"My dad is a fireman"

[mack]

    I read Bill's memories of his dad, Smoke, yesterday, and started thinking about what it was like for me to grow up the son of a fireman.  I always thought it was special in school, little league or around the neighborhood when asked what my father did for a living to answer "my dad is a fireman".  I was proud.  I thought I was part of a special group of kids who had a father who was a firefighter.  I thought everyone appreciated that his job was to help people and save lives even though I later learned differently.  But I was always proud of what he did.
    Things were a little different in my house than it was for other kids on my block.  My dad worked odd hours.  He was home when other dads weren't but he worked when everyone else had their fathers at night and on the weekends.  He worked two day tours and two night tours every week.  We had a lot of nights without him.  I always thought Santa thought firefighters were special.  When my dad worked Christmas day, Santa knew his schedule and magically came Christmas Eve before he left for work in the morning.  For Christmas, we received a toy (firefighters did not make a lot of money), a stocking and some socks and underwear.  If we were lucky, the toy was a fire truck.  But we were happy.  
    My father had to work a second job - moonlighting.  He delivered propone gas, worked in a drug store, construction work and numerous other odd jobs to pay the bills for 5 kids, mom and grandma.  There were department rules about what he could do and the hours he could work on his second job.  He also helped any other brother firefighter who had a construction project, paint job, moving need, landscaping project or needed help in any way.  I was lucky because I was able to help him on many of these jobs and projects.  I learned the mechanic, carpenter, painter, builder skills that all firefighters seemed to know.
    We did not go out to eat much - maybe pizza on Fridays.  Dad was always in the kitchen, trying to try a new recipe he learned in the firehouse.  Most did not work well but they were interesting.  (continued)

 

[mack]

    We got our haircuts in the firehouse.  Once I was halfway through and a box came in.  I had to go to school the next day with a high and tight right side of my head and a shaggy left side of my head.  I didn't mind.  I could tell everyone that the tillerman in the truck was cutting my hair and then left to go to a second alarm apartment fire, probably to save a few lives.
    Many of my neighbor were firefighters.  Some were cops.  The rest had boring office jobs.  The neighbors who were on the job worked all over the city.  I heard war stories from the Lower East Side, Bed Sty, Brownsville and the Bronx.  One guy worked in E 41.  He used to claim the S. Bronx would become the toughest place to work even though Harlem and parts of Brooklyn were busiest in the early 1960s.   He used to say the buildings were bigger, taller than Brooklyn.  No one agreed.  I went to firehouse parties, picnics and softball games.  There were always great stories, especially from the old timers who complained that masks and new tools slowed them down.  I remember guys claiming that when they stretched a line into a building, their company would never turn it over to another engine company, no matter what type of beating they were taking.
    I was able to spend a lot of time with my dad at work.  Firehouses were a great place to go - better than Disneyworld.  I was able to sit at the housewatch desk.  I counted the bells when they tapped in and wrote the number down on the small blackboard.  I listened to the department radio.  I ate meals.  Turnouts for alarms were exciting.  Everyone was so matter-of-fact, so efficient, so quick.  When someone mentioned "that's a bad box', everyone seemed to turn it up a notch.  (continued) 

 

[mack]

    I remember seeing the cover of a WNYF when I was about 6 or 7.  There were faces of 6 firefighters who were killed at a fire (Queens).  It was the first time I realize my dad might not come home from work some day.  He worked the 23rd street fire and I worried about him, actually hugged him when he came home.  It was the first time I ever saw him cry when he was home by himself.  I was scared.  I heard the story about his first multiple alarm fire - a warehouse in Brooklyn when he was in E248.  There was a collapse - a roof fell in.  His company had a line operating deep inside the building.  He had been sent back to the rig for something and was following the line when the collapse occurred.  He was lucky - a skylight hit him.  He was not injured.  He had glass fragments all over his turnout gear.  He never mentioned this incident, his lieutenant did years later.  I was always proud of him being a firefighter, but I worried about him, too.
    I saw my dad come home with blisters on his neck, cuts, conjunctivitis.  He never complained, never even said he had a busy night.  He was healthy and never missed a tour - for years.  He broke his thumb off duty on a project and went to work that night.  He loved his job and the guys he worked with.
    I rode with him a lot and was with him the night he was assaulted at a shipyard fire.  He was knocked out by the owner of a marina - for no reason.  He was a chief then and had expected to be thanked for the good stop they made that night.  Instead, he was punched in the face, knocked unconscious and had his jaw broken - by some asshole drunk who hated firefighters.  I remember being in the hospital with him and having the doctor remark to me - "your father is a fireman - it's a dangerous job - you must be proud of him".  I told him I was. (continued)   

