ARLINGTON — You might expect life in the enemy camp would wear a body down.
Not so in the case of Dr. Frank Hammer, who proudly bears another notable title: lifelong Green Bay Packers fan.
Hammer, a practicing psychologist and Arlington resident who turns 90 years young this month, was born and raised in Appleton, Wis., near Green Bay.
Hammer was a toddler when Curly Lambeau returned to Green Bay after playing one season at Notre Dame and founded the Packers franchise in August 1919.
His first and fondest memories are of attending games with his father as the Packers took on other fledgling teams from Wisconsin and Upper Michigan.
Green Bay hosts Seattle in the NFL playoffs today, and though Hammer is a longtime local resident and Seahawks season-ticket holder since the team’s inception, his allegiance remains firmly with his first football love.
“People kid me,” Hammer chuckled. “But, forced to make a choice, I stay with the Packers.”
Early on, the Green Bay franchise hardly resembled the rock-solid institution it was to become as Lambeau — an inaugural inductee of the Pro Football Hall of Fame who coached the team for 31 years — struggled financially.
Hammer’s heroes were not paid to man the gridiron. Most were employed by the Indian Packing Company, where Lambeau himself had worked as a clerk.
“People don’t realize the players really were meat packers,” Hammer said.
Games were played on open fields without bleachers and later at local high schools or colleges. Fans passed the hat to support the team.
Said Hammer: “Coins, bills or both, they had to do it in order to make expenses.”
In 1922, Lambeau briefly lost control of the franchise, but cobbled together $250 to buy the Packers back.
Hammer recalled someone selling a Marmon Roadster for about $1,500 and donating the proceeds to the team.
“Otherwise, they’d have gone under,” Hammer said.
By 1924, the team moved into City Stadium, capacity 6,000, and financial stability gradually followed.
Hammer — who got a leather football from an uncle at age 5 to replace one his seamstress mother had made — was a standout running back in high school and later at Lawrence College in Appleton.
He was billed as the “Man from Mars” in a newspaper photograph in which he donned prescription goggles and a leather helmet.
“The leather helmets were pretty good, but didn’t have face guards, so some people lost teeth,” Hammer recalled.
Like the early professionals, Hammer — all 5-foot-9, 172 pounds of him — was a tireless two-way player and not undersized for the time.
“If a lineman back then weighed 210, he was big,” Hammer said with a laugh.
The Packers eventually enjoyed unprecedented glory. Lambeau’s teams earned NFL titles in 1929-1931, 1936, 1939 and 1944, led by a slew of future Hall of Famers, such as colorful halfback Johnny “Blood” McNally.
Hammer’s other heroes included quarterback Arnie Herber and the legendary Don Hutson, whose NFL record of 99 career touchdown receptions stood until 1989, when Seattle’s Steve Largent caught No. 100.
“Lambeau advanced the whole concept of passing, and Hutson ran routes nobody else thought of,” Hammer said.
Hammer’s allegiance never waned, even after he left for service in World War II.
During a stint at Seattle’s Fort Lawton in 1943, he met Margaret Bunker, a Red Cross volunteer from Ballard.
They married upon his return from the Pacific theater in 1946, settled in Snohomish County and had four children. Shortly after Hammer was elected mayor of Mountlake Terrace in 1960, Margaret died in an automobile accident.
Hammer retired from the army reserve as a lieutenant colonel in 1970 and eventually relocated to Arlington and raised two more children by another wife.
Trips to Green Bay became less frequent after his mother and father passed away — in the early 1980s at ages 95 and 96, respectively — but he enjoyed a tour of Lambeau Field in 2002.
“The guide said, ‘There’s a waiting list of 56,000 people for season tickets … if you sign up today, maybe your grandchildren will get them,’” Hammer said, laughing.
Hammer got a jolt at an Arlington dairy two years ago.
“Here stood Brett Favre,” Hammer said of a 7-foot-tall cardboard statue of the famed Green Bay quarterback on display in the lobby.
“I’d like to buy that,” Hammer told the clerk, who knew her customer was an ardent Packers fan.
The clerk told Hammer other customers — including many women — had expressed interest in chisel-chinned No. 4.
He returned later, found the faux Favre still displayed and learned three more statues were on order, destined to be raffled off. Then the coy clerk dropped a long-bombshell.
“I’m giving this one to you,” she said.
The statue stands in Hammer’s living room, an apt conversation piece for a near-nonagenarian Packer Backer.
“Once a Packers fan, always a Packers fan,” Hammer said.
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