The Coronado Bay Bridge is the most direct route to downtown San Diego from his office at the naval station on the Coronado peninsula. Traffic on the bridge, notoriously congested under normal circumstances, seemed unusually heavy that afternoon. As Chandler approached its crest, he saw why: a car parked on the highest point was blocking an entire, precious lane of traffic.

Beside the car, on the span's railing, a large man sat dangling his feet over the side and staring blankly at the water 278 feet below.

View of the Coronado Bay Bridge at night.

Chandler stopped his car, grabbed his radio, and contacted Sector to let them know there was a possible jumper. He described the man, gave the car's license plate information, then got out of his car and approached him slowly.

It should be noted that this man was no 98-pound weakling. He was 6'3" and weighed close to 300 pounds. Chandler is less imposing.

Calmly, Chandler tried to strike up a conversation. He had a hunch that if he asked the big man something neutral, something non-threatening, that he might turn and answer.

"Say, buddy, did your car break down?" At first he got no response, so Chandler called out several times, always asking if he needed help with his car. Finally, the man turned to look at Chandler and mumbled something unintelligible.

Though difficult to understand, his mumbling opened the door for conversation. Chandler approached him slowly, all the while asking whether he could help with his car. When he was within arm's reach, he offered the man a cigarette, which the man took eagerly. As he reached for the cigarette, Chandler, who admits to discomfort in high places, grabbed the man's arm. The man panicked and began to kick feverishly against the railing to break Chandler's grip, still dangling just inches from certain death below. Chandler knew that this large, desperate man could take him along on his fall to the water if he really wanted to.

Nonetheless, as the man thrashed in panic, Chandler gripped his arm and locked it over the railing. But the man continued to kick and flail, so Chandler struggled to grab his belt and haul him back to safety.

As adrenaline surged through him in response to this life-and-death battle, Chandler's strength rose. Finally, using all the power he possessed and then some, Chandler pulled the struggling man back over the rail to safety.

Both men were exhausted from the battle. Winded from the effort, Chandler managed to talk calmly, always calmly, between gasps for air, to the now weeping man.

It was obvious that the man had been drinking quite a bit. He told Chandler that he considered himself a hopeless loser. As Chandler tried to comfort him, he saw the welcome sight of fellow law enforcement officers arriving: Carlos Cuellar, a pilot from the San Diego Air and Marine Branch, arrived first, followed shortly by a Coronado Police motorcycle officer.

Max Chandler is a self-effacing man, but those familiar with the incident are keenly aware that had he not stopped to help, this desperate human being would have been just another statistic in the list of those who have leapt to their deaths from the Coronado Bay Bridge.

"I was lucky. I was in the right place at the right time. Maybe, because I am in law enforcement, I was able to lend help that a 'civilian' might not have," says Chandler.

"I just hope he thinks it was good timing, too."