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GLORY DAYS VIGNETTES
- Thread starter JohnnyGage
- Start date
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ST. PATRICK'S DAY
At the end of the long dreary winter season, guys looked forward to the promise of spring and the annual NYC St. Patrick’s Day Parade on Fifth Avenue in the heart of Manhattan. The St. Patrick’s Parade in NYC is the largest in the world with over 150,000 marchers and two million spectators lining the sidewalk and waving from the windows of skyscraper office buildings, the grandiose procession lasts about five hours.
NYC schedules St. Patrick’s Parade on March 17th, regardless of the day the 17th falls except Sundays, in that case, the parade is held the day before. A few days before the parade the firehouse started buzzing in anticipation of the upcoming event. Part of the buzz was organizing the breakfast feast served beforehand in preparation for a long day. The first item was browning links of sausage, not the small breakfast frozen type sausage, but the big tender Italian links. Once browned in a skillet, they were laid out in a large flat pan and placed into the oven until they sizzled gently, savoring the juice. Slabs of bacon on the grill, batches of French toast and a heaping pile of scrambled eggs rounded out the morning meal. The mouthwatering aroma filled the firehouse as incoming members strolled in dropping off green bagels and soda bread. In the locker room members changed from street clothes into their proud Class A uniforms hanging neatly in their lockers, some switching up to wearing a green beret instead of the regulation bell cap.
Everyone looked forward to the parade, the parade was a great opportunity to catch up with friends you haven’t seen in awhile and to reacquaint with those who have since been promoted and moved on to other parts of the city.
At L 112 in Bushwick, Brooklyn after breakfast we hiked up Knickerbocker Avenue a few blocks to the Myrtle Avenue elevated subway station to catch the M Line into Manhattan. On the platform joining us were various small groups of guys from the nearby firehouses, but there was always a large contingent from Tonka Truck L 124 who walked from Himrod Street. I always admired the Tonka guys, every firematic function I attended the Tonka guys were a tight cohesive group highlighted by their distinct light blue company patch of a Tonka Toy Truck.
With each station stop as the M train ambled along towards the City, more and more blue uniforms lining the platform boarded the subway. In just a few stops, the train was completely jammed shoulder to shoulder with FDNY members interspersed by out of town visiting firefighters, too. I marched with firefighters from Manchester NH and old buddies from the DCFD as guests. Firefighters came from all over the States and across the ocean to march with us, and were welcomed.
As the M train sways underground below the East River we arrive at Grand Central Station destination. Exiting the train our swarm blended with other Brothers in blue from other parts of the city. Like streams merging, the sea of blue consolidated into a swollen river flowing through the majestic Grand Central foyer to our assembly point on 44th Street. Coincidentally on 44th Street there are a couple of Irish bars and our gang didn’t hesitate plunging into the first one. We had an hour to kill before the FDNY colors stepped off. With a television set over the bar, we monitored the parade live and squeezed in another kidney relief break before getting the order to line up.
The spectacular and sensational FDNY Emerald Society Pipes and Drums Band led our department. In formation behind the band marched the FDNY Commissioner, Fire Chief’s and dignitaries, followed by the Uniform Fire Officers and Uniform Firefighters Union Board of representatives and then finally us, a massive mob. (After 9/11 a Color Guard delegation of 343 FDNY firefighters carried 343 American Flags representing the number of firefighters killed on September 11, 2001 in front of the band).
Thousands of navy blue uniforms formed casual columns and line of march for several blocks on Fifth Avenue. What was kind of funny, was a small group of guys who attempted to instill order of march upon us, you know; ten-hut, forward march, yer left, yer right, hup two three. But that all fell apart before we left 44 Street and made the right turn onto Fifth Avenue. Each of us were already having a grand time gabbing and chuckling while waving to the large crowds on the sidewalk to pay any attention to formality.
A legendary television host known as Cap’n Jack (McCarthy) had an afternoon kiddie show featuring Popeye cartoons and did the ‘live’ report from an adjacent booth next to the route. Cap’n Jack was the personification of the St. Patrick’s Parade and the television anchor covering the parade for forty-one years. And every year, as our front line approached the recording area, thousands of us began fist pumping and chanting “Jack, Jack, Jack…!” continuously until our last line passed. And, every year Jack became flabbergasted and thrown off of his prepared commentary as we roared by, once ad libbing and gushing; “I love these firemen, every year such a greeting!”
Approaching St. Patrick’s Cathedral we tightened up our ranks as the presiding Cardinal blessed us from the steps outside as we filed by like good boys.
