Wyatt shoots a dog

Sometime in the early 1950s, the Village of Nassau hired its first full-time police officer. C. Lowell Avery was as finely attired as any village policeman in the state. His grey uniform was impeccably tailored to his trim, 6 foot 2 physique. As the sole police officer, he naturally was the chief, and his uniform reflected his top departmental status, replete with gold braid, and “scrambled eggs” on the visor of his hat. He referred to himself as “Chief Avery”. He was frequently addressed as “Doc Avery” by some, but soon known to all as “Wyatt Earp.” The moniker, Wyatt Earp, was probably a compliment since during those years Hugh O'Brien played the legendary western sheriff on a popular television show. My father once reported hearing a young boy respectfully addressing Chief Avery as “Mr. Earp” at the Post Office.

Wyatt upheld the law. Nassau’s perceived problem was speeding. U.S. Highway 20 formed the main street in the Village, being Albany Avenue west of the single traffic light, and Church Street to the east. Cars and trucks entering the Village from the east descended Lord’s Hill for about a mile and a half, and usually entered the Village at a pretty good clip. The speed limit went from 50 miles per hour to 35 miles per hour to 25 miles per hour in a short distance, but it was not unusual to still be doing about 40 miles per hour when crossing into the 25 mph zone.

Wyatt would be waiting. He usually parked his new cruiser in the St. Mary’s Church parking lot and ticketed every speeder that he honestly believed exceeded the posted limit. There were many of them. The Village judge, James Lamb, was a retired New York City fireman with a lot of time on his hands, and he welcomed the Court activity that all of the tickets produced. The Village Trustees welcomed the added revenue it gained from its share of the fines. At the time, the Village judge held court one evening each week, but the court would always be in session at his home, and Wyatt would lead out-of-town speeders right to Judge Lamb’s living room, where they would be promptly fined and sent on their way. Nassau soon earned a measure of notoriety as a speed trap and was appropriately marked on AAA maps. Almost everyone who drove through Nassau had been ticketed by Wyatt or had a friend or family member who had been caught. The locals quickly learned to obey the speed limit, because they knew that Wyatt played no favorites, and he had no compunction about writing a speeding ticket for “26 mph in a 25 mph zone.”

I never got a ticket, but I was careful. I used to drive my father’s new 1956 pink and black Cadillac into the Village to pick up the mail, and I would put on the brakes to make sure that I was doing 25 mph or less. I sometimes played a little game with Wyatt. If he pulled out to follow me down Church Street, I would pace myself to have to stop at the traffic light. When the light turned green, I would floor the Cadillac so that it would chirp the tires, but then immediately back off on the accelerator so that I wouldn’t exceed the speed limit. Then I would go to the Post Office. Wyatt would usually follow me out of the Village at 24 mph unless he was in the process of writing a ticket for someone else.

By the time Wyatt was the chief for a couple of years, his notoriety grew. He seemed to walk taller, always wore mirrored Ray-Ban sunglasses, and carried a long-barreled .44 Magnum sidearm. He really was an imposing figure, and Nassau knew that it had a real lawman.

One Saturday afternoon, a pickup truck drove down Church Street. It had the green light and was moving right along. A dog ran out, unleashed, right into the path of the truck, and the animal was struck, severely hurt, but not killed. Wyatt was quickly on the scene, and a crowd of residents assembled, most of them coming out of the Post Office or Frank Pitts’s General Store when they heard the screech of brakes. The dog was whimpering, and after a brief examination, the consensus was reached that the dog should be put out of its misery. The dog’s owner, not wanting to make the dog suffer any longer than necessary, looked to Wyatt to do the job. With the crowd growing larger, and traffic backed up, Wyatt drew his .44 and fired. The bullet missed the dog and tore a chunk of macadam out of the payment. Wyatt shot again, and again he missed the dog. He seemed to be grimacing and looking away as he fired his revolver. A bystander, one of the local merchants, took the gun out of Wyatt’s hands, and dispatched the dog with one shot, much to the relief of everyone witnessing the event.

After that, things changed in Nassau. Young men who hung around the Gulf gasoline station on the corner started calling Chief Avery “Wyatt” to his face. Teen-aged boys barked at him and laughed. Wyatt seemed to lose interest in writing tickets, and the court revenue dropped off sharply. Then one day Chief Avery moved on to take a job directing traffic as a foot patrolman in Lake George, and it was ok to drive a bit faster through Nassau.