MAX BAER IS STILL POPULAR.

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 83, Issue 47, 25 February 1939, Page 4

MAX BAER IS STILL POPULAR.

CAN DRAW BIG CROWDS

The engineer looked surprised as he drew the train to a halt. It wasn’t the kind of train that ordinarily brings distinguished passengers. Just a train that had wandered into New York from up-State. But there were newspaper men and photographers and some uniformed special policemen and a railroad detective or two on the platform. “You can’t get away from this Baer,” one of the policemen said. “When Joe Louis comes to town there is nobody to meet him but the red caps and maybe a couple of other chaps, but every time Baer comes in he draws a crowd like this.” The train stopped and Baer got off, and the crowd milled around him. Newspaper men, photographers, passengers. Flash bulbs popped. A movie Press agent in the crowd—Baer, it seems, is going to make some Wild West pictures—handed him a bandana and a sombrero, and Max put them on and posed for the photographers. “If I’m elected sheriff of this town,” he said, “I promise to run all the fight managers out in 24 hours.” Very Few Fighters Now "How about the fighters?’’ one of the newspaper men asked. “There are very few of them left, from what I hear,” Max said, “but I’ll run them out, too.” “You didn’t do a very good job running Joe Louis out,” another newspaper man said. “That was two years ago.” Max said. “Listen, have you changed in the last two years?” “Sure.” the newspaper man said. “Well, I’ve cLf :i f. > ye?.

“I WILL FIGHT ANYTHING OR ANYBODY,” HE SAYS

too," Max said. "It will be different next time.’’

The crowd milled around and finally Mike Jacobs and Baer and Ancil Hoffman and the newspaper men started up the ramp with the photographers running ahead of them and turning to take shots at them. At the top of the ramp there was a crowd waiting, and everybody turned to look after him. “Well, we’ve seen him." one girl said to another. "But we almost missed our train. Come on. We’U have to hurry." Anybody who didn't know any better would have thought he was the heavyweight champion of the world, the way the crowd trailed after him as he walked to the tunnel where the taxicabs are.

In Mike’s office in the Hippodrome the newspaper men backed him up against the wall and asked him questions. He is going to be in New York for only a few days. . . . He is going to Boston for a week's engagement refereeing wrestling matches. “They tell me you put more into refereeing than anybody else,” one of the newspaper men said. “I have colour,” Baer said. The

newspaper man laughed. “Well,” Baer said, “that’s what you wanted me to say, wasn’t it?” He is going back to the coast from Boston. ... He has a contract to make some pictures. . . . The contract is adjustable so that he can take time out for training and fighting. . . . He wants to fight. ... He will fight anybody. Anxious to Fight Louis “Louis?” one of the newspaper men

“Most of all,” Baer said. “How about Nova? Ever see him fight?” “I know Nova very well. He is a nice boy.” “Did you ever see him fight any good fighter?” “I never saw him fight anybody,” Max said. “I just know him.” "Didn’t Buddy knock him out once in a gymnasium?” “Yes,” Max said. “He and Buddy used to work together, and one day he hit Buddy pretty hard, and Buddy knocked him dead. But that was nothing. It might happen to anybody. Besides, Lou w'as just a kid out of the amateurs.” “How about you and Galento?" “That would be all right," Max said. “I’ll fight Galento or Nova or anybody.” “Did you ever see Galento?" “I saw him in front of a bar once,” Max said. “That's something nobody ever could say about me. I used to sit behind a table with a glass of Scotch, but I never stood in front of a bar with a 10-cent glass of beer in my hand. A thing like that is a knock to boxing, drinking beer like that. How can a fellow hope to drink beer and be a No. 1 contender?” “I don’t know’,” one of the newspaper men said, "but he stays up there."

“Listen to who’s talking like a reformer," another newspaper man said.

Baer laughed. “I told you I'd changed,” he said. “Did you ever see Galento fight?" somebody asked. “No,” Max said. “He was on a couple of cards with me, but I never saw’ him.”

“And you never saw Nova fight?” “No.” ’ “He gave Farr a good licking in the fourteenth round." “So I heard,” Max said. “Well, 1 knocked Farr right down on his pants early in the fight, when he was fresh and strong. And Nova couldn’t knock him out when he was tired. You know, Nova can't hit. He stands up straight, like this, and you can’t hit from there. Louis isn’t a great hitter, either. I mean, he never knocks anybody out with a punch. He hurts you, sure. He hits you like a fellow hitting you with a whip with lead weights on the end of it. But he don't knock you dead with a punch.”

Haunted by Lake anti Owls “And you think you could lick him in another fight?” Max shrugged. “Anything can happen when a fellow can hit,” he said. "Oh, I know. It's all right to write stories about me and my fight with Louis two years ago—how I was haunted by the lake and the hoot owls in the w’oods at Speculator. And to say I quit. That’s all right with me. Anybody can say I quit, if they print my name along with it. Just do-n’t leave the name out, and I’ll never get sore. . . . But I'll be back. Knockouts over Nova and Galento would put me right up there—and then another fight with Louis. Listen, fellows, I'm different. A lot has happened to me in the last two years.” “How's your baby?" somebody asked. "Aw, he's swell," Max said. “That's one of the things that's happened to me, having that little chap around. I know that no matter what happens to me. when I go home I'm still his champion.” “Excuse me," Joe Gould said. "I'm going to run along, or you’ll have me in tears. Don't forget to be at Stillman’s Gymnasium to watch Tommy Farr work. We got to get together. Max, and boost boxing.” “That’s right,” Max said. "We gave it an awful shock once, didn't we, Joe?”