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 The
Sad Fate of “Irish” Jerry Quarry
January
2, 2010
By Mike “Rubber Warrior” Plunkett –
Not all that long ago one of my RSR message board buddies sent me a personal
message telling me they enjoyed the career look-back I penned on all-time
light heavyweight great Bob Foster. Over the course of that exchange, it was
suggested that I might delve into the careers of the Quarry brothers, the
thinking behind that triggered no doubt from the fact that Mike Quarry had
at one time challenged Foster for the light heavyweight world title. It was
a great idea on its own right, but along with that suggestion came up the
question of how did the Quarry brothers fare after the merry go-round wound
down and the hoopla and paydays dried-up. So this is the reasoning behind
this submission, and over the course of researching the fate of these former
fan favorites, I came away the very sobering notion that our sport and the
trappings of success that often come with it, if not properly channeled, can
literally take away the better part of a man and his soul.
Jerry Quarry began his professional career in May 1965 with a four round
decision over one Gene Hamilton. Known affectionately by fans as “The
Bellflower Belter”, he stood six-feet tall with a modest reach of 72-inches
and at his very best he typically weighed around 195lbs. He was a durable
and intelligent counter-puncher with fast hands and a particularly notable
left hook. He also had a solid chin, an attribute demonstrated more than a
few times over the course of his days fighting for pay. If he had any weak
points in his physical make-up, it would have to be his propensity to bleed
when faced with sharp-punching opposition. Beyond that, the fact that Jerry
competed in the strongest heavyweight era to date, a period that spawned
some of the most gifted and greatest big men ever, added to the incredibly
difficult mountain he had to climb in order to make his mark in the division
and on a greater scale, heavyweight history.
Jerry fought often and paid his dues, learning his craft while developing a
following with fans. He suffered his first loss in July 1966, coming up
short on the scorecards after ten brisk rounds with the 48-8-3 Eddie Machen,
a wily and talented veteran who held wins over former world light
heavyweight champion Joey Maxim and Charles “Sonny” Liston, a fearsome man
who would one day go on to win the world heavyweight championship and
ultimately become recognized as an all-time great. With less than two years
of professional experience under his belt, the loss was little more than a
speed bump in the learning curve for Quarry, who less than a year later
would fight to a disputed draw with former world heavyweight champion Floyd
Patterson in a bout that saw both men hit the canvas. Five months after
that, Quarry won a controversial twelve-round majority decision over
Patterson in a WBA title eliminator tournament, a tourney where he would
ultimately come up short after losing a fifteen-round majority decision to
Jimmy Ellis for the vacant title in April 1968.
His next big bout of note came in June 1969, a brutal seven-round TKO loss
on cuts to then-smoking “Smokin’ Joe Frazier for the NYSAC Heavyweight Title
in an encounter that saw him take an early lead. The crowd-pleasing nature
of the bout induced Ring Magazine to rate it as Fight of the Year. In early
1970 he re-established himself as a top contender in the division by
knocking out the 24-0, 24 KO’s Mac Foster, setting him up to face Muhammad
Ali in a high profile encounter that highlighted the return of the
undefeated former heavyweight champion after a three-year exile from the
sport. Badly outclassed and cut, Quarry succumbed to the force that was Ali
in the third round. He spent the better part of the next two years regaining
his momentum, winning six in a row before a return match with Ali for the
NABF title that saw him badly beaten over seven rounds.
Notable big wins over contenders Ron Lyle and Earnie Shavers in 1973, the
latter of which was an impressive 1st-round TKO over perhaps the most
powerful puncher in all of heavyweight boxing history, illustrated the level
of willingness and skill that was as much a part of Jerry Quarry as was the
popular “Irish” tag so often attributed to his widely known name. Today, the
wins seem to mean all the more when reviewing this proud warrior and his
place among the many active greats of the period. Those key wins also set-up
the inevitable rematch with “Smokin’ Joe Frazier in June 1974, a half decade
after their first meeting. On the comeback trail after losing the
championship to George Foreman the year before, Frazier fought with the
added desire to regain his lost status, dialing-in the correct sequence of
hurtful bombs sufficient to force the referee’s intervention, again
frustrating Quarry’s ambition for a title shot while adding incalculable
mileage and wear to his increasingly ring worn mind and body. Adding to all
of this, outside of the ring Jerry suffered greatly, losing vast amounts of
money while incurring the burden of emotional pain with a messy divorce and
the break-up of his family.
The end of Jerry’s prime run came at the hands of Ken Norton in 1975. A
desperate Quarry took the bout with Norton on just under three weeks’ notice
in March after two other scheduled opponents bailed on the top contender.
