It’s probably a safe bet that if you’re not a pretty strong boxing fan, the name Ingemar Johansson will escape you. He’s mostly forgotten today, but nearly 60 years ago he was more than a sports star. He was a cultural icon. A husky, 200-pound Swede who swooped into staid America for a couple of years with an estranged wife in Sweden and a girlfriend, Birgit Lundgren, on his arm … and in his bedroom suite.

And, of course, he had a strong right cross punch, one he used to KO Floyd Patterson in the third round and briefly hold the world heavyweight boxing championship. Ingemar was extremely likeable, and America warmed to him. He was on TV often, on “What’s My Line,” Jackie Gleason’s show, and more; he even had substantial roles in a couple of motion pictures. 

As author Ken Brooks reminds readers in “Ingemar Johansson: Swedish Heavyweight Boxing Champion” (McFarland, 800-253-2187), 1959, the year Ingemar KOd Patterson, was an era where a heavyweight boxing championship fight was the biggest event in sports. It was global, bigger than an NFL championship. There was an electricity of excitement that moved through crowds, radio broadcasts, closed-circuit telecasts, newsrooms and wire services. As Brooks notes, for older sports fans, the night Ingemar won his title was the first time Howard Cosell was a broadcaster for a fight. Forget Ingemar for a moment; who remembers Cosell?

This is a much-needed biography of a figure who has been ignored. Other champs of his era — Marciano, Patterson, Liston and Ali — command a score of biographies between themselves. Brooks takes readers through Ingemar’s early years, growing up in a solid, working-class family in Sweden. He was destined to become a fighter, brawny, muscled, more at home with a shovel than a book … although he proved to have sharp business acumen as a retired boxer.

Once he discovered boxing, Ingemar quickly dominated Sweden and Europe as an amateur, and found himself in the 1952 Olympic Games heavyweight boxing gold medal match, against American Ed Sanders, who would tragically die after a bout soon after hew turned pro. For reasons best known to the mercurial youth, Ingemar barely threw punches for two rounds and was disqualified. Brooks’ writes that the Swede’s strategy was to not fight hard until round 3. In any event, Ingemar was stripped of any medal (decades later he was given a silver) and for a short time was a national disgrace in Sweden.

With that bad experience he began a pro career. He proved too talented to have fans boo him for too long and returned to favor with consistent wins, plowing through Europe’s best. The beginning of Ingemar’s international fame was when Eddie Machen, the top heavyweight contender, made the mistake of traveling to Sweden to fight the undefeated Swede. In what was considered a brutal, shocking upset, Machen was pulverized in less than a round. Ingemar was now the number one contender in the world, earning a shot at world champ Patterson.

With his girlfriend, Birgit, and his parents and siblings, Ingemar trained at Grossingers resort in New York. The title fight was in Yankee Stadium. In round three of an even fight, Ingemar landed his “Hammer of Thor” right hand flush on Patterson’s face. Seven knockdowns later, the fight was stopped and Ingemar was world champ.

He enjoyed being champ, easily staying in the public eye. He hobnobbed with Frank Sinatra and had an affair with Elizabeth Taylor, something that media winked at in that era. There were predictions he’d last a long time at the top. He didn’t, primarily because he proved to be one-dimensional. He had a big right hand, but little else. In the rematch, at the Polo Grounds in New York City, Patterson mostly avoided Ingemar’s “Hammer of Thor” and used his speed advantage to wear Ingemar down, knocking him unconscious in round five.

The pair fought one more time, in Miami Beach. Patterson won that too, in the sixth round. Ingemar hurt Patterson a couple of times, even knocking him down, but couldn’t capitalize.

Ingemar Johansson only fought four more times, against lesser opposition, all wins. Then he wisely retired with a record of 26-2 and a lot of money in the bank. He proved a capable businessman, finally married Birgit and they started a family. The marriage ended in divorce but the pair remained friends. Ingemar later started a relationship with a journalist, Edna Alsterlund. They eventually married but divorced after a now-elderly Ingemar — suffering from Alzheimer’s — was placed under care of family members hostile to Edna’s role in the family. In his last years, completely devastated by the dreaded disease and institutionalized, Birgit returned to his life.

Brooks’ details about Ingemar’s declining years is very poignant, an effective description of what Alzheimer’s can do to its victims. Shortly before Ingemar died, Brooks writes of Ingemar taking a step, then stopping. He was unable to make his brain direct him to take a second step.

In the decades before Alzheimer’s moved him from public notice, Ingemar stayed active, and in the news. Besides his businesses, he was a media commentator for boxing, a boxing promoter (He lured Sonny Liston to Sweden for a few bouts), and even bought and ran a small motel in Florida. Brooks writes that he was a one-man staff. Later in life he had a home in Florida.

One of his closest friends after retirement was his old rival, Patterson, whose career extended in to the 1970s. In the 80s, the pair ran a series of well-publicized marathons together, Floyd was still a trim 182 pounds, Ingemar a much beefier 240 or so. But a warm friendship formed between the pair. In a sad irony, Patterson later declined due to dementia and like Ingemar, died unaware of what he’d accomplished in life.

Brooks’ biography is not just for boxing fans. Those who wish a peek into the world of generations past can read about the people, places, events and stars that wandered through the path that Ingemar Johansson traveled.

dgibson@standard.net