He made sergeant in short order and eventually moved to the photo unit. The degree came in handy when he was promoted to the police lab, where he analyzed samples from crime scenes. He came on the force in 1956 while working on a degree in physics from City College. My father was told the only way he was getting out of PD was to die,' Walker said, looking down. Back then, to punish a cop they'd transfer you from precinct to precinct and change your hours till you had a heart attack or committed suicide. For this, the higher-ups in PD went after my father. My father wasn't going to let that happen, so The Hat and my father went at it. He collared a black guy for murder and The Hat walked in and started to beat up the suspect. Walker's father became a cop in 1938 and had a good career going until he ran into Inspector McDonald, 'The Hat.' When he walked into a bar, he'd hit his nightstick on the wood and if a beer wasn't quick coming down the bar, there would be a problem.' With no irony Walker adds, 'He was later killed when a beer truck ran him over.' Walker's grandfather, John Ryan, became a cop during Teddy Roosevelt's reign as police commissioner in the 1890s. 'The oral legend has it that a man named Patty O'Reilly shot him in the leg, but he never gave up his post,' Walker says with pride. As a rookie he was attacked during the New York Draft Riot while guarding a boarding house that was under attack from a bloodthirsty mob.

He came back to New York in 1863 as a decorated veteran and became a cop. He tells me how his great-grandfather, Matt Ryan, was wounded at Fredricksburg during the Civil War. I am a city boy?you know, I like the change jangling in my pocket and my feet moving from one block to another.' 'I grew up right down the block on Dyre Ave. His face beams as he slides into a corner booth Walker looks like a bigger and happier version of Don Zimmer, the Yankee bench coach who sits next to Joe Torre, never moving and seeing all. Walker lets out a big hello and is greeted by smiles. during the wild years when it was known as Fort Apache. A fourth-generation cop, Walker made it all the way to captain and commanded the 41st Pct. You follow because this man knows the stories of the Bronx.

He walks toward the restaurant and with each step you can see the cop and athlete he once was: despite his weight, he has a quick and light step. His body unfolds and he stands smiling in front of the Baychester Diner on Boston Rd. He's 6-foot-3, 66 years of age and his weight is now close to 300 pounds. Tom Walker gets out of his late-model four-door car with a struggle.

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