By: Dennis Beyer
This Post has been published previously on different dates. I have decided that I will Re-Post the story on the anniversary of this tragic shooting. Here it is below in original form.
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As I look at my collection of badges a couple of sad memories entered my mind. I'll address one in this post, and the others "down the road.".
I graduated West Side H.S. in 1961. That was the year Roger Maris hit 61, and "The Mick" hit 54. I still remember those guys even though I am a Dodger fan.
My hero in 1961 was still "The Duke of Flatbush." Los Angeles was now the new home of Duke Snider. He was near the end of his baseball career.
Yeah, High School was over in June of 1961. The Summer, for the most part, was the last time a lot of us ever saw each other. We played a lot of baseball up at Ivy Hill Park. When September came it was off to college for me. The future looked bright.
A guy who graduated in my class was a fellow name John Gutenkunst. We lived in different neighborhoods, we had different friends, and we never hung out together. He too had a bright future, and he was just beginning his career with the Newark Police Department.
Four years later I graduated college. It was 1965. I got a job as a Probation Officer in Essex County, partly because my Dad knew Chief Mulligan, but that's another story. Now, four years after graduating high school, I had lost track of just about everyone I knew from "The Burg," "West Side," and "Ivy Hill Park." That included John, who was an exceptional baseball player.
In October I heard John's name again. It was Oct. 16, 1965. He was a Rookie Officer in the Newark Police Academy. He was looking forward to graduating, enjoying the weekend, then getting his badge on Monday Morning. It never happened.
Yeah, High School was over in June of 1961. The Summer, for the most part, was the last time a lot of us ever saw each other. We played a lot of baseball up at Ivy Hill Park. When September came it was off to college for me. The future looked bright.
A guy who graduated in my class was a fellow name John Gutenkunst. We lived in different neighborhoods, we had different friends, and we never hung out together. He too had a bright future, and he was just beginning his career with the Newark Police Department.
Four years later I graduated college. It was 1965. I got a job as a Probation Officer in Essex County, partly because my Dad knew Chief Mulligan, but that's another story. Now, four years after graduating high school, I had lost track of just about everyone I knew from "The Burg," "West Side," and "Ivy Hill Park." That included John, who was an exceptional baseball player.
In October I heard John's name again. It was Oct. 16, 1965. He was a Rookie Officer in the Newark Police Academy. He was looking forward to graduating, enjoying the weekend, then getting his badge on Monday Morning. It never happened.
On that October day he had the misfortune of seeing someone hit his car. He approached the guy to question him. The guy had a gun. John was shot and killed.
While I wasn't especially close to John this event is something I still remember. It haunts me.
While I wasn't especially close to John this event is something I still remember. It haunts me.
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