Side effects hit boxing brothers hard

CHICAGO — Boxing promoter Don Chargin looked out the window of the press room at the Jerry Quarry-Jimmy Ellis heavyweight title fight in Oakland, Calif., and saw his fighter, Quarry, exercising in a highly unusual and downright dangerous manner.

"There was Jerry, with his brothers Mike and Jimmy, jumping back and forth between cars on a moving freight train," Chargin recalled. "One by one, they would jump up on the couplers between the cars, then jump off the other side. A few cars later, they'd come jumping back the other way."

Chargin, needless to say, was stunned.

"Not only could I not believe what I was seeing, I couldn't believe they were doing that 48 hours before Jerry was going to fight for the heavyweight title.

"And Jerry, of course, was the leader. His brothers would follow his dare."

On April 27, 1968, in Oakland, Jerry Quarry lost that fight to Ellis by a majority decision. One of the three judges called it a draw.

Mike Quarry followed his older brother's leap into a danger zone considerably longer than that freight train. Both became professional boxers. Both fought past their prime. Both suffered brain damage that drained the joy from their post-boxing lives.

When he died June 11 at age 55 in an assisted living center in La Habra, Calif., Mike Quarry again followed in his brother's footsteps. Jerry Quarry was 53 when he died on Jan. 3, 1999, in a hospital in Templeton, Calif. Among their afflictions, both suffered from dementia pugilistica, a clinical term for a punch-drunk brain.

In truth, jumping between moving freight cars was not the most dangerous exercise Mike Quarry undertook with his older brother.

Mike, a talented light heavyweight whose greatest shortcoming was his lack of a knockout punch, often sparred in the gym with Jerry, a top heavyweight contender and a knockout puncher. That meant their sparring was always more dangerous for Mike. And Jerry did not pull his punches when he faced his brother in the gym.

"Their workouts were horrible to watch," Chargin said. "I could hardly keep looking. But Mike would go in there day after day."

"The hardest punches Mike ever took, except from Bob Foster in their title fight, were from Jerry," recalled publicist Bill Caplan, who knew both brothers. "It's hard to imagine one brother hitting another like that. I'd ask Jerry, 'How can you do that to your brother?' And he'd say, 'He's in there with me, isn't he? Hey, this is boxing. I've got to get ready for a fight.' "

Between them, the Quarry brothers got ready for 148 professional fights that stretched into more than 1,000 rounds of hitting and getting hit.

Those who knew them through boxing, including Chargin and Caplan, offer two assessments about the Quarry brothers: First, they were pushed into fighting by their father, Jack, a rough-hewn, transplanted Oklahoman who picked cotton, boxed and had his knuckles tattooed, "Hard" on his left hand and "Luck" on his right. Second, Mike fought and lived in Jerry's shadow.

Ellen Quarry, who was married to Mike for more than two decades, agrees with the first supposition but not the second.

"Mike loved Jerry, but Mike had a strong sense of self," she said. "I saw the love between them, how playful they were with each other."

A marriage-and-family therapist in La Mirada, Calif., Ellen met her future husband in 1983, shortly after he retired from boxing for good. She only saw him fight in an exhibition.

"I'm not a fight fan," she said. "I went with Mike to a few bouts, but I think boxing is stupid."

She refrained from harsher criticism in deference to her husband's career. But she had asked him why he chose it.

"He said it was not black and white, it was green."

The greenest it ever got for Mike Quarry was $40,000 for his 1972 title fight against Bob Foster, she said. "And he was aware of the millions at stake in later title fights."

That awareness eroded during the years, along with his physical dexterity. Ellen Quarry remembered, early in their marriage, when her husband could "stand there and pretend to punch a freckle on my nose, coming so close without touching." But the last 18 months of his life were a different story.

"Before then, he went down gradually," Ellen said. She took him to cognitive rehabilitation classes, and he tried other occupations, working construction and attending barber college.

"But he began forgetting things, losing things," she recalled.

When his mental and motor skills evaporated, she cared for him as one would a child.

"I was in it for better or worse, and I wanted to set an example for my community," she said, referring to her marriage-therapy clients.

Ellen, a 14-year college student who earned master's and doctorate degrees, and Mike, a 13-year pro boxer, were unlikely candidates for attraction when they met in a New York City bar.

"There was that little magic, you know?" she recalled. He later told her he knew she was a strong, religious person who would take care of him. For her part, "I saw a sense of humility, and I saw a sense of greatness in him."

The Quarry brothers' careers began auspiciously.

Jerry was undefeated in his first 20 fights, Mike in his first 36.

After his first loss, by decision to Eddie Machen in July 1966, Jerry had a 10-fight unbeaten string, including five knockouts and a win by decision and a draw against ex-champ Floyd Patterson.

On June 27, 1972, the Quarrys were booked onto their biggest shared stage, as challengers in title bouts pitting Jerry against former heavyweight champion Muhammad Ali and Mike against light heavyweight champ Bob Foster. Billed as the Quarry Brothers vs. the Soul Brothers, it became All Souls' Night. Jerry was knocked out in the seventh round, Mike in the fourth.

Their careers never again reached that peak, although Jerry beat contenders Ron Lyle and Earnie Shavers before being knocked out by Joe Frazier and Ken Norton.

Mike fought a decade of tough bouts, often going the 10-round distance. Most notable were three fights against Mike Rossman. Each won once before their rubber match at Madison Square Garden in 1977. Quarry suffered a cut over his right eye so deep and bloody that it impaired his vision. His brother was in his corner and told the referee to stop the fight after the sixth round.

Jerry had been retired for two years and expressed his concern for his brother by saying, "I'll never let him fight again." But both Quarrys returned to the ring for sad finishes as once-were contenders against newcomers who never would be.

Jerry Quarry finished with 53 wins, nine losses and four draws, winning 32 bouts by knockout. Mike Quarry's record was 63-13-6 with 17 KOs.

At least one research issue with punch-drunk syndrome was buried with the Quarry brothers: Were their similar medical conditions and causes of death more the result of punches absorbed or genetic makeup?

The Quarrys may have been vulnerable in both areas, said Dr. Margaret Goodman, a neurologist, medical advisory chairman for the Nevada State Athletic Commission and chairman of the Association of Boxing Commissioners medical board.

"On one hand, you can only take so many punches in your life, whether in the gym or in bouts," Goodman said. "On the other hand, dementia and cognitive problems do run in families."

She questions whether wearing headgear makes sparring significantly safer than actual bouts. "Headgear may contribute to the problem because it is heavy and can exaggerate head twisting," she said. "And how much it absorbs the punishment is unproven."

Neuro-trauma rehabilitation specialist Beth Adams, who is on the medical advisory board of the Retired Boxers Foundation, said punch-drunk syndrome is a subject long avoided by boxers.

"The bigger problem for some who are unwilling to quit is that if they continue fighting, second impact syndrome can result in huge exacerbation of problems," she said.

Regardless how many amateur and pro rounds Jerry and Mike Quarry fought or whether they were predisposed to dementia pugilistica, there could be an added medical epitaph for brothers whose affection for each other was shaped by their father's machismo code.

If, as some vividly recall, the two sparred ferociously in the belief it made each of them stronger and was necessary preparation for real fights, they might have unwittingly contributed to each other's demise.