GLORY DAYS
- Thread starter JohnnyGage
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"Johnny" was that Coney MVO, Mike Martino?
Thanks Dan for all these stories.
Your latest story you told in "GORY DAYs" Part 3 tells us what just one single tour of working with the NYC Health and Hospitals EMS was like. Not only yourself, but so many other Life Savors like "memory master", "69 METS", and the thousands of other NYC Health and Hospitals EMS people who were out there, every day, doing the same kind of life saving work. Yet, it was such a THANKLESS JOB, as I saw during my buffing days. Few civilians seemed to appreciate the work you guys did and there was very seldom a "pat on the back" for a job well done.
I wasn't chasing the NYC EMS like the FDNY. Yet many times I would see them operating at a totally separate incident, just down the street. Maybe a drug overdose, a car accident, or carrying a civilian out on a stair chair from one of the apartments in those large multi family buildings.
During those days, ALL of the necessary emergency services, the FDNY, the NYPD, the NYC EMS, were beyond the breaking point. There were huge areas of the city that were completely out of control. I remember somebody telling me it reminded them of the Days of the Wild West.
"69 METS" says here; "Working EMS back then certainly provided me with an education in life on the street". How TRUE that must be. I didn't work those streets but just watched, and only on a part time basis. But what that taught me - there is NO Classroom that can ever replace it.
I must admit that I enjoyed watching you, "Johnny Gage", on your TV show "Emergency" back in those 70s. BUT it sure WASN'T like watching you guys work in parts of NYC during those years. I'm just glad that you have taken the time to tell us your stories of just what it was like then during those "GLORY DAYS" or as they are now called; "GORY DAYS".
Your latest story you told in "GORY DAYs" Part 3 tells us what just one single tour of working with the NYC Health and Hospitals EMS was like. Not only yourself, but so many other Life Savors like "memory master", "69 METS", and the thousands of other NYC Health and Hospitals EMS people who were out there, every day, doing the same kind of life saving work. Yet, it was such a THANKLESS JOB, as I saw during my buffing days. Few civilians seemed to appreciate the work you guys did and there was very seldom a "pat on the back" for a job well done.
I wasn't chasing the NYC EMS like the FDNY. Yet many times I would see them operating at a totally separate incident, just down the street. Maybe a drug overdose, a car accident, or carrying a civilian out on a stair chair from one of the apartments in those large multi family buildings.
During those days, ALL of the necessary emergency services, the FDNY, the NYPD, the NYC EMS, were beyond the breaking point. There were huge areas of the city that were completely out of control. I remember somebody telling me it reminded them of the Days of the Wild West.
"69 METS" says here; "Working EMS back then certainly provided me with an education in life on the street". How TRUE that must be. I didn't work those streets but just watched, and only on a part time basis. But what that taught me - there is NO Classroom that can ever replace it.
I must admit that I enjoyed watching you, "Johnny Gage", on your TV show "Emergency" back in those 70s. BUT it sure WASN'T like watching you guys work in parts of NYC during those years. I'm just glad that you have taken the time to tell us your stories of just what it was like then during those "GLORY DAYS" or as they are now called; "GORY DAYS".
- Joined
- Apr 23, 2018
- Messages
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Thanks Willy, it sure was a crazy, unbelievable wild time with sights and experiences us young guns like Garrett and myself who were in our early 20's were smack in the middle of! And I'll bet MemoryMaster has a slew of stories, too...More crazy stuff coming, stay tuned!
☆☆☆☆☆
Note to MM; Charlie I'm not sure of Martinos first name, in my log he was actually a Corpsman (I made the correction above from MVO) badge #1581 if that helps.
☆☆☆☆☆
Note to MM; Charlie I'm not sure of Martinos first name, in my log he was actually a Corpsman (I made the correction above from MVO) badge #1581 if that helps.
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- Aug 29, 2008
- Messages
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"Johnny", it probably Mike. He was a Lt. in Coney Island when I worked with him during my short stay there before going over to Staten Island.
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‘GORY DAYS’: P 5; SLICE AND DICE
ENY Has four different subway lines with many stations that dissect the neighborhood. The Livonia Avenue and Fulton Street lines are elevated. Hideous crimes, assaults, shootings, muggings, etc. are regular occurring events outside and inside the stations. Many times I responded to young adults returning from Manhattan after an evening of celebration that would get off at the wrong stop along Livonia Avenue into awaiting prey. All of a sudden the unknowing celebrants found themselves ambushed. It was well known that individuals that rode the subway during late hours were at a risk of being victimized. Criminals began to take over the subway and stations because there was a lack of authority, crime became a constant occurrence.
The motor vehicle operator (MV0) tonight is Hall. He is a nice ‘Churchman’ as he describes himself. In EMS fashion, everyone is called by their surname, without the mister or missus. Hall is not an EMT, all he is responsible for is to drive me to the scene and assist with the stretcher, that's it. In this grisly two square mile area of East New York there are about seventy firefighters and fifty or so police officers at work. There is only one ambulance covering the area tonight, and only one EMT, that’s me.
EMS ambulances are supposed to rove their area, similar to the police sectors between calls. We are allowed to return to the garage after 3 AM. Our one story garage was once a car repair shop, it has now been converted into an EMS garage where we have three ambulances inside. It is also large enough for us to park our personal vehicles to keep them from becoming vandalized. Hall and I are sitting quietly in the garage lounge, resting our eyes, it is an early summer Sunday morning and the radio is quiet as the sun starts to peak.
Created inside the garage is a small lounge room that separates the small male and female locker rooms, each locker room has ten lockers. There is no television but a couple of old leather chairs, a small beat up couch, a bulletin board and a kitchen table to do paperwork. A large window looks out onto the garage floor. The lounge also has a light green colored NYPD call box mounted on the wall. The Brooklyn CO will call us on this phone when we are off the air and give us our assignment.
With that, the phone rings and we receive a job on the corner of Livonia Avenue and Pennsylvania Avenue for a stabbing, I jot the info as Hall heads towards the parked bus and fires up the rig, flips on the lights. We make a right turn out of the garage, down a few blocks and hang a left onto Pennsylvania Avenue. Every now and then he ‘chirps' the siren from the steering wheel, no need to have it on continuously as traffic is almost non-existent. You can see Livonia Avenue Station as soon as we make the turn as the El crosses over Pennsylvania Avenue.
We approach and notice there are three male teens, two hispanic and one black sprawled on the corner, two are flopping back and forth in obvious pain, the other hardly moving in a slouch position. Hall pulls to the curb as I pop out of the bus, I quickly observe all three have been severely stabbed in the torso multiple times. I grab my first aid box from the back of the bus and
handfuls of loose 4x4 pads. Quickly assessing the worse, it’s a tie. I frantically attempt to suppress multiple stab wounds at once like the little ‘Dutch Boy’ plugging holes. There is plenty of smeared blood on the sidewalk and I can’t help not to kneel in it.
I notice Hall who is standing nearby with his hands clasped behind his back rocking on his heels and offering advice to the injured youths; “Ya’ know if you were in church this morning…” I look at him, incredibly I order “Hall ! Get me another bus and the stretcher” still in the process of dressing and packaging the three as quickly as possible. Hall returns from radioing Brooklyn CO for another bus and he advises me there are no buses available at this time, “Dispatch said, You got it”.
I loaded the trio into the back of the bus, the one that wasn’t moving, but alive is on the stretcher, the other two sit together on a bench seat as NYPD from the 7-5 arrived. The three teens were fighting over a cigarette lighter they stole from someone on the train. I pointed out the silver zippo lighter on the ground to the Police Officer, he kicked it into Livonia Avenue.
This would not be my only multi-casualty incident, in fact I have never heard of that concept back then, many times you were on your own, and you had better be quick on your feet!
Treating victims back then we never wore rubber gloves or face masks, if your hands got nasty you simply washed and rinsed off at the nearest hospital or opened a clean bottle of saline water at the job. When our uniforms became blood stained and if you did not have another uniform in your locker, which many of us did not as we reported for duty wearing it you either rinsed the blood off the best you could at the hospital or ‘acquired’ an orderly scrub. At home, to get a blood stain out, you’d soak the spot, let dry then pour peroxide onto the dried blood to remove the stain. Thrown into the wash, you were good to go.
NY POST HEADLINE
Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!. KMG-365
ENY Has four different subway lines with many stations that dissect the neighborhood. The Livonia Avenue and Fulton Street lines are elevated. Hideous crimes, assaults, shootings, muggings, etc. are regular occurring events outside and inside the stations. Many times I responded to young adults returning from Manhattan after an evening of celebration that would get off at the wrong stop along Livonia Avenue into awaiting prey. All of a sudden the unknowing celebrants found themselves ambushed. It was well known that individuals that rode the subway during late hours were at a risk of being victimized. Criminals began to take over the subway and stations because there was a lack of authority, crime became a constant occurrence.
The motor vehicle operator (MV0) tonight is Hall. He is a nice ‘Churchman’ as he describes himself. In EMS fashion, everyone is called by their surname, without the mister or missus. Hall is not an EMT, all he is responsible for is to drive me to the scene and assist with the stretcher, that's it. In this grisly two square mile area of East New York there are about seventy firefighters and fifty or so police officers at work. There is only one ambulance covering the area tonight, and only one EMT, that’s me.
EMS ambulances are supposed to rove their area, similar to the police sectors between calls. We are allowed to return to the garage after 3 AM. Our one story garage was once a car repair shop, it has now been converted into an EMS garage where we have three ambulances inside. It is also large enough for us to park our personal vehicles to keep them from becoming vandalized. Hall and I are sitting quietly in the garage lounge, resting our eyes, it is an early summer Sunday morning and the radio is quiet as the sun starts to peak.
Created inside the garage is a small lounge room that separates the small male and female locker rooms, each locker room has ten lockers. There is no television but a couple of old leather chairs, a small beat up couch, a bulletin board and a kitchen table to do paperwork. A large window looks out onto the garage floor. The lounge also has a light green colored NYPD call box mounted on the wall. The Brooklyn CO will call us on this phone when we are off the air and give us our assignment.
With that, the phone rings and we receive a job on the corner of Livonia Avenue and Pennsylvania Avenue for a stabbing, I jot the info as Hall heads towards the parked bus and fires up the rig, flips on the lights. We make a right turn out of the garage, down a few blocks and hang a left onto Pennsylvania Avenue. Every now and then he ‘chirps' the siren from the steering wheel, no need to have it on continuously as traffic is almost non-existent. You can see Livonia Avenue Station as soon as we make the turn as the El crosses over Pennsylvania Avenue.
