The silk neck ties and button-down shirts were replaced by turtlenecks and V-neck sweaters.

Gone is the exercise bike from the bedroom, traded in for a newfangled breathing contraption. A motorized wheelchair is not far away, tucked in a corner.

Even the Boston-accented voice of the Harvard grad and former FBI agent has been reduced to a soft whisper, a casualty of the insidious disease that has been his unwanted companion for the past 28 months. Court of Appeals Judge Martin Doctoroff is living with Lou Gehrig's disease.

He's never seen the second floor of the spacious new condo he now calls home. He can feed himself - if someone puts the fork into his hand.

The illness has stolen his gait, diminished his ability to speak and robbed him of his ability to drive or live independently.

But the disease will never take away Doctoroff's greatest gifts - his family, his friends and his mind.

So once a week - maybe twice depending on how he feels - the 69-year-old father of four sons takes a ride from Troy to Southfield, where he sits as a judge.

The job he has held for 15 years may be the tonic that keeps him alive. He has no immediate plans to leave, despite his declining physical condition.

Appeals court colleague and personal friend Hilda Gage, who bears her own demon, multiple sclerosis, said Doctoroff has not lost his ability to judge.

"Marty is still there. It's the shell that isn't," Gage said.

Doctoroff and his wife of 43 years, Allene, went to New York City for an impromptu reunion with their four sons - Dan, Tom, Mark and Andy - and their families.

Tom had come in from his job in China, Mark from his home in Moscow. Dan, a successful money manager at the time, hosted the families at his New York City brownstone.

It was May 30, 1999, Allene's 64th birthday. It would prove to be an important family trip, the last joyous time the family had together.

A month later, Allene - a prominent and respected Birmingham psychologist - was in the hospital fighting the rare cancer of the salivary glands she had had for years. By September, she was dead at age 64.

During the New York trip, Doctoroff noticed something unusual as he walked down Broadway. One foot was dragging - imperceptibly to others -but not to him. He kept it to himself, telling no one of the oddity.

A month later, son Andy noticed his father was having trouble walking through the airport. Curious, yes, but no reason for alarm.

Then, with his wife's death, Doctoroff appeared more fatigued than normal. His posture changed, his shoulders appeared more rounded and he looked shorter. Walking became more of a chore.

The judge started what would be an exhaustive battery of tests. They came back negative.

Doctoroff and sons Dan and Tom left for Sydney and the 2000 Summer Olympics. Andy spoke with his father by phone during the trip. As was the usual practice, the topic of his father's health came up.

"I think he was (emotionally) down in Sydney," said Andy, a lawyer who lives in Huntington Woods. "His limitations were becoming evident. He was using a wheelchair to attend events. The tone of the conversation was not good. He was down and sad."

A doctor had speculated the judge had ALS, commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease.

He returned from Sydney to more tests, including a trip to see a specialist in Florida. By November 2000, the diagnosis was definitive. It was ALS.

"We knew something was really wrong," Andy said. "He may not have believed it was ALS, but I instantly believed it was ALS. It made perfect sense. Dad had been falling. I remember seeing 'Pride of the Yankees,' and Lou Gehrig kept tripping as he was coming out of the dugout. Dad kept tripping."

Early on, Doctoroff did not appear to be fazed by his disease. While he did not advertise his plight, he did not keep it a secret either.

"If I'm 45 years old, I'd be hiding it," Doctoroff said in a 2001 interview. "But I'm 68 (now 69). I've had a wonderful life."

Doctoroff was stoic about the diagnosis. Andy was understandably emotional.

"I began to tear up, and Dad admonished me not to do that," Andy said.

Doctoroff's colleagues soon learned about his condition, and the word got around in the legal community, too.

The first public pronouncement came in January 2001 at the retirement party for Oakland Circuit Judge David Breck.

Doctoroff was to have been a speaker for his University of Michigan Law School classmate but was seeing a specialist at the time.

The job of appeals court judge is well-suited to Doctoroff because of his condition, his family believes.

An appellate judge sits on the bench only a few days a month, unlike a trial judge, who sits on the bench almost every day. There is no daily grind to tire Doctoroff.

A judge's work can be done at home or the office. There is voluminous reading that comes with the job, daily contact with law clerks and occasional meetings with colleagues to discuss the law and particular cases. The clerks assist in the writing, editing and rewriting of the judge's opinions, as they always have.

The judge always has the final word, although there are days when the disease limits Doctoroff's ability to speak. He has good and bad days.

There is a concern among some that Doctoroff is not the judge he once was. Doctoroff would have none of that.

"I don't think anyone has noticed a change in my opinions," he said. "Ask any other judge. I don't think they would say I've lost any of my mental abilities."

Fellow appellate judge Henry William Saad agreed.

"There is nothing wrong with his mind, and this is a mind business," Saad said.

Others have speculated that he refuses to leave while Michigan has a Republican governor. Again Doctoroff, who was appointed in 1987 by Gov. James Blanchard, dismisses such talk. His term expires in 2004.

Some doctors have suggested to Doctoroff that he step down.

"But they don't know the demands of my job," the judge said. "I know the demands. I know how I feel."

The joy that remains for Doctoroff comes from the family and friends who surround him.

Andy wants his father to continue the fight.

"People are saying, 'Take it easy.' Dad thinks, by doing that, he is in some way admitting this disease is defeating him. ... Dad is not defined by his physical prowess. What makes him who he is, is what's up here," Andy said, pointing to his head.

Andy puts a straw to his father's mouth for a sip of ice water. An Alaskan cruise and a trip to Las Vegas are in the works.

"He hasn't stopped living," Andy said, glancing at his father. "Right, Dad?"

The judge nodded.

Copyright © 2002 LexisNexis, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.