohio. He finished school, but rather than enter the ranks of the professional working class, Larry coined his stage name and entered the ranks of professional wrestling.

An unconventional career choice for a kid from the east end of Wilmette, but Sweet N’ Sour Larry Sweeney had an undeniable charisma that came across in the squared circle. It was that charm and that larger than life presence that won Larry a fan following. In the 21st century fans don’t have to be the people in attendance, for Larry they were the ones sitting behind keyboards watching his antics over the internet. That is where I was introduced to Mr. Sweet N’ Sour. It actually wasn’t until later that I found out that my older sister was a friend with Larry’s younger brother. That was a fun little tidbit, but it didn’t change the fact that I was a fan.

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Larry’s appeal is that he was delightfully behind the times. Pro-wrestling tries to stay contemporary, and in the mid-2000’s while all the other wrestlers sported faux-hawks and tribal back tattoos, Larry donned purple tights and draped himself in a pink boa while strutting through the curtain to the sound of Andrea True’s 1976 classic “More More More." While everyone else was trying to invent bloodier and more violent stunts, Larry was still pulling elbow drops and piledrivers. He took elements from the flamboyant greats of his childhood and made his own character, and it worked.

For about six years Larry made his living as a professional wrestling personality.  Which isn’t an easy thing to do. He achieved his greatest success working as a mouthpiece for other wrestlers. While they might have been taller and more muscular, few could hold the audiences’ attention like Larry. His energy and enthusiasm for the business and for entertainment came through the camera.  A real gift.

But this isn’t a success story. This isn’t a tale about how someone sought out his own destiny and busted his tail to make it happen. It’s a tragedy. Larry Sweeney might have been a fictional persona, but the man suffered from a very real disorder. Bi-polar disorder is a personal hell you can’t understand until you’ve seen it for yourself. The affected can spend weeks on end at the lowest of their lows, only to rocket to unhealthy and frightening highs. There is a cautionary tale there about psychopharmaceuticals and treatment, but I’m not the one to tell it. I wanted to tell the story of a boy from Wilmette who dreamed of being something great. I wanted to tell the story of a guy whose brightness and spirit was infectious to those he worked to entertain. I wanted to tell the story of a man who veered off the path.  I hope now he can find what he was searching for.

To his friends and most importantly to his family, my sincere and deepest condolences. I am so sorry for your loss.

To the 23 time ICW-ICWA Texarkana Television Champion (a title he invented and then awarded to himself), thank you for the great memories,

Cheers,

James

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