End of Watch Saturday, September 16, 1944
Corporal William Henry Connors, 61 years old, had been a Pensacola Police Officer since 1921. But nobody knew him as William, or Bill, or Henry. He was “Bobo.” Why the name Bobo? Because his father, who was a Pensacola Police Officer at the dawn of the 20th Century, was known as “Bobo.” Why was his father known as Bobo? No one knew.
Bobo was the guy that everyone wanted to be around. Wherever Bobo was, you could be sure it wasn’t boring!
Bobo drove the patrol wagon. The patrol wagon driver was a senior officer who had earned it. For the most part, he would remain at the station for the majority of the shift, helping the desk sergeant. When everyone was busy or when he was needed to transport an inmate, he would pull the wagon out. The wagon was a different animal. It was big, heavy and hard to manage. The driver sat up in the seat and, leaning over, he steered the big horizontal wheel, usually bouncing around in his seat. Most of the time, the wagon was driven far faster than its capacity.
On Saturday night, September 16, 1944, Bobo and L. W. Taylor were responding to an emergency in the patrol wagon. The vehicle passed the intersection of Baylen and Zarragossa Streets, Connors, who was driving, suddenly slumped over the wheel and was unresponsive.
Officer Taylor immediately took the wheel and pulled the vehicle to the curb. He radioed that the Patrol Wagon could not respond to the call, and to send an ambulance to his location immediately. Officer Connors died at 8 pm that night, presumably from heart failure, leaving the members of the police department in shock.
Officer Connors left behind a wife, Daisy Walton Connors, two sons, William R. and George W. Connors, two daughters, Mrs. Frances Davis and Miss Maxine Connors, two sisters and three grandchildren.