Before there were women clawing each other’s eyes out in Hell in a Cell matches, before the hair extensions and scripted slaps on Monday Night Raw, there was Precious—part valet, part heat magnet, all smoke and velvet. Patricia Williams, better known as “Precious,” wasn’t a wrestler by trade. She was a presence. And in the carny funhouse that was 1980s pro wrestling, that presence was enough to drive grown men into fits of rage and hormonal confusion.
She didn’t need a piledriver to get over. She had something better: a microphone, a mink coat, and the kind of mystique that made Ric Flair lose his Rolex-wearing mind.
THE SUNSHINE WARS AND A REBIRTH IN DALLAS
Precious debuted in 1983 under the name “Sunshine II,” which already sounds like a backup dancer in a ZZ Top video. Brought in by her real-life husband Jimmy Garvin, she was cast as the assistant to his original valet, Sunshine. But in true soap opera fashion, Garvin fired Sunshine—blaming her for a botched title match—and kept her assistant instead. Like any good heel move, it came with a rebrand: the assistant became Precious, and the fans got a new woman to boo with all the venom they could muster.
Garvin and Precious quickly became one of the most detestable—and watchable—acts in World Class Championship Wrestling. He was pompous, she was smug, and together they were the wrestling version of Dynasty with sequins and high kicks. They feuded with Sunshine and Chris Adams, a storyline that even led to Precious stepping into the ring for mixed tag matches. Three to be exact, including a steel cage “loser leaves town” match that had all the subtlety of a Jerry Springer brawl wrapped in barbed wire.
But what set Precious apart wasn’t her offense—it was her aura. She had that smug, country-club detachment, like she’d rather be sipping Chardonnay on a yacht than dealing with sweaty babyfaces in Texas heat.
TO THE AWA WITH LOVE—AND STEVE REGAL
In 1984, after a stint with All Japan Pro Wrestling (yes, she made the Tokyo rounds, probably confused as hell by the stoic crowds), Precious and Garvin migrated north to the American Wrestling Association. There, Garvin was set up to challenge Rick Martel, and Precious was right by his side, eyeing Martel like she was choosing which car to key next.
When Garvin eventually formed a tag team with “Mr. Electricity” Steve Regal, Precious went from valet to de facto general. She directed traffic at ringside like a stage mom on meth, barking, screeching, distracting, and cheating with such flair that even the Road Warriors looked flustered. With help from the Fabulous Freebirds—because of course it involved the Freebirds—Garvin and Regal took the tag titles off the Warriors. The whole thing reeked of neon-drenched treachery.
But when the titles slipped away to Scott Hall and Curt Hennig, the AWA run fizzled. Garvin and Precious packed up their arrogance and headed east.
MID-ATLANTIC MAYHEM AND RICOCHETING MINK COATS
Jim Crockett Promotions in the mid-’80s was where wrestling turned into theater. Larger-than-life characters, blood feuds, and cocaine-fueled promos. It was wrestling’s Studio 54. And into this stepped Jimmy Garvin and Precious.
Precious didn’t just stand ringside holding a hairspray can—though she did that, too. She inserted herself into every storyline like a well-dressed Molotov cocktail. She and Garvin teamed with Black Bart and Tully Blanchard in tag tournaments that played out like Southern Gothic melodramas with powerbombs.
But it was the feud with Ric Flair that solidified her legend.
See, Flair wanted her. In the most 1987 way imaginable. Mink coats, flowers, ego dripping from his pores. When Flair beat Garvin in a steel cage match for the “right” to spend a night with Precious, what he got instead was Ron Garvin in drag as “Miss Atlanta Lively.” Flair walked into the hotel suite expecting soft jazz and candlelight. He got knuckle sandwiches and humiliation. That set up Ron Garvin’s world title run, and it made Precious the femme fatale who outplayed the dirtiest player in the game.
DEEP IN THE TOWER OF DOOM
In 1988, Precious was at the heart of one of WCW’s most deranged storylines: the feud with Kevin Sullivan. If Ric Flair was trying to seduce her, Sullivan wanted to own her soul. He called her by her real name—Patti—like a stalker ex-boyfriend who showed up at your high school reunion with a duffel bag full of threats.
Sullivan’s obsession turned into a psychological war. There were cryptic promos, mysterious papers in robes, and eventually a Tower of Doom match—three tiers of steel cage lunacy—with Precious holding the key to the bottom door. She got trapped in there with Sullivan until Road Warrior Hawk came to the rescue. It was pure madness, like a fever dream fueled by cheap beer and booking committee paranoia.
The culmination came in September 1988, when Sullivan, Rotunda, and Rick Steiner destroyed Jimmy Garvin’s leg with concrete blocks. It was as if they wrote Precious out by breaking the man she loved. That’s when she vanished. Gone. Just like that.
ONE LAST CURTAIN CALL
She returned briefly in 1992, aligning with the Freebirds—Garvin and Michael Hayes—for one final, glorious run. They won the WCW U.S. Tag Team Titles, but it wasn’t the same. The sparkle had dulled. The storylines got thinner. And by September, both Garvin and Precious were done.
She never came back. She didn’t hang around for nostalgia pops or Royal Rumble surprises. She didn’t sell autographs in bingo halls or beg for Hall of Fame recognition. She disappeared, married to Jimmy Garvin, raising kids, and running a ministry for the homeless. Go figure. Wrestling’s most devious valet traded in her fur coats for faith and compassion.
THE VERDICT
Precious was never just a manager. She was the switchblade in Jimmy Garvin’s silk pocket. She was elegance turned weapon, flirtation turned mind game. She didn’t need to wrestle a 30-minute classic—she could make the crowd boil just by flicking her hair and laughing at a fallen hero.
She was a lightning rod for heat in a decade where valets either got ogled or ignored. Precious made sure you paid attention—and made you hate yourself for liking her.
That’s pro wrestling alchemy. And that’s why, decades later, we still remember the woman with the mink coat, the perfume bottle, and the steel resolve.
She was Precious. And she made damn sure you never forgot it.
