GLORY DAYS

[memory master]

I guess the eyesight and memories are better than I thought. Thanks Dan and Chief JK

 

[JohnnyGage]

LADDER 31; DAYS OF RIDING P 2

Intervale Avenue is a wide thoroughfare, the firehouse sits between two buildings, on exposure two side is a five story brick apartment house and on the exposure four side is a two story storage loft type building to the right. The firehouse is a three story building with large red trimmed windows on the second floor, the brick looks to be a light tan color with red trim. A single door between the two bays allows entry into quarters. Over the left bay door metal lettering says ?LADDER 31?, over the right bay door the same metal lettering says ?82 ENGINE?.

Although the firehouse has only two bay doors five different pieces of apparatus would park and respond through them. The first few times I rode with L 31, even though the overhead lettering said; ?Ladder 31?, E 85, E 82 and TCU 712 would respond from that bay because of the extra depth that bay provided. Ladder 31?s American LaFrance tiller would be in the bay marked ?Engine 82?. Positioned to the rear of the firehouse, E 85 would be parked alongside E 82 with just enough room to walk between rigs. The TCU would be parked in front of those pieces. At different times I rode Battalion 27 in quarters. The Chief?s aide parked the station wagon diagonally with the front facing outwards and exiting the ?E 82? bay. L 31 was positioned as far back into the bay just in front of the rear kitchen. It was a tight fit when the rigs were in the same spot and not out running. The nickname was appropriate ?LA CASA GRANDE?.

Today is the third time I?m riding with Uncle Jack. The firehouse seems larger, only L 31 and E 82 are in quarters by themselves now and parked in their respective bays. I?m introduced to the Boss; Lt. Bob Farrell. Jack gets the ok from the boss for me to ride. Previously I rode in the seat jump seat behind the officer, today I will ride in the front seat between Lt. Farrell and LCC Charlie McCarrty, front and center of the big red machine!. Coincidentally most of the times I rode the officer was Lieutenant Farrell who became Captain Farrell. The other Boss I remember was a big bear of a guy, named Captain McCaffrey.

The very first time I rode with L 31 I was with Capt. McCaffrey. The Cap reminds me of Oakland Raiders Coach John Madden. There is really very little room in the front seat with him and that was why he had me ride the jumpseat behind him and back with the guys. We had a full day of responding to false alarm boxes relentlessly. However, the following day tour, now back home I spotted on the evening news a story about L 31 being attacked by protesters. Apparently L 31 responded to a pull box on Aldus Street. In the middle of the street was a rubbish fire. L 31 was blocked in and bombarded by rocks and bottles from Gypsey Cab drivers protesting something or other.

The following day a Daily News photo on the second page has Captain McCaffrey standing in front of L 31 pointing at the broken windshield. I called Jack, he was working his second day tour and he told me everyone riding behind the cab squeezed into the jump seats seeking cover, the same seat I sat in the day before! What a difference a day makes.

It is 0900 as the bells in the firehouse toll 11 times indicating the change of tour. The bells don?t sound like ding, ding or clang, clang, it?s more like a clink, clink, clink in a steady toll eleven times.

I introduce myself to the Ladder Chauffeur, once again as was most of the times I have come in to ride it?s Big Charlie McCarthy behind the wheel. I offer to help wash the rig, and he allows me to rinse the soap off after he brushes it on. Another LCC I shared the front seat was Vincent Bollon

Vinny would go on to become a long time labor leader with the UFA, UFOA and IAFF. He was awarded FDNY medals of bravery twice. I recall the day I rode with him as LCC, the troops antagonized him unmercifully by referring to him as ?Balloon? mocking his last name. ?Look! It is balloon, VINNY BALLOON!...? was heard the whole day. RIP Vinny.

There were a few times I came to Intervale Avenue with Jack on a Sunday. I recall the mornings started out quiet . At the change of tour the rigs were moved out of the bay and onto the street. The fireman on housewatch has stretched two lengths of inch and a half hose from the hydrant in front of quarters and begins to flush out the apparatus floor from the rear to the front.

As a young ?Explorer? with my neighborhood volunteer fire department, one of my favorite training sessions was operating a hoseline from a hydrant in an empty parking lot by the firehouse. Donning the full firefighting garb, we stretched two lengths of inch and a half connected from a nearby hydrant. An Explorer Advisor who was also a Lieutenant with the volunteer fire department showed us how to position ourselves to back up the nozzle firefighter, taking pressure off him as he advanced the hoseline and how the third guy would make sure the hose moved forward freely.

Our group of trainees took this training very seriously, we envisioned ourselves moving in on the gates of hell; open the nob, try the wide fog pattern, move up a few feet, narrow fog pattern, a few more feet and then straight stream, close bale slowly so as not to create a water hammer. Everyone got a shot at handling the hoseline for a few moments, it was exciting when your turn came and it was big league to us Explorers then.

Today I am watching this fireman, he?s from 82 and moving the hoseline by himself effortlessly flushing out dirt and debris toward the street. I?m wondering, ?shouldn?t he have a backup?? Suddenly he turns to me, ?hey son, why don?t you grab this and finish washing down the floor, push the dirt towards the street?. He?s not asking, but politely ordering me to take over. I like that I?m trusted and happy to help. ?Sure, glad to help!?. He shuts down the nozzle and hands it over to me, ?you got it son? and departs to the kitchen. Before I open the nozzle, I think of the formality that was drilled into me and my fellow Explorers for advancing a line with the back up man and so on. I?m in my Glory, I pull the bale back slowly and open up the nozzle moving the line and sweeping out the bays. I can?t wait until I tell the other ?Explorers? when I get back!

On another weekend day tour visit both companies are scheduled to have MUD, or Multi Unit Drill. All members mount up on the rig as E 82 heads out and makes the right turn leaving quarters, crosses over 169th Street and onto Tiffany Street, L 31 follows. We stop in front of a six story vacant apartment building, all the windows are removed and inside the building looks like a six story dump. Strikingly odd, some windows actually have a tree or large weed growing out of them. It?s bizarre to see a large tree growing from a vacant building window on the upper floor.

The members of E 82 and L 31 are going through their routine checking the breathing apparatus and inspecting the portable K-12 saw. In the meantime E 82?s ECC hooks to a hydrant and pumps water through the deck gun into an empty window. The ECC notices me in the street observing, he yells to the fireman on top directing the deck gun to come down, ?we need to get some ?youth? up there?. The ECC directs me to operate the deck gun. Again back in the Explorers, this was inconceivable since we were not allowed on top of the apparatus, nor were we allowed to operate anything larger than a handline. I eagerly hopped up to the deck gun, took control of it and aimed it from window to window, blasting the imaginary red devil to smithereens. I was having a ball!

Today, Charlie and I finish washing down the rig. Guys have completed their committee work sitting and relaxing in the kitchen chatting, there is less joking, more regular talk. I?m itching to start running. Finally, just before 11:00 am the voice alarm alert tone sounds, it is a quick ?fwooop? tone followed by the dispatcher announcing the companies as one long number: ?82-85-31-59; Box??. We empty out of the kitchen with half the guys heading towards the engine, the other half including me hustle to the truck and we are off to another busy and exciting day.

During this time the rigs had a mechanical siren with a distinctive pitch, rrrr- ARRR- RRRRR... there was no mistaking the unique sound of a fire truck approaching. The air horn also had a growl type pitch and not the loud ?BLAP? you hear on today's apparatus. The day remains hectic, the runs come in a steady flow with different boxes coming in. Many times we pull up just in front of quarters and off we go again. I recall a few vacant building fires during days riding where 31 operated for a while, nothing spectacular though. Most calls of course were 10-92?s, outside rubbish and car fires.

When the rigs would stop and the guys went to work, it seemed like the whole neighborhood came alive with kids climbing all over the truck like monkey bars. Young Spanish faces would curiously peer in at me sitting inside the cab or standing outside nearby. I did recall watching Jack drive the tiller and operate as the Outside Vent Man at a job, he worked the front fire escape, the windows were tinned up alongside the fire escape to prevent entry into the building and tough to open. It seemed with every tinned up window removed more smoke would come out. The fire was inside the vacant building and quickly knocked out by E 82.

Both companies have been running since this morning, it?s after lunch and my buddy Mel is at the firehouse. He has come in from his home to visit me. I am honored to have this friendship with Mel, Mel is a very religious man, he is over six feet tall, and lean. We walk to the outside courtyard in the rear of the firehouse, there he introduces me to three guinea pigs in a large cage. Mel tells me that they were rescued at a fire recently, and are holding them for safe keeping until the owner finds a new home for them. He and I catch up on stories since I haven?t seen him in a while. It?s good to see Mel.


Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading! KMG-365



82 and 31 squeezed in between an apartment building and loft style storage building


169th Street in foreground, firehouse is on left on a wide Intervale Av, Home Street comes in on an angle.


A good spot in front of firehouse with seven streets intersecting for watching a unique lifestyle go by in the South Bronx and the occasional rig like L 59 returning back to qtrs. The guys always gave a full arm swing hello as they drove by.


Jack backing in the tiller. "LA CASA GRANDE" across and above the tiller windshield.


Vinny Bollon, LCC (RIP)

Two common sights:

 

[JohnnyGage]

PROFILE: MEL HAZEL L 31
‘BAPTIZED BY FIRE’

Mel Hazel was a huge mentor to me during my early years as a young teenager riding with L 31 and Uncle Jack. I was introduced to Mel on one of my first visits in 1971. Mel had just completed his probation at Ladder 31 and had this exciting youthful persona. Mel is tall and lean and has a great sense of humor that is a must-have on Intervale Avenue in order to exist, he is religious and a well respected fireman for just someone on the job for a short time. There were a few times when I would visit the Intervale firehouse with Jack for a day tour and Mel would be off duty at home, but he’d make a trip to the firehouse and hang with me. I really appreciated his friendship and always looked forward to seeing him when conditions worked out, the few times hanging with him made the trip to L 31 even more pleasantly memorable. During the winter months when I could not get off from school Mel and I exchanged letters.

In 1973 Mel made a “Roof Rope” rescue days after I visited him at L 31. The rescue was one of a kind back and rare during the War Years; back then there wasn't a “Lifesaving Rope Evolution” as it is known today. During the War Years truck company members were issued a personal harness that they wore as an accessory around their waist. It was the morning after a very busy night tour when Mel rescued an older teenager by making a single slide from the roof to the fifth floor.

L 31 responded to a fire where a victim was reported trapped in a window of an apartment house threatening to jump. Attempts were made to reach the victim through the apartment inside but were thwarted from the overwhelming fire that prevented any effort. As a last resort, Mel ran up the stairs through the bulkhead door onto the roof where the “roof rope” was in the process of being deployed, he tied himself into the rope and initiated a single slide without hesitation over the parapet down to the victim. The victim, ready to jump, was instructed by Mel to embrace him tightly for the hairy ride down to the courtyard below.

Mel made the risky grab, and was recognized by receiving the Hugh Bonner Medal the following year. Later, his unique rescue would become a feature article in a WNYF magazine. Afterwards, Mel transferred to R 3, later he was promoted to Fire Marshal and we lost touch.

Miraculously and unbelievably, Mel and I reconnected on the morning of September 11, 2001 in a very bizarre way. I had just emerged from the Deutsche Bank on Liberty Street after the collapse of the first tower, WTC #2, onto Greenwich Street which is directly across from L 10’s quarters. At that moment I was trying to make my way toward the North tower where my wife worked and was inside. I proceeded out of the Bank, the hot gray ash blinding and choking me, all of a sudden a lone figure materialized from the dust, I recognized Mel immediately. He spoke first when he noticed my red thirty-one helmet frontpiece.

“Hey 31, you ok?” were his first words when he became visible through the gray matter looking like a ghost in a suit, it was just the two of us surrounded by dust and silence. Briefly baffled, I followed up, “Mel, it’s me Johnny”. He was bewildered for a second and then recognized who I was, we embraced.

I told Mel I needed to find my wife, she was working and is somewhere in the North WTC #1.
We discussed the best way to get there circumventing the huge jagged mounds of debris from the South Tower that was obstructing our path. Overhead we heard the loud whooshes of fighter jets passing at close range, but we could not see them due to the cloud of dust. Suddenly a Police Officer appeared running around the corner of the Deutsche Bank building we were standing outside of, without slowing down and pointing to his portable radio he yelled to us that the North Tower was about to “come down any second”.

And no sooner did the officer say that in passing the tower began to crumble with an incredible sound of cement, glass and steel gnashing and grating overhead. Mel and I were too close to the tower to outrun the overhead deluge of showering steel about to rain down on us, we took immediate cover and positioned ourselves shoulder to shoulder in an upright fetal position against the Deutsche Bank outer wall. Mel covered his head with clasp hands as I held onto my helmet and prayed. We were barely covered by an overhang that ultimately became decimated. Together we awaited our fate being pelted by rocks, cement, hot wind embers and debris. We both thought the “big hit” was imminent. It was very close, but, by the grace of God we had survived but not out of the woods, yet. After the falling debris the air became as thick as wool socks and difficult to breath in, we had thoughts that after surviving the collapse we would now suffocate, there was no clean air to breathe, our lungs filled with powdery ruins.

Since September 11 Mel and I have never lost touch. We continue to have wonderful phone conversations and try to connect for lunch when we can. Our friendship as Mel would often say “was baptized by fire” and I couldn’t agree more; Amen to that Brother.

In 2004, I conferred with Mel, my buddy from E 53 Martin and a Captain from the Eastchester Fire Department about recognizing Fire Marshal Ronnie Bucca of Tuckahoe who was killed on 9/11. We discussed having the local Post Office dedicated in his name. Letters were written to the local House of Representatives, amazingly, with 100% affirmation from Congress, the PO was dedicated in the summer of 2005.

Brother Mel officiated the ceremonies since Mel knew Ronnie very well from the Fire Marshal office. The ceremony was dignified and regal, streets closed surrounding the facility were filled with citizens from the community, local fire department and various military organizations.

A Brotherhood; Baptized by Fire.

Thanks for reading! KMG 365

Dennis, Mel and Me at Mels house remembering 9/11



Mel; Medal Day photo

 

[JohnnyGage]

HISTORIC STREETS OF SOUTH BRONX

Being in the front seat of the American LaFrance tiller I got a real chance to experience not just the War Year fires era, but also appreciated the demographics that went with it. Responding over the cobblestone and checking out the street sign of the box location was unique and brimming with history...there is more magic than meets the eye!

For instance the ubiquitous street sign, during the ?War Years? was a different color than as we know it today. While Willy and many other buffs were referring to maps and checking out the street signs in the Bronx they were looking up at a blue sign with white lettering...and if they traveled too far west into Manhattan the sign color would change to boro coded yellow with black lettering. Yes, there was a time when you could recognize what boro you were in just by looking at the color of the street sign. Later, sometime around 1980 NYC standardized the street sign by eliminating the color code and keeping with the new federal regulation of a green background with white lettering for all boros. Queens County reversed the Bronx color code, white background with blue lettering and Brooklyn was a simple black background and white lettering. Staten Island simply copied Manhattans colors.

And, getting to these boxes over rough cobblestone streets was an experience, I can imagine fire horses trying to travel the same routes we were lumbering over with the rig some fifty years later. But we were not traveling over ?cobblestone?, rather ?Belgium Block?. Cobblestone was an early paved stone that was untooled and naturally rounded, not good for a street surface. However,  Belgium block, was tooled granite in a rectangular shape and used up to 1860. The block, came from quarries in New Jersey and Northeastern United States, not Belgium, and was much more resilient than cobblestone. They were uniformed in shape, 4-5? wide, proportioned to the size of a horseshoe that gave the horse carrying a heavy load a secure and firm foothold. The problem with the Belgium Block was that they became slick when wet and had a propensity to get out of level. In 1990, the American Disabilities Act mandated that ?streets and sidewalks should be accessible for all?.  That did it for the Belgium Block as the irregularity made them challenging for accessibility. There are about 15 miles of Belgium Block that remains in various parts of NYC.

And what about those street names we became so familiar in Report From Engine C0 82? JENNINGS Street was from one of the earliest settlers in the region. Men of the Jennings family served in the American Revolution, War of 1812, the Mexican and Civil War...Sam LEGGETT founded NY Gas Light Company and his sister; CHARLOTTE married William FOX who owned large acres of land with the TIFFANY family, the street leading to their home was called, wait for it... HOME Street...During the 1870?s SOUTHERN BOULEVARD, the southernmost boulevard at that time was designed as a grandiose thoroughfare sweeping through the wide estates of FOX, SIMPSON and TIFFANY. A brook that flowed from Crotona Park to the East River became the boundary of Morissania and West Farms, the brook was called ?Bound Brook? which flowed ?In the Valley?, hence INTERVALE Avenue ...An Italian pressman by the name of ALDUS created the slanted italic style of print that we call ?italic type?, and the inventor of the rotary press was Colonel Robert HOE...General Colin Powell grew up on Captain KELLY street, once a large tract of farmland...A lot of history criss-crossing and covering those mean streets of the War Years!