We approach and notice there are three male teens, two hispanic and one black sprawled on the corner, two are flopping back and forth in obvious pain, the other hardly moving in a slouch position. Hall pulls to the curb as I pop out of the bus, I quickly observe all three have been severely stabbed in the torso multiple times. I grab my first aid box from the back of the bus and
handfuls of loose 4x4 pads. Quickly assessing the worse, it’s a tie. I frantically attempt to suppress multiple stab wounds at once like the little ‘Dutch Boy’ plugging holes. There is plenty of smeared blood on the sidewalk and I can’t help not to kneel in it.
I notice Hall who is standing nearby with his hands clasped behind his back rocking on his heels and offering advice to the injured youths; “Ya’ know if you were in church this morning…” I look at him, incredibly I order “Hall ! Get me another bus and the stretcher” still in the process of dressing and packaging the three as quickly as possible. Hall returns from radioing Brooklyn CO for another bus and he advises me there are no buses available at this time, “Dispatch said, You got it”.
I loaded the trio into the back of the bus, the one that wasn’t moving, but alive is on the stretcher, the other two sit together on a bench seat as NYPD from the 7-5 arrived. The three teens were fighting over a cigarette lighter they stole from someone on the train. I pointed out the silver zippo lighter on the ground to the Police Officer, he kicked it into Livonia Avenue.
This would not be my only multi-casualty incident, in fact I have never heard of that concept back then, many times you were on your own, and you had better be quick on your feet!
Treating victims back then we never wore rubber gloves or face masks, if your hands got nasty you simply washed and rinsed off at the nearest hospital or opened a clean bottle of saline water at the job. When our uniforms became blood stained and if you did not have another uniform in your locker, which many of us did not as we reported for duty wearing it you either rinsed the blood off the best you could at the hospital or ‘acquired’ an orderly scrub. At home, to get a blood stain out, you’d soak the spot, let dry then pour peroxide onto the dried blood to remove the stain. Thrown into the wash, you were good to go.
NY POST HEADLINE
Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!. KMG-365
Last edited:
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And then there were certain neighborhoods where Vick's Vapo-Rub was the cure all for everything. It was always fun trying to pick a patient off the floor who had been slathered from head to toe with the aforementioned universal antidote.
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‘GORY DAYS’: P 6; COLLISIONS
Today I am working an overtime day tour and I have a friend riding with me today, John, he is a good buddy and a freshman now attending a NYC College for Nursing. John’s interest is in nursing and he wanted to get a first hand experience of a NYC EMS ambulance corpsman’s modus operandi.
So far, It has been a routine day tour, as expected, we have handled the usual day time type of calls; Sick, maternity, diabetic, asthma, cardiac, injury, bumps and bruises. One call you could always expect was a collision and we were about due. With all the highways and intersections in ENY there was almost no tour that would go by that we did not handle a couple of collisions, for you see, in lawless ENY a stop sign is only a mere suggestion, we handled collisions by the bag full.
A forewarning that you were about to get a ‘collision’ assignment was when the first yellow suped-up tow truck that was converted from an ordinary pickup truck would whisk by, sometimes there were two or more, leaving you in dust. At the time, the policy of NYC was the first tow truck to arrive at the collision would get the choice of whichever damaged vehicle to tow back to their garage for lucrative insurance “repairs”. These lunatics thought nothing of cutting through oncoming traffic lanes or mounting the sidewalk to get by. If the vehicle had no monetary value or insurance, it was pushed to the curb and abandoned.
This arrangement of “first come, first served” created a nightmarish market for tow truck companies as they literally raced to the scene with death defying maneuvers without due regard to traffic laws. By the time we arrived, the tow trucks were almost in position to hook up their bounty.
This morning while cruising down Stone Avenue with my buddy John riding in the back cabin of the bus we are stopped at the traffic light on Sutter Avenue, it is starting to rain lightly. John suggests through the small portal window to me up front in the shotgun seat that we head back to the Outpost to pick up rain slickers. ”Nah”, I respond, “we’ll never make it”, just as the last word left my mouth you could hear the sound of tires skimming, zzzzzzz, over the wet asphalt then a loud “KaBoom”. Two cars smacked up right in front of us, one almost careening into our bus. We treated three injuries and transported them to Kings County Hospital.
There were many times we would be called to Vandalia Avenue off of Fountain Avenue for the weekend drag racers who raced during the late evening and early morning hours at this open road area of swampland and eight foot cattails. The avenue would be alive and lined up on both sides with souped up cars and young folks drinking beer and having a good time. Once the drag racing started we would inevitably get the call to haul out the unlucky driver who rolled over several times into the weeds.
Here's a couple of more:
EMS LOG: 9/25/78 0830 hrs; Collision; Interboro Pkwy.
“Liberty 375; Collision, Interboro Parkway half mile from Pennsylvania Avenue”.
The Interboro Parkway between Queens and Brooklyn was a windy and treacherous parkway that had a restricted speed limit of thirty five miles per hour for good reason. In addition a dangerous center concrete meridian divider was erected about two feet high, just high enough for a car to mount, ride and crash head on into oncoming traffic. Such was the case when we arrived to find a vehicle that did just that, mounted the divider, slid several feet and slammed head-on through the windshield of a sports car traveling in the opposite direction shearing off the roof. The driver, a popular doctor from Kings County Hospital on his way home was decapitated, his head in the back seat and his passenger severely injured.
EMS LOG: 5/25/79 0034 hrs. Collision; Belt Parkway at Pennsylvania Avenue.
“Liberty 374, Collision, Belt Parkway in the vicinity of Pennsylvania Avenue”. From our standby post on Liberty and Pennsylvania Avenue Lawrence and I respond down Pennsylvania Ave, cross over the Belt Parkway and loop onto the Parkway entrance heading east towards the Queens border. On the westbound side we notice a police car with its roof lights flashing, that must be the spot. We travel down to where we can cross over the parkway safely and effect a u-turn. Lawrence negotiates the traffic and within short order we pull up behind the police car. We are confronted with a wall of eight foot cattails, there is a crushed path through the cattails and we hear a Police Officer summoning us in about twenty five feet. Tonight I am the tech and I walk towards the Officers voice, as I get closer I can see red taillights that are still illuminated up in the air and recognize the vehicle as the type of car I drive, a Dodge Dart sedan, only this one has overturned. I get down on my knees into the wet marshy ground and shine my flashlight into the drivers side window. There are eleven injured passengers upside down in the car, luckily none very serious, but many injuries that I’ll have to triage and treat. There are six children and five ‘large body’ adults crammed together. Fortunately the abundance of mass humanity created a human cushion softening the blow and sudden impact. Between Lawrence and I we handle all eleven slipping them out through the drivers side window. Lawrence requested another bus from Brookdale and between the two busses we transported all eleven happy campers to Brookdale Hospital for evaluation and treatment. No such thing back then as a Multi Casualty Incident. If there was another bus available, you might get assistance. Otherwise, you were it, it was all yours.
Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading! KMG-365
Abandoned Vehicles after Collisions
Found this 60's cool shot of Interboro deadly "center divider" that killed KCH Doctor.
Today I am working an overtime day tour and I have a friend riding with me today, John, he is a good buddy and a freshman now attending a NYC College for Nursing. John’s interest is in nursing and he wanted to get a first hand experience of a NYC EMS ambulance corpsman’s modus operandi.
So far, It has been a routine day tour, as expected, we have handled the usual day time type of calls; Sick, maternity, diabetic, asthma, cardiac, injury, bumps and bruises. One call you could always expect was a collision and we were about due. With all the highways and intersections in ENY there was almost no tour that would go by that we did not handle a couple of collisions, for you see, in lawless ENY a stop sign is only a mere suggestion, we handled collisions by the bag full.
A forewarning that you were about to get a ‘collision’ assignment was when the first yellow suped-up tow truck that was converted from an ordinary pickup truck would whisk by, sometimes there were two or more, leaving you in dust. At the time, the policy of NYC was the first tow truck to arrive at the collision would get the choice of whichever damaged vehicle to tow back to their garage for lucrative insurance “repairs”. These lunatics thought nothing of cutting through oncoming traffic lanes or mounting the sidewalk to get by. If the vehicle had no monetary value or insurance, it was pushed to the curb and abandoned.
This arrangement of “first come, first served” created a nightmarish market for tow truck companies as they literally raced to the scene with death defying maneuvers without due regard to traffic laws. By the time we arrived, the tow trucks were almost in position to hook up their bounty.
This morning while cruising down Stone Avenue with my buddy John riding in the back cabin of the bus we are stopped at the traffic light on Sutter Avenue, it is starting to rain lightly. John suggests through the small portal window to me up front in the shotgun seat that we head back to the Outpost to pick up rain slickers. ”Nah”, I respond, “we’ll never make it”, just as the last word left my mouth you could hear the sound of tires skimming, zzzzzzz, over the wet asphalt then a loud “KaBoom”. Two cars smacked up right in front of us, one almost careening into our bus. We treated three injuries and transported them to Kings County Hospital.
There were many times we would be called to Vandalia Avenue off of Fountain Avenue for the weekend drag racers who raced during the late evening and early morning hours at this open road area of swampland and eight foot cattails. The avenue would be alive and lined up on both sides with souped up cars and young folks drinking beer and having a good time. Once the drag racing started we would inevitably get the call to haul out the unlucky driver who rolled over several times into the weeds.
Here's a couple of more:
EMS LOG: 9/25/78 0830 hrs; Collision; Interboro Pkwy.
“Liberty 375; Collision, Interboro Parkway half mile from Pennsylvania Avenue”.
The Interboro Parkway between Queens and Brooklyn was a windy and treacherous parkway that had a restricted speed limit of thirty five miles per hour for good reason. In addition a dangerous center concrete meridian divider was erected about two feet high, just high enough for a car to mount, ride and crash head on into oncoming traffic. Such was the case when we arrived to find a vehicle that did just that, mounted the divider, slid several feet and slammed head-on through the windshield of a sports car traveling in the opposite direction shearing off the roof. The driver, a popular doctor from Kings County Hospital on his way home was decapitated, his head in the back seat and his passenger severely injured.
EMS LOG: 5/25/79 0034 hrs. Collision; Belt Parkway at Pennsylvania Avenue.