The parade was a mile and a half and after passing St. Patrick's Cathedral, guys began to bail from formation spilling onto the cross streets, having hiked enough. Before long, at each cross street another bunch of guys skipped out of the parade. I was guilty, I never made the whole trip from start to finish at 88th Street.
Photo: Nothing like starting off the parade with a hot pretzel!
At the end of the long dreary winter season, guys looked forward to the promise of spring and the annual NYC St. Patrick’s Day Parade on Fifth Avenue in the heart of Manhattan. The St. Patrick’s Parade in NYC is the largest in the world with over 150,000 marchers and two million spectators lining the sidewalk and waving from the windows of skyscraper office buildings, the grandiose procession lasts about five hours.
NYC schedules St. Patrick’s Parade on March 17th, regardless of the day the 17th falls except Sundays, in that case, the parade is held the day before. A few days before the parade the firehouse started buzzing in anticipation of the upcoming event. Part of the buzz was organizing the breakfast feast served beforehand in preparation for a long day. The first item was browning links of sausage, not the small breakfast frozen type sausage, but the big tender Italian links. Once browned in a skillet, they were laid out in a large flat pan and placed into the oven until they sizzled gently, savoring the juice. Slabs of bacon on the grill, batches of French toast and a heaping pile of scrambled eggs rounded out the morning meal. The mouthwatering aroma filled the firehouse as incoming members strolled in dropping off green bagels and soda bread. In the locker room members changed from street clothes into their proud Class A uniforms hanging neatly in their lockers, some switching up to wearing a green beret instead of the regulation bell cap.
Everyone looked forward to the parade, the parade was a great opportunity to catch up with friends you haven’t seen in awhile and to reacquaint with those who have since been promoted and moved on to other parts of the city.
At L 112 in Bushwick, Brooklyn after breakfast we hiked up Knickerbocker Avenue a few blocks to the Myrtle Avenue elevated subway station to catch the M Line into Manhattan. On the platform joining us were various small groups of guys from the nearby firehouses, but there was always a large contingent from Tonka Truck L 124 who walked from Himrod Street. I always admired the Tonka guys, every firematic function I attended the Tonka guys were a tight cohesive group highlighted by their distinct light blue company patch of a Tonka Toy Truck.
With each station stop as the M train ambled along towards the City, more and more blue uniforms lining the platform boarded the subway. In just a few stops, the train was completely jammed shoulder to shoulder with FDNY members interspersed by out of town visiting firefighters, too. I marched with firefighters from Manchester NH and old buddies from the DCFD as guests. Firefighters came from all over the States and across the ocean to march with us, and were welcomed.
As the M train sways underground below the East River we arrive at Grand Central Station destination. Exiting the train our swarm blended with other Brothers in blue from other parts of the city. Like streams merging, the sea of blue consolidated into a swollen river flowing through the majestic Grand Central foyer to our assembly point on 44th Street. Coincidentally on 44th Street there are a couple of Irish bars and our gang didn’t hesitate plunging into the first one. We had an hour to kill before the FDNY colors stepped off. With a television set over the bar, we monitored the parade live and squeezed in another kidney relief break before getting the order to line up.
The spectacular and sensational FDNY Emerald Society Pipes and Drums Band led our department. In formation behind the band marched the FDNY Commissioner, Fire Chief’s and dignitaries, followed by the Uniform Fire Officers and Uniform Firefighters Union Board of representatives and then finally us, a massive mob. (After 9/11 a Color Guard delegation of 343 FDNY firefighters carried 343 American Flags representing the number of firefighters killed on September 11, 2001 in front of the band).
Thousands of navy blue uniforms formed casual columns and line of march for several blocks on Fifth Avenue. What was kind of funny, was a small group of guys who attempted to instill order of march upon us, you know; ten-hut, forward march, yer left, yer right, hup two three. But that all fell apart before we left 44 Street and made the right turn onto Fifth Avenue. Each of us were already having a grand time gabbing and chuckling while waving to the large crowds on the sidewalk to pay any attention to formality.
A legendary television host known as Cap’n Jack (McCarthy) had an afternoon kiddie show featuring Popeye cartoons and did the ‘live’ report from an adjacent booth next to the route. Cap’n Jack was the personification of the St. Patrick’s Parade and the television anchor covering the parade for forty-one years. And every year, as our front line approached the recording area, thousands of us began fist pumping and chanting “Jack, Jack, Jack…!” continuously until our last line passed. And, every year Jack became flabbergasted and thrown off of his prepared commentary as we roared by, once ad libbing and gushing; “I love these firemen, every year such a greeting!”