 

[mack]

    He always enjoyed stopping in local firehouses when we traveled.  He always felt a bond with other firefighters.  He believed that many of the firefighters he met from smaller departments had it tougher because they had to perform the same firefighting duties with smaller crews.  He respected volunteers and knew they did not have the experience and resources professional departments had, but faced the same dangers.  If he saw smoke, the car headed in that direction.  We were in NJ once and he noticed a thick volume of smoke.  We found a lumber yard fire.  He noticed several firefighters climbing to a roof of a building with heavy smoke already pushing out the windows.  He immediatley stated yelling to get those guys off the roof.  A local volunteer chief asked him who he was, he showed his badge and the chief then noticed the danger and sent a runner to get all members off the roof.  5 minutes later, the roof collapsed with a fireball.  He helped at that fire for hours in his bathing suit while we watched.  Firemen are always firemen.
    When my father passed aways a few years back, I remember how many firefighters he served with came to his funeral, even from his early days on the job.  It meant a lot for our family, especially my mom.  The apparatus from the local firehouse parked in front of the church.  His hat, his uniform and his FDNY pictures were displayed.  His firefighting career was a prominent part of his eulogy.  He was a husband, a father, a grandfather, a WWII Marine, maybe a bad cook - but he was proudest of being a firefighter.      

 

[efd274]

Mack - you were lucky like I was to have a great Dad - he wasn't a fireman but a hardworking Irish immigrant grocery manager for Bohack's in various Queens stores - like your Dad he wasn't afraid of hardwork/long hours and was always lending a hand to help someone in need - our Dad's worked hard to try and make our lives easier - quite a testament to them! You are rightfully proud of your Dad!! 

 

[L 147]

I had almost the same childhood as you did Mack. When my Father worked day tours and had a run in the neighborhood he didn't  wave responding only coming back, he was the chauffeur. He told me going through the gears kept him pretty busy responding. Sometimes the engine company(309) would pick me up and bring me home on the back step of their 1951 WLF a couple times E 321 took me home on the back step of their 1953 WLF. On occasion I would ride between my Dad and the officer on the old 1948 WLF tractor pulling the 1933 Walter's trailer. The bell under the aerial, Buckeye through the floor boards of the tractor, the siren on the dash. You pulled the handle out and when the cable retracted you pulled it out again. He was a child of the depression, a WWII Vet. His first assignment in FDNY was Eng 154 in SI on Hanna St. The firehouse is still there, though privately owned. But he lived in Bklyn and had to take the ferry boat (no VZ bridge). He didn't have a car so it was 3 buses to the boat. The Fire Dept was working a chart something like the NYPD 8 hr tours. So he transferred to H & L 159 on Jan 1, 1947 the day the truck was formed with a reassigned 1934 Walter's 75 ft ladder.  He was promoted to Lieut. I guess the stress and smoke of the job got to him, he died at 49 years old, he was still active with 28 years on the job. I'm sure he would have gotten a kick knowing he started a family tradition with one of his sons (me) and two of his grandsons becoming FF for F.D.N.Y.

 

[nfd2004]

