Paul Newman's Friend, A Cop Named Joe

By C. MacDonald

Yesterday, I saw a man who looked like Paul Newman. He was a spitting image of the late famed actor, whose salad dressings and food continue to earn millions for charity. I loved Newman in "The Sting." That movie was about robbers, justice, conning people and cops. Seeing the Newman-type guy reminded me of a fellow I once knew—a guy who had worked with the actor and been a New York cop. He looked exactly, and I mean exactly, like the actor. You couldn't tell them apart.

The thespian and the cop both ended up in California—Newman once lived in Hollywood and sponsored an auto racing team based in Santa Barbara. The police officer moved to Orange County. At one time, I actually had a photo of the two. Newman had his elbow resting on his friend's shoulder. The only difference between them was the huge smile on Joe's face—did he ever have a reason to smile!

Joe had been in danger all his life—and survived. He spent three decades working as a cop in the worst part of New York's Bronx. His 41st precinct was nicknamed, "Ft. Apache," and Paul Newman starred in a movie about the horrors that occurred in the South Bronx regularly. Joe protected Paul, while the film was being shot. The nickname came about because ghetto residents sometimes stormed the police station, trying to free prisoners.

Bodies stuffed in trunks; cobblestones thrown from rooftops; firebombing as frequent as sunrises; roaches and rats scurrying around in the building where he worked. Joe left it all behind and doesn't miss it one bit.

In 1980, the man who worked his way up from $3,400 a year as a patrolman in 1951 to $3,400 a month as a lieutenant, left his native New York for San Clemente. He had visited his sister the year before during the Christmas holidays. Seeing the warm weather, instead of snow; the attractive environment, in contrast to the ghetto; the beautiful beach and ocean....it wasn't hard for him to make up his mind.

"The difference was like night and day," the fit and personable fellow told me for a 1980 interview in The Los Angeles Times. His brother liked being an installer for New York Telephone and advised Joe to apply for work at the fellow Bell System Company, Pacific Telephone.

The employment office receptionist said she couldn't believe it, when the Paul Newman ringer walked in and said he'd like to be a clerk-typist.

"I didn't want to have anything to do with security. I didn't want to supervise (he was in charge of more than 100 officers in New York). I didn't want to be surprised by any falling cobblestones. I wanted a complete change, a new start," he said. "I wanted to be treated like a human being."

Joe sought a 9 to 5 job with weekends off. And after taking the proper tests and going through interviews, he got his dream job as a clerk-typist. Instead of running a check on criminals' car license plates, he used a similar display terminal to check telephone numbers.

The first male clerk at Pacific's Laguna Hills Service Order Center joyfully typed from 50 to 75 orders a day. He later went to Orange as a Residence Marketing Service Representative.

"I just love being able to go home every night and not bring the job with me," he explained.

During his last week as a police officer, he began to wonder if he ever was going to reach retirement. A cobblestone tossed from the roof of a five story building exploded near his feet. Someone firebombed a nearby residence, causing a blaze that quickly spread through the neighborhood, killing 25 people.

On his final night, he went into the field responding to reports of a bar fight, family feud and a hold-up. "Each involved guns and I forgot to put on my bulletproof vest," he recalled with a shrug. "I returned to the station house and donned the vest."

In his job as a service rep, just like as a police officer, the calls Joe responded to were from the public needing help. "No matter what their need or problem, I really enjoy assisting them. I just love this beat, especially since it's over the phone."