UNARGUABLY UGLY, the grizzled, one-eyed, sinewy sailor may seem an unlikely hero. But Fred Grandinetti isn’t the only one who finds him laudable. "Really, Popeye to me is one of the best all-around cartoon characters ever created," enthuses Jeff Lenburg, author of The Encyclopedia of Animated Cartoons (Checkmark Books, 1999). Sure enough, many animation historians agree that Popeye represents the golden years of animation. "He’s a gentlemen in all the essential ways," says Michael Barrier, author of Hollywood Cartoons: American Animation in Its Golden Age (Oxford University Press, 1999). "He’s kind and concerned about other people. He has this very strong moral core, but wrapped around it is this amusing, rough exterior."

According to Lenburg, Popeye made his debut in a 1919 cartoon strip called Thimble Theatre as a musclebound sailor named "Ham Gravy." He eventually became his own man with his own strip in 1929, thanks to creator E.C. Segar, who drew the character until his death in 1938. "In 1933, when the very first Max Fleischer Popeye cartoon came out — and actually it was a Betty Boop [animated] cartoon — the public reaction was overwhelming." Barrier notes that Popeye aficionados view the Fleischer years as the cartoon’s best run. Many animators succeeded Segar over the next six decades, giving the character a variety of shifting characteristics. (Today, Popeye appears as a Sunday comic strip in some papers nationwide, the product of Hy Eisman’s hand.)

Throughout, Popeye has retained core values that are strikingly different from other cartoon characters’, say experts. "Intelligence is more valued than brutality, and cunning is best when used in combination with strength," explains Donald Crafton, professor and chair of the department of film, television, and theater at the University of Notre Dame and author of the upcoming Shadow of a Mouse: Animation and American Culture in the 1930s. "Popeye is smart and cagey, but the spinach helps, too. Also, there’s this notion of preserving the sanctity of the couple in the films. Bluto is the one who’s disrupting Olive Oyl."

"There’s this complete honesty about who and what he is," Barrier says. "You could never say Popeye has attitude. There’s no ironic self-awareness about Popeye. He’s utterly straightforward and uncomplicated."

One theory that popped up on a fan Web site is that Popeye may in fact be a scrappy New England fisherman, which might partly explain the love that Fred — a native New Englander — has for the character. For the most part, the theory seems plausible to the experts. "[Popeye] has that kind of crusty, completely straightforward character that I associate with people from Maine in particular," says Barrier.

Crafton agrees. "He’s definitely unemployed; he doesn’t seem that old; he’s a kind of someone who may have been in the merchant marine but replaced by downsizing," he says. "The pre-industrialization, it all connects to the rust belt of New England."

FRED Grandinetti may be the ultimate King of Popeye, but he has his minions as well. After showing off his collection of paraphernalia, he says his devotion pales in comparison with some of his fan-club friends’: "There are people who collect Popeye things [dating from] its inception. There are people who have Popeye toilets. Believe it or not, compared to a lot of people, this is nothing."

Sure enough, every Labor Day weekend, Chester, Illinois — commonly known as Popeye’s hometown, because it’s where the cartoon’s creator, E.C. Segar, lived — is swamped with people coming in for a parade and celebration they call "Popeye’s Picnic." Chester residents Debbie and Mike (the other co-founder of the International Popeye Fan Club) run a Popeye store that has more than 200 collectibles for sale. They also write most of the Fan Club’s quarterly newsletter, which includes interviews with people who worked on the cartoon back in the day.

And in Iowa, pastor Steve Bierly invokes Popeye to teach scripture, often comparing the character to Jesus. "Like Jesus," Bierly explains, "Popeye is someone who stands up for someone who knows what’s right, even though it could cause people to reject him. Jesus will rescue us or forgive us when we’ve fallen; Popeye does the same kind of thing." He says both kids and adults find the comparison compelling in their study of religion.

Fred fields what even he finds to be nitpicky questions on seemingly inconsequential Popeye details all the time, such as, "How come his eye is open in this cartoon as opposed to that one?" Fred laughs as he tells the story, as if to suggest his low rank on the scale of Popeye obsession.

"Believe it or not, I don’t live, breathe, eat, and sleep Popeye," he chuckles. "And I don’t wear [fake] forearms."

HI, POPEYE here," Fred says, greeting me on the telephone. Popeye here? Though he protests that he’s simply part of a larger community, Fred does seem to be more than that. In fact, he often appears to assume Popeye’s persona, comparing himself directly to the character. "I’ll send Popeye stuff out [to people in need]," Fred says. "It’s stuff like that that he would do — if he were a real person."

And Fred seems to tackle his cause with all the passion of a PETA activist, the devotion of a public servant, and the dreary relentlessness of a playground underdog. After an hour of meticulously laying out his projects, his advocacy efforts, and his thorough legal research, he concludes with all he has left: a childlike moan. "I’m beginning to think that it’s just me and my next-door neighbor" rooting for Popeye, he says.

"People say to me, ‘Oh, you collect Popeye, that must be really fun,’ " Fred adds. "I say, ‘No, it’s really frustrating.’ Because of this stuff with the Cartoon Network, because of this stuff with the videos, because I’m the PR person for the club ..."

"There aren’t really that many Fred Grandinetti types for other [cartoon] characters," says animation historian Jerry Beck, who corresponds with Fred at least once a week. "You’ll find people just into Disney ... or people who just love Looney Tunes. But Popeye has a fan club and pretty much a leader with Fred. I can’t think of anyone like that."

Executives at the Cartoon Network say they’ve found that the only other shows that inspire similar fanaticism are Sailor Moon and Japanese anime. "These people are die-hard fans, like the Popeye people — and they’re relentless," says Dea Perez. But, she adds, "there’s not another Fred-like person in that league." Perez and Lorie Goldberg joke that they came close to turning in Fred’s letters to the FBI. "If it didn’t have a return address, we would have thought it had anthrax in it," laughs Goldberg. "[The other fans] are not like Fred," adds Perez. "Their letters won’t look like anthrax letters."

ALL THIS might suggest a loose screw somewhere under that neatly combed mop. But truly, at the end of the day, Fred Grandinetti simply comes off as endearingly odd, oddly sad, or perhaps just a little annoying. Prone to throwing around childlike terms like "copycats," Fred seems to have retained an elementary-school, blissed-out naïveté. He’s living in the past — both his and the cartoon’s. And for all his driving persistence, it’s hard to find anyone who thinks Fred is anything more than just a little pesky. Popeye enthusiasts, animation historians, and network employees — even those who must field Fred’s fast-and-furious weekly e-mails — all speak of Mr. Popeye with humor and only a hint of irritation. He seems like a kid who’s taking something a bit too far, but isn’t out to hurt anyone. And it’s hard to see what can be so wrong with that; after all, Popeye’s about good winning out over bad, the bully getting his comeuppance, persistence paying off.

When Fred calls to confirm receipt of a test letter we addressed and mailed to "Popeye in Watertown," he seems a little sheepish, even bashful, about his earlier rants. "I’m sorry I got a little testy," he says quietly. "We’ve just got to hang in there."

Nina Willdorf can be reached at nwilldorf[a]phx.com