I remember a night tour I spent riding with my father in the early 1970s like it was last night. I was still a kid in school. My father was still a relatively new battalion chief. He was newly assigned to the 43rd Battalion in Coney Island after spending almost two years bouncing around the city covering in just about every battalion. Experience came fast in those days and he was glad he had a chance to work in so many busy places with some terrific firefighters. He had an old Rand McNally city street map with tick marks locating firehouses he had worked in. The map was covered with marks from all over the city. I still have that map.
Reliefs were made early to avoid traffic and the back-to-back run activity that spiraled as afternoons dragged on. It was about 1530 when we turned off the Belt Parkway at the Cropsey Avenue exit. We could see two plumes of smoke rising from different locations in Coney Island. