Officer Joe Bolton is probably the first person I remember from television. Every afternoon on WPIX, Channel 11 in New York, he'd swing that billy club and host a half-hour of Three Stooges shorts.
I would plan my very busy five-year-old day around this event. There were no parental worries about me watching or idolizing Moe, Larry, and Curly. I've never poked anybody in the eye or banged somebody over the head with a metal pipe. I have wanted to, but never really moved to that level. Nevertheless, Officer Joe and the Stooges were the highlight of my day.
I probably thought Bolton was a real policeman until I realized that he would turn up on the station at all other hours of the day. He did station breaks, filled in on the nightly news, and probably spooned out chili con carne in the WPIX cafeteria. But, for the time while I thought he was a cop, I guess my parents thought it was okay for me to idolize a person of such authority. This notion prevailed, despite the fact that he was the bridge between some of the most insane acts of comedy violence ever filmed.
Officer Joe would also become the first celebrity that I would ever meet. One day between bangs and clangs, Joe announced that he would be appearing that night at a Catholic school feast on Bronxwood Avenue in the, of course, Bronx. It was a Friday and my father was available for chauffeuring. I began the usual begging and received the typical paternal responses.
"It's too far."
"It's too hot."
"It will be too crowded."
Nevertheless, as per usual, Dad caved. And while it wasn't that far or that hot, it was certainly crowded. I wound up standing next to my hero, who gifted me with an autograph and a glossy photo. I was hobnobbing with the stars.
The epilogue to this story is, however, more noteworthy. Years and years and years later, I was enjoying a trip down memory lane with my good friend, the Bibster. This very Catholic school feast came up in conjunction with meeting Officer Joe. After a few oral coincidences, we discovered that we probably had stood alongside each other for the Officer Joe meet and greet, as his dad obviously relented to the notions of too much distance, too much heat, and too many people. Fifteen or so years later, we would reconnect as friends, sharing an early memory we never knew we had.
A small world indeed.
Dinner last night: Honey walnut shrimp and garlic chicken at Panda Inn.
I would plan my very busy five-year-old day around this event. There were no parental worries about me watching or idolizing Moe, Larry, and Curly. I've never poked anybody in the eye or banged somebody over the head with a metal pipe. I have wanted to, but never really moved to that level. Nevertheless, Officer Joe and the Stooges were the highlight of my day.
I probably thought Bolton was a real policeman until I realized that he would turn up on the station at all other hours of the day. He did station breaks, filled in on the nightly news, and probably spooned out chili con carne in the WPIX cafeteria. But, for the time while I thought he was a cop, I guess my parents thought it was okay for me to idolize a person of such authority. This notion prevailed, despite the fact that he was the bridge between some of the most insane acts of comedy violence ever filmed.
Officer Joe would also become the first celebrity that I would ever meet. One day between bangs and clangs, Joe announced that he would be appearing that night at a Catholic school feast on Bronxwood Avenue in the, of course, Bronx. It was a Friday and my father was available for chauffeuring. I began the usual begging and received the typical paternal responses.
"It's too far."
"It's too hot."
"It will be too crowded."
Nevertheless, as per usual, Dad caved. And while it wasn't that far or that hot, it was certainly crowded. I wound up standing next to my hero, who gifted me with an autograph and a glossy photo. I was hobnobbing with the stars.
The epilogue to this story is, however, more noteworthy. Years and years and years later, I was enjoying a trip down memory lane with my good friend, the Bibster. This very Catholic school feast came up in conjunction with meeting Officer Joe. After a few oral coincidences, we discovered that we probably had stood alongside each other for the Officer Joe meet and greet, as his dad obviously relented to the notions of too much distance, too much heat, and too many people. Fifteen or so years later, we would reconnect as friends, sharing an early memory we never knew we had.
A small world indeed.
Dinner last night: Honey walnut shrimp and garlic chicken at Panda Inn.
2 comments:
There must have been something about Officer Joe -- like you, I spent a long time arranging my afternoons around that Three Stooges bloc. And one day when Helen and I were cleaning out some old stuff, she unearthed her autographed Officer Joe photo (she lived in Queens, so I'm sure she wasn't at the same place you were). Small world.
I never met Officer Joe. Gyped again.
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