Next: RIDING WITH L 31; P3

Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!  KMG 365


Old Bronx styled street sign



New Federal Guideline style seen in all boros


Boro coded colors


A little something for you Doo Woppers





Not Cobblestone, but actually Belgium Block!

 

[68jk09]

Some of the most interesting old time street signs were the ones that had the main street the sign was on &  had the cross st above in a smaller oval form....another interesting style was the porcelain ones that had white letters on a deep blue background that were placed on the sides of bldgs above the first floor level.... i wonder where both these style signs wound up after they were replaced....i hope they were saved & not scrapped.....  https://www.ebay.com/bhp/new-york-street-sign

 

[JohnnyGage]

You're right JK, the above street signs were installed around 1964 replacing the street signs below that had the cross street in the "hump", as it was referrd to.

 

[JohnnyGage]

LADDER 31; DAYS OF RIDING  P 3
?EPILOGUE?

The alarms kept coming in, should I take them in or hang with Mel?. I didn?t have to think long when Mel interjects; ?get going you have a run, I?ll be here when you get back?. It was a fun day hanging out with Mel and with the crew that was working this day. On the way back from a run one of the truck members tells L 31 LCC Charlie to pull over near a rubble pile of bricks. The guys want to build a brick bar-b-que outside in the back of the firehouse. All the truck members including Jack hop off the rig and form a bucket brigade passing brick by brick stockpiling them carefully on the running board of the American LaFrance tiller. I watch from the front seat looking over my shoulder through the cab window as the bricks are passed hand to hand, everyone seems to enjoy the dusty task. The guys are sure they have enough and tell Charlie to ?drive slowly back to the firehouse?. Luckily, no runs came in while we slowly proceeded back to Intervale Avenue to unload.

The bricks have been unloaded into a neat pile in the back of the firehouse. Mel has invited me downstairs with the guys, I have never been downstairs before. The stairs going down are wooden and worn, beaten up from all the years and use. Flat on the basement floor are wide wood planks that cover stagnant water to walk on. The basement is dark, there are about six guys including Jack sitting around a long table toward the back. Mel and I make eight. I feel like a Yankee bat-boy hanging out in the dugout with the heavy hitters. I listen intently to the dialogue and exchange between them, the day tour is winding down now and will be over in a couple of hours.

Dennis Smith?s book ?Report From Engine Co. 82? has been released and I must have read it a half dozen times already. Unfortunately during my visits Dennis was not working and I did not get to meet him until much later when I was appointed and assigned to E 88. But what made my intricate enjoyment riding with L 31 I was able to recognize certain street names and relate his stories from the book into the responses. I could now relate to stories about fires on Jennings Street, Kelly Street, Tiffany and Fox and the infamous 10-92 Box 2743 on Charlotte Street. Instead of imagining weaving under the ?El? on Southern Boulevard, I was now doing it. Everytime we drove down Simpson Street I kept an eye out for the 41st Precinct that was mentioned in his book.

The day tour is over and I say so-long to Mel as he heads back home. With all the cars parked and double parked outside the firehouse I notice none are ?new or flashy?. The new night tour crew has taken over, once again from the rear of the firehouse the kitchen comes alive again with raucous  laughter. I find it interesting to see the transformation from the guys coming in wearing civilian clothes, head upstairs to the locker room and change into a navy colored uniform with a small FDNY over the pocket. The transformation is just as interesting in reverse when the crew goes from uniform back into civilian clothes. The quick switch reminds me of Clark Kent. Jack has been relieved and I wait for him to come downstairs, in the meantime I chat with a couple of the guys hanging by the housewatch who ask how my day went, they
encourage me to keep my dream and focus strong and glad I had a memorable day. They say nice things about Jack, too.

I can?t thank Jack enough for allowing me to visit the firehouse again, as we hop into his Buick for the ride home. I?m exhausted, I am sure he is too. I take one final look at the firehouse as it slowly fades from sight while we head down 169th Street toward Southern Boulevard, my last glimpse I notice both rigs have their emergency lights on, it appears the War Wagons are about to ?get out?.

Our ride home is a brief recap of the day's events with a couple of chuckles. Then ?quiet time? as we leave the cobblestone streets and running hydrants long behind. In a few months I will call Jack and ask if I can visit Intervale Avenue again and we will pick out a date that works. I will go to my calendar on the wall in my bedroom and pencil in backwards counting down the days to my next adventure and write down questions in my notebook to bombard Jack with. In the meantime, I will continue to train with my Explorer buddies moving inch and a half handlines around in an open parking lot and reread Dennis? book another half dozen times, that should keep me busy until then.

( Little did I know that ?My Days of Riding in L 31? would be over, the last time I would see and ride on Intervale Avenue, but another experience in another firehouse would begin.)


Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!      KMG-365


Stock photos of the area:






Infamous 10-92 Box location; Charlotte and 170


Lt / then Capt Bob Farrell, I would ride the frontseat and share my adventure with him, he was a very kind and welcoming officer. On my otherside would be Big Charlie McCarthy...I was "a teen sitting between Roger Maris and Mickey Mantle!"

 

[mack]

NYPD 41 Precinct - 1973:


    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V0EMu2I_yoM

 

[jkal]

Legends... It's the early 90's and I am a Fireman, working in TL-111. Captain Frank Pampalone is our Officer and I have the Irons. 176 Truck is relocated to Hook & Ladder 175 and Captain John Vigiano is working in 176. It is a day tour and we get a Job at Saratoga & Halsey, on Halsey. 2 1/2 story Brownstone type of building. Right across from the park. Engine 222 is 1st due and Lt Ronnie Carritue (soon to become the Captain of 112 Truck, where he was a Fireman) is working. Triple Deuce gives a 10-75 for a "working fire".  We (111) are responding as the only Truck Company and hear the Vig on the Department Radio telling Brooklyn Dispatch they are available (it's right around the corner from their qtrs) and they, 176, are assigned even though they are on Bradford St. We have a fire on the 2nd floor, up the stoop and in, with a floor above. Someone tells us there are kids on the top floor. I end up there with Ronnie C. but of course, no one is there. My point is, 3 Legends, Captain's Frank Pampalone; John Vigiano & Ronnie Carritue. The 3 main players at this job. How lucky was I to be around to work with these type of Officers. What an honor and I will Never forget what they taught me and Who they were.

 

[JohnnyGage]

“GOTTA JOB!”

There is no comparison...nothing else that someone or something can do or say that will get your blood pumping hot while responding to a confirmed report of a working fire, a ‘JOB’, J-O-B. During the “War Years” Masters on the backstep glanced over the side of the rig to catch a glimpse of smoke or get a whiff of burning wood and paint. Once the job was detected and the info shared across the back step it was time to pull up the boots and cinch up the collar of the rubber coat. It’s Showtime!

When I first heard the word ‘Job’ used during my first visit to Intervale Avenue as a young I had no idea what it meant. I thought maybe it referred to a task the ladder company had to do, somewhat like an errand. I thought, what? like picking something up for someone? Moving furniture? Construction? Growing up in my house my Dad was an electrician, every morning he would leave us and go to his “job”. So the term reference threw me off until I finally realized. JOB, oh I see, working fire. Got it.

There were many other indications or clues that would tip you off that a job awaits. For instance the address description from the teleprinter could be a ‘telltale” sign that you were going to catch work. On the teleprinter ticket with additional information such as; “across from, to the rear of, next to or adjacent from” were all good revealing indications that someone is reporting a legit fire. Another giveaway was the time of day, especially early morning when you receive a “phone alarm” signifying that someone actually has observed a fire and reported it. On occasion the dispatcher would announce to first due companies over the closed circuit Public Address system in city firehouses that “you’re going to work” while the teleprinter spits out the message simultaneously. Or the dispatcher may even call the housewatch desk before the teleprinter begins to print out the alarm giving the housewatchman a “heads up” to relay to the troops.

During my ‘Glory Days’ every firehouse had a Computer Assisted Dispatch System. Prior to that during the ‘War Years’ the housewatchman counted the incoming bells pulsating from a pulled alarm box, then quickly referenced the box number from the box assignment cards organized numerically and neatly stacked in the housewatch desk drawer. Each box has its own pre-printed assignment indicating how the company was assigned to respond to that alarm box along with other companies. Back then when the bells were tapping in a box sometimes the housewatchman received “three rings” from the dispatcher on the private red housewatch desk phone, meaning you could count on going to work.

Certain Holidays the odds were in your favor that you were going to catch a job. Halloween was a given, usually Fourth of July with errant fireworks and early New Years Morning after party revelers have dumped their ashtrays filled with cigarettes into the kitchen trash and head off to sleep.

There were instances when you were completely caught by surprise. During my ‘Glory Days’ many street corners still had a corner red alarm pull box but were slowly being replaced by the
more modern ERS box where you could speak directly to the dispatcher. I wrote in a previous article while driving ‘Tough’ Timmy, when we pulled into the intersection of Prospect and 185 Street during the midday after someone pressed the ERS fire button and walked away. As we approached the box location there was no visible smoke or any indication of fire. But as we inched closer toward the intersection, The Captain and I spotted a couple of windows of fire venting from the first floor of an apartment house in the rear.

Sometimes while responding to an address, the dispatcher would tip you off over the rig radio; “receiving multiple phone calls” or “filling out the box” were very good omens. Other good writings on the wall especially at night was when you spotted a glow in the sky toward the direction you were traveling, and of course a smoke column during the day would be a given. Many times responding during dark early morning hours just before turning onto the block location, you would see the fire glow reflecting on a building opposite the fire building. That was always an eerie sight.

Officers and some chauffeurs had a way to alert the troops in the back of the rig when a 10-75 was given from first due companies or if the officer spotted a smoke column, usually something we couldn’t see from the back of the rig. Depending on the officer, some would lightly tap the closed window separating the front of the rig cab to us in the back with a few taps from the telephone handset, then there were officers who gave a few good arm and fist bangs on the rear window that shook the cab and really got your juices flowing.

As a Ladder Company Chauffeur of a tiller, we had an intercom where the LCC or officer could relay messages and additional information to the OVM tillerman. When we had a spare or the intercom was not working as an LCC I stuck my left arm out high from the window with a couple of arm swirls and thumb pointing up.

While I was with “NO FRILLS; L 112” as a Roofman, or any position for that matter riding in the back cab with the troops, if the alarm was a confirmed job we always made a point of placing one of our gloved hands on top of each other over the engine compartment for a brief huddle embracing unity and spirit, a custom our groups composed.

Thanks for reading! KMG -365

Few stock photos....

Frame, very common in Bklyn, this one is on Honeywell (E 45 / E 88 area). Window over the front door was called the "dead man" room, as this room was easily cut off from fire...no other exit except out the window. These type fires were fast, fun and furious. Unless the common cockloft of attached frames were loaded with fire, then it was an all day affair!


Very typical Brooklyn job.


Good ol' vacant, where you learned to polish your craft!
(Notice box to right of door frame with slash through it)

 

[JohnnyGage]

SURPRISE, SURPRISE!

Even though we should always expect the unexpected and be fully prepared, there were instances that caught you off guard once in a while especially when it came to “Pull Box” and “ERS-NC” alarms. Known for the likeliness of a false alarm, once and a while they could be a bit of a surprise!

A day tour working in E 88 we receive a ERS- NC run just after lunch for LaFontaine and 181st street, with additional information being reported as a car fire. We turn out from quarters as a single unit and as soon as we make a right turn onto 182nd Street from Belmont Avenue a quick glance across the vacant lots toward the box location we notice black smoke. But the smoke is coming off the top floor of a five story walk up. Now, unless the reported car fire is on the roof, we got ourselves a top floor job. Enroute the boss transmitted the 10-75 enroute, it was a top floor job!

Detailed to E 45 for a night tour we are turned out by the housewatch; ‘Engine Only’ for a car fire shortly after dinner at Devoe Avenue and 180 Street. The location is almost opposite the Bronx Communication Office, just a few doors west of the CO. The “It Isn’t Easy Being Green” Mack pumper cuts down East Tremont Avenue and makes a left turn onto Devoe Avenue.

In the meantime, one of the Bronx dispatchers decides to step out of the office to take a gander at the reported car fire. What he sees is not a car fire, and runs back into the CO but not in time as we make a right turn onto 180 Street, Hello! a two and a half story ‘A’ frame house is almost completely involved in fire threatening to extend into exposure 4. We are by our lonesome and quickly scramble donning our gear. The crew splits into two, the first team with the officer stretches a line into the fire building. I am part of the second team and we stretch a 2 ½” into exposure 4 where fire is beginning to consume the second floor.

The fire went to a second alarm however the fire never got a good hold in exposure 4 as we extinguished the fire and then held a defensive position sparing the home. Eventually the first line had to be backed out and tower ladders finished off the remaining fire. It was an outstanding effort by the E 45 ‘Eagles’. E 45 received an Engine Unit Citation for this fire...me too, my first.

Another instance; Today I am the LCC for L 112, we were 10-8 and on the air when we received an ERS Box in E 218’s area. E 218 transmits to the CO they are going to be delayed getting to the Box. It’s a ‘ho-hum’ ride to the location. A block or so away from the Box we notice a six story vacant apartment building with about nine windows fronting the street. From the fourth to six floor, every window has fire showing. There is no exposure problem, the structure is surrounded by empty rubbish filled lots.

As I pull the rig closer to the corner with the Box, a young man is standing there and he is jumping up and down, waving his arms frantically trying to get our attention and pointing to the obvious blaze. Since we are a rearmount, this will be a job for a couple of tower ladders and so
it is my responsibility not to block or impede the positioning of the incoming tower ladders and just wait until they arrive. So I saw an opportunity to have a little fun; I rolled down my window as the man came running up to it, I could see the excitement in his eyes, I nonchalantly asked if he noticed a “fire somewhere?”. His reaction was priceless.

Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading. KMG-365


Stock photos... but very typical JOBS.

 

[JohnnyGage]

'DAYS OF RIDING': E 97

I am awake before Jack comes in to get me for breakfast, per my routine I mentioned in previous posts, my parents have dropped me off at Jack's house last night and will be ready to go to work with him when he's ready to go in the morning. Today I will be riding with Jack who has just recently transferred to E 97 in order to log more study time for the upcoming Lieutenant promotion exam.

Transferring from L 31 to E 97 will cut his running almost in half, and that extra time Jack can focus on the subjects and study materials he will need to know and do well on the highly competitive exam.

Jack and I head out this beautiful spring morning, he is still driving his Skylark and we leave from his house after breakfast. Jack is committed to studying and shows me the bulging shoe box jammed with index cards that he has hand written questions on. He tells me whenever he gets a few minutes he grabs a fistful of cards that have a question on the front and answer on the back, he reviews his hand written notes from the many various study materials he'll need to know from; FDNY Regulations, NFPA manual, WNYF articles, tactics, evolutions, building construction, circulars and procedures, plus many other topics he will have to remember to achieve a high passing score.

Jack pulls out one of the cards, reads it and expounds adding a little more detail. I'm trying to listen, focus, it sounds interesting, but I am out of it...I woke up with what was becoming a stomach bug. My head feels like it is on fire and I can feel heat around my eyeballs, they feel fuzzy and I'm sure I am running a fever and my stomach is barking. But, no matter how sick I feel I put on my game face as I am not going to allow this opportunity to ride with Jack pass me by. The sickness pangs in my gut comes and goes, I feel a little relief for a few moments, then, bang it's back, I'm feeling awful. Jack has no idea I'm under the weather and not doing very well this fine morning.

We exit from the parkway and make a right turn onto Astor Avenue in the northeast part of the Bronx. I don't know where the firehouse is as this will be my first time there but despite not feeling so well I am enjoying the very bucolic scenery, it is pastoral and peaceful as we drive through this section of the Bronx. I notice as we drive large homes are well kept, the lawns are edged and green, the shrubbery tidy with nice automobiles in the driveway. There are no hydrants running or belgium block cobblestone streets and every apartment building we pass the windows are intact, this is a different Bronx from what I recall. I am anticipating the change from this beautiful countryside to the grittiness and dark side of the ghetto any minute now. Except, Jack pulls the car over in front of the firehouse on this beautiful tree lined street, the firehouse door is open and I can see the shiny Mack engine resting.

Nope, we won't be traveling to the South Bronx today. I remember saying to myself a little disillusioned; "so, this is it"? Where are the vacant buildings with trees growing from them, abandoned automobiles on blocks, garbage piles and knocked over fire hydrants? I am not totally disappointed and I dare not indicate so, I am always grateful to be with Jack, but my mind is on Intervale Avenue imagining the laughter in the kitchen and the surrounding turbulent neighborhood was a big part of the adventure.

There are a few guys milling about the housewatch awaiting relief, the firehouse seems very quiet, clean and still. 0900 bells tap in followed by a brief roll call. Jack has the 0900-1200 housewatch duties and I help him drive a broom about the apparatus floor as he straightens out the housewatch. I notice a paperboy making a delivery across the street. It is a very peaceful setting, yet I hanker to see a Gypsey Cab cruising or the loud racket from a yellow tow truck racing by, but all is calm. Jack is finished sprucing up the housewatch area and now walks me around the older Mack engine.

