March 8, 1971, was a seminal moment for me and sports. In this case, it was boxing. That is when the undisputed heavyweight champion of the world, Joe Frazier, put his title on the line in the Fight of the Century against the man whom many considered the real champion, Muhammad Ali.
Ali won the title in 1964 and successfully defended it until he had it stripped in 1967 for refusing induction into the armed forces. For that reason, Ali, and millions of his fans claimed he was the true lineal champion because he did not lose the title in the ring.
While the likes of Ali and Frazier pulled me into the world of the combatants of the squared circle, an endless list of boxers began to gain my attention. They were the top fighters of the day from the U.S. and all over the world. One of those fighters was a 135-pound hit-and-not-be-hit specialist from Scotland named Ken Buchanan.
Buchanan was one of Muhammad Ali’s favorite fighters. Buchanan, who won the WBA Lightweight crown by defeating Ismael Laguna in 1970 in Puerto Rico, quickly vaulted into a fan favorite and showcase fighter with multiple bouts in Madison Square Garden. It also in The Garden where Buchanan eventually lost his championship belt to a young, hungry, and ultra talented future hall of famer named Roberto Duran.
I think now of Buchanan, more than 50 years after his reign as lightweight champion, because he died recently at the age of 77. His family said he passed away peacefully in his sleep.
On the surface, it’s the way most of us would prefer to leave this existence, but a closer look reminds us of the dark side of boxing. The side Ali publicly experienced after his years in the ring.
Ken Buchanan spent his final days living in a nursing home after being diagnosed with dementia. There is little doubt his 69 career fights, and countless rounds in the gym, added to the damage the man known as the Fighting Carpenter endured in the latter stages of his life.
By the mid 1980’s, in his late 30’s, Buchanan’s ring skills were long gone. Yet, in debt, he took part in ill-advised, unlicensed, glorified club fights to earn enough money to pay a few bills. The site of a former world champion fighting and risking his health for peanuts was frightening to see. For me, by then a teenager, it was heart breaking to read about in Ring Magazine.
But the Ken Buchanan’s story mirrors so many in professional boxing. Joe Louis returned to the ring much past his prime to pay off debts owed to Uncle Sam. I always thought Louis’ situation with the IRS was extremely sad, considering the heavyweight champion joined the Army during World War II, served his country, boxed 96 exhibition fights during that time, raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for the war effort, and even donated $100,000 of his own money to Army and Navy relief efforts. Although Louis’ official cause of death in 1981 at the age of 66 was cardiac arrest, family and friends say he was showing clear signs of pugilistic dementia.
The list of fighters who suffered similar fates after boxing is endless. Sam Langford continued to fight while legally blind. Light-Heavyweight Champion Billy Conn, who fought Louis twice, had dementia when he died at 75. Jerry Quarry was only 50 when he was diagnosed with pugilistic dementia. He died in 1999 at 53, unable to care for himself.
Ring legend Roy Jones, Jr., now 54, recently lost to a former MMA fighter making his pro debut. Jones suggested after the fight he might continue.
We know of the many sad endings for the popular fighters we read about, saw old films of their ring triumphs, enjoyed in person, or watched on television. But imagine the number of fighters who never topped a boxing card and died alone or in nursing homes without memories of their hundreds or thousands of rounds of boxing.
The slick boxing and talented storytelling Buchanan enjoyed speaking of a night in 1972 when he and Ali shared a locker room in Madison Square before Ali’s second bout against Floyd Patterson. Said Buchanan, “I chalked a line down the middle of the room and told Ali there would be dire consequences if he ventured to my side. Ali got a big laugh out of it. We were friends for life.”
The battles in the ring, broken marriages, addiction to alcohol, being sexually assaulted while passed out from a night of heavy drinking, and dementia took a heavy toll on Buchanan.
Like so many other boxers, Ken Buchanan deserved a better end. But for two years, he was the lightweight champion and one of the best the sport had to offer.
Regardless of the trials that followed his years out of the ring, Ken Buchanan was, and always will be, a champion.
–Guest column by Anthony Pittman