“Liberty 374, Collision, Belt Parkway in the vicinity of Pennsylvania Avenue”. From our standby post on Liberty and Pennsylvania Avenue Lawrence and I respond down Pennsylvania Ave, cross over the Belt Parkway and loop onto the Parkway entrance heading east towards the Queens border. On the westbound side we notice a police car with its roof lights flashing, that must be the spot. We travel down to where we can cross over the parkway safely and effect a u-turn. Lawrence negotiates the traffic and within short order we pull up behind the police car. We are confronted with a wall of eight foot cattails, there is a crushed path through the cattails and we hear a Police Officer summoning us in about twenty five feet. Tonight I am the tech and I walk towards the Officers voice, as I get closer I can see red taillights that are still illuminated up in the air and recognize the vehicle as the type of car I drive, a Dodge Dart sedan, only this one has overturned. I get down on my knees into the wet marshy ground and shine my flashlight into the drivers side window. There are eleven injured passengers upside down in the car, luckily none very serious, but many injuries that I’ll have to triage and treat. There are six children and five ‘large body’ adults crammed together. Fortunately the abundance of mass humanity created a human cushion softening the blow and sudden impact. Between Lawrence and I we handle all eleven slipping them out through the drivers side window. Lawrence requested another bus from Brookdale and between the two busses we transported all eleven happy campers to Brookdale Hospital for evaluation and treatment. No such thing back then as a Multi Casualty Incident. If there was another bus available, you might get assistance. Otherwise, you were it, it was all yours.
Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading! KMG-365
Abandoned Vehicles after Collisions
Found this 60's cool shot of Interboro deadly "center divider" that killed KCH Doctor.
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Dan, without a doubt, "Your Stories Are GREAT". They would be a leading box office hit if made into a movie. You could then put all those royalties into your pocket. Maybe treat us guys to a Yonkers Pepe Pie or those GREAT Bayside Maggie Mays Burger's and Fries Specials they got there.
Actually Dan, THANK YOU for telling us your many stories. Without a doubt you have earned your pay. Besides the fact that you, like so many others here, have HELPED SO MANY PEOPLE and even SAVED THIER LIVES. It sure doesn't get much better than that.
As I read some of your "GORY Days" stories of East New York's Liberty Outpost, I can relate as an FDNY buff of seeing the kind of conditions you talk about in those streets you mention here. The Interboro Parkway, Sutter Ave, Vandalia Ave, Penn Ave. One very nasty and dangerous place to be. Often carrying my scanner and camera, today as I think about it, I am amazed that they weren't stolen from me. OR the fact that I somehow came out of the place ALIVE. I can only imagine what it was like working in some of those streets or buildings.
Dan, of course we met about 20 years ago, while you were the chaffer of Ladder 5 at the Rock. It was a brand new rig and I was collecting FDNY apparatus photos at the time. We had then lost touch until just recently and you joined our Nycfire.net team.
But Dan, aka "Johnny Gage", I will ask you the same question as I asked Retired FDNY Captain John Bendick, this sites Administrator.
"During your days working in those streets, didn't you ever notice me standing there with my scanner in one hand and camera in the other" ? Of course the response I got from John Bendick, I consider a CLASSIC. He said to me: "Well Willy, if you weren't wearing a skirt, we really didn't pay too much attention".
So Dan, with that said, if you never noticed me, I can certainly understand.
Actually Dan, THANK YOU for telling us your many stories. Without a doubt you have earned your pay. Besides the fact that you, like so many others here, have HELPED SO MANY PEOPLE and even SAVED THIER LIVES. It sure doesn't get much better than that.
As I read some of your "GORY Days" stories of East New York's Liberty Outpost, I can relate as an FDNY buff of seeing the kind of conditions you talk about in those streets you mention here. The Interboro Parkway, Sutter Ave, Vandalia Ave, Penn Ave. One very nasty and dangerous place to be. Often carrying my scanner and camera, today as I think about it, I am amazed that they weren't stolen from me. OR the fact that I somehow came out of the place ALIVE. I can only imagine what it was like working in some of those streets or buildings.
Dan, of course we met about 20 years ago, while you were the chaffer of Ladder 5 at the Rock. It was a brand new rig and I was collecting FDNY apparatus photos at the time. We had then lost touch until just recently and you joined our Nycfire.net team.
But Dan, aka "Johnny Gage", I will ask you the same question as I asked Retired FDNY Captain John Bendick, this sites Administrator.
"During your days working in those streets, didn't you ever notice me standing there with my scanner in one hand and camera in the other" ? Of course the response I got from John Bendick, I consider a CLASSIC. He said to me: "Well Willy, if you weren't wearing a skirt, we really didn't pay too much attention".
So Dan, with that said, if you never noticed me, I can certainly understand.
- Joined
- Apr 23, 2018
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Thanks Willy for the kind post, Brother John's answer is pretty much spot on...It has been a real treat for me to write these recollections, I look forward to my quiet time and typing later in the evening...and for the time doing so, I actually feel like I am back in time reliving the events, thoughts stashed away and preserved in the coconut memory bank!, especially fun is when I pull out a smidgen detail I haven't thought about in ages, kind of cool. But for now, I am waiting, I know someone one this sight is working on a "time tunnel" and we will all pass by each other and hang ten!
Couple of more "Gory Days" ahead and then something special before I kick off my time in DCFD. Thanks again Willy, the Bendicks, and to all my friends who have joined me on this "Glory Days" journey by reading, "PMing" me and adding their comments, it really is appreciated and has been fun! Peace and love. KMG -365.
Couple of more "Gory Days" ahead and then something special before I kick off my time in DCFD. Thanks again Willy, the Bendicks, and to all my friends who have joined me on this "Glory Days" journey by reading, "PMing" me and adding their comments, it really is appreciated and has been fun! Peace and love. KMG -365.
- Joined
- Apr 23, 2018
- Messages
- 1,064
‘GORY DAYS’; P 7; CARDIAC CITY
EMS LOG: 9/11/1978; 1671 E 17th STREET, CONEY ISLAND; CARDIAC
I report for my scheduled graveyard shift duty at the ENY EMS Garage and I have been told by the Supervisor that tonight my partner has been placed on Medical Leave. There are two busses scheduled for tonight, and I am the extra man. So for this night tour I am detailed to Coney Island Hospital to cover Coney Island, commonly referred to in EMS parlance as “Cardiac City”.
My partner tonight is an MVO from the Coney Island EMS Station. His name is Martino, a seasoned veteran that knows the Coney Island area very well. The first thing I notice is that the ambulances are in decent shape and appear well taken care of, all of the supplies and equipment on board is stored neatly. It did not take long before we received our first cardiac assignment, a little after 2 a.m. when we were assigned a job on East 17th Street. Martino handles the bus very well and drives cautiously, we arrive in minutes stopping in front of an “H” shaped six story apartment building, our caller lives on the top floor.
I grab my kit while Martino grabs the stair chair and we hustle to the top floor, the NYPD has yet to arrive. We both stand to one side of the door before I knock and simultaneously announce “AMBULANCE”. I hear a slight commotion on the other side of the door, I hesitate for a second then knock one more time, “AMBULANCE, DID YOU CALL?”. I can now hear a faint elderly lady, between her gasps she tells me through the door that she is having trouble breathing, I assure her, “OK, LET US IN, WE’RE HERE TO HELP YOU”. There are two deadbolt cylinder locks on her door, I can hear her as she flips one of the locks and again she tells me that she can not breath. “GET THE OTHER LOCK” I urgently plead with her. She is fiddling with the lock and attempting to open the door, but the door remains locked. “HELLO, HOW WE DOING IN THERE?” I inquire, but now there is no response, just silence. I try knocking on the door again, to no avail.
With my portable radio I request the NYPD forthwith and FDNY to respond for entry. Martino and I try to force the door, but unable to, the solid door is built like a fortress. Suddenly I hear a police radio coming up the stairs and I yell down we need a hand up here, pronto!. The two Police Officers join us and I give them the scoop quickly and advise them of the dire situation. One officer starts to mule kick the wooden apartment door open, he gains a little, and tries again, The door is not budging. I can hear fire apparatus responding as the Officer gives the door one more blast with his foot, the door flies open. Laying across the sofa near the door is a lovely elderly woman in a nightgown and slippers, her arm is stretched out towards the door on the sofa, peacefully DOA. Inches away from help.
EMS LOG: 9/26/78 MONTAUK AVENUE DIFFICULTY BREATHING:
Tonight, along with my partner MVO Hall we are the only graveyard shift bus, ‘Liberty 375’ servicing East New York, it is a clear warm September night. A little over a year ago this area suffered drastically during the black out of 1977. Burnt out shells of businesses and homes pockmark the streets and avenues. Hall was working that night and his stories are fascinating, he remembers local tow truck drivers hooking up their chains and tearing down the protective gates on storefronts while the community ransacked the business. We drove past the countless blighted spots that were looted, the violence was rampant.
Relatively new on the beat, I am still learning the ropes and street smarts of EMS. Hall and I have just treated and transported an asthma patient from Hendrix Street to Kings County Hospital. After getting the patient record signed we made ourselves available to the Brooklyn CO and immediately assigned another job. It is across town for an epileptic on Nichols Avenue in the Cypress Hills section of ENY that went unfounded. Making us available again the Brooklyn CO is not holding any calls in our area so Hall and I decide to grab a quick cup of Joe at the local greasy spoon on the corner of Liberty Avenue and Pennsylvania Avenue. EMS units are not permitted to respond out of the garage until after 3AM and must roam the neighborhood like a patrol car. But we are permitted to stand fast for a bathroom break or to grab a bite and this is our location. The spot is well lit and safe as the 7-5 cops frequent the diner, too.
At 0224 hours we received a job for difficulty breathing at 432 Montauk Avenue. We shoot from Liberty Avenue across the blocks to Montauk Avenue and within minutes Hall and I pull up to a two story semi attached home, the front door is open and we both proceed inside. Inside a young male is frantically describing the symptoms of the now unconscious victim while another is attempting to apply a strange form of cardiopulmonary resuscitation compressions on the victim. The victim is an obese older man, he is wearing a dirty sleevless tee shirt and boxer shorts, he is on his back, unshaven and missing a handful of teeth, the teeth that remain are discolored and his jaw drops into his mouth without the support of teeth. The victim and the living room reek of mold, body odor, stale beer and cigarettes, it is nauseating.
The family member on his knees attempting CPR tells me that the victim has “just keeled over”. I quickly feel for a pulse and place my stethoscope on his chest to listen for a heartbeat, nada.