We open every compartment as Jack explains about the various tools inside and how they are used. The rig is a different style from E 82, for one, the cab is rounded instead of square, it is an older Mack pumper. The backstep and hosebed is uncovered and the guys riding the backstep hold onto what looks like subway handrails. There is no conestoga cover covering the hosebed. Jack is explaining the different fittings in the ECC compartment and I try my best to focus and show interest as Jack describes them, unfortunately I can only take in so much as I am literally about to pass-out from this confounded stomach bug. I try my best to pay attention but I see blinding white and feel woozy as Jack continues. His voice sounds like the teacher from Charlie Brown; "whannnnt wahhhh, wahhh, wahhh...", I'm trying to pay attention but I cannot hear, I can barely stand.

I must have held the perfect pale poker face since Jack had no clue about how I was feeling, the situation was getting bleak by the second and at any moment it could be 'lights out'. Fortunately I was able to hang in for the time being. When we finished looking over the rig Jack bought me a 'Yoo Hoo', a cool refreshing chocolate drink recommended by Yogi Berra from the firehouse vending machine and I was able to swig it down.

After committee work, the members gathered into the tranquil kitchen at the back of quarters, it was not the not the raucous kind of kitchen I was accustomed to. I made my way over to a chair off to the corner of the room, my stomach is boiling and howling now. I slowly got up unnoticed and made my way to the apparatus floor bathroom that was immaculately cleaned. I shut the door quietly and it was lights out for a few seconds, I literally passed out briefly. But as soon as I recovered I was on my knees driving that porcelain steering wheel doing the heave-ho! I remember thanking God that I just had that Yoo hoo because the revisit wasn't too bad. After a few minutes I regained my composure, washed my face and felt much better actually. I returned to the kitchen, we had lunch. I'm not sure, but either someone went out for groceries or it was brought in since the rig did not leave quarters until after lunch.

As I sat in the serene kitchen passing the time a couple of guys played a board game, another did crossword puzzles in the paper. The conversation was low keyed and pleasant, but in my coconut I was going batty. I think the lieutenant sensed that. The lieutenant was a heavy set older Italian looking guy, not tall, broad with a beer belly. He was very nice and cordial. I think he felt bad that I was sitting in the kitchen without a run or any sought of activity. About 2:00 PM he rounded up the troops to take a ride and check some hydrants. The guys calmly put away the game board and folded up the newspaper and strolled to the rig. The lieutenant told me to ride behind him in the jumpseat of the old Mack. We left quarters and I was by myself in the jumpseat as Jack and the rest of the crew rode the back step of the apparatus. The jumpseat was a fun spot, sitting alongside the engine as it growled and thundered.

We slowly cruised by hydrants in the district but never stopped to actually operate and test them. If they were where they were supposed to be, that would suffice. We cruised for about an hour and returned to quarters mid afternoon. We all returned to the kitchen where the game board was brought back out and the guy doing the newspaper puzzle returned to his puzzle. I was feeling much better and strolled around checking out the apparatus floor, I took notice of the thawing apparatus that was in quarters, the rig was a bit dusty.

It wasn't until almost 5 PM when we were finally assigned a run. I jumped on the rig behind the officer in the jumpseat, however, the nice Italian beer belly boss was relieved by the oncoming officer, the Captain of E 97. He spotted me sitting on the rig as he was donning his boots and with wide eyed amazement bellowed rhetorically; "YOU!... WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE"?...I was mortified...I didn't have an answer, I think I stammered as the Captain continued; "GET OFF, GET OFF THE TRUCK".

To my chagrin, I hopped off the rig, stood next to the housewatch desk and watched as the engine whisked off to the box with Jack on the back step. A few moments later the engine pulled back up to quarters and backed in. Jack was apologetic, but I was okay with it, I had time to recover from dismay. I was fine and content just spending a day in the firehouse even if it was a little dragging.

Jack was relieved from duty and changed back to civilian clothes. My experience with E 97 became a memory. I confessed to Jack about my sickness on the way home, he was surprised and had no inkling. I kept my pale poker face to the end, never tipped my hand!


Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading! KMG-365




E 97 had a similar Mack C series rig

 

[turk132]

Pull Box 4762 was located on the west side of Park Ave at East 186 Street. East 186 St ended on the east side of Park Ave and the box location, on the west side, was not on a street corner but in the  block which stretched from E187 St to E 184 St. (Between the east and west side of Park Ave were the Metro North train tracks.) The Box stood by itself in front of a large empty lot which several buildings used to occupy. At 1745hrs, Box 4762 was pulled. It was a short ride from the firehouse, one block east on 187 St, right on the Park Ave to the Box. I got off the rig and grabbed the keys from the Boss to R&R the Box. As I was doing this, I hear a shout from down the street. A man is standing in front of the first building south of the vacant lot. He is pointing saying ?Hey, there's a fire in the building?. It was late fall or early winter, so it was dark but I could see the front, the  rear and Exposure 4 side of the building but nothing was evident. I gave the keys back to the Boss and told him the guy is saying there's a fire in the building. I get back on the rig and we drive the ? block to the building. The Boss headed into the building, we went to the backstep, still nothing showing, no excited people leaving the building, no odor. This changed very shortly when the Boss yelled to the chauffeur from the front door  ?transmit a 10-75 and start a line to the 2nd floor?. Surprise, I grabbed my folds and the nozzle and headed into the building. On the 2nd floor the door to the fire apartment was open and smoke was rolling out from the top of the door jamb. The Truck was doing a search, I was positioned to the side of the door with the nozzle cracked waiting to hear the rush of air, followed by water. Suddenly banging and clanging from the fire apartment followed by the sound of a stampede: the Truck Officer, the Can Man, the Irons Man, bailing out of the fire apartment with fire venting out the top of the door into the hallway. After the Irons Man exited the door, he dropped right to his knees, pivoted around and grabbed the door, closing it. He looked at me and said ? hallway.. straight in..its a room all the way in the back?. We had our work cut out for us, but this is what the Engine lives for, fire at the door and an apartment  full of fire.  On the line that day were 2 probies, Andy Fredericks and Joe Stach. Years later Joe would comment ?You dragged me down my first hallway?. I said ?where was that?. He said ? you know, that job on Park Ave.? This was a ?good? fire and a good learning experience for them. Andy Fredericks was killed on 9/11 as a member of Squad 18, Joe Stach recently passed from a 9/11 related illness. Two good men taken way too soon.......

 

[JohnnyGage]

DAYS OF RIDING; ‘THE BEST BUST’

“It was raining hard in ‘Frisco, I needed one more fair to make my night…” Everytime I hear the song “Taxi” by Harry Chapin I fondly recall the time I spent at Jack’s house staying over to ride with Ladder 31 for another adventure. It is July 6th, 1972 and a new singer named Harry Chapin is making his debut on the Johnny Carson Show. The song will become an everlasting memory forever stored inside my coconut.

Jack is not home tonight. The plan for riding tomorrow at L 31 has changed and I will not be able to join him. I sit with Jack's wife, Irene on the living room sofa watching Carson a little bummed out but enjoying my time with her. She is a very pleasant and lovely woman and welcomes me into her home every time. I will make the best of it tomorrow by visiting their local community firehouse.

Harry continued: ”....a lady up ahead waved to flag me down, she got in at the light” I know the words to this song inside and out, and to this day brings me right back to that occasion sitting with Irene, at 15 years old.

The following morning I head out walking toward town and taking in the local scenery, my plan is to make my way to the local firehouse. Since I started riding with Jack, I have also developed a
hobby collecting fire memorabilia. It all started when I saw a story in the Sunday Daily News magazine. The article was a two fold spread with photos about a young man, a little older than me that had this fantastic fire equipment collection in his home. The photos showed different fire helmets, nozzles, a wood ladder, a collection of badges, extinguishers and other mementos. I was impressed and imagined it must have felt cool to be around and collecting that stuff.

So, I broke out my gray Olivetti typewriter and composed a template letter for my new “fire memorabilia hobby”. I was like a machine typing out letter after letter to various and many fire departments. I bought a book filled with zip codes of everytown and city in the US, major cities were highlighted and that's where I started by using a generic address; Anytown Fire Dept, Anytown, State, Zip. Sometimes letters would be returned, but not often.

My collection was up and running and growing everyday. I looked forward to the mailman everyday as I would receive bulged envelopes marked “please hand stamp” that usually had a fire badge inside with a note. Along with badges, I received patches, annual reports, frontpieces, helmets and more. As I collected more and more paraphernalia and my collection grew I showed Jack when he came to visit our home with Irene. On one visit he gave me two of his battered ‘War Year’ helmets he had to replace and a frontpiece insert from TCU 712.

