MAX BAER: The forgotten champion's teddy-bear truth.

posted the YouTube video, but thought most would rather read the original script.

The fighter we are talking about today is the former heavyweight champion of the world, Max Baer. Undoubtedly one of the hardest punchers to walk the face of the earth; a savage of a man, who paired this natural gift for finishing his opponents, with an iron chin. Fans and onlookers would flock to television sets in the 1930s to see the animal fight; he had no regard for his own safety, openly mocking his opponents and daring them to hit him, which earned him the nickname, Mad Maxie.


But Max wasn’t mad, and he certainly wasn’t a savage. The real Max Baer was a sensitive and playful man, who was born with the uncharacteristic talent of sending giant heavyweights to European infirmaries for specialist treatment. His good name and story have been misrepresented in Hollywood movies and by the words of desperate promoters trying to draw in a crowd. - we thought we’d tell the real story.


Baer was born in 1909 in Nebraska, but his father moved his family to California, looking to find a ranch to raise cattle in cowboy country. His brother, Buddy Baer, was a boxer turned to actor who found middling success in both fields, but never reached the heights that his younger brother would years later. It was here, in the fields and gravel pits on his father's ranch, that young Max would develop his over-worldly power. Carrying huge carcasses of meat across the ranch and shovelling stone and rock in sweltering heat.


During this time, Max was attending a dance at his local high school when an older boy began to bully and berate the Wiry teenage Baer, it took Max just one punch to knock him out cold. He was soon enthralled in a life of professional boxing, his slender frame developing into that of superman, it became clear to many trainers and managers at the time that Baer may have had the perfect boxing genetics. He stood 6ft 2 with a wingspan of 6ft 7 with 210lbs added onto his long coat hanger frame. Like many fighters of the time, he started young and fought often. His first opponent was a native American chief who he finished in just two rounds. Max quickly worked his way up the rankings in his home state of California, an iron chin and an elephant gun for a right hand, made him the perfect weapon.


Then, in 1930, tragedy struck. A year after his professional debut, Baer was fighting for the pacific coast championship against skilled pugilist, Frankie Campbell. The fight came with a less than satisfactory head-space for Baer; a day before the fight, his coach and friend, Tillie Herman, betrayed him, joining Campbells’ corner for unknown reasons. The fight began well for both men, but in the second round, after an accidental slip to the canvas from Baer, he let all the frustration out. Baer charged at Campbell, who was facing the crowd, fully believing that Baer would be receiving an ‘8 count’. Max connected with a ruthless right hand that sent Campbell crashing violently to the canvas. Campbell was saved by the bell, and returned to his corner where he uttered just one, spine-chilling sentence: ‘I think something snapped in my head’. Campbell seemingly recovered and was back to out-boxing the slower Baer for the next few rounds. The moment that ultimately led to the death of a young man, began before the 5th, when Baer’s former coach, Tillie Herman, began to mock and insult Baer, claiming he had no chance of beating Campbell. The usually relaxed and jovial Max Baer, was transformed into a beast with only one thing on his mind – a knockout. Baer pressured his opponent up against the ropes, and began unloading devastating hooks and straights to the body and head, pummelling him with a ferocity not seen in his fights, before or after. By the time the ref realized the only thing holding up Campbell were the ropes – it was too late.

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Campbell didn’t get up and an ambulance was called for; Baer did not leave Campbell’s side until it arrived. Max visited his former opponent in the hospital, finding Campbell’s wife sitting beside his bed, he offered her his hand, the same hand that sent her husband to the floor, the two stood in silence for some time. Frankie Campbell was declared dead the next morning. His death remains a tragedy that haunts boxers entering the ring, almost a hundred years later. When Max Baer received news of his death, he wept uncontrollably and remained distressed for a great deal of time.


Baer contemplated walking away from the sport completely, but times were tough and if he wanted to provide for his family. If he was to return to the sport, he vowed to never hit a man with his full power ever again, his heart simply couldn’t take another accidental killing. Baer returned to the sport 4 months later, his finishing power and instincts now nowhere to be seen. He was unable to get the Campbell tragedy out of his head and suffered as a result, losing many fights he should have won handily.


A few years later, the light began to return to Max’s eyes, he returned to entertaining and joking with the press and his family. So too, did his boxing prowess return, finishing many opponents and putting on the performance of a lifetime against the German superman, Max Schmelling.


Yet no matter how much love and care he showed, he would never escape the branding of a killer, the Campbell fight would stain his name for decades after his death and he would be reminded of the incident often. He captured the heavyweight title after defeating the 267lb Primo Carnera, sending the giant for a one month stay in the hospital in the process, which Baer paid for in full.


He lost the title a year later to James Braddock, in one of the most impressive title fight performances of all time. Despite the loss, Baer remained his usual lovable and upbeat self, joking with reporters after the fight. He spoke highly of his contemporaries and showed an uncommon playfulness for a fighter of the time. Movie producers took note of his quick witted and teddy bear nature and he appeared in many movies during the 1930s and 40s. Often playing the big lovable bear, that so many new him as. This didn’t prevent the continued vilification of Baer, however; In the 2007 film, Cinderella Man, a biopic about James Braddock, that presented Baer as a blood-thirsty savage, whose only goal was to knockout his opponents. The film's director drew tremendous criticism from those who knew Max, but the label stuck.


A great deal of Max’s legacy has been lost to time. Perhaps if the Campbell tragedy never happened, and if Max’s heart wasn’t so big and mind so relaxed, he would have been a household name and one of boxing’s most decorated fighters... But if that were the case, we wouldn’t have Max. He touched the lives of so many during his time in the limelight, and brought much-needed levity to the American public in its most difficult moments.


Max Baer, the only boxer with a heart bigger than his glove.



For more articles head on over to my new boxing blog: www.kletkonetwork.com

 

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Reznick is certainly a genius. I would love to see a new video from him! Didn't hear anything about Max Baer's racist comments, i will do some research, thank you for sharing brother!