Max Baer's Life Story—No. 3

Auckland Star, Volume LXXII, Issue 15, 18 January 1941, Page 4 (Supplement)

Max Baer's Life Story—No. 3

former world heavy-weight champion, as told to LEO FULLER.

TACK DEMPSEY was the referee J —and he has cause to remember this fight, too—and it was a great kick to me to have the old Mauler officiating. While we were listening to his instructions, I started to tell him about the time Buddy and I had, staged his fight with Carpentier, aW he got a bit impatient, and said, "Later, Max, later." For the first couple of sessions the rock-like Heeney crowded me, hitting short and sharp to the body. I couldn't get a long shot at him, and he massed me up and held and clinched. I laughed at him and kidded him and then let him take a few pokes at me on the chin, but ho was very impervious to humour and still belted away. I had plenty of time, and I was in fair shape, so it wasn't until the third round that I wound up a few real punches and had them all set to spring. The crowd rose as I exploded two bombshells on Tom's chin. He had come rushing at me at the gong and I spun him around with a left and then I dropped a right haymaker on the spot with splintering force. Tom shuddered like a sail in a squall, and he went clean through the ropes, sprawling heavily among the boxing writers, kicking typewriters and cameras to the floor. Memories Of Firpo Revived. There was an immediate uproar. Dempsey watched closely, and I guess it was a dramatic moment for him because he must have been flunking of the j time when Louis Firpo knocked him out of the ring in the same way. There was to be a similar row about this knockdown. Dempsey watched closely, waiting for the knock-down timekeeper to start the count. Then, as is customary, he picked up the count from the knock-down timekeeper, and they chanted together. At "eight" Heeney had scrambled uncertainly back into the ring and was on one knee, still shaking from the effects. Suddenly there was a commotion around the ringside and the official watch-holder shouted: — "He's out. 'Eight'—and 'two' outside the ring." Then it dawned on the knock-down timekeeper that he had failed to include the "one, two" when Heeney first landed on top of the writers. Dempsey had nothing else to do but to declare me the winner by a knock-out. Those are the rules. Heeney pleaded and I implored. I didn't want to win that way. There was no satisfaction in that. But rules are rules, and they lead to funny situations in this boxing business. Dempsey was apologetic, but I was credited with a knock-out victory in the third round over Heeney.

After the Heeney fight I was even more preoccupied by Dorothy, and the popping of champagne corks was sweeter music to my ears than the thud of gloves on punching bags. And I hit Broadway harder than ever. I had my eight-cylinder car especially lighted inside so that the townsfolk could get a close-up of the one and only Maxie. However. Aneil Hoffman kept bringing up the vexing subject of fights and eventually he was offered Tommy Loughran. And he signed for the match. Singing Easier Than Road Work. After a long eiong and fiance I was persuaded to go out. into the country to train, but not until I had my portrait painted by a famous artist called Maximilian Xogida, and completed a few einging lessons. I kind of thought that

the vocal exorcise would be ™ood for my wind and I could rule out roadwork. However, Ancil had other ideas!

Still, we arrived at the training camp with a fanfare of tin trumpets and several trunks of clothe?. My chauffeur was dressed in an authentic Cossack uniform. Actually I wanted him to wear a cream coloured outfit of my own design, but he had said, "Aw don't make me do dot, Ataxic. De boys on Tenth Avenoo'll throw rocks at me." And I held court at my training camp. There were a lot of arguments, of course. In the first place they had Philadelphia Jack O'Brien, the one-time light-heavy-weight champion of the world, to teach me the rudiments of boxing, so that I should be able to block Loughran's left leads, and, develop a jab of my own. But I didn't want him and I said so in no uncertain terms. Why should I learn to box? I had an iron jaw and two fists that would stagger an elephant. Lots of fellows •with circuses and freak shows make their living having bricks bounced on their heads. They never went goofy, so why should I go goofy because I used my jaw for defence instead of my arms ?

Tommy looked cool, calm and collected as we shook and listened to the referee's instructions. I smilingly acknowledged the multitude's plaudits, and from the first clang of the gong decided to finish matters in a hurry.

"Whirling my war-qlub right I dashed into the fray and roared aloud when Tommy's left spat harmlessly in my face. They were love taps. I started swinging, but Loughran glided neatly out of the way. Well, there was plenty of time, and one of my clouts was going home before the fight ended, there could be no doubt about that.

By MAX BAER,

However, I was rather surprised towards the cud of the first round to taste blood and to find that it was my own claret that had been tapped. Apparently Tommy's rapier lefts, those jarring jabs, were having some effect. It then dawned upon me that I hadn't hit Mr. Uoughran once, and that he was really putting up a masterly exhibition of boxing. With a grin I pulled myself together and promised some fireworks for the second round. The fireworks exploded all right. Suddenly I unhooked a right-hand swing that described an almost complete circle, and plastered itself under lioughran's heart. This was a honey of a punch, and I could feel my foe quiver when the glove landed. Tommy stepped back with a laugh .. . and I knew he was badly hurt. Name Begins To Make Sense., You see, while I always laughed in a fight out of sheer good spirits, most other boxers laugh to cover up a hurt. I clipped him with a couple of lefts and swung my right again, trying to corner him against the ropes. But he ducked fast and I couldn't hang another right on him. Suddenly he wasn't there and I began to understand why they called him the "Phantom.' In fact, he was right behind me and I hadn't seen him move! Tommy made such a monkey out of me that the fans started to laugh at my feverish and fruitless, attempts to nail him. And it was miraculous the '.vay that fellow could avoid punches. I wasn't hurt, but I was flustered. I was out-tricked, out-boxed, and out-speeded. I waled away with blows that would have gone through a wall and nearly dislocated both my arms in prodigious efforts. But Mr. Loughran was always a hair's breath too far away, my punches whistled harmlessly short of the mark. And his punches were stinging, biting and crunching.

Tommy amused the spectators by smartly finishing in his own corner a few seconds before the end of each