My mailman was also the local town fire chief and he was amazed at what I was being sent daily. He surprised me one day with a black leather helmet from my community fire department along with a brand new firefighter lamp with a white globe that was still boxed. Everyday was like finding a Christmas package inside or by my mailbox.

Imagine, one time I found a box on my front steps marked from the Berlin, Germany Fire Department, inside was a new black firefighter's helmet. Another time someone must have passed through the neighborhood and hung a helmet on the mailbox.

My dad helped with the collection, since Long Island was a volunteer fire department mecca he often worked in construction with many volunteer firefighters who would give my dad some memento from their department. He would come home with badges, pins and even a nice pocket knife with the fire department name imprinted on the handle. From the construction side he brought home every type of sprinkler head and old building alarm boxes that were being upgraded.

And, since my dad was an electrician he would bring home bundles of old wiring that I would strip in the garage, amass a huge pile of copper and sell to a junkie. I would use my earnings to buy helmets from a vendor that lived on Staten Island and sold fire memorabilia. The vendor had a handmade catalog that listed fire helmets he had for sale and I'd study it carefully. I bought three helmets from him including two leather New Yorker types with a high frontpiece and a WWII Japanese firefighter helmet that had a neck cowl.

In addition our family made Sunday morning car ride jaunts looking for roadside flea markets, where I would hunt down vintage fire equipment and helmets. When we did our annual family camping vacation I made a point of stopping off at the local firehouse, checking out the rigs, snapping a few photos and asking for anything firematic laying around to contribute to my collection. Over a couple years of collecting I amassed over twenty fire helmets of all shapes, colors and designs, various pieces of equipment and numerous patches and badges. My hobby became a substantial collection.

But my favorite “score” of all time had to be that day at Jack’s.

This morning at Jack’s I took a leisurely stroll through town and toward the firehouse. The firehouse is on the Main Street, it is all brick with two large glass doors that allows you to see the apparatus. I rang the doorbell and a minute or so later a firefighter came to answer the door. He seemed very welcoming and I introduced myself. At that time I was also a young “Explorer” with my hometown fire department so we had a nice conversation about our respective fire departments and interests.

I told him about my firefighting artifact collection and asked if there were any “old helmets” not being used anymore that I could have. He said to give him a few minutes and he would go upstairs to look around and see what “he can come up with”. A few moments later he came downstairs and said “no luck on a fire helmet, but would I like an old leather bucket”? I could not believe this historical memento he was offering, I maintained my cool, but I was jumping out of my skin with excitement. Did he just say “an old leather bucket?”. He presented it to me, it was faded black, about 15 inches tall, 10 inches round that narrowed towards the base, with a black leather handle. The leather had become hardened and stiff over time. It was love at first sight,
this historic piece of fire lore! I remember looking at the Staten Island vendor list, back then, he had leather buckets for sale for a couple of hundred dollars!

Completing our little transfer, the firefighter then offers: “do you want to see the trucks?” where ordinarily I would say ”Love to”, however, knowing I have this golden oldie in my hands I’m waiting for someone to say “what are you doing with that?”. I politely tell him, perhaps another time, it’s late and I need to get back home, “Gotta go!”

He said so long to me, and I started my walk back to Jack’s house gradually picking up the pace and not looking back over my shoulder, I’m waiting for someone to yell; “bring that back”. The leather bucket made a great centerpiece to my collection along with Jak’s helmets.

...”I go flying so high….” (Taxi)


Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading! KMG-365



Leather Fire Bucket



Partial Badge Collection



Vintage High Eagle Leather Helmet from St. Paul Minn. FD (I bought from SI Vendor)



Berlin, Germany Fire Helmet mailed to me and found on my doorsteps in a box.

 

[JohnnyGage]

DAYS OF RIDING; T-RIFF-IC, E 45
EPILOGUE

Today is Sunday, July 6, 1975 and probably the last time I will be riding with Jack. Some things have changed now that I am eighteen, have my drivers license and recently graduated from High School. But the big event is that I will be joining my local volunteer fire department which I am excited about tomorrow Monday night.

“Uncle” Jack Mayne has been promoted to Lieutenant from L 31 and now covering at various firehouses, he had a spot in a Manhattan Engine for a short while but has now returned to the Bronx and assigned to E 45. Engine 45 is located slightly north east of E 82 and L 31.

I have visited Jack a handful of times to ride with him at his new assignment. E 45’s firehouse is on East Tremont Avenue in their original quarters that was originally a single engine. Recently, TL 58 and B 18 moved next door into a new two story modern firehouse. Instead of street parking, the members park their cars at the rear of quarters in a large alleyway that is only accessible from 178 Street and enter the firehouse through the rear door of E 45’s firehouse directly into the kitchen. Immediately upon entering the kitchen there is a long table with fixed bench seating and guys clustering around the small kitchen

L 58 members cross over to their section of the firehouse from a cut out door opening between the firehouses just as you leave E 45’s kitchen. Tonight I will be spending a night tour with E 45. I park my 1966 Chevy Caprice in the parking lot and walk up the steps into 45’s kitchen where I meet Jack. It's the first time that I drove in to meet him now that I have a driver's license. We sit for a while and catch up on family stories, the housewatchman announces “Roll Call”, Jack and the members file out from the kitchen toward the front of quarters. I greet and meet the guys working this night tour, I notice they are wearing a new style of uniform. A navy blue button down collared shirt with a red FDNY patch over the pocket, jokingly they tell me they all have the same name, “FIDNEY”. They gag around saying that the uniform makes them look like a garage mechanic with their name sewn on, they wisecrack, “Hi, my name is Fidney”.

Tonight I’ll be riding the front seat between Jack and the ECC John Koskie. John is one of the senior whips of E 45, he is a very friendly, funny man with a wicked sense of humor. I recognize John's name from the WNYF magazines I have been receiving as John writes the 7th Division “All Hands” Column in the back of the mag. (John wrote the WNYF “All Hands” 7th Division Column for many, many years. In 1988, John asked me to take over the column when he retired and I was assigned to L 38).

E 45 has a Mack rig, mounted on the front cab are large metallic numerals 45 that have been painted to resemble the stars and stripes of the American flag and on the top of the windshield is a logo that says “T-RIFF-IC”. The rear cab doors for the members have been removed.

It doesn’t take long before we start running. I notice the dashboard on the officer side of the rig has a small block of wood that is maybe 3” x 2” glued to the dash with three small holes on top. One of the holes holds a chopped down pencil, the type you would usually see in a bowling alley. Next to the block is a cut down clip board with small pieces of paper from previous runs that are clipped down. These notes are the remains from the day tour with times and box numbers scrolled on it. Overhead of the officer on the visor is a cardboard copy of the FDNY 10 codes.

The Mack pumper is quick and we bounce along tearing up the streets as different boxes start to stream in, back and forth shooting from one pull box to another across West Farms. West Farms was once a vital area for commerce during the early 1900’s but took a downward turn after World War II. Poverty, crack and heroin addiction has plagued the area with violent crime. The incarceration rate is among the highest in the City. Arson is prevalent.

E 45’s firehouse is stationed on the busy double yellow lined East Tremont Avenue. East Tremont Avenue is a heavily traveled east west thoroughfare that runs the length of the Bronx. Bordering the Avenue are the ubiquitous yellow and red awnings of bodegas on almost every corner. The West Farms section is as gritty and distressed as I recall my first days riding with L 31. The neighborhood is dominated by six story tenements in a one square mile densely populated by Hispanics and there are many blocks with vacant buildings scattered between the occupied, the area is alive with robust energy of humanity and the traffic up and down East Tremont Avenue is relentless.

Everytime the Bronx CO contacts E 45 and assigns another run, Jack responds by saying “With Pleasure”, and he means it. After a few runs, he turns the handset over to me to transmit the 10-92’s, meanwhile he writes the time and box number on small slips of paper he keeps stuffing into his top right pocket. His pocket is starting to bulge.

On a previous tour with E 45, we responded first due to a second alarm job in the Hunts Point section. The job came in just before lunch, while turning east out of quarters on East Tremont Avenue then south near Bryant Avenue we could see the thick black column of smoke as we crossed over the Cross Bronx Expressway. It was a one story commercial occupancy with gated windows, we spent a good portion of the afternoon there. This is the first time I noticed the new TL 31, the rig is positioned on the exposure #2 side.

Tonight, Jack proudly showed me that he has painted the company office and as a special touch added day glow stars to the blue ceiling giving the effect of sleeping under the stars. Members of E 45 liked the idea as they continued the theme into their bunkroom.

