EAST FLATBUSH — Every day of his 25-year career in the New York City Police Department, Gilbert Eaton thought about his lifelong friend growing up in Bay Ridge — Patrick Canavan.
On Sept. 7, 1970, Canavan was but three weeks shy of graduating from New York City’s Police Academy, and two weeks from being the best man at Eaton’s wedding.

“But that didn’t happen,” said Eaton, who retired as an NYPD lieutenant in 1998. “My last time seeing Pat was at a Memorial Day weekend barbecue. I was working at the telephone company. I had to work at midnight, so I left the barbecue early. Little did I know that was the last time I was going to see him.”
Canavan, also known to family and friends as “Pat” or “Paddy,” was 21 early on Sept. 7, 1970, when he came upon 20 guys brawling on 3rd Avenue near 88th Street in Bay Ridge. Canavan “waded” into the crowd to break up the fight, according to a report by The New York Times. One of the brawlers stabbed him in the stomach with a 12‐inch knife. He died an hour later at the hospital.
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On Oct. 16, Eaton and Canavan’s family gathered at the would-be cop’s grave in Holy Cross Cemetery for a memorial service marking the 55th anniversary of his death.
The event was organized by Louis DeMarco, a retired police officer who was a classmate of Canavan at the academy.
Also attending was a cadre of NYPD cadets clad in the same police academy uniform worn by Canavan. The young men and women stood at stoic attention during remarks by Canavan’s brother, Bob, and former chief Tommy Dale, who was also in the same academy class.
Making a special appearance was an NYPD bomb-squad dog named Paddy, along with his handler, now-retired NYPD Detective Andrew Eaton, Gilbert Eaton’s son.

The black Labrador retriever, named after Canavan, has worked at U.N. General Assemblies, U.S. Opens, home games for the Mets and Yankees, and the recent mass shooting at the offices of the National Football League in Midtown Manhattan.
Gilbert Eaton said he often talked about Canavan when his son was a child.
“He always remembered that,” Eaton said. “When he got the bomb dog, he comes to me and he says, ‘Well, I’m going to name him Paddy, after Paddy Canavan.’ I thought that was great.”
Eaton said Canavan “never left me.”
“I thought of Paddy every day of the week I was on the job,” Eaton said after the ceremony. “And Pat would’ve been a great cop, as was demonstrated with what he did, intervening in the fight that cost him his life.”
The NYPD brass felt the same way and posthumously awarded Canavan the department’s Medal of Honor.
Bob Canavan, a public schools advocate in Philadelphia, recalled growing up as Pat’s older brother in Bay Ridge. At that time, the family belonged to St. Anselm Parish.
“We were both living with our parents at the time,” he said. “So, when we got the news, it came in the middle of the night, and it was a terrible, terrible experience.
“Certainly, my parents took it very [hard], but the Church was something that meant a lot to them. They prayed frequently and thought of Pat when they went to Mass.”