I have alongside me my trusty fishing tackle box converted into a packed first aid kit with bandages and airways, also a small oxygen tank. When we graduated from the Health and Hospital Ambulance Corpsman program we were given an oxygen yoke regulator with a gauge, we did not have a demand type positive pressure regulator, only a face mask. In addition, there weren't any other oxygen tanks on the bus. I grab an airway from the top
shelf of the first aid kit, twist it one quarter turn, slip it over the tongue and twist it back one quarter turn to fit correctly without pushing the tongue backwards.
I begin compressions and direct Hall to fetch me the ambu-bag from the back of the bus in one of the overhead compartments
I keep my compressions steady and strong, rocking back and forth on my hips delivering deep compressions on his bare chest squeezing the heart against his spine. The old timer has drool coming from his mouth and remains unresponsive lying supine on this filthy tacky carpet. “Where is Hall with the Ambu bag?”. At this point I have done more than thirty compressions.
Back in 1978 EMS did away with the precordial thump, and single CPR ratio to rescue breathing was thirty compressions to two breaths. However, I am thinking twice before I put a lip lock on this guy, my mind is racing with all types of viruses and contagion possibilities I can be infected with.
Continuing with the procedure, I am still waiting for Hall to get his ass back here to the living room with the device but he is still fiddling in the back of the bus. Another relative in the room says he needs “mouth to mouth”, I engage him to help but he backs off waving his arms with objection. Hall is still not back and I have no choice.
I wipe the slobber from the old timer's mouth, tilt his head back and place my mouth over his while pinching his nostrils when he belches a repulsive emission into my mouth. Rancid beer, rank cigarettes and whatever he ate now penetrate my sinuses en masse. I’m doing everything in my power to not gag, but I blew two good rescue breaths into his lungs.
Finally, Hall appears with the ambu-bag, this glorious ambu-bag!. Continuing with the procedure with the aid of the ambu-bag Hall goes back to the bus to retrieve the stretcher. I performed CPR almost to exhaustion while transporting the victim to Brookdale Hospital.
Unfortunately the old timer died at Brookdale Hospital. But his belch was alive and well inside my sinus cavity, I was trying with all my might to keep my stomach contents down. After leaving Brookdale Hospital we traveled up Rockaway Parkway towards Kings Highway headed back to ENY, we were out of service by my command. Up ahead was an open bodega on the corner and I had Hall pull over to the curb.
Inside I looked for mouthwash but the store did not have any. IThe shelves were kind of bare bones, so I purchased a large bottle of orange juice, brought it back to the bus and gargled it in an attempt to replace the foul aftertaste residing inside my nostrils and mouth. I needed something harsh, I gargled once, twice and spit the fluid out by the curb. I took a few gulps
of the juice but the acid from the juice made my stomach worse making me dry heave a few times, still I hung in there, although a little queasy. For the remainder of the tour, the old timer’s belch stayed with me, I could not clear his rancid residue from my senses.
Street wise lesson learned; I made a promise to myself, never again would I leave the bus without the ambu-bag for any difficulty breathing or cardiac assignments again. Beginning of each tour I would find the ambu-bag from the back of the bus, place a clean facemask on it and hook the facemask into my side pocket like a new appendage.
EMS LOG: 1/8/79, 0623 hrs. NEW JERSEY AVENUE; UNCONSCIOUS BABY
“Liberty 375 respond for an unconscious baby, New Jersey Avenue”. These assignments were always tough, and the results were usually not pleasant. Tonight I am working with MVO Hall and we respond from the Outpost to New Jersey Avenue, the location is not too far away from our Outpost and within minutes we are at the scene.
The front door is open and I hustle into the apartment. The first thing I notice is a young couple crying and hugging each other, I assume they must be the mom and dad. Between sobs the woman states the baby has just stopped breathing just a few minutes ago. I feel the baby, she is warm and wrapped in a pink blanket, but not breathing and turning blue. I do not hear a heartbeat. I immediately grabbed her from the little crib to make sure she was not choking. I cradled her attempting to create an airway while dashing to the back of the bus in the process of performing CPR and rescue breathing. I tell Hall to head to Kings County Hospital Pediatrics Emergency Room. Hall takes control of the bus and wields the bus to the hospital emergency room masterfully and smoothly as I continue life saving efforts in the back of the bus with the baby in my arms. In a few minutes, we arrive at the Hospital to an awaiting group of doctors and nurses standing by. Sadly, the baby did not survive.
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! KMG-365
My "Best Friend"...don't leave home without it...the Ambu bag!
EMS LOG: 9/11/1978; 1671 E 17th STREET, CONEY ISLAND; CARDIAC
I report for my scheduled graveyard shift duty at the ENY EMS Garage and I have been told by the Supervisor that tonight my partner has been placed on Medical Leave. There are two busses scheduled for tonight, and I am the extra man. So for this night tour I am detailed to Coney Island Hospital to cover Coney Island, commonly referred to in EMS parlance as “Cardiac City”.
My partner tonight is an MVO from the Coney Island EMS Station. His name is Martino, a seasoned veteran that knows the Coney Island area very well. The first thing I notice is that the ambulances are in decent shape and appear well taken care of, all of the supplies and equipment on board is stored neatly. It did not take long before we received our first cardiac assignment, a little after 2 a.m. when we were assigned a job on East 17th Street. Martino handles the bus very well and drives cautiously, we arrive in minutes stopping in front of an “H” shaped six story apartment building, our caller lives on the top floor.
I grab my kit while Martino grabs the stair chair and we hustle to the top floor, the NYPD has yet to arrive. We both stand to one side of the door before I knock and simultaneously announce “AMBULANCE”. I hear a slight commotion on the other side of the door, I hesitate for a second then knock one more time, “AMBULANCE, DID YOU CALL?”. I can now hear a faint elderly lady, between her gasps she tells me through the door that she is having trouble breathing, I assure her, “OK, LET US IN, WE’RE HERE TO HELP YOU”. There are two deadbolt cylinder locks on her door, I can hear her as she flips one of the locks and again she tells me that she can not breath. “GET THE OTHER LOCK” I urgently plead with her. She is fiddling with the lock and attempting to open the door, but the door remains locked. “HELLO, HOW WE DOING IN THERE?” I inquire, but now there is no response, just silence. I try knocking on the door again, to no avail.
With my portable radio I request the NYPD forthwith and FDNY to respond for entry. Martino and I try to force the door, but unable to, the solid door is built like a fortress. Suddenly I hear a police radio coming up the stairs and I yell down we need a hand up here, pronto!. The two Police Officers join us and I give them the scoop quickly and advise them of the dire situation. One officer starts to mule kick the wooden apartment door open, he gains a little, and tries again, The door is not budging. I can hear fire apparatus responding as the Officer gives the door one more blast with his foot, the door flies open. Laying across the sofa near the door is a lovely elderly woman in a nightgown and slippers, her arm is stretched out towards the door on the sofa, peacefully DOA. Inches away from help.
EMS LOG: 9/26/78 MONTAUK AVENUE DIFFICULTY BREATHING:
Tonight, along with my partner MVO Hall we are the only graveyard shift bus, ‘Liberty 375’ servicing East New York, it is a clear warm September night. A little over a year ago this area suffered drastically during the black out of 1977. Burnt out shells of businesses and homes pockmark the streets and avenues. Hall was working that night and his stories are fascinating, he remembers local tow truck drivers hooking up their chains and tearing down the protective gates on storefronts while the community ransacked the business. We drove past the countless blighted spots that were looted, the violence was rampant.
Relatively new on the beat, I am still learning the ropes and street smarts of EMS. Hall and I have just treated and transported an asthma patient from Hendrix Street to Kings County Hospital. After getting the patient record signed we made ourselves available to the Brooklyn CO and immediately assigned another job. It is across town for an epileptic on Nichols Avenue in the Cypress Hills section of ENY that went unfounded. Making us available again the Brooklyn CO is not holding any calls in our area so Hall and I decide to grab a quick cup of Joe at the local greasy spoon on the corner of Liberty Avenue and Pennsylvania Avenue. EMS units are not permitted to respond out of the garage until after 3AM and must roam the neighborhood like a patrol car. But we are permitted to stand fast for a bathroom break or to grab a bite and this is our location. The spot is well lit and safe as the 7-5 cops frequent the diner, too.
At 0224 hours we received a job for difficulty breathing at 432 Montauk Avenue. We shoot from Liberty Avenue across the blocks to Montauk Avenue and within minutes Hall and I pull up to a two story semi attached home, the front door is open and we both proceed inside. Inside a young male is frantically describing the symptoms of the now unconscious victim while another is attempting to apply a strange form of cardiopulmonary resuscitation compressions on the victim. The victim is an obese older man, he is wearing a dirty sleevless tee shirt and boxer shorts, he is on his back, unshaven and missing a handful of teeth, the teeth that remain are discolored and his jaw drops into his mouth without the support of teeth. The victim and the living room reek of mold, body odor, stale beer and cigarettes, it is nauseating.
The family member on his knees attempting CPR tells me that the victim has “just keeled over”. I quickly feel for a pulse and place my stethoscope on his chest to listen for a heartbeat, nada.
I have alongside me my trusty fishing tackle box converted into a packed first aid kit with bandages and airways, also a small oxygen tank. When we graduated from the Health and Hospital Ambulance Corpsman program we were given an oxygen yoke regulator with a gauge, we did not have a demand type positive pressure regulator, only a face mask. In addition, there weren't any other oxygen tanks on the bus. I grab an airway from the top
shelf of the first aid kit, twist it one quarter turn, slip it over the tongue and twist it back one quarter turn to fit correctly without pushing the tongue backwards.
I begin compressions and direct Hall to fetch me the ambu-bag from the back of the bus in one of the overhead compartments
I keep my compressions steady and strong, rocking back and forth on my hips delivering deep compressions on his bare chest squeezing the heart against his spine. The old timer has drool coming from his mouth and remains unresponsive lying supine on this filthy tacky carpet. “Where is Hall with the Ambu bag?”. At this point I have done more than thirty compressions.
Back in 1978 EMS did away with the precordial thump, and single CPR ratio to rescue breathing was thirty compressions to two breaths. However, I am thinking twice before I put a lip lock on this guy, my mind is racing with all types of viruses and contagion possibilities I can be infected with.
Continuing with the procedure, I am still waiting for Hall to get his ass back here to the living room with the device but he is still fiddling in the back of the bus. Another relative in the room says he needs “mouth to mouth”, I engage him to help but he backs off waving his arms with objection. Hall is still not back and I have no choice.