In 1975 E 45 responded to just under 6000 runs and first among all NYC engine companies in workers with 5159. Rumor has it that E 45 was the only company in FDNY lore to break 1,000 runs in a month. It’s now early morning. We have done a lot of running and I hit the rack with the other guys around 2 AM while the neighborhood havoc seems to have calmed down for the moment. I got a chance to look up at the spectacular star lit ceiling for a few minutes before dozing off for a bit.

Just as sunlight was breaking, the bunkroom lights had been flipped on, simultaneously the house bells rang, and the firefighter on the housewatch announced a phone alarm near Bryant Ave and East Tremont. John Koskie fires up the rig, company members are hopping on board as he makes the left out of quarters, we quickly arrive just two blocks from quarters and pull up to Bryant Avenue with nothing showing. As John begins to make the right turn onto Bryant, Jack points upward, there are three windows with flames shooting out on the top floor of a six brick tenement, the rolling fire illuminating the new dawn sky.

Time marches on, that would be my final run and final “Days of Riding” with Jack, but, what a way to end a “T-RIFF-IC” journey!


Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! KMG-365








Job ahead, view from cab of E 45 heading to 2nd in Hunts Point:


42 Truck Operating at 2nd:


New Ladder 31, first TL:


Todays E 45 and L 58 Quarters:


"T-RIFF-IC"

 

[nfd2004]

Dan, THANK YOU for all those GREAT STORIES and EXCELLENT PHOTOS of your early riding days with some of the busiest companies of the FDNY. Of course during my buffing days of the Bronx, I'm sure that we were at a few of the same jobs together. 

Reading these stories takes me back to those very busy days of chasing the rigs of E88/L38, E82/L31, E45/L58, and some of those other very busy companies throughout the area. It was an education that you couldn't get from a book.

I look forward to reading about your EMS days coming up. I know at the time it was the NYC EMS before the merge into the FDNY. Like all of the city's services, they were stretched to the breaking point. It was almost impossible to get an ambulance due to the overwhelming number of calls going on. ETA's for EMS units of One Hour were not uncommon due the staggering number of incidents going on. 

 

[JohnnyGage]

DAYS OF RIDING; E 45...T-RIFF-IC !
Epilogue

Today is Sunday, July 6, 1975 and probably the last time I will be riding with Jack. Some things have changed, I am now 18 and have my drivers license, I just graduated from High School and  I will be joining my local volunteer fire department which I am excited about tomorrow night, Monday. I have been an Explorer with the fire department since 1970 and tomorrow I make the big leap to become a full fledged volunteer firefighter ?Proby?. I have been with the fire department as an Explorer for five years and have grown to know many of the members, including NYCFIRE.NET ?Memory Master? who was a dispatcher and member. The memorable years were special and it was there I was able to develop wonderful  lifelong relationships with friends that I would share with up to today!

I have ridden with Jack about three times at E 45, things have changed for him too, he did well on his promotion exam to Lieutenant, covered for a little while in various Harlem firehouses and now has a spot as Lieutenant at E 45. E 45 is stationed on East Tremont Avenue with Tower Ladder 58. Ladder 58 has just recently moved next door to 45?s quarters in a new two story modern firehouse, Battalion 18 would join them. The members park their cars in the rear of quarters where there is a large alleyway, it is only accessible from 178 Street, from there members then enter the rear door of E 45?s firehouse and directly into the kitchen. The kitchen has a long table with fixed bench seating that doesn?t move, the benches are affixed to the floor. Ladder 58 members cross over to their part of the firehouse to their kitchen, bunk room and sitting rooms from a cut out door opening between the firehouses. Engine 45 quarters was built many years ago, the ?new? L 58 is a modern brick firehouse added alongside. Tonight I will be spending a night tour with E 45. I park my 1966 Chevy Caprice in the parking lot and walk up the steps into 45?s kitchen where I meet Jack. We sit for a while and catch up on family stories, the housewatchman announces ?change of tours? and Jack prepares his roll call. I meet the guys, I will be riding with and the MPO John Koskie. John is the ?Willy Knapp? of E 45, he is the head honcho and a very friendly, funny man, John has a good sense of humor. I recognize Johns name from WNYF magazine I have been receiving, John writes the 7th Division **All Hands Column in the back of the mag.

As I look over the rig, mounted on the front cab are large metallic numerals 45 that have been painted to resemble the stars and stripes of the American flag,  on the top of the windshield is a logo that says ?T-riff-ic?, not sure of the meaning though...as I continue to look over the CF Mack, I notice the cab doors for the members riding behind have been removed.

It doesn?t take long before we start running. Jack has me riding the front seat next to him. I notice the dashboard on the officer side of the rig. It has a small block of wood that is maybe 3? x 2? glued to the dash with three small holes on top. One of the holes has a chopped down pencil, the type you would usually see in a bowling alley. Next to the block is a cut down clip board with small pieces of paper clipped down. They are the remains of the day tour with times and box numbers scrolled on it. Overhead on the visor is a cardboard copy of the FDNY 10 codes ...Not before long, we are off and running, different boxes start to stream in and we shoot from one box across the West Farms section to others. On occasion I get to see E 82 and L 31 on some boxes to our south. Anytime that the Bronx CO contacts 45 and assigns another run, Jack responds by saying ?with pleasure?, and he means it! ...After a few runs, he turns the handset over to me to transmit 10-92?s to the Bronx CO, meanwhile he writes the time and box number on small slips of paper he keeps stuffing into his top right pocket. His pocket is starting to bulge.

Looking back on previous tours with 45, I remember we caught a second alarm job down in the Hunts Point section. The job came in just before lunch, turning east out of quarters unto East Tremont Avenue, then turning south near Bryant Avenue we could see the thick black column of smoke as we crossed over the Cross Bronx Expressway. It was a factory fire and 45 was first due on the second. We spent a good portion of the day there. This is the first time I see the new Tower Ladder 31,  it is positioned on the exposure #2 side and I click a photo. (This is one of the times I took a camera in, and below are some shots from that fire.)

Back to the firehouse. E 45 is stationed on the busy double yellow lined East Tremont Avenue. East Tremont Avenue is a well traveled east west thoroughfare that runs the length of the Bronx. In front of quarters and lining the avenue are the typical yellow and red awnings of bodegas. In many respects, the West Farms section is as gritty as I recall my first days in 82/31. It is still most occupied residences, but there are many blocks with vacants interspersed, the area is alive with a robust energy of humanity. Traffic up and down East Tremont Avenue is relentless.

Recently Jack has painted the company office and as a special touch added a day glow star effect to the blue ceiling...giving the effect like you are sleeping under the stars. Members of 45 apparently liked the idea as they continued the theme into their bunkroom. Tonight I too will be sleeping under the stars, and you do get the sensation that you are outside somewhere. In 1975 E 45 responded to just under 6000 runs and first among all NYC engine companies in workers with 5159. (I had ?heard? that E 45 was the only company in FDNY lore to break 1,000 runs in a month, like I said, ?I heard?...) We have done a lot of running...I hit the rack with the other guys around 2 A.M. when it seemed the chaos was calming down. It turned out to be a rather quiet night, but not for long... just as sunlight was breaking, the bunkroom lights were turned on as we turned out for a phone alarm near Bryant Ave and East Tremont. John Koskie makes the left out of quarters, and we quickly arrive two blocks down from quarters and pull up to Bryant Av... as John begins to make a right turn onto Bryant, Jack points upward, he sees three windows on the top floor of the six brick with heavy fire illuminating the new dawn light blue sky.

That would be my final run and final ?Days of Riding? with Jack until I get hired by FDNY in seven more years!...But, what a way to end this journey, you might say; ?T-RIFF-IC?!

**SIDENOTE: John Koskie wrote the WNYF ?All Hands? 7th Division Column for many, many years. In 1988, John would hand the column over to me when he retired and I was assigned to L 38. The column has remained with a  L 38 member since (or at least until I stopped the subscription about five years ago). Fast forward...In less than ten years I would be detailed to drive E 45 for a day tour, and within the same time frame I would receive an Engine Unit Citation...my only one...working a night tour with the ?Eagles?.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!  KMG-365

Coming next; "GORY" DAYS. A review of my experience with NYC EMS assigned to the ?murder capital? of NYC 1978!






Job ahead, view from cab of E 45 heading to 2nd in Hunts Point:


42 Truck Operating at 2nd:


New Ladder 31, first TL:


Todays E 45 and L 58 Quarters:


"T-RIFF-IC"

Thank you Willy, it was really fun revisiting those years. As I type and retype the stories I feel like I'm right back there again, it's a magical feeling and I appreciate you, the gang and the readers for allowing me to share those days, the "Glory Days".  I have a few EMS stories in the can, that I am fine tuning, they are doozies!

