Imagine a New York City police officer—the Chief of Detectives no less—being a best friend of Jerome David Salinger, the ultra-reclusive author of 'The Catcher in the Rye,' a seminal novel for the generation who now listens to Joe Namath and Tom Selleck pitch reverse mortgages and for whom the drug ads that flood television have real meaning. The pills are in the medicine chest.
In their 20s, John L. Keenan, who at 99 just passed away, and J.D. weren't then known for what they later became known for. The were soldiers in the U.S. Army during WW II, getting shot at overseas during D-Day at Utah beach, and at the Battle of the Bulge, no doubt wondering if there was an end to all that that had them coming home alive.
But they did. John rejoined the police force he had joined in 1941, and J.D., well, he became famous for writing 'Catcher in the Rye,' and then perhaps staying even more famous for not wanting to be famous, living in New Hampshire until he passes away in 2010.
After the Army their lives couldn't have been any more different, but they remained lifelong friends, with J.D. coming to John's police retirement in 1978 at Antun's in Queens Village and telling whomever would listen that John was the best person to be in a foxhole with. Comrades in arms.
J.D. and John had more than trying to stay alive in common. John's mother and father were of Irish descent, living in England, and J.D.'s mom was born in Scotland, of Irish descent. (Salinger's father was the son of a rabbi.)
Can you imagine how many literary types would have loved to have been at John's retirement amongst 300 cops? Certainly, finding Queens Village would have been an adventure for them, but I have no doubt they would have all tried to take a taxi.
As J.D. has derived lifelong notoriety from 'The Catcher in the Rye,' working on it while in the service, John's career was capped by something famous as well: the manhunt for Son of Sam, the serial killer who scared the crap out of New Yorkers in 1977, killing six, and wounding seven others. Five of the six killed were women.
Son of Sam, David Berkowitz, prowled areas where couples might have been making out in their cars at night, surprising them with a combat stance while aiming a .44 caliber handgun their way. He was deadly.
Chief Keenan was born in 1919, the same year as J.D. and they served together in a Counter Intelligence Corps unit of the Fourth Infantry Division. John Keenan rose through the police department ranks, stopping at Chief of Detectives. He later worked as a VP for the New York Racing Association, where his name was slightly familiar to me since I save all my track programs and always read who the officials and executives are. It wasn't hard to find an old program from the '80s with his name in it. I go back more than 50 years with those.
The other day one of the HLN newscasters, Susan Hendricks, was split screen interviewing a lawyer about what, if any, are the legal obligations for those who might be witnessing a crime but who do not intercede. The subject is a current one because of the deadly stabbing of a high school student in Oceanside, NY while other students just looked on and took video from their cell phones.
The lawyer brought up what he was calling the "Kitty Genovese" effect of being a bystander and not making any attempt to alert the police. Susan said... "in the 70s..." and the lawyer agreed, "yes, in the 70s." One just made the other make the same mistake. The famous Kitty Genovese murder was in 1964 when I was in high school, when neither Susan or the lawyer were alive.
John L. Keenan's NYT obit today is headlined: 'Chief Who Led the 'Son of Sam' Manhunt." I always find it interesting that some things that I remember so well—such as 'Son of Sam'—that may have happened 40 and 50 years ago, are so unknown to people around me.
But, I shouldn't really be surprised at that. I'm sure my father and mother remembered quite well the story behind the Leopold and Loeb murders, and the details of the Lindbergh kidnapping. We all have our points of reference.
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