I wipe the slobber from the old timer's mouth, tilt his head back and place my mouth over his while pinching his nostrils when he belches a repulsive emission into my mouth. Rancid beer, rank cigarettes and whatever he ate now penetrate my sinuses en masse. I’m doing everything in my power to not gag, but I blew two good rescue breaths into his lungs.
Finally, Hall appears with the ambu-bag, this glorious ambu-bag!. Continuing with the procedure with the aid of the ambu-bag Hall goes back to the bus to retrieve the stretcher. I performed CPR almost to exhaustion while transporting the victim to Brookdale Hospital.
Unfortunately the old timer died at Brookdale Hospital. But his belch was alive and well inside my sinus cavity, I was trying with all my might to keep my stomach contents down. After leaving Brookdale Hospital we traveled up Rockaway Parkway towards Kings Highway headed back to ENY, we were out of service by my command. Up ahead was an open bodega on the corner and I had Hall pull over to the curb.
Inside I looked for mouthwash but the store did not have any. IThe shelves were kind of bare bones, so I purchased a large bottle of orange juice, brought it back to the bus and gargled it in an attempt to replace the foul aftertaste residing inside my nostrils and mouth. I needed something harsh, I gargled once, twice and spit the fluid out by the curb. I took a few gulps
of the juice but the acid from the juice made my stomach worse making me dry heave a few times, still I hung in there, although a little queasy. For the remainder of the tour, the old timer’s belch stayed with me, I could not clear his rancid residue from my senses.
Street wise lesson learned; I made a promise to myself, never again would I leave the bus without the ambu-bag for any difficulty breathing or cardiac assignments again. Beginning of each tour I would find the ambu-bag from the back of the bus, place a clean facemask on it and hook the facemask into my side pocket like a new appendage.
EMS LOG: 1/8/79, 0623 hrs. NEW JERSEY AVENUE; UNCONSCIOUS BABY
“Liberty 375 respond for an unconscious baby, New Jersey Avenue”. These assignments were always tough, and the results were usually not pleasant. Tonight I am working with MVO Hall and we respond from the Outpost to New Jersey Avenue, the location is not too far away from our Outpost and within minutes we are at the scene.
The front door is open and I hustle into the apartment. The first thing I notice is a young couple crying and hugging each other, I assume they must be the mom and dad. Between sobs the woman states the baby has just stopped breathing just a few minutes ago. I feel the baby, she is warm and wrapped in a pink blanket, but not breathing and turning blue. I do not hear a heartbeat. I immediately grabbed her from the little crib to make sure she was not choking. I cradled her attempting to create an airway while dashing to the back of the bus in the process of performing CPR and rescue breathing. I tell Hall to head to Kings County Hospital Pediatrics Emergency Room. Hall takes control of the bus and wields the bus to the hospital emergency room masterfully and smoothly as I continue life saving efforts in the back of the bus with the baby in my arms. In a few minutes, we arrive at the Hospital to an awaiting group of doctors and nurses standing by. Sadly, the baby did not survive.
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! KMG-365
My "Best Friend"...don't leave home without it...the Ambu bag!
Last edited:
Great Stuff, 'Johnny' ! Thanks for the trip down Memory Lane. 8)
After a Thousand or so EMS Runs in the Greater Binghamton, NY Area; they all kinda'
run together ... I do remember that it always seemed that w/ EMS I had plenty of help
on the Routine Stuff, but I remember being quite lonely on the Late-night/Early Morning
CPR Runs... .
After a Thousand or so EMS Runs in the Greater Binghamton, NY Area; they all kinda'
run together ... I do remember that it always seemed that w/ EMS I had plenty of help
on the Routine Stuff, but I remember being quite lonely on the Late-night/Early Morning
CPR Runs... .
Dan, regarding the above Gory Days story, I'd like to jump in with a couple of somewhat related stories about mouth to mouth CPR and child birth.
This goes way back to the very early days of CPR. My father, who was my Role Model, was a firefighter in Bridgeport, Ct. He used to smoke a lot of cigars and being a firefighter, I nicknamed him "Smoke". I think somewhere way back, I wrote about him on this site.
Anyway, CPR is just coming out and Smoke finds out about a one day class being held in Norwalk, Ct and open to the public to attend. I'm still in my high school days and Smoke brings me along too.
About a year or two after that short one day class, Smoke is working a night tour and gets a job in a reported vacant frame. He goes in and finds a guy in the second floor bathroom, unconscious and not breathing. He gets him out into the street. At that time, the only rig in the city that carried any oxygen was their Rescue called Squad 5. But on this narrow street, Squad 5 is parked too close to a parked car and they can't get the doors on the compartment open to get the oxygen unit out. So Smoke begins mouth to mouth breathing and after a few breaths, the guy starts to breathe on his own.
That simple one day class that showed Smoke how to do this new thing, saved the guys life. There were no practice manikins to work on either.
Smoke was awarded the Bridgeport Fire Depts Highest Medal for that rescue called: "The Gold Star". Interesting, about a year or two later, while waiting for a bus in downtown Bridgeport, a homeless guy tries to hit me up for a little donation. Instead we go across the street to a diner and I buy him a coffee. As we sit there talking, the fire trucks are going by on a run. He says to me: "those guys saved my life". Of course I ask him where was that. He tells me at a fire on Fulton St. I then asked him his name and he says: Eddie Martin. That was the guy that Smoke rescued and used mouth to mouth breathing on him.
Another story regarding child birth. Myself and two other guys are on the rig responding to a maternity call. On our way dispatch tells us "her water broke" and we will be there in about a minute or so. I tell the guys "We're going to do our thing on this one".
The mother is lying on the living room floor with an upstairs neighbor helping here. The baby is already coming out and the guys join in. The paramedic from EMS shows up and everything is going GREAT. I then tell the mother: "Oh you got a baby GIRL".
What happens next is what we least expect. The mother tells us: "Well I DON'T WANT HER". It's UNBELIEVEABLE. We are all just suddenly at a loss for words. Almost in shock over this huge let down. Why ? Why did it happen this way ? Our first and ONLY birth delivery and this is the result. A healthy baby girl and the mother doesn't want her.
We get back to quarters and the day shift guys are there so we all can go home.
My wife is home and she's getting ready to go to work for the day. My wife and I never had any children, at her request and I was okay with that. (I guess that's how I got the time to do all my buffing back then).
But that morning I tell my wife, maybe we should look into adopting this little girl. I guess there's no sign of the father around either. But my wife tells me, she doesn't want to do that and I respect that. Before we were married, we agreed to that.
The year that happened was around 1992/1993. So I guess today, she would be about 27/28 years old and maybe have a family of her own. That incident was just one of those things that you just never forget. I just hope she had a good family that adopted her.
This goes way back to the very early days of CPR. My father, who was my Role Model, was a firefighter in Bridgeport, Ct. He used to smoke a lot of cigars and being a firefighter, I nicknamed him "Smoke". I think somewhere way back, I wrote about him on this site.
Anyway, CPR is just coming out and Smoke finds out about a one day class being held in Norwalk, Ct and open to the public to attend. I'm still in my high school days and Smoke brings me along too.
About a year or two after that short one day class, Smoke is working a night tour and gets a job in a reported vacant frame. He goes in and finds a guy in the second floor bathroom, unconscious and not breathing. He gets him out into the street. At that time, the only rig in the city that carried any oxygen was their Rescue called Squad 5. But on this narrow street, Squad 5 is parked too close to a parked car and they can't get the doors on the compartment open to get the oxygen unit out. So Smoke begins mouth to mouth breathing and after a few breaths, the guy starts to breathe on his own.
That simple one day class that showed Smoke how to do this new thing, saved the guys life. There were no practice manikins to work on either.
Smoke was awarded the Bridgeport Fire Depts Highest Medal for that rescue called: "The Gold Star". Interesting, about a year or two later, while waiting for a bus in downtown Bridgeport, a homeless guy tries to hit me up for a little donation. Instead we go across the street to a diner and I buy him a coffee. As we sit there talking, the fire trucks are going by on a run. He says to me: "those guys saved my life". Of course I ask him where was that. He tells me at a fire on Fulton St. I then asked him his name and he says: Eddie Martin. That was the guy that Smoke rescued and used mouth to mouth breathing on him.
Another story regarding child birth. Myself and two other guys are on the rig responding to a maternity call. On our way dispatch tells us "her water broke" and we will be there in about a minute or so. I tell the guys "We're going to do our thing on this one".
The mother is lying on the living room floor with an upstairs neighbor helping here. The baby is already coming out and the guys join in. The paramedic from EMS shows up and everything is going GREAT. I then tell the mother: "Oh you got a baby GIRL".
What happens next is what we least expect. The mother tells us: "Well I DON'T WANT HER". It's UNBELIEVEABLE. We are all just suddenly at a loss for words. Almost in shock over this huge let down. Why ? Why did it happen this way ? Our first and ONLY birth delivery and this is the result. A healthy baby girl and the mother doesn't want her.
We get back to quarters and the day shift guys are there so we all can go home.
My wife is home and she's getting ready to go to work for the day. My wife and I never had any children, at her request and I was okay with that. (I guess that's how I got the time to do all my buffing back then).
But that morning I tell my wife, maybe we should look into adopting this little girl. I guess there's no sign of the father around either. But my wife tells me, she doesn't want to do that and I respect that. Before we were married, we agreed to that.
The year that happened was around 1992/1993. So I guess today, she would be about 27/28 years old and maybe have a family of her own. That incident was just one of those things that you just never forget. I just hope she had a good family that adopted her.
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^^^^^^^^Thanks JK, never too early to start Christmas shopping for that special someone!
- Joined
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‘GORY DAYS’; P 8; THE HOLE
“YO, COME UP HERE AND GET MY BABY!” a woman yelled down to me as I exited the bus in the middle of Hinsdale Street. Hinsdale Street and Williams Avenue were two notorious blocks in East New York that seemed to have the most violent and vicious assignments that I recall. Whenever one of the two street addresses came in I’d cerebrally prepare myself for anything possible and be on my guard. Large dimly lit apartment houses formed a canyon with shady characters lurking about all times of the night. Both streets were always dark because the street light bulbs had been shot out.
