WISDOM FROM A “WAR YEARS” LEGEND
Monterey Av and 180 St.
Every other street corner in NYC standing like a sentinel is a Red Fire Alarm Box mounted on a pedestal, they were part of an urban landscape as common as front stoops, manhole covers and lampposts. They were ornate, simple to operate, assuring and reliable. Anyone who needed emergency assistance knew by pulling the handle of the fire box, help was only minutes away. But the 1960’s culture flux these same guardians became a source of abuse and nuisance mainly in impoverished neighborhoods
False alarms, 10-92’s, were a recurrent daily activity for many City neighborhoods including the Belmont section of the Bronx. Triggering a false alarm was a short period of respite from an unexciting monotonous bland day. Merely yanking down the fire box handle precipitated the instant exhilaration of wailing sirens approaching from different directions, a cool distraction from the usual ho humness. Initiated during the War Years and into the Glory Days false alarms became the bane of the FDNY’s existence with unnecessary strain of manpower, apparatus and availability for local fire companies for actual emergencies.
I recall one night tour I was working with E 88 when we responded to at least thirty 10-92’s by midnight from a disgruntled character on a motorcycle who insisted on having fun with us. He selected three boxes in our first due area a few streets apart. On his dirt bike, he’d target one box, wait awhile and hit another a few blocks away, and then a third in similar fashion. This went on for hours. We spotted him once in the act and foolishly tried to pursue him with the rig down 187th Street but he was gone in a flash. That didn’t stop him either until he had enough entertainment by the witching hour.
One of the first times driving Captain “Tough Timmy” Gallagher E 88 a “ramp run” came in over the housewatch computer. A ramp run was when the nearby home box of another firehouse was pulled and we were assigned second due. In this case, the homebox to E 45 was activated. Depending on the company officer, sometimes we assembled and pulled the rig out onto the ramp and stood by awaiting for the usual quick “false alarm” transmission from the company.
Only Captain G did not believe in this custom. “Tough Timmy” was steadfast in his War Years experience and beliefs, and one of them was that when someone pulls that fire box, we give it our full attention without hesitation. Even if that fire alarm box is ninety nine percent of the time a false alarm. Tough Timmy did not believe in false alarms, there could always be that ‘one time’.
MONTEREY AVE AND 180 STREET
It’s New Year’s Day 1988, I’ve recently transferred across the floor from E 88 now assigned to L 38 and the junior man, so today my position is the ‘Can Man’, I carry a two gallon water pressure fire extinguisher and six foot hook. I’m one third of the forcible entry team working with the forcible entry firefighter and the Boss. The day tour is winding down and it’s about 3:30 in the pleasant chilly afternoon, we were returning to quarters after wrapping up a run of some sort in L 27’s area. Senior man Billy McDaniel has a box full of hats, scarfs and mittens, anytime we spot kids out and about, the rig stops and Billy hands out the gift. The kids are amazed and smile by Billy's altruism and goodwill.
Since it was the start of the New Year we decided to stop by the quarters of E 46 and L 27 to wish the Brothers a Happy New Year. For many years L 27 and L 38 were the only truck companies protecting the Belmont section of the Bronx and have a long history of working together. Since we were in the neighborhood, we’d stop by for a minute.
We are not there long exchanging pleasantries in front of the firehouse when L 38 LCC Tommy ‘Sidecar’ Sidorn sitting behind the wheel monitoring the radio notifies us over the handi-talkie in a casual voice; “38 has a run, Monterey and 180, first due”. A day does not go by that this “pull handle” Box 4791 does not come in, it’s a notorious false alarm box that sits on the corner of a dead end street in front of two large housing projects. This fire box comes in several times a day, it is our number one nuisance box. We hustle to the rig as the tones for the same Box echoes in E 46 quarters, they and L 27 will be right behind us.
We’re all aboard as Tommy shoots under the elevated Cross Bronx Expressway up Third Avenue and makes the right turn on 180 St. Immediately we notice a block away a man frantically waving to us in the middle of the street demanding our attention, as we get closer there are others excitedly yelling and motioning to us as well, they almost surround the rig. Something's up. Tommy stops the rig at the intersection of Monterey Avenue.
I grab the can and hook. The boss is Lt. Artie, he and I jump from the rig and follow the distraught residents who are running ahead towards the courtyard of the six story project. We’re running too and climb the short staircase into the project's spacious concrete courtyard. I notice what I assume to be a mound of outside rubbish smoldering. I think to myself, “all this excitement for outside rubbish?” Suddenly, the ‘rubbish’ begins to moan. I realize “Holy shit, it’s a human body!”. Examining closer, I notice the victim's clothes have been completely burnt off leaving the victims skin blackened and greasy with peeled pink patches of skin splitting open. There are only small slits for eyes, his lips are gone and his mouth is just an opening, that issues painful soft moans.
Instantaneously my senses go into a heightened awareness, the brain synapses firing rapidly trying to process this grotesque scene. I put my finger over the can nozzle, squeeze the lever creating a gentle fine mist and cool the body down. People observing the action from the upper floors begin throwing down blankets to aid the semi-conscious victim.
By now, the other companies have arrived and immediately start to assist the victim with oxygen and packaging. To my right I notice another victim. He is sitting up against a cement walkway a short distance away, L 38 Fireman Timmy Keller is administering to him. He is a young teenanger also burned from head to toe, especially his arms but most of his smoldering clothes are still on, however the front top of his sneakers and shoe laces have been completely burned off. EMS has just arrived and I’m the only other EMT at this point to make an assessment. With the first victim now being treated by EMS, I question the second victim who can barely speak but he mentions an additional name, there is a third victim.
The third victim is not accounted for and still trapped in the elevator, I relay this info to my boss. Our hands are full with these two victims and the boss directs the other companies on scene to head toward the elevators in the lobby for another victim.
The elevator is not in the lobby, yet the lobby is filled with a haze of smoke. Apparently the elevator car came down to the lobby as a fireball, the door opened briefly for the two victims to bail out, then closed trapping the third victim and proceeded back up to another floor. R 3 is on scene and identifies the elevator, the door is hot to the touch, discolored and severely buckled by the heat on the third floor landing. The hurst tool is started and the jaws placed to force the door open, the horrific remains of the third teen are discovered curled in a fetal position in the corner along with the charred remains of a blackened Christmas tree.
A resident standing nearby finally comes forward and tells us he saw the three teens bringing down a Christmas Tree in the elevator, he wanted a ride down with his bicycle in the elevator but there was no room. While he waited for the elevator to return he said he heard an explosion. The second victim informs us one of his buddies was playing with matches and lit the tree on fire as a prank, he survived but the other two teens died. Captain Tim Gallagher’s words of wisdom were validated, this was that ‘one time’.
Thanks for reading. KMG-365
Monterey and 180 St. "Monterey Project" courtyard...right rear
Two teenagers died. One in elevator at scene, the first victim I encountered, two days later.
JohnnyGage on right....Proby FF on left is George F. From E 48 (He would go on to be a super fine Lt in E 24 and Capt of L 29, now retired) Photo by Matty Daly
