Ask any casual comedy fan to name the Three Stooges, and you’ll get Moe, Larry, and Curly. Maybe Shemp if they’re a bit more seasoned. But mention Joe Besser, and the reaction is usually a collective groan or a blank stare. People treat the "Joe era" like the "New Coke" of 1950s short films. It’s a tough spot to be in. Imagine stepping into a role previously held by a comedic god like Curly Howard or a master of the "scaredy-cat" craft like Shemp.
Joe Besser didn't just walk into a job; he walked into a firing squad of fan expectations.
The truth is, Joe Besser wasn't trying to be Curly. He wasn't trying to be Shemp. He was already a massive star on his own terms before he ever poked Moe in the eye. He had a contract that literally forbade him from being hit too hard. Think about that. A Three Stooge who refuses to get hit? It sounds like a disaster, yet it’s exactly what happened between 1956 and 1958. If you look closely at those sixteen shorts, you’ll see a performer who brought a totally different, almost surreal energy to the trio.
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Making Sense of Joe Besser and the Stooge Legacy
The year 1955 was a nightmare for Moe Howard and Larry Fine. Shemp Howard, Moe’s brother and the man who had successfully filled the void left by Curly, dropped dead of a heart attack in the back of a cab. Columbia Pictures didn't care about the grief; they cared about the contract. They had shorts to produce. After a brief and honestly bizarre period of using a "Fake Shemp" (body double Joe Palma), they needed a permanent third man.
Enter Joe Besser.
By the time he joined the team, Besser was a seasoned veteran of vaudeville, Broadway, and film. He was famous for his "Stinky" character on The Abbott and Costello Show. You probably know the catchphrases even if you don't know the man: "Not so haaaa-rd!" and "You’re crazy, you!" He brought a whiny, bratty, "man-child" persona to the group that shifted the dynamic away from the violent slapstick of the 1930s.
Why the Besser Era Felt So Different
It wasn't just Joe's personality that changed the vibe. The world was changing. Television was eating the film industry's lunch. Columbia Pictures’ short-subject department was on its last legs. The budgets were microscopic. If you watch the Joe Besser shorts, you’ll notice they reuse a ton of footage from older films. It’s jarring. You’ll see a scene with Joe, then suddenly it cuts to a high-speed chase from 1948 featuring Shemp.
Despite these limitations, Joe held his own. He insisted on being Joe. He didn't do the "woo-woo-woo" or the floor-spinning. He was a prissy, fastidious character who often annoyed Moe more than Curly ever did because he talked back. He was the only Stooge who would actually hit Moe back and get away with it.
The "No-Hit" Clause and Other Myths
There’s a long-standing rumor that Joe had a clause in his contract saying he couldn't be hit. While it wasn't quite a legal "no-contact" order, Joe was legitimately squeamish about physical pain. Larry Fine once noted in an interview that Besser was "not a slapstick comedian" in the traditional sense.
- Joe preferred verbal sparring over physical takedowns.
- Moe had to "pull" his punches more than ever before.
- The comedy became more situational and less about the "clunk" of a hammer on a skull.
This softer approach actually mirrored what was happening in 1950s sitcoms. The raw, gritty violence of the Depression-era Stooges was being polished for a post-war audience that watched TV in their living rooms. Besser was a "TV-ready" Stooge.
The Sixteen Shorts: A Mixed Bag of 1950s Chaos
You can't talk about Besser without looking at the work. His debut, Hoofs and Goofs (1957), is... weird. It involves reincarnation and a talking horse. It’s a far cry from the plumbing mishaps of the 1930s. But in shorts like A Merry Mix Up, where the Stooges play three different sets of triplets, Joe actually shines. His timing is impeccable. He plays the confusion perfectly.
Honestly, Joe gets a bad rap because he was the face of the decline. He didn't cause the decline; he just happened to be there when the ship was sinking. Columbia eventually shut down the short-subject department in 1958, effectively firing the Stooges after decades of service. They didn't even give Moe a gold watch. They just locked the gates.
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Life After the Bowl Cut
When the Stooges eventually regrouped for the feature film era with "Curly Joe" DeRita, Joe Besser stayed behind. He didn't want to travel. His wife, Erna, was ill, and he chose his family over the road. That’s a side of the story people rarely mention. He was a devoted husband who preferred the steady work of voice acting and bit parts in Los Angeles.
You’ve heard him even if you haven't seen him. He was the voice of Babu the Genie in the Jeannie cartoon and various characters for Hanna-Barbera. He stayed busy until he passed away in 1988, always embracing his identity as a Stooge, even if the fans were slow to embrace him back.
Actionable Takeaways for the Casual Fan
If you want to actually appreciate this era rather than just dismissing it, you have to change your lens. Don't look for the "next Curly." Look for the "first Joe."
- Watch for the verbal timing: Joe’s strength was his delivery. His "Not so haaaa-rd" line is a masterclass in inflection.
- Look at the sets: The 1950s production design is fascinating. It’s mid-century modern meets low-budget slapstick.
- Notice the power dynamic: See how Joe reacts to Moe. He isn't terrified; he's annoyed. It changes the psychology of the group entirely.
- Check out A Merry Mix Up: It is arguably the best-written short of the Besser years. It relies on script and performance rather than just recycled stock footage.
The Joe Besser years represent a bridge. They are the transition from the gritty vaudeville roots of the 1930s to the family-friendly cartoonish versions of the 1960s. He wasn't the "bad" Stooge; he was the "different" Stooge. And in a franchise that lasted fifty years, different was exactly what was needed to keep the lights on just a little bit longer.
Stop comparing him to his predecessors. Enjoy the whine. Enjoy the "Stinky" energy. Joe was a pro who did a thankless job during the hardest years of the team's life, and he did it with a style that was purely, unapologetically his own.
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To truly understand the history of American comedy, you have to look at the performers who stood in the shadows of giants. Besser didn't just stand there; he made a face and told the giants to stop being so mean. That takes a specific kind of guts. Next time a marathon comes on and a Besser short pops up, don't change the channel. Watch his hands. Watch his eyes. He’s doing more than you think.