It is about 0342 hrs and tonight I am working with the MVO Hall and our job is ‘a baby with asthma’. We pull up to the reported address, the building is a four story walk up apartment house. As I exit the bus I shine my three cell Eveready flashlight into the blackened hallway entrance where the front door has been propped open, nobody is around. My light beam is absorbed and swallowed by the darkness becoming virtually useless. Hesitant about entering the building as I recall from our training days, we were warned about bad people who thought that us EMT’s carried drugs in our tech bag and there were previous instances where EMT’s were mugged. I first glance into the hallway, Hall does not budge from the bus and warns me through the open bus window “It looks dark in there!”. The only light on the street is from our headlights and the revolving bubble gum red and white light on the roof of the bus reflecting off the buildings casting weird snapshot shadows. There is no way I am going into that vestibule.
Abruptly, from the upper floor a woman yells down to me barely concealing her irritation and orders again; “HEY YOU, COME UP HERE AND GET MY BABY, NOW!”. I look up, trying to see where the shouting voice is emanating, but again the woman yells down “YOU HEAR ME? GET YOUR ASS UP HERE AND GET MY BABY”. Now I can see a silhouette figure in an open window on the top floor and I respond back; “BRING YOUR BABY DOWN!”. Meanwhile, Hall continues to look out the drivers side window from the safety of inside the bus, he is in no hurry to assist me. Once more the woman bellows with even more agitation in her voice; “GET UP HERE NOW AND TAKE MY BABY”. We exchange orders in the middle of the night in the middle of a dark street as I yell back with an ultimatum; ”EITHER BRING YOUR BABY DOWN, OR I’M LEAVING”. Her response now is loud and vulgar without any reference or concern for her baby as she begins calling me repeatedly the “MOTHER-word”. And with that, I climbed back into the bus, told Hall; “let’s go” and radioed; “Brooklyn; Hinsdale Job is 10-93 RMA (refused medical attention) Liberty 375 is 98” (available)”. And that was that.
RUBY STREET; “The HOLE”.
If Brooklyn was a human body, the neighborhood within East New York called “The Hole” would be the “Asshole”. Tonight my partner is Lawrence, he and I just received a job for a ‘sick” person job on Ruby Street near the southeast border of Brooklyn and Queens at Linden Blvd. The area and surrounding five blocks are referred to as “The Hole” a perpetual below grade, low level flooded community where chickens run freely in the streets.
The area is run-down, and suffers frequent flooding because it is thirty five feet below grade without sewers. Abandoned homes and broken down vehicles of all sorts fill empty lots, piles of trash, tires and discarded kid toys slowly decay in murky puddles. Constant standing water and deep puddles are all over the streets because there is no drainage system. Sparsely distributed houses rise from densely overgrown marshland and large Weeping Willow trees where stray dogs, feral cats and ramshackle structures dot the streets. It is hard to believe you are still in Brooklyn. The area has been described as a “lost neighborhood” that resembles a border town from the Wild West. ‘The Hole’ was also a special hot spot for the “mob” to bury bodies in empty lots of weeds. The area was serviced by overlapping boundaries of the NYPD 75 PCT and Queens 106 PCT and for the most part neglected.
Lawrence and I pull up to this rickety, partially corrugated shack-of-a home. We knock then walk inside, the home is dark, there is a lamp without the shade on a night table emitting a soft golden glow off the low ceiling, the small room is lined with dark paneling, dangling on the walls are old dusty cowboy artifacts and wall art that hangs crooked. The sink countertops are loaded with empty pill bottles and open cans of dried food, the kitchen sink is stacked high with dirty stained pots and pans.
Lawrence and I notice an old black gentleman laying naked on a bare filthy and smelly mattress in a fetal position, he is weak, but alert and responds to questions Lawrence asks. The uncased pillow and mattress are soiled beyond belief. The bed is pushed up against two walls in a corner, the top of the mattress has no headboard. There are no other family members or friends when we arrive. Lawrence is the tech tonight, he is filled with sympathetic pity and concern for the old-timers suffering and helps him to sit-up and clothe him. I assist Lawrence, and admire his empathy and sensitivity, I am learning a lesson of compassion right now.
We wrap the old timer in a sheet and sit him down on the stair chair I carried in from the ambulance and strap him in so he does not fall out. We begin to remove him from his home, he stops us because he wants to grab some cash. He motions with his hands to us his moolah is stashed under the mattress. Lawrence and I look at each other, we don’t have any gloves or a “six foot pole”, so I find a broom with a handle in a corner to lift the mattress. An ungodly odor emits, for a second Lawrence and I recoil. Lining between the two thin mattresses are numerous dollar bills in different denominations laid out flat, they are discolored and soggy. Lawrence snatches a few less stained bills from the far edge of the mattress and eases them into the old timers pocket.
Till this day, after handling dollar bills and coins, I wash my hands!
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed…KMG-365
Snapshots of "The HOLE"
“YO, COME UP HERE AND GET MY BABY!” a woman yelled down to me as I exited the bus in the middle of Hinsdale Street. Hinsdale Street and Williams Avenue were two notorious blocks in East New York that seemed to have the most violent and vicious assignments that I recall. Whenever one of the two street addresses came in I’d cerebrally prepare myself for anything possible and be on my guard. Large dimly lit apartment houses formed a canyon with shady characters lurking about all times of the night. Both streets were always dark because the street light bulbs had been shot out.
It is about 0342 hrs and tonight I am working with the MVO Hall and our job is ‘a baby with asthma’. We pull up to the reported address, the building is a four story walk up apartment house. As I exit the bus I shine my three cell Eveready flashlight into the blackened hallway entrance where the front door has been propped open, nobody is around. My light beam is absorbed and swallowed by the darkness becoming virtually useless. Hesitant about entering the building as I recall from our training days, we were warned about bad people who thought that us EMT’s carried drugs in our tech bag and there were previous instances where EMT’s were mugged. I first glance into the hallway, Hall does not budge from the bus and warns me through the open bus window “It looks dark in there!”. The only light on the street is from our headlights and the revolving bubble gum red and white light on the roof of the bus reflecting off the buildings casting weird snapshot shadows. There is no way I am going into that vestibule.
Abruptly, from the upper floor a woman yells down to me barely concealing her irritation and orders again; “HEY YOU, COME UP HERE AND GET MY BABY, NOW!”. I look up, trying to see where the shouting voice is emanating, but again the woman yells down “YOU HEAR ME? GET YOUR ASS UP HERE AND GET MY BABY”. Now I can see a silhouette figure in an open window on the top floor and I respond back; “BRING YOUR BABY DOWN!”. Meanwhile, Hall continues to look out the drivers side window from the safety of inside the bus, he is in no hurry to assist me. Once more the woman bellows with even more agitation in her voice; “GET UP HERE NOW AND TAKE MY BABY”. We exchange orders in the middle of the night in the middle of a dark street as I yell back with an ultimatum; ”EITHER BRING YOUR BABY DOWN, OR I’M LEAVING”. Her response now is loud and vulgar without any reference or concern for her baby as she begins calling me repeatedly the “MOTHER-word”. And with that, I climbed back into the bus, told Hall; “let’s go” and radioed; “Brooklyn; Hinsdale Job is 10-93 RMA (refused medical attention) Liberty 375 is 98” (available)”. And that was that.
RUBY STREET; “The HOLE”.
If Brooklyn was a human body, the neighborhood within East New York called “The Hole” would be the “Asshole”. Tonight my partner is Lawrence, he and I just received a job for a ‘sick” person job on Ruby Street near the southeast border of Brooklyn and Queens at Linden Blvd. The area and surrounding five blocks are referred to as “The Hole” a perpetual below grade, low level flooded community where chickens run freely in the streets.
The area is run-down, and suffers frequent flooding because it is thirty five feet below grade without sewers. Abandoned homes and broken down vehicles of all sorts fill empty lots, piles of trash, tires and discarded kid toys slowly decay in murky puddles. Constant standing water and deep puddles are all over the streets because there is no drainage system. Sparsely distributed houses rise from densely overgrown marshland and large Weeping Willow trees where stray dogs, feral cats and ramshackle structures dot the streets. It is hard to believe you are still in Brooklyn. The area has been described as a “lost neighborhood” that resembles a border town from the Wild West. ‘The Hole’ was also a special hot spot for the “mob” to bury bodies in empty lots of weeds. The area was serviced by overlapping boundaries of the NYPD 75 PCT and Queens 106 PCT and for the most part neglected.
Lawrence and I pull up to this rickety, partially corrugated shack-of-a home. We knock then walk inside, the home is dark, there is a lamp without the shade on a night table emitting a soft golden glow off the low ceiling, the small room is lined with dark paneling, dangling on the walls are old dusty cowboy artifacts and wall art that hangs crooked. The sink countertops are loaded with empty pill bottles and open cans of dried food, the kitchen sink is stacked high with dirty stained pots and pans.
Lawrence and I notice an old black gentleman laying naked on a bare filthy and smelly mattress in a fetal position, he is weak, but alert and responds to questions Lawrence asks. The uncased pillow and mattress are soiled beyond belief. The bed is pushed up against two walls in a corner, the top of the mattress has no headboard. There are no other family members or friends when we arrive. Lawrence is the tech tonight, he is filled with sympathetic pity and concern for the old-timers suffering and helps him to sit-up and clothe him. I assist Lawrence, and admire his empathy and sensitivity, I am learning a lesson of compassion right now.
We wrap the old timer in a sheet and sit him down on the stair chair I carried in from the ambulance and strap him in so he does not fall out. We begin to remove him from his home, he stops us because he wants to grab some cash. He motions with his hands to us his moolah is stashed under the mattress. Lawrence and I look at each other, we don’t have any gloves or a “six foot pole”, so I find a broom with a handle in a corner to lift the mattress. An ungodly odor emits, for a second Lawrence and I recoil. Lining between the two thin mattresses are numerous dollar bills in different denominations laid out flat, they are discolored and soggy. Lawrence snatches a few less stained bills from the far edge of the mattress and eases them into the old timers pocket.
Till this day, after handling dollar bills and coins, I wash my hands!
