John Harry Keeley Jr.

A true Halloween baby who grew up to love all things spooky, especially the original Halloween starring Jamie Lee Curtis. He didn’t just watch it in October. He watched it year-round. Many will miss hearing him shout into his remote, “Play Halloween with Jamie Lee Curtis!”

Proud of his Irish heritage, John loved everything Irish: potatoes, St. Patrick’s Day, the color green, The Quiet Man, and Irish Riverdance. His roots ran deep, and he wore them proudly.

Raised by professional dancer parents in show business, John grew up alongside his brother Bob performing tap and tumbling routines on stages across the country, including the notorious Eastern State Penitentiary. He once walked on his hands up and down stairs, a fact that feels almost unbelievable for a man who would later face life confined to a wheelchair.

A gifted athlete, John excelled in boxing, baseball, and football. He was a starting quarterback in Gloucester before moving to Los Angeles and graduating from Manual Arts High School. A comment about his “pretty” jersey style once led to a fistfight and then to lifelong friendships. He remained deeply connected to his high school brotherhood, the Sabers, and cherished attending his 50th reunion.

John pursued bodybuilding with passion, building a physique most men envied and one he proudly displayed in photos throughout his life. After some college, fraternity adventures, and a few colorful odd jobs, he joined the Buena Park Police Department in 1958. At the time of his passing, he was the oldest surviving officer from the department—a remarkable distinction.

Entrepreneurship called to him, and he answered. Combining his law enforcement background with his showman’s spirit, John owned security companies that protected Hollywood celebrities. He later founded Captain Kid and Studio Magic, a national drug and childhood-abduction prevention production company that produced movies, music, characters, and live shows for schools across the country. His work earned national recognition, talk show appearances, and honors from entire cities.

He cared deeply about children. Nothing angered him more than crimes against them. He made it his mission to protect and empower kids, and that mission defined much of his life.

But of all his accomplishments, John wanted most to be remembered for one thing: how much he loved his family. “I love you” was his favorite phrase — spoken daily, sometimes multiple times a day. No one left his presence without hearing it. No day passed without a call to say it.

He was a good sport about everything — living in a loud house full of kids, attending endless games and recitals, climbing castles in Scotland at 82, road-tripping cross-country at 84, walking nearly the entire Las Vegas Strip with a bad hip, and taking a giant family cruise to Mexico at 92. He never wanted to slow anyone down — so he didn’t.

Though he lived to 92, he carried the enthusiasm of a child. He thrived on conversation, restaurant outings, family gatherings, and “tequila hour” on the patio — one chilled shot, endless stories, and laughter. Though he wasn’t much of a drinker, he loved the ritual and togetherness of it all.

He knew no stranger. A true Irishman with the gift of gab, he could strike up a conversation with anyone. He made the ordinary feel extraordinary and made every person feel seen.

John is survived by his beloved wife of 52 years, Sharon; his children John, Nancy, Shannon, and Amanda; his eleven grandchildren — Natalie, Sharissa, Kayla, Sarah, Shawn, Shayden, Keeley, Shyler, Kevin, Kent, and Baby Klaire; and his four great-grandchildren — Eden, Zion, Mathias, and Aven.

He leaves behind a legacy of love that will never fade.