Marty O’DEA

I grew up with Marty O’Dea in the Bronx.  Marty was a couple of years younger than me and he was a roly-poly kind of kid who hung around with his friend Quinn.  They were ball players who were always on the street or in the park participating in whatever sport the season allowed.  Stick ball, touch football, hand ball whatever but it was basketball that dominated and was played year round.  They lived on the basketball court.

I lost track of Marty but he grew up to be a 6’4” monster of a guy.  He had acquired the demeanor of some one you simply did not screw with.  He played basketball at Iona College for awhile and I know he was a bouncer at a popular singles bar near Parkchester in the east Bronx.  It was the era of bar fights. The fights were always fist fights.  No guns.  No knives. No weapons.  With Marty around, the fights were fewer and very short.  You just didn’t push it with him.

Marty, while a tough guy was also a man of good character and he wound up on the Port Authority Police Department for New York City.  Port Authority cops are the people you see around the airports and tunnels and bridges.  It was on the George Washington bridge one afternoon as Marty travelled to work that my story begins.  

The traffic was at its usual bumper to bumper snarl.  Someone in a Mercedes’ behind Marty  blew his horn. In those days the Mercedes cars had loud obnoxious European horns and this made it even more annoying.  The third horn blast did it.  What did this moron think was going to happen by blowing his horn.  We’re the cars going to miraculously open up and a path would clear?  Not a chance but what it did do was to get Marty out of his car where he walked back to the cars driver side window.  He badged the driver and motioned him to roll down the window.  It took a moment but Marty recognized the driver.  It was Skitch Henderson, the band leader for the Johnny Carson TV show who was a well known personality at that time.  Marty acknowledged that he was surprised to see Henderson and they passed some pleasantries with Marty asking some questions about Carson.  It was a generally civil chat with Marty explaining that the traffic was situation normal.  He buttoned up the conversation and started to walk away.  He stopped paused turned around walked back and said, “Oh Yeah, by the way, BLOW THAT HORN ONE MORE FUCKING TIME”.  Up went the window.
Marty went back to his car. Mission accomplished. There was no more horn blowing.