Pro-Wrestling Kerry Von Erich Page #3 Pro-Wrestling Kerry Von Erich Page #3
Last updated 21 April 2015
Few famillies have enjoyed more celebrity or suffered more heartbreak than the Von Erichs. It grew deeper Thursday when 33-year-old Kerry Von Erich took his life in a rural Denton County area where he grew up as a seemingly All-American boy.
Ten years ago, the Von Erichs were the most famous clan in the entertainment and athletic world of professional wrestling. Now they represent one of society's saddest statistics. Five of the six sons or Jack and Doris Adkisson - the family name before Fritz Von Erich became a headliner at the Dallas Sportatorium in the early 1950s - are dead. Four have been lost in the past nine years, the last three by suicide.
When they heard the news of those three suicides - Mike in April 1987, Chris in September 1991, and now Kerry - family friends who knew the love and closeness that Jack and Doris Adkisson felt for their sons wondered what created the tragic turn in their lives. There is no one answer, for each of the three killed himself for a different reason.
* Mike, plagued by physical and emotional problems after a near-fatal bout with toxic-shock syndrome, took his life with an overdose of the tranquilizer Placidyl. He died in the same area where Kerry died - their boyhood playground.
* Chris, the youngest of the brothers and an asthmatic who never grew to the impressive athletic proportions of his brothers, grieved for Mike, the fifth of the six brothers and the one to whom he felt closest. Ultimately, he was discouraged when injuries halted his attempt to launch a modest pro wrestling career. He shot himself with a pistol on the East Texas ranch where Jack had built Doris her dream house - a white, two-story 19th- century style home.
* Kerry, the fourth of the brothers, was the biggest gate attraction among the Von Erichs after the death of David in February 1984. A strapping 6-foot-7, blue-eyed blond who enjoyed the fanatical popularity of a rock star, David was stricken by inflammation of the intestine while touring Japan. The auto procession from the Denton church where his funeral was held to Grove Hill Memorial Park in East Dallas stretched five miles.
Kerry, Mike and Kevin (the second of the six brothers and now the sole survivor) strived to maintain the Von Erichs' tremendous box-office attraction, but without David it began to slip.
In recent years, the Von Erich family name had faded into the shadows of the professional wrestling world. Meanwhile, Kerry's troubles increased.
Besides trying to cope with the suicides of Mike and Chris, he struggled with physical problems in and out of the ring. A critical ankle injury suffered in a motorbike accident in the summer of 1987 almost cost him a foot, and he never fully recovered. He never regained his old agility and athleticism and often was in pain.
On the day he died, Kerry was on probation after being convicted of forging durg prescriptions and had been indicted on a second charge, possession of cocaine. A warrant had been issued for his arrest, and it seemed almost certain that his probation would be revoked and he would face a prison term.
Now Jack and Doris Adkisson, who lost eldest son Jackie in 1959 when he was accidentally electrocuted, face another funeral.
The public wonders why all of this tragedy has befallen them but cannot know what the parents and sole surviving son Kevin must feel.
For all the shocking problems and disappointments, there were just as many signs that this was a close, loving family.
In the fall of 1987, Jack and Doris sat in the breakfast room of their East Texas ranch house and shared years of memories and feelings for their sons. Those memories seem even more meaningful now.
"We've always believed the best times are when you're doing something special with your kids," said Jack, a football and track star at Dallas' Crozier Tech and Southern Methodist University who, like Doris, grew up in East Dallas. "Doris and I used to go watch them in little track meets. People would say, `Your boys sure are lucky to have you here to watch them.' Heck, Doris and I were the lucky ones.
"One night I arranged to have the main event first at the Sportatorium. You just don't do that, but I did it because I wanted to see David play in a bi- district basketball game. I got there to see the last five minutes.
"Today, too few parents find time to do things with their kids. A father will give his son a $10 bill and say, 'Go out and see a movie.' We've gotten away from what America was built on - the family. But the joy of living still is family-oriented if people just realize it."
The couple recalled fondly each son's special characteristics as a small boy. Kevin's great sense of balance and natural athleticism. David's quiet, gentle nature. Kerry's keen curiousity. Mike's striving for perfection and wanting to please everyone. Chris's admiration for his big brothers while coping with his asthma.
But Jack's feelings for Kerry were different from his feelings for the others.
"Kerry came along 11 months after we lost Jackie, and it was like he was Jackie reincarnated," he said. "I guess I got closer to him than any of the boys. Maybe it was because he was the only one who got serious about throwing the discus. I was delighted, because that was my event. I worked with him every afternoon. He'd throw five or six discuses and Doris would shag. He didn't throw until his junior year, but he was as good as any prep thrower in the country."
As a University of Houston freshman in 1980, Kerry was good enough that coach Tom Tellez believed he had Olympic potential, probably for 1984 in Los Angeles.
"He threw 187 feet as a freshman and that was impressive, considering the conversion to the heavier college discus," Mr. Tellez said. "Kerry had all the makings of a national and possible international champion. We had two NCAA discus champions at UH, and he had the potential to be better than either of them."
But no one ever learned how good he might have been. Kerry became discouraged by the U.S. boycott of the 1980 Moscow Olympics and soon joind David and Kevin in the wrestling ring.
For a few years, the Von Erichs truly lived the exciting life of the rich and famous. Then David, the most charismatic of the brothers in the ring and the centerpiece of their show, died. The boom years faded, and the hard times set in.
For Kerry, the disappointments and the setbacks mounted. Until Thursday, when he must have decided there was only one way to end them.
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