Having less than ideal preparation time, Quarry nonetheless gave another
remarkable effort nearly stopping Norton in the 3rd, before being badly cut
and stopped in the fifth-round. The loss effectively ended “Irish” Jerry
Quarry as a top name in the sport, ultimately serving as a marker for the
beginning of the end; a steep and unforgiving decent.
In 1983 Quarry returned to active ring duty as a cruiserweight. Three failed
marriages and several failed business ventures demanded his return for
financial reasons. Now 37, and in training for his latest comeback, he was
visited by a Sports Illustrated reporter who was researching an article
about health issues among retired boxers. Although Quarry appeared to be in
good physical health, his performance on several simple cognitive tests was
outright alarming. The writing was on the wall. Jerry was already showing
the signs of early pugilistic dementia even before engaging in those two
comeback cruiserweight contests, the second of which was particularly
grueling, with Jerry absorbing a frightful shellacking over the course of
ten rounds to earn an ugly majority decision. His obvious mental decline was
a testimony to the years of toil and to every hard punch he ever absorbed
during that golden heavyweight era. The skill and talent that punctuated his
rise to the top and tenure among the deepest heavyweight division in history
was clearly long gone. Not long after his five million dollar fortune
accrued over a long and arduous career was also gone. By 1990 he was on
Social Security at a point in his life when he should have been living
comfortably and virtually carefree.
In 1992, Jerry’s abilities to function in the real world had declined to the
point where he was easily taken advantage of. He was coerced to participate
in the filming of some fight scenes for a boxing movie by an unscrupulous
scumbag. Happy to have the opportunity, Quarry worked himself into a
semblance of shape, only to find himself on the short end of a six-round
pounding by a 3-4-1 journeyman of little note. There was no production, no
movie and no golden opportunity to recapture a moment of notoriety. Jerry
had been duped; he found himself an unwitting participant in an actual bout,
his name and the fading shadow of his former self were used to lure in an
audience and to sell tickets in the worst possible sense. He was unable to
defend himself both in the ring and outside of it. Over the course of that
episode, Quarry lost several teeth, underlining the cruel nature of some
that would stop at nothing to make money in our sport.
It’s been said that Jerry lived out his final years utterly unable to care
for himself, under the care of the one Quarry brother that did not opt for a
career in the ring, James. So bad was the final stage of his abbreviated
existence, Quarry would often wander off without supervision, only to be
found by friends, family or the police, often sitting alone in the park or
wandering the streets aimlessly. In the mid-90's, James Quarry started a
Jerry Quarry Foundation to raise money for him and other boxers who suffered
from the fate pugilistic dementia. When Quarry was inducted into the World
Boxing Hall of Fame in October 1995, he was by that point so disabled that
he could no longer sign his name for autograph seekers.
“Irish” Jerry Quarry passed away on January 3rd 1999 at 53 years of age due
to pneumonia and later cardiac arrest, complications brought on by his
deteriorating condition.
It should be noted that Mike Quarry, 62-13-6, 16 KO’s, a former light
heavyweight contender succumbed to the effects of pugilistic dementia and
passed away on June 11th 2006 at age 55. Another brother, Bobby, 9-12-2, 6
KO’s, suffers from Parkinson's disease, believed to be the result of his
own, less-heralded heavyweight boxing career. I cannot help but wonder if
the Quarry brothers, their focus, intestinal fortitude and talent aside,
were pre-disposed to suffer the effects of a career in boxing despite the
varying levels of competition and success, or if it all was just fate’s
cruel way of delivering an exclamation point on a cautionary tale on the
ills of a career in the ring.
As I look back with sadness at how Jerry Quarry’s existence turned into a
steep and pathetic decline just beyond the first chapter of his extremely
notable career, I cannot help but wonder what could have been had Jerry come
onto the scene about the time Leon Spinks made waves in the sport, or just
beyond as his talented brother outdueled an aging Larry Holmes over the
course of making history. Today, I have little doubt that the cruiserweight
division would be his for the taking, and looking at names such as David
Haye or even Nikolay Valuev at heavyweight, I cannot help but believe Jerry
would have been successful in his quest to win the heavyweight title. It
would have also been interesting to see him come about during the period
where Rocky Marciano reigned supreme, and I have little doubt he would have
been at the very least, popular and extremely competitive. But the hard,
cold fact
remains, he came about at precisely the wrong point in heavyweight history
to make it to the very top of the mountain, ill-prepared for the cruel blows
of fate and for the heart-ache and personal pain exacted as payment for his
success.
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