A Final Salute for ‘Jigsaw John’ : Funeral: More than 200 pay their last respects to the legendary John St. John, 77, LAPD homicide detective.

There were no squadrons of motorcycles wheeling in stately procession. No volleys of gunfire echoing from the rifles of an honor guard. No outpourings of rage over the pervasive street violence that snatches the lives of so many valiant police officers.

But the sense of loss was just as great. The more than 200 mourners who gathered Monday afternoon at a hillside chapel in Whittier had come to pay their final respects to the lumpy, elderly little man who may well have been the greatest Los Angeles Police Department homicide detective of all time--”Jigsaw John” St. John.

“His successes were what legends were made of,” LAPD Chief Willie L. Williams said. “He was one of the few who are listed as ‘The Best of the Best.’ ”

John St. John, who joined the force as a beat cop in 1942 and went on to serve more than 44 years as a homicide investigator, is credited with solving more than two-thirds of the more than 1,000 cases he handled. His exploits led to the “Jigsaw John” television series, which ran for 15 weeks on NBC.

The tenacious detective earned the nickname on two counts--because, early in his career, he solved a dismemberment murder, and because solving a murder is like piecing together a puzzle.

St. John, who had been in ill health, died Wednesday, two years after retiring from his heralded 51-year LAPD career.

Word of his death spread quickly in the department.

There weren’t a lot of black-and-white cars in the Rose Hills parking lot on Monday, just a lot of those anonymous beige sedans with an extra antenna or two--the kind easily identified as LAPD detectives’ cars by the street-smart set.

There weren’t a lot of shiny new limousines either. Most of the family cars were a few years old and a little dusty. A number of them sported license frames with “KMA-367” printed on them--an LAPD radio frequency call sign.

Several of the faces belonged to people made familiar by the televised O.J. Simpson trial, including LAPD Detectives Philip Vannatter and Tom Lange--both of whom testified for the prosecution--and Lance A. Ito, America’s best-known Superior Court judge.

Chief Williams’ predecessor, former Chief Darryl F. Gates, was there. So was Deputy Dist. Atty. Sterling Norris, who prosecuted many of the cases investigated by St. John.

But most of those attending were trim, close-shaven men in “plainclothes” suits, men whose studied anonymity matched the cars they had parked outside. These men had come to honor one of their heroes.

If the occasion was solemn, the mood in the funeral chapel was not. The people were fond of the man who had died and expressed their appreciation by enjoying a few “Jigsaw John” stories.

Norris took the podium to remind everyone that he had worked with St. John on the notorious “Freeway Killer” case.

The resourceful detective, acting on a tip, finally had tracked down William Bonin, a Downey truck driver suspected of picking up teen-age boys, strangling them and dumping their bodies beside freeways.

Bonin was in custody, but Norris was having trouble building his case. Then Bonin got a letter from the mother of one of the victims. The desperate woman begged Bonin to reveal what had happened to her son. Repentant, the accused killer confessed to that and to all the other murders.

Norris said that one day, as the trial approached, Jigsaw John sidled up to him and muttered in his ear: “I’ve got to tell you something. It wasn’t the mother who wrote that letter.’ ” The audience chuckled.

Gates said that early in his career, he arrested a man who was “the spitting image” of the composite sketch of a murder suspect. Eager to please the legendary homicide detective, Gates said he “swaggered in” with the arrested man and proudly presented him to St. John.

“He took one look, and said, ‘That’s not the guy,’ ” Gates recalled. “Then he put his head back down and went back to work. . . . A week later, he captured the right suspect.”

There were more stories--from Detectives Paul Tippins and Tom McGrath and from others who had shared the privilege of working with the man Capt. William Garland called “the true, professional detective.”

Then, after a lone bagpiper had played “Amazing Grace,” Williams presented an American flag--symbolizing St. John’s five decades on the force--to the detective’s widow, Helen St. John.

“I hereby reinstate Detective John St. John to active duty as of May 2 (the day before he died),” Williams said, “that he may make his final journey as a detective of the Los Angeles Police Department.”

* AL MARTINEZ: The columnist remembers John St. John. B3