JERSEY IN the recess yard at Our Lady of Perpetual Help grade school, Maple Shade, N.J., we would have been flabbergasted, circa 1959, to hear that kids of the future would be trading cop cards instead of baseball cards. Back then, the only cop we routinely encountered was a patrolman we nicknamed Bluto, a menacing mouth-breather who looked like a Wurlitzer jukebox that somebody had left a tiny blue cap on top of.