Let’s be real for a second. If you mention Joe Besser to a die-hard Three Stooges fan, you’re probably going to get a reaction. It might be a grimace. It might be a sigh. It might even be a heated defense of the man’s comedic timing. For decades, Besser has been the "black sheep" of the franchise, the guy who stepped in when the act was already gasping for air and changed the vibe so drastically that some fans never quite forgave him. He wasn't Curly. He wasn't even Shemp. He was just... Joe.
But here is the thing: Joe Besser didn't fail the Stooges. He actually might have been the only thing keeping the lights on at Columbia’s short subject department during those final, lean years.
Most people think he was just a "replacement" who didn't want to get hit. That’s partially true, but the context matters. By 1956, the era of the theatrical short film was dying. Shemp Howard had passed away unexpectedly from a heart attack in the back of a taxi, leaving Moe Howard and Larry Fine in a desperate lurch. They had a contract to fulfill. They had a legacy to protect. And into that chaos stepped a man who was already a massive star in his own right, bringing a totally different energy to a trio that had spent thirty years perfecting the art of the eye-poke.
Why Joe Besser Was Never Meant to Be Curly
The biggest mistake fans make is comparing Joe Besser to Curly Howard. It’s an impossible standard. Curly was a force of nature, a human cartoon who could make a sandwich or a haircut look like a ballet. When Joe joined the group, he wasn't trying to be a "third Stooge" in the traditional sense. He was a seasoned vaudevillian with a very specific, very successful persona: the "stinky" brat.
If you watch his early work or his appearances on The Abbott and Costello Show, you see the real Joe. He was the guy who whined, "Not so ha-ard!" or "You’re crazy!" in a high-pitched, nasal tone. He was a sissy character who used petulance as a weapon.
When he signed with Columbia to join Moe and Larry, he actually had a clause in his contract. This is a fact that drives slapstick purists crazy. He refused to be hit excessively. He didn't want the "rough stuff." Now, think about that. You are joining the most violent comedy act in history and you tell the boss, "Don't hit me." It sounds like a recipe for disaster, doesn't it?
Moe Howard, ever the professional, agreed. He had to. He needed a third man to keep the contract alive with Columbia Pictures head Jules White. This created a weird dynamic where Moe would go to hit Joe, and Joe would duck, whine, or deflect it. It changed the geometry of the comedy. It wasn't the "vicious" cycle of violence fans loved; it was a man-child annoying two older men who seemed increasingly tired.
Honestly, it’s kind of fascinating to watch now. You see Moe and Larry—men in their late 50s—trying to figure out how to work around a guy who wouldn't play by the old rules.
The 16 Shorts: A Struggle Against the Clock
During his tenure from 1956 to 1958, Joe Besser appeared in 16 shorts. If you watch them back-to-back, you notice something depressing. The budgets were gone. Columbia was slashing costs everywhere. Many of these films, like Pies and Guys or Guns a Poppin!, were partial remakes. They took footage from older Shemp or Curly shorts and edited Joe into the new scenes.
It’s jarring. You’ll see a high-energy chase from 1945, and then it cuts to a 1957 shot of a much older Moe and Larry standing next to a pristine-looking Joe Besser. The lighting doesn't match. The energy is off.
But Besser brought something new: verbal wit. Because he wouldn't do the physical falls, the writers had to give him more dialogue. In Hoofs and Goofs, Joe plays a character mourning his sister who has been reincarnated as a horse. It’s absurd. It’s surreal. It’s completely unlike anything the Stooges had done before. Joe’s delivery is impeccable here. He commits to the bit with a sincerity that Curly never would have attempted. Curly was about the "nyuk-nyuk," but Joe was about the "Oh, you nasty man!"
The Reality of the "Stinky" Persona
Besser’s "Stinky" character wasn't just a Stooges invention. He had perfected this on the radio and in Broadway shows like Sons o' Fun. By the time he got to the Stooges, he was a veteran. He knew what worked for him. He was a headliner. In some ways, joining the Stooges was a step down for him in terms of solo billing, but it gave him a steady paycheck at a time when live variety theater was collapsing.