"Mack" that's a great Story. I'm glad you told it. And as "EFD" says, those guys were such hard workers whether working in a Firehouse or a Grocery Store. They were just "Top Shelf". You could count on them keeping their word. Most had large families but Never missed paying the bills. I think about it now and still can't understand how they could get everything accomplished.
 They had fought in WW II, but never spoke about it. They grew up as kids during the Great Depression and were lucky to be able to have decent clothes on their backs. They could basically repair anything. If not they knew somebody who could.
 "Mack" and I have a lot in common. We've talked about it on the phone and through "pms". I remember going to the firehouse where one guy would cut my hair, then do my fathers. I wasn't too happy about getting a haircut but being able to visit the firehouse made it all worthwhile. Another great time for me was when I went to the firehouse with my father on pay day. And he would always buy me a 10 cent soda from the soda machine in the kitchen of the firehouse.
 We lived in a two bedroom apartment with my mother and father, my two brothers and sister, and sometimes my grandmother. A large closet became my sisters bedroom. We had only one bathroom and no air conditioning. The treat of the week was either ice cream or pizza. For vacation, we drove the sixty miles to Freedom Land which was located in the Bronx where Co-op City is now. It was a Great time. Except when our car broke down overheating. There was no I-95 Highway and it took awhile to get there driving that sixty miles on Route 1.
 I don't want anybody to think that I am complaining. Actually, I wish I could do it all over again. We were such a happy family and there was no question that my father Smoke was the boss. Simple things in life were such a treat.
 My father went on the Fire Dept in 1949. He retired in 1978. Having a father who was on the job was Great. Even Santa Clause never let me down either. I always wanted a toy fire truck. I had a Great collection of Tonka Trucks (no not FDNY TL 124) but two engines and a tiller truck. It took me three Christmas seasons to build up that collection. but it was sure worth it.
 We were just such a privilaged group.

 

[SoHoTruckin20]

Great Story Mack

 

[69 METS]

This thread highlights for me why NYCFIRE.NET is so enjoyable. So many of the people who post on this site had similar upbringing's to my own. In many cases their childhood experiences led to their choosing a career in the fire service. The posts on this topic reflect so much of what it was like for me growing up with a father who was a Fireman (Including the occasional Friday night pizza, the trips to "Ices Queen" on Utica Avenue or "Dairy Doll" on Flatbush Ave. across from E-309 / L-159 on hot summer nights). He was a great provider for our family, a WW II veteran, was "on the job" from 1942 - 1978. He found time to coach my little league team, be on the board that oversaw the little league, held a position on the parish council at the church that we attended, etc, etc .... Unfortunately, we lost him way too early while he was still on the job as a result of lung cancer. Thirty-six years of working inside burning buildings without SCBA took its toll. I was so fortunate to have such a great role model. His shoes I could never fill, but I always tried to live my life patterned after his example and his good judgment. He was part of "The Greatest Generation".  

 

[L 147]

was your Dad in E 309/L 159

 

[69 METS]

was your Dad in E 309/L 159

No, that was our "Home Company" in the neighborhood we lived in.

 

[rayyorkson]

Totally agree...there was nothing better than being able to say my dad is a firefighter, I remember I would brag about it HaHa good times...I'll never forget my "first" night tour in about 1996...He finally convinced my mother to let me stay overnight at the firehouse with him he was working a 24 so he had been in since 9 I got dropped off after school at about 4, my school was less than a mile from the FH and our house was about 9 blocks away, it was a slow afternoon/night till about 11:30 when we where in the HW when all of a sudden BEEEDOOO!! we were going in 2nd due to a reported fire in a 2 1/2 story PD we are about halfway there cruising in the old Mack when the LT started knocking on the window seperating the two parts of the cab and my dad said "10-75" I was so excited I knew I had a story I could tell my friends on Monday in school, we pull into a hydrant and my father gets off and comes back for me about 10 mins later I remember he told me to stand with the chiefs aid out in the street, he came back and I remember just looking at the 2nd floor with fire blowing out of the windows they were in the attic with a line when they blew some shingles off the roof my father told me to go pick one up being about 5 at the time I was afraid to get burned so he got it and I still have it to this day...On the way back to the FH I rode in between the LT and Chffr. in the open cab Mack TL , midway through the night at about 4 am I got woken up again for the the Truck being S/C to a 2nd Alarm I believe. I didn't go cause I was exausted and kinda shy without my dad around. The house he worked in had the Salvation Army van in it I remember playing around with the lights and stuff I used to have so much fun, I got broken in young and understood the FD culture very well by the time I was 8 or 9...9/11 was just "another" day my mother got us up for school and my dad got ready to into the city for work at The Fire Zone, he had been on light duty since 2000 when he fell from a ladder and had to have surgery on his shoulder.I was sitting on the couch waiting for the bus when my mom left to drive him to the train...I dont remember what he said but I remember him walking out the door for the last time, I remember being in class when a teacher came in and said a plane crashed into the WTC we could see the smoke from the classroom on LI. I got picked up early by my mom and remember asking her what happend and she said "everything is gone" I was in shock but my mom told me she couldnt reach my dad she figured he was working phone lines like we found out one of my uncles was doing...my other uncle was also on duty in Brooklyn and got sent in after the collapses.when my dad didnt come home my mother started to worry and while I was eating the next morning when my mom got a phone call and I remember her say "where is he?" and then all hell broke loose my father had been given the serial number 004 the first FIREFIGHTER found during the night, the next two weeks are still very clear to me and I can't believe its gonna be 10 years I miss him very much but I'm happy to be in his footsteps..I have many more stories that I'll post when I have the energy.

 

[johnd248]

Small world.  I just missed Mack's father at E 248 by a few years.  I knew H&L 147's father when he did a detail at E 248.  Best of all, 69Mets father was the Captain of E 248 who first signed me up in 1964 as the company auxiliary.  It was truly an honor as they did not encourage outside help.  I served for nine years and saw lots of action until I moved to CT in 1973, but continued my firefighting there.  Yes, in 1973, I was a Fairfield CT volunteer with NFD2004.

My father was not a fireman but was an early member of the Fire Bell Club.  That is why I am now a longtime member of the Club along with my two brothers.  While my father was not a fireman, I am proud to say my son is, currently serving as a full-time  LT in the Fairfield Fire Dept.

 

[nfd2004]

Yes John, it is a small world. I leave that part of the state in 1975, then over 35 years pass and about 2009 I find out we are close neighbors again.

  I must say that after reading "rayyorkson" story, it left me realizing how lucky I really was. My father retired from the job in Bridgeport in 1978. I then retired in 2004 and my father was still pretty healthy and we did a lot together for a few years before he passed away. Your father was taken away much too soon. He was a Hero no doubt about it.
  I visited the Fire Zone with my wife about two weeks before 9/11. Whoever was working there was really good to us. He listened to me talk about my interest in the FDNY. He really was a Great Guy. Maybe it was your father we were talking to.
  The firefighters job claimed so many members. "69mets" talked about him loosing his father at an early age from Lung Cancer. The days of no airpacks led to that disease.
  But we all had our favorite moments with those Fireman Fathers. It was really Great. Interesting but now many of us also went on the fire dept and have a special interest in the dept. Johnd248 now has a son on the job in Fairfield, Ct. Mack has a son on the job in a busy dept. "69mets" has a son showing an interest in getting on the job. Our friend John Bendick, retired FDNY has three sons on the fire dept job. Others like the Late Chief Ray Downey, and the late Al Ronaldson, who we lost several years ago while assigned to Rescue 3, has a son on the job. And the list goes on and on. I guess there really is some truth about this fireman thing being in the blood.

 

[BritishAndy]

Great stories but also very moving. You guys must be so very proud of your fathers. Thanks for sharing your stories with us.

 

[vbcapt]

Our fathers are truly great !! Even though my Dad has never been involved in any emergency services he's always been there for me no matter what the issue. He sets the example as being a hard worker (still works full-time) , dependable provider and tells it like it is. No sugar coating anything with him , which is exactly how I like him. The way I see things regarding our parents is that we owe them everything and they owe us nothing.

I was fortunate to have 4 relatives that were firemen, 2 Uncles & 2 Cousins. 2 Uncles and 1 Cousin were members of the Colonia Volunteer Fire Dept. in Woodbridge Township NJ. When I was a wee little fella my 2 Uncles (Frank & John) had me at the firehouse anytime I wanted. To this day, some of the "older" members remember me when I was 4 or 5 years old and hanging around.

Cousin Al was a retired Deputy Chief with the Elizabeth NJ Fire Dept. Back in the 70's when he was a Captain he would regularly take me to the firehouse on his days off so I can look at the rigs, check out the old firehouses in the City and meet some of the other firemen. After I had been on the job in Va. beach for about 2 years I had the privilege to ride and fight fire with Rescue 1 in Elizabeth on numerous occassions, at times when Al was on duty as a Deputy Chief. 

Uncle Frank, John and Cousin Al have been gone for awhile but, their memories will last until my final day. 
The time they spent with me had an everlasting affect and guided me to the best job in the world !!!