Approaching St. Patrick’s Cathedral we tightened up our ranks as the presiding Cardinal blessed us from the steps outside as we filed by like good boys.
The parade was a mile and a half and after passing St. Patrick's Cathedral, guys began to bail from formation spilling onto the cross streets, having hiked enough. Before long, at each cross street another bunch of guys skipped out of the parade. I was guilty, I never made the whole trip from start to finish at 88th Street.
Photo: Nothing like starting off the parade with a hot pretzel!
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A legendary television host known as Cap’n Jack (McCarthy) had an afternoon kiddie show featuring Popeye cartoons and did the ‘live’ report from an adjacent booth next to the route. Cap’n Jack was the personification of the St. Patrick’s Parade and the television anchor covering the parade for forty-one years. And every year, as our front line approached the recording area, thousands of us began fist pumping and chanting “Jack, Jack, Jack…!” continuously until our last line passed. And, every year Jack became flabbergasted and thrown off of his prepared commentary as we roared by, once ad libbing and gushing; “I love these firemen, every year such a greeting!”
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ST. PATRICK’S PARADE
THE LAST HOO-RAH
After I retired for a few years, on my bucket list was to stroll down Fifth Avenue on St. Patrick’s Day in 2007 for just one more time and revisit the magical euphoria of celebrating with the Brothers. As I assembled among the young beaming faces full of jubilation and glee it began to dawn on me as I scanned around, I didn't know anybody here anymore. Missing from the crowd were my knucklehead buddies from my previous companies, many of them killed on 9/11 and many more forced to retire from injuries or illness. It was the same place, it just wasn’t the same.
Marching up Fifth Avenue for the last time alone in my thoughts, I relished the wholeness of the final moments. I had a few more steps before I bailed out at 55th Street and took one last look at the sea of blue Brothers as they proudly passed by whooping it up as I once did, full of spirit and energy. It was a bittersweet goodbye as I turned away, but I was ok with it.
I made my way over to the iconic pub Rosie O’Gradys to join my wife, a few guests and Report From Engine Co. 82 author Dennis Smith for a peaceful corned beef and cabbage lunch. I’m done marching now, but eternally grateful for so many incredible memories.
THE LAST HOO-RAH
After I retired for a few years, on my bucket list was to stroll down Fifth Avenue on St. Patrick’s Day in 2007 for just one more time and revisit the magical euphoria of celebrating with the Brothers. As I assembled among the young beaming faces full of jubilation and glee it began to dawn on me as I scanned around, I didn't know anybody here anymore. Missing from the crowd were my knucklehead buddies from my previous companies, many of them killed on 9/11 and many more forced to retire from injuries or illness. It was the same place, it just wasn’t the same.
Marching up Fifth Avenue for the last time alone in my thoughts, I relished the wholeness of the final moments. I had a few more steps before I bailed out at 55th Street and took one last look at the sea of blue Brothers as they proudly passed by whooping it up as I once did, full of spirit and energy. It was a bittersweet goodbye as I turned away, but I was ok with it.
I made my way over to the iconic pub Rosie O’Gradys to join my wife, a few guests and Report From Engine Co. 82 author Dennis Smith for a peaceful corned beef and cabbage lunch. I’m done marching now, but eternally grateful for so many incredible memories.
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SCROLL BACK...POSTED 6 STORIES...STARTS ON PG 4
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By any chance was there a line out the door at E22/L13 after the parade?
Myself, and a few of the Brothers that I worked with as firefighters in Norwich, Ct (pop 40,000) were invited guest for breakfast and to march in the St Patrick's Day Parade, in uniform, with the members of Engine 37 and Ladder 40 back in 1978
The FDNYs Bag Pipe Band was led by Lt Duffy of Engine 37.
We were invited by Ladder 40s driver - Charlie Summerland (spelling-?) who I got to meet I think when I was buffing a job.
If I remember correctly there was about six of us who joined them.
It was a Great Time and a True Honor for each of us to march with the FDNY Members.
I think after the parade we all went to a place called "Suspenders" which was owned by an FDNY member in lower Manhattan.
All those guys treated us great, and I will NEVER FORGET THEM.
The FDNYs Bag Pipe Band was led by Lt Duffy of Engine 37.
We were invited by Ladder 40s driver - Charlie Summerland (spelling-?) who I got to meet I think when I was buffing a job.
If I remember correctly there was about six of us who joined them.
It was a Great Time and a True Honor for each of us to march with the FDNY Members.
I think after the parade we all went to a place called "Suspenders" which was owned by an FDNY member in lower Manhattan.
All those guys treated us great, and I will NEVER FORGET THEM.
Sommerlad
