Expectations were high and anticipation was running
at a fever pitch for the upcoming bout in the St. Paul
Auditorium. The date was Friday, April 18, 1936, and
Jack Gibbons, the marvelous athlete from St. Paul, was
matched against Fred Lenhart of Tacoma, Washington.
They had fought once before, on October 1, 1935 in
Seattle and Lenhart won on points. The rematch was
scheduled for Gibbons’ home town and the prefight
stories in the St. Paul Pioneer Press wondered if the
auditorium (referred to as the “new’’ auditorium despite
its presence for several years) could accommodate an
anticipated record crowd.
“10,000 May See Gibbons-Lenhart Bout Tonight”
the headline teased. Another story indicated that
the auditorium could accommodate only 11,000.
The record at the “new” auditorium was 10,360 for the
Jack Dempsey / Art Lasky exhibition there in 1931.
Would the Gibbons-Lenhart rematch surpass that
figure? Would there be seats enough to handle any late
arriving patrons? Would some fans be turned away?
As it turned out, 9,000 patrons watched Lenhart
outpoint the St. Paul fighter for the second time. The
Twin Cities crowd had seen Lenhart two months earlier
when he knocked out Oscar Rankins at the auditorium
in a teaser to the rematch against Gibbons. Lenhart
and Gibbons would fight a third time, in late July at
Lexington Park that year, and Gibbons would win that
match on points.
It was the fight against Rankins, however, that changed
Lenhart’s life. Various stories indicated that he fell in
love with this area of the country, loved it so much that
he summoned his wife and family from their home in
Washington and they relocated in White Bear Lake.
Lenhart became a Minnesotan, fighting 12 of his last
15 fights in the Twin Cities, Hibbing or Duluth, winning
the state heavyweight title despite his status as an
actual light heavyweight. He also held the Washington
heavyweight title and the Colorado light heavyweight
crown.
He fought some of the top names in the sport at the
time, winning and losing against Slapsie Maxie
Rosenbloom, a light heavyweight champion, before
finishing their three-fight saga with a draw. He was
knocked out in California by Art Lasky, who was
inducted into the Minnesota Hall of Fame last year.
Lenhart weighed 177 pounds for that bout, two
pounds over the light heavyweight limit. Lasky,
a true heavyweight, had trained down to 199.
Lenhart fought in an era when fighting frequently
was the norm. He defeated Floyd White on points in
his first fight on February 12, 1926. He was knocked
out by Tiger Jack Fox on June 24, 1938, in the last of
his 136 fights. His record was a stunning 101-22-13,
with 32 knockouts.
In Ring Magazine’s annual rankings in 1937, Lenhart
was 10th among the world’s light heavyweight fighters.
There apparently was something about the Minnesota
tundra that caught his fancy and he settled down in
White Bear Lake, forming a partnership in a tavern
known as Lenhart and McGill’s, later Lenhart’s Shingle
Shanty when he took it over himself, still later the Fred
Lenhart Tavern, and then simply Lenhart’s Bar.
“It had a restaurant connected to it and three apartments
upstairs,’’ recalled Lenhart’s son, Steve. “We lived
right next door. Eventually we tore down that house
and lived in one on the opposite side. We had that
entire corner.’’
Naturally, Steve grew up with plenty of stories, living
as he was in such close proximity to the tavern. “People
would come out of the bar and if they scuffled in the
alley, all that was necessary was to come out with a
deer rifle and they scattered quickly.’’
Despite his second occupation as a professional fighter,
Fred Lenhart, Steve said, was in fact a gentle man. “All
he had to do was threaten to get the belt, but he never
spanked us, never laid a hand on us. He was a very well
mannered man. Everyone liked him as far as I know. ‘’
Lenhart was a volunteer fireman in White Bear Lake for
many years. “A siren would go off at the fire department
and dad would tell his buddies to watch the bar.
He’d take off for the fire department two blocks away
and jump on the fire truck.’’
Lenhart’s boxing days were well behind him by that
point, but Steve recalls watching fights on television
while seated next to or across from him. “It was fun
to watch him watch them (the televised fighters),’
’ he said. “He’d be in his chair watching and bobbing
and weaving.’’
In an article after Lenhart’s death in 1987, Pioneer Press
columnist Don Riley penned the following:
“Raised in an earthen house on the Saskatchewan
prairie, Freddie told me why he entered the ring:
“I was hungry,’’ he said. “It was fight or become a bum.
The depression made a lot of us fighters.’’
Lenhart was born in what is now the Czech Republic
before relocating to he northwestern United States,
before that to Canada. Later, after some time in the
United States... “he volunteered for the National Guard,
but he had no birth certificate,’’ Steve said. “They were
dirt farmers.’’ There was also a period, later, when Fred
Lenhart acted as a sheriff. He was working on the
ALKAN Highway, as a truck driver,’’ Steve said. “The local sheriff in the area he was in had quit and dad was asked if he wanted to be sheriff.’’
Lenhart had a dark, swarthy complexion and high
cheekbones and was sometimes mistaken for a Native
American, a mistake he didn’t seem to mind. On more
than one occasion he responded to the assumption by
saying it didn’t bother him in the least, that he regarded
America’s tribal people as great fighters.
Lenhart clearly belonged to that category himself. With
well over 100 fights to his credit and the ability to fight
with some of the best of his time, he also belongs in the
Minnesota Boxing Hall of Fame.