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed…KMG-365
Snapshots of "The HOLE"
Last edited:
- Joined
- May 6, 2010
- Messages
- 15,745
The Hole ...remember it well although not normally assigned there i wound up responding there at times when closer Units were out when i was a LT in 332..... as far as the guy who told you "not to save the victim as he was trying to kill him".....i had an incident outside 108 when we were still on Seigel St....daily there were skirmishes on the block ...one night someone knocks on the door & myself & another young FF open it & the knocker points to a guy on the ground 2 doors away....mistakenly the 2 of us just walk outside figuring the vic is probably just drunk...as i kneel down to assess his airway etc i am slammed to the ground by someone jumping on my back & at the same time plunging a knife over my head into the vic to finish what had transpired prior to our clueless arrival...the other FF pulls the stabber off me & i jump up & we disarm him ...as we are holding him down & telling the other residents to alert the other FFs in the FH to turnout an old man the Father of the vic appears & pull's of his Garrison Belt with a "Razor Sharp Edged Buckle" (who remembers these from the gang era of the '50s.. you could wear it & as long as you did not stroke the edges it was OK) .....the Father is flailing the belt & my self & the other FF are trying to hold the original perp & avoid the belt swinger .....the rest of the Brothers turnout & not knowing who the players are (beside us) proceed to start jacking up the stabber ...the belt swinger & one or two close by onlookers until me & the other FF regain composure & ID who was who.....we actually took the belt away & let the vics Father (the belt swinger) go after a neighbor we knew ID him as the Father of the vic....the stabber was arrested by the responding former 87 Pct...... another close call was one Christmas Eve in 1970...we (108) had a covering LT & a young ENG Detail from another FH...the Day Tour LT made out the Riding List & i was assigned the Irons & did not know the Cov LT or the detail so i guess being full of piss & vinegar i was ready to show them "how we did it on Seigel St"...about an hour & a half into the Christmas Eve night tour we get a 1st Due Pull Box (in the now Truckless Triangle maybe 714 Stanwix & Montieth or 716 Bushwick Ave & Arion Place) but we get in before anyone else & people at the Box are pointing up the block....it is a Tenement & there is a large crowd outside on the stoop & sidewalk who all seem agitated ......(to me even in the absence of any visible smoke or Fire the crowd on a chilly night is taken as an indication of a job)....it is December 24 & the Rig is open so we respond dressed...no mask's are taken normally so as we pull up i grab my Irons in one hand & jump of the Rig running past the occupants on the sidewalk & stoop & in my haste to get upstairs first i ignored my minuscule "Street Spanish" just getting direction that it was the 2nd fl....i enter the 1st Fl & people are still coming down so i am figuring something is definitely going on as very few panic around this area over nothing ....at the top of the stairs is the door to an apt that is wide open & i rush in & about 8 ft straight ahead i see a fellow on the floor in large pool of blood ......i was expecting to see a smoke or Fire condition so this throws me off...for some reason i guess thinking out loud i just say "who did this"... i don't know why i said this out loud but i get a reply "i did it" & i turn around & there is a guy with a Rifle across his lap sitting in a chair in the next room going toward the front....this all happened so fast that the Cov LT & the Detail have not got up there yet....now i have to decide ....the door to the hall & stairs are much closer than the perp but maybe he could shoot me as i ran down or the COV LT or the detail coming up .... not knowing his motivation but thinking the worst.....i decide to go for the perp figuring if i can just grab the rifle & fight him for control the LT & the Detail will be there soon...i body slam into him on the chair & grab the rifle as they enter the room ..... Thank God he did not resist or try to pull the trigger....he then started crying & as PD was arriving from 9-11 calls about a shooting (that we were not privy too) he said the rifle was a Christmas gift he was showing to his friend the deceased vic & it went off.
- Joined
- Apr 23, 2018
- Messages
- 1,064
‘GORY DAYS’: P 9; WACKY NIGHT & COPS
Depending on the schedule I worked with two partners, I either work with MVO Hall or another Corpsman named Lawrence who replaced my pesky partner Moe. My new partner is a EMS veteran from Kings County Hospital named Lawrence, his surname as he prefers to be called, he is about fifteen years older than me. Lawrence is a Vietnam vet, lives in Manhattan and wears his pants inside his spit shined combat boots. He is a little mysterious and wears dark green prescription sunglasses during our graveyard shift, he could be a double for Richard Roundtree. I like him already, he exhibits wisdom, grace, strength and style. He speaks in calm, measured tones.
Lawrence would be an invaluable mentor as I worked alongside him. He is a virtuoso in ‘street sense’ and has a unique way of disarming the most aggressive patients and defusing ugly situations. Lawrence refers to everyone, including me as “partner”. “Partner” has a nice ring to it, you immediately respond to the salutation in a friendly good natured way.
One of the first things Lawrence established with me was not to cross over into each other's business of the night. If I drove, all decisions of route and speed were mine to make. If he was the tech for the night, he asked the questions without interference, and vice versa. I liked that idea, we never stepped on each other's toes and we exhibited professionalism. It was a lesson of a lifetime for me, to be respectful of others' expertise and appreciate one person as the boss at a time.
During the weekdays we would average about eight jobs a night. Weekends you could easily expect about thirteen. Just like the FD, we had “our 10-92’s” or “10-90 unfounded”, 10-93; “Refused Medical Aid (RMA), or 10-96 Gone on Arrival. In between we ran the gamut of everything and anything to be expected from routine to the most bizarre. The busiest night I had from my records was on January 1, 1979, working with Lawrence we responded to seventeen jobs between midnight and eight. Collisions, a cutting, difficulty breathing a shooting, unconscious and cardiac among the seventeen. Of course many were unnecessary and a few unfounded including one being a rape, but with that we transported five different jobs to local hospitals. Here was another wacky night Lawrence and I shared.
EMS LOG: 4/15/79 EASTER
0058 hrs; Liberty 374, respond to Jerome and New Lots”: A perp tried to shoot a PO and he himself was shot in his ass cheek that exited from his right thigh.
0211 hrs; Liberty 374 respond for a young boy who caught his penis in the zipper of his pants”. Oh yeah, yes he did. I carried him to the bus like I was carrying a satchel of fragile champagne glasses in my arms, the poor kid screaming in agony.
0328 hrs; Liberty 374, respond for overdose 524 Ridgewood Ave. When we arrived an animated man came darting out of his home speaking excitedly in Spanish waving his arms frantically telling us his young daughter had overdosed. Inside we find a young female teen; slumped in the wooden kitchen chair naked, semi-conscious and crying. On the kitchen table are empty bottles of olive oil that have been poured over her dousing her from head to toe, apparently a family formality for ridding drug overdoses. It is difficult for Lawrence and I to walk on the oily slippery linoleum floor, the whole house reeks of a salad.
0405 hrs; Liberty 374 respond to a man down, 9 Schenck Avenue. Upon our arrival we found an elderly female, in her early 70’s that has severe head trauma from a fall on the sidewalk. She is semi-conscious and unresponsive. I carefully wrap the wound as Lawrence stabilizes her head then proceeds to check her vitals. Her breathing is shallow, eyes unresponsive, but has a faint heartbeat. We place a facemask on her and administer oxygen.
Lawrence and I load her into the back of the bus and head for Brookdale Emergency Department, while I monitor her vitals. Hauling across ENY towards the hospital I notice she has now stopped breathing and her muscles relaxed. I have Lawrence stop the bus to recheck her vitals. Nothing. “Take off partner she’s checking out” I said to Lawrence as I began to bag her with my trusty ambu bag after getting two good shots of air into her lungs. We bound and bounced along Linden Boulevard while in the back of the bus performing single CPR. After two rounds of compressions, miraculously both her eyes suddenly opened wide staring up at me to my amazement. From what I heard on my next tour back, she survived.
Lawrence and I responded to twelve jobs that kookie night.
Below are two headlines from the Daily News of jobs I handled. The headlines say enough!
As an Emergency Medical Technician we worked side by side with the Police Officers from the 7-5 Precinct. During that time community anger boiled over to violence and police officers were targeted. Over fifty NYPD officers were killed during the 1970’s by gun fire and more than two hundred wounded.
East New York is covered by the 7-5 precinct, the largest of seventy-six precincts in the city with 350 officers assigned. The Detective Bureau carries the most caseloads than any other NYC precinct. The 7-5 has the highest amount of crimes in every category including violent felonies and murder. The precinct leads all others in arrests including children under sixteen.
ENY is boxed in from the rest of NYC with Belt Parkway and surrounded by swamps, and landfills. Empty lots were mob dumping grounds, the streets are lined with scrap yards and junkyards. The community has the most vacant lots with broken down cars , dangerous roads, housing projects and schools. It has the most broken infrastructure, least available healthy food stores but has the most guns.
The Police Officers I worked with were mostly young, only a few years older than me. I noticed that many had no emotional attachment to their surroundings and economic conditions, detached from locality. Although I did not know any officers personally, at jobs we were both assigned I did notice a common characteristic trait, for the most part they were no nonsense, very professional and curt.
Tonight I am transporting a ‘perp’ in the back of the bus towards Kings County Hospital. The perp tried to attack a Housing Police Officer and somehow he got himself banged up a little when he was arrested. MVO Hall and I got the job and we are now transporting him with another Housing Cop in the back of the bus. The perp starts to become aggressive towards the PO. I am watching the hostility perched on the front bench towards the front of the cab since there is nothing else for me to do.
As the perp is increasingly becoming more confrontational to the Officer, the Officer begins to wrestle with him and starts to slug him with his slapstick, a heavy leather pouch that is about a foot long filled with a steel rod. He is repeatedly smacking him in an effort to bring him under control. Hall is moving along merrily to the hospital and doesn’t notice the commotion in the rear. The bus patient cabin is way too small for me at this time as things are heating up.
The police officer is now wrestling with the perp on top of the stretcher and finally gains control as he wedges the perps head and face under the foot section of the aluminum stretcher sitting on top of the perps shoulder. The perps head now firmly stuck, the Officer draws his weapon pressing it into the perps left ear, the Officer tells him if he has to use a bullet to shoot him in the head he will “bill” his family for the thirty-seven cents to recoup the loss of the bullet.
COPS 2
We have just started our tour, Lawrence is driving and I am the tech. We head out to our stand by location at Liberty and Pennsylvania Avenue, on the corner is an all night diner. It has decent coffee, a bathroom and the area is well lit for safety. Plus the diner is also frequented by the cops from the 7-5. I hop out of the bus to fetch our coffee leaving Lawrence to monitor the radio. Inside the diner is a Police Officer from the 7-5, he is getting coffee also, a cigarette dangles from his mouth. I recognize him, I have worked many jobs with this officer, I don’t know his name, but he is one tough s-o-b, he’s all business, all the time, he looks hard core in his black leather jacket. The black leather motorcycle jacket uniform was customary at the time. I greet him, he just gives me a nod back.