 

[JohnnyGage]

Hello Troops! I received this golden oldie FDNY 10-CODE card replica from Disp51 in a PM. I'm happy to pass it along! ...And please feel free to jump in on the thread here with your thoughts and memories, it is much appreciated.

A card like this was mounted to the visor of E 45 back in the day, how simple the codes were back then...

 

[JohnnyGage]

?GORY? DAYS; Preamble

Sometime back in the spring of 1978 I filled out an application for NYC Emergency Medical Services Health and Hospital Corp as an ?Ambulance Corpsman?, an Emergency Medical Technician. I was hired that summer and assigned to the Liberty Outpost in East New York, Brooklyn. The NYC EMS was operated solely by Health and Hospitals (H&H) and not affiliated with the FDNY at that time. I worked for NYC EMS thirteen months before my next appointment as a firefighter for the Washington DC Fire Department. But... BIG BUT!...I?m amazed at what I witnessed and experienced... to this day the memories still seem a surreal mix of fact and fantasy. Fortunately, I had the wherewithal to take meticulous notes** when I got in the field, and if I did not write these notes in my own handwriting, I would doubt myself.

You have read on these forums exciting and stirring recollections from the FDNY and NYPD ?War Years?. I hope to give you a small inside scoop...the skinny... of a NYC Health and Hospitals Corpsman's point of view from the back of the ambulance, or what New York City Cops and Fireman call; ?the Bus? during that turbulent period.

Caveat; Even though the above title is expressive, I?ll have to reserve a handful of anecdotes that even within the description would be to ugly and revealing...But, stay tuned... I have quite a few intriguing occurrences to which I made notes of and I think you will find very amusing.

(**Notes. I was told very early on from my EMS Supervisor that I should keep notes, just in case I would have to go to court. I bought a green pocket size 3x5? 100 page spiral notepad. The pad has sixteen lines per page. With the exception of allowing one space between each tour I worked, I compiled over 130 front and back pages of ?job? entries with a small note of any unusual circumstances pertaining to that job. Each tour, I listed the date, time, weather and my partner. Below that entry would be the time, address, and disposition of the run. The date of my last entry was 8/1/79)

 

[JohnnyGage]

‘GORY DAYS’: P 1; WELCOME TO DODGE

Toward the end of the Summer of 1978 I was hired by NYC EMS Health and Hospitals as an “Ambulance Corpsman”. I attended an orientation class and an EMT refresher course at the EMS Headquarters in Maspeth Queens with a small group of new hires. I was given a small envelope with a silver badge inside, number 2388 and my salary was 11k plus an extra 1k for night differential. The Corpsman program was relatively new. Prior to the Corpsman program, NYC EMS service was provided by a driver that was hired from the federally sponsored “Model City Program” and was known as a “Motor Vehicle Operator” or simply, MVO. The MVO wore a blue uniform with a different patch and had no training or background for treating victims, his only responsibility was to get the ambulance, or what is more commonly referred to as the “Bus” to the scene. The guy riding shotgun was called a “Tech”, he was an Emergency Medical Technician, the person who was responsible to treat the victims, the tech wore white jacket, white shirt and white pants with the same patch as the MVO. He did not drive as his sole responsibility was to treat the victim.

The Corpsman would be cross trained to do both EMS aspects, operate the “Bus” and treat victims. The Corpsman had a distinct uniform; a light green shirt, with a half moon orange patch on the left shoulder, my silver badge over my left pocket and in my left shirt pocket I carried a small penlight that I bought myself to check pupils. On my left collar I wore a silver lettered “EMT” collar brass, and a silver caduceus with “EMT” on the right. I had dark green slacks with the same light green color stripe down the leg. In the winter I wore the shiny green coat with the option of a faux fur collar. Each tour I carried a large three cell battery flashlight, a pen light and a holster attached to my belt which contained a surgical scissors and a set of regular medical scissors complete with a large red plastic bite stick.

I am assigned to Liberty Outpost. Our “station” is referred to as an “Outpost” which is actually a one story converted garage at the corner of Liberty Street and Van Siclen Street in the East New York (ENY) neighborhood of Brooklyn. It is large enough to hold three ambulances and our private vehicles. During the day and afternoon two ambulances are scheduled to be in service, the third bus is known as the “Throop” Bus that will service the Bushwick area. On the “graveyard” shift, there are sometimes two buses covering ENY and many times due to manpower shortage, only one. I will be assigned to the graveyard shift after my one week “on the street” orientation. Ironically, just next door to our unmarked garage is a funeral parlor, they are always busy.

The neighborhood is served by the Seven-five Precinct. The 7-5 was one of the leading high-crime areas in NYC, their motto during the 70’s was taken from 1010 WINS News Radio script that said, “You Give Us Twenty-Two minutes, We’ll Give You the World”, except in the 7-5 the officers twisted the motto; “You Give Us Twenty-Two Minutes, We’ll Give You a Homicide”. ENY struggled with violent crime and back then won a citywide reputation for violence and death. ENY was often referred to as “the Killing Fields” and averaged over 100 murders a year making the precinct one of the deadliest. The neighborhood struggled with severe poverty and led the city in robberies. The 1977 Blackout destroyed many businesses in the community that never recovered and left scars and burned out shells. A Police source once stated that “Gunfire erupted so frequently they didn’t even bother responding to the sound unless someone was hit”. ENY had a “Wild West” atmosphere.

The “Bus” is a white, slightly beat up mid 1970 Ford 150 truck chassis with a square Gruman patient cabin in the rear. The Bus has an orange stripe that runs the length of the rig, with blue capital lettering on the box; “EMERGENCY MEDICAL SERVICE”, “CITY OF NEW YORK”, HEALTH AND HOSPITAL CORP”. On the door is the number 102, but the number is meaningless and does not refer to anything.

During my thirteen months with EMS I kept a logbook of every call. I was told very early on from my EMS Supervisor that I should keep notes, just in case I would have to go to court. I bought a green pocket size 3x5” 100 page spiral notepad. The pad has sixteen lines per page. With the exception of allowing one space between each tour I worked, I compiled over 130 front and back pages of “job” entries with a small note of any unusual circumstances pertaining to that job. Each tour, I listed the date, time, weather and my partner. Below that entry would be the time, address, and disposition of the run. Here’s one:

Tonight my partner is an MVO, his name is Hall. He is an older man and lives not too far from the Outpost. There is only one Bus operating tonight and we are it, and I am the only EMT. It is a springtime Friday night, one of the first nice nights after the cold winter. It is a little after 2AM and even though it is early morning, the streets are alive when I received an assignment from Brooklyn EMS CO; “Liberty 374, respond for a stabbing, Williams Avenue at New Lots Avenue”.

Turning off of New Lots Avenue, Williams Avenue almost appears as lively as a block party, the street lights overhead have been shot out and the block is dark. Cautiously we drive the Bus scouting for our stabbing victim. There is no police presence. Slowly walking to the Bus is a Hispanic teen, he is slightly bent over holding his arms across his stomach. I hop out to investigate and the teen says “Yo, you need to take me to the hospital I’ve been cut”. I say sure, “but let's get a peek at where you’re cut, first”. He removes his arms and at once two or three of his intestines pop from the wound, he holds them tight to his stomach, while I grab a large trauma dressing that I purposely keep on top of my first aid kit for just these types of instances. On the way to the hospital he told me he was cut by a straight edge barbers razor.

That night I responded to two more injuries, an (OBS) maternity, two collisions and a sick child. Typical night in Dodge.

Random entry from my notepad. This is page 69, dated 2/24/79 a Saturday morning; notice the jobs; 2 stabbings at the 75 Pct, cardiac, man shot, another stabbing, collision, unconscious, chest pains, another collision, another cardiac and the last job an attempted suicide. 5 transports= 41 is Brookdale Hospital, 48 is Kings County Hospital. I have 130 pages of documented EMS jobs.

Hope you enjoyed, Thanks for reading. KMG-365


Liberty Outpost Garage, without the awning was our station.



One of three Ambulances operated from Liberty Outpost during day tours. Midnight to 8 am, sometimes only one.



Random entry from my notepad. This is page 69, dated 2/24/79 a Saturday morning; notice the jobs; 2 stabbings at the 75 Pct, cardiac, man shot, another stabbing, collision, unconscious, chest pains, another collision, another cardiac and the last job an attempted suicide. 5 transports= 41 is Brookdale Hospital, 48 is Kings County Hospital. I have 130 pages of documented EMS jobs.