Some fans argue he was too "soft." They say he ruined the "guy's club" feel of the act. Maybe. But consider the alternative: if Joe hadn't stepped in, the Stooges might have ended in 1955. We wouldn't have had that final bridge to the 1960s cartoon era. Joe kept the brand alive just long enough for the old shorts to hit television and spark a massive revival.
Life After the Pokes and Jabs
Joe’s exit from the group was as abrupt as his entrance. In 1958, Columbia famously declined to renew the Stooges' contract. It was the end of an era. Shortly after, Joe’s wife, Ernie, suffered a heart attack. Joe, ever the devoted husband, decided he couldn't go on the road for the personal appearances Moe and Larry were planning. He stayed in Los Angeles to care for her.
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That’s when Joe DeRita—"Curly-Joe"—came in.
But Joe Besser didn't disappear. He went on to have a massive career in voice acting and television. If you grew up in the 70s, you heard him. He was the voice of Babu the Genie in Jeannie (the animated spin-off of I Dream of Jeannie). He was Scare Bear in The Yogi Bear Show. He even had a recurring role as Jillson the building superintendent on The Joey Bishop Show.
He was successful. He was happy. And he never really looked back at his Stooge years with much regret. In his autobiography, Not Just a Stooge, he speaks fondly of Moe and Larry but is very clear that he was his own man. He wasn't a "replacement." He was an addition.
Why We Should Re-evaluate the Besser Era
It is easy to be a hater. It’s easy to say, "He's not Curly, so he's bad." But if you look at the Besser shorts as a separate entity—a sort of "alt-Stooges" experiment—they have their charms.
- Verbal Complexity: The scripts had to be sharper because the slapstick was limited.
- A Different Dynamic: For the first time, someone talked back to Moe and actually won the argument through sheer whining.
- Historical Significance: These films represent the absolute tail end of the studio system's short-film era.
Joe Besser was a master of a very specific type of comedy that doesn't really exist anymore. It was flamboyant, theatrical, and deeply rooted in early 20th-century stage craft. He brought a touch of the "Borscht Belt" to a trio that was becoming a bit too mechanical in its old age.
He died in 1988, just as the Stooges were being rediscovered by a new generation on cable TV. He lived long enough to see himself become a cult figure, even if he was the one people loved to complain about.
What You Can Do to Appreciate Joe Besser Today
If you really want to understand the man, don't start with the Stooges.
- Watch his appearances on The Abbott and Costello Show. Specifically, look for the episodes where he plays Stinky, the brat in the Little Lord Fauntleroy suit. You’ll see the genius of his character work without the baggage of the Stooge name.
- Listen to his voice work. Once you recognize that high-pitched, vibrating trill in his voice, you’ll hear it everywhere in classic animation.
- Watch "A Merry Mix-Up." This is arguably his best Stooge short. He plays three different characters (all brothers), and his ability to distinguish them through slight vocal shifts is actually pretty impressive.
- Read his autobiography. It gives a very human look at a guy who was just trying to do his job in a changing industry.
Joe Besser was a professional. He was a comedian's comedian. He wasn't Curly, and he never tried to be. In a world of copycats, that’s actually something worth respecting. He stayed true to his "Not so ha-ard!" persona until the very end, and in doing so, he carved out a weird, annoying, and ultimately unforgettable niche in Hollywood history.
Stop looking for the eye-pokes and start listening to the timing. You might find that Joe was a lot funnier than you remembered when you were a kid waiting for someone to get hit with a pie. He was the guy who survived the Stooges by refusing to be one, and there is a certain kind of brilliance in that.
Next time you see a Besser short on a Saturday morning rerun, don't change the channel. Watch how he interacts with Moe. Notice how he holds his own. He was a force of nature in his own right, just a much quieter, more irritating one. And honestly? That’s exactly what the Stooges needed at the end. They needed a reason to keep going, and Joe Besser gave them exactly two more years of life on the silver screen.