The owner of the diner is complaining to the Officer that the guy near the door has been harassing him and the customers all night. The Officer doesn’t even look at him, not even a glance. Meanwhile I grab our two cups of Joe and head back to the rig, telling Lawrence about what's going on inside the greasy spoon. Seconds later, the door is flung open by the cop with his left elbow, the harassing perp is held firmly by his collar by the Officer with his left hand while being pushed through the door, simultaneously the Officers right hand is balancing two hot coffees as the cig stills dangles. The PO twirls and flings the perp onto the sidewalk without saying a word, and proceeds to his sector car, mission accomplished. One tough bad-ass cop I’ll never forget.
COPS 3
My partner is Moe, the pesky partner I was hired with and we are in the middle of performing CPR in the back of the bus on a shooting victim. I am doing the compressions while Moe maintains the airway and bags the victim with the ambu bag. A Police Officer from the 7-5 tells us to continue CPR and he will drive the bus to Brookdale Hospital. Moe and I are still kind of new to all this having recently graduated from EMS school and green on the streets, Moe and I agree, works for me, we had never discussed this scenario or ‘what if’ policy before with any of our instructors. The officer proceeds to drive like a lunatic, swerving left then right we are both tossed about the back cabin like ping pong balls along with another Officer who is riding along and braced in the rear corner. All of a sudden the driving Officer screeches the brakes at Alabama Avenue and Linden Blvd, for what we will never know, but all three of us are launched forward and plastered into the front wall of the bus piling on top of each other. The CPR victim is partially propelled forward from the stretcher. The riding Officer has now become our second casualty, injured at the abrupt stop striking his back, he’s in agony and now cannot move. The bus resumes it’s frantic travel, meanwhile Moe and I resume the CPR and tell the Officer to sit tight and don’t move until we reach Brookdale another four harrowing minutes away.
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! KMG-365
Depending on the schedule I worked with two partners, I either work with MVO Hall or another Corpsman named Lawrence who replaced my pesky partner Moe. My new partner is a EMS veteran from Kings County Hospital named Lawrence, his surname as he prefers to be called, he is about fifteen years older than me. Lawrence is a Vietnam vet, lives in Manhattan and wears his pants inside his spit shined combat boots. He is a little mysterious and wears dark green prescription sunglasses during our graveyard shift, he could be a double for Richard Roundtree. I like him already, he exhibits wisdom, grace, strength and style. He speaks in calm, measured tones.
Lawrence would be an invaluable mentor as I worked alongside him. He is a virtuoso in ‘street sense’ and has a unique way of disarming the most aggressive patients and defusing ugly situations. Lawrence refers to everyone, including me as “partner”. “Partner” has a nice ring to it, you immediately respond to the salutation in a friendly good natured way.
One of the first things Lawrence established with me was not to cross over into each other's business of the night. If I drove, all decisions of route and speed were mine to make. If he was the tech for the night, he asked the questions without interference, and vice versa. I liked that idea, we never stepped on each other's toes and we exhibited professionalism. It was a lesson of a lifetime for me, to be respectful of others' expertise and appreciate one person as the boss at a time.
During the weekdays we would average about eight jobs a night. Weekends you could easily expect about thirteen. Just like the FD, we had “our 10-92’s” or “10-90 unfounded”, 10-93; “Refused Medical Aid (RMA), or 10-96 Gone on Arrival. In between we ran the gamut of everything and anything to be expected from routine to the most bizarre. The busiest night I had from my records was on January 1, 1979, working with Lawrence we responded to seventeen jobs between midnight and eight. Collisions, a cutting, difficulty breathing a shooting, unconscious and cardiac among the seventeen. Of course many were unnecessary and a few unfounded including one being a rape, but with that we transported five different jobs to local hospitals. Here was another wacky night Lawrence and I shared.
EMS LOG: 4/15/79 EASTER
0058 hrs; Liberty 374, respond to Jerome and New Lots”: A perp tried to shoot a PO and he himself was shot in his ass cheek that exited from his right thigh.
0211 hrs; Liberty 374 respond for a young boy who caught his penis in the zipper of his pants”. Oh yeah, yes he did. I carried him to the bus like I was carrying a satchel of fragile champagne glasses in my arms, the poor kid screaming in agony.
0328 hrs; Liberty 374, respond for overdose 524 Ridgewood Ave. When we arrived an animated man came darting out of his home speaking excitedly in Spanish waving his arms frantically telling us his young daughter had overdosed. Inside we find a young female teen; slumped in the wooden kitchen chair naked, semi-conscious and crying. On the kitchen table are empty bottles of olive oil that have been poured over her dousing her from head to toe, apparently a family formality for ridding drug overdoses. It is difficult for Lawrence and I to walk on the oily slippery linoleum floor, the whole house reeks of a salad.
0405 hrs; Liberty 374 respond to a man down, 9 Schenck Avenue. Upon our arrival we found an elderly female, in her early 70’s that has severe head trauma from a fall on the sidewalk. She is semi-conscious and unresponsive. I carefully wrap the wound as Lawrence stabilizes her head then proceeds to check her vitals. Her breathing is shallow, eyes unresponsive, but has a faint heartbeat. We place a facemask on her and administer oxygen.
Lawrence and I load her into the back of the bus and head for Brookdale Emergency Department, while I monitor her vitals. Hauling across ENY towards the hospital I notice she has now stopped breathing and her muscles relaxed. I have Lawrence stop the bus to recheck her vitals. Nothing. “Take off partner she’s checking out” I said to Lawrence as I began to bag her with my trusty ambu bag after getting two good shots of air into her lungs. We bound and bounced along Linden Boulevard while in the back of the bus performing single CPR. After two rounds of compressions, miraculously both her eyes suddenly opened wide staring up at me to my amazement. From what I heard on my next tour back, she survived.
Lawrence and I responded to twelve jobs that kookie night.
Below are two headlines from the Daily News of jobs I handled. The headlines say enough!
As an Emergency Medical Technician we worked side by side with the Police Officers from the 7-5 Precinct. During that time community anger boiled over to violence and police officers were targeted. Over fifty NYPD officers were killed during the 1970’s by gun fire and more than two hundred wounded.
East New York is covered by the 7-5 precinct, the largest of seventy-six precincts in the city with 350 officers assigned. The Detective Bureau carries the most caseloads than any other NYC precinct. The 7-5 has the highest amount of crimes in every category including violent felonies and murder. The precinct leads all others in arrests including children under sixteen.
ENY is boxed in from the rest of NYC with Belt Parkway and surrounded by swamps, and landfills. Empty lots were mob dumping grounds, the streets are lined with scrap yards and junkyards. The community has the most vacant lots with broken down cars , dangerous roads, housing projects and schools. It has the most broken infrastructure, least available healthy food stores but has the most guns.
The Police Officers I worked with were mostly young, only a few years older than me. I noticed that many had no emotional attachment to their surroundings and economic conditions, detached from locality. Although I did not know any officers personally, at jobs we were both assigned I did notice a common characteristic trait, for the most part they were no nonsense, very professional and curt.
Tonight I am transporting a ‘perp’ in the back of the bus towards Kings County Hospital. The perp tried to attack a Housing Police Officer and somehow he got himself banged up a little when he was arrested. MVO Hall and I got the job and we are now transporting him with another Housing Cop in the back of the bus. The perp starts to become aggressive towards the PO. I am watching the hostility perched on the front bench towards the front of the cab since there is nothing else for me to do.
As the perp is increasingly becoming more confrontational to the Officer, the Officer begins to wrestle with him and starts to slug him with his slapstick, a heavy leather pouch that is about a foot long filled with a steel rod. He is repeatedly smacking him in an effort to bring him under control. Hall is moving along merrily to the hospital and doesn’t notice the commotion in the rear. The bus patient cabin is way too small for me at this time as things are heating up.
The police officer is now wrestling with the perp on top of the stretcher and finally gains control as he wedges the perps head and face under the foot section of the aluminum stretcher sitting on top of the perps shoulder. The perps head now firmly stuck, the Officer draws his weapon pressing it into the perps left ear, the Officer tells him if he has to use a bullet to shoot him in the head he will “bill” his family for the thirty-seven cents to recoup the loss of the bullet.
COPS 2
We have just started our tour, Lawrence is driving and I am the tech. We head out to our stand by location at Liberty and Pennsylvania Avenue, on the corner is an all night diner. It has decent coffee, a bathroom and the area is well lit for safety. Plus the diner is also frequented by the cops from the 7-5. I hop out of the bus to fetch our coffee leaving Lawrence to monitor the radio. Inside the diner is a Police Officer from the 7-5, he is getting coffee also, a cigarette dangles from his mouth. I recognize him, I have worked many jobs with this officer, I don’t know his name, but he is one tough s-o-b, he’s all business, all the time, he looks hard core in his black leather jacket. The black leather motorcycle jacket uniform was customary at the time. I greet him, he just gives me a nod back.
The owner of the diner is complaining to the Officer that the guy near the door has been harassing him and the customers all night. The Officer doesn’t even look at him, not even a glance. Meanwhile I grab our two cups of Joe and head back to the rig, telling Lawrence about what's going on inside the greasy spoon. Seconds later, the door is flung open by the cop with his left elbow, the harassing perp is held firmly by his collar by the Officer with his left hand while being pushed through the door, simultaneously the Officers right hand is balancing two hot coffees as the cig stills dangles. The PO twirls and flings the perp onto the sidewalk without saying a word, and proceeds to his sector car, mission accomplished. One tough bad-ass cop I’ll never forget.
COPS 3
My partner is Moe, the pesky partner I was hired with and we are in the middle of performing CPR in the back of the bus on a shooting victim. I am doing the compressions while Moe maintains the airway and bags the victim with the ambu bag. A Police Officer from the 7-5 tells us to continue CPR and he will drive the bus to Brookdale Hospital. Moe and I are still kind of new to all this having recently graduated from EMS school and green on the streets, Moe and I agree, works for me, we had never discussed this scenario or ‘what if’ policy before with any of our instructors. The officer proceeds to drive like a lunatic, swerving left then right we are both tossed about the back cabin like ping pong balls along with another Officer who is riding along and braced in the rear corner. All of a sudden the driving Officer screeches the brakes at Alabama Avenue and Linden Blvd, for what we will never know, but all three of us are launched forward and plastered into the front wall of the bus piling on top of each other. The CPR victim is partially propelled forward from the stretcher. The riding Officer has now become our second casualty, injured at the abrupt stop striking his back, he’s in agony and now cannot move. The bus resumes it’s frantic travel, meanwhile Moe and I resume the CPR and tell the Officer to sit tight and don’t move until we reach Brookdale another four harrowing minutes away.
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! KMG-365
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