Max Baer loved to cruise Broadway in his convertible wearing nothing but swim trunks. The car was a yellow Pontiac Chieftain, a gift from his pal Larry Cameron.
Cameron was a North Sacramento auto dealer and scratch golfer. In the 1960s, he subdivided his ranch near Highway 50 and named it Cameron Park.
Max Baer was famous long before he met Larry Cameron. Baer was the world heavyweight boxing champ and a movie star. He could live anywhere. He chose Eighth Avenue, behind McClatchy High School.
Baer, wife Mary and children Maxie Jr., Jim and Maudie settled into a 4,270-square-foot, four-bedroom home with a balcony along the second floor.
I mention this because there’s something about Max Baer that makes him Sacramento’s most enduring sports star.
Time can’t erase the boxer whose right hand hit harder than any other fighter. Max held the world title for 12 months, 1934-35, Great Depression years, when boxing was America’s big attraction.
Fascination comes from the fact that while Max was strong and tough, he was also charismatic, photogenic and loveable. He trained for fights in nightclubs. Boxing made him rich and famous, but he hated boxing. He despised hitting people.
Boxing was cruel to Max, even when he won. Prize fights pounded his emotions.
Max was blamed for the deaths of two boxers. The world’s nicest fighter was called a vicious killer. After one fight, he was arrested when his opponent died.
When a boxer dies, it’s impossible to know which punch delivers the fatal blow. Fighters attract trauma. Clobbered in sparring, bashed in tuneups. Damage builds over time.
Some fighters escape. Max Schmeling endured a horrific beating by Max Baer and lived to 99.
Frankie Campbell didn’t escape. He fought Max Baer in San Francisco in 1930. Two experienced heavyweights, though Campbell was 15 pounds lighter.
In the second round, Campbell hit Max with a left to the ribs. Max fell but insisted he slipped. The referee agreed. The fight resumed. As Baer rose, a photographer’s flash blinded him. Campbell suddenly became a shadowy outline.
Then Campbell made a horrible mistake. He took his eyes off Max and looked to the crowd. Max’s right fist thudded into Campbell’s temple. At the bell, Frankie told his corner, “Something feels like it broke in my head.”
Campbell won the next two rounds but fell apart in fifth. Leaning against the ropes, he suffered 10 or so blows before the referee stopped the fight. One punch smashed Campbell’s head against the turnbuckle. He lost consciousness. Max carried Frankie to his corner.
The next morning, doctors declared Frankie Campbell dead. Max wept. He turned himself into police. The charge was manslaughter. His friend and manager Ancil Hoffman bailed him out with $10,000.
Charges were dropped but Max was suspended for a year. Psychological punishment was worse. He said, “Every slightest detail would come racing back to mind, and I couldn’t blot from my eyes the last scene.”
But Max fought on. Two years later, he battled top contender Ernie Schaaf at Chicago Stadium. In the 10th round, Max knocked Schaaf unconscious with two rights on the jaw.
The bout was over, but Schaaf’s boxing career staggered on, five more fights in six months. When Primo Carnera threw a left jab at Schaaf, Ernie fell. He died four days later.
Observers said Carnera’s jab barely touched Schaaf. They said Max Baer’s punches six months earlier really killed the boxer. An autopsy showed Schaaf shouldn’t have fought. He had meningitis.
Max Baer never boxed in Sacramento. Maybe that’s why he loved the town.
Max died from a heart attack in 1959. He was 50. Mary lived on Eighth Avenue until her death in 1978. Maxie Jr. found movie and TV fame in Hollywood.
A perfect day for the champ was a family barbecue on Eighth Avenue. Then a cruise down Broadway in his yellow convertible, wearing nothing but swim trunks.
R.E. Graswich can be reached at regraswich@icloud.com. Follow us on Facebook and Instagram: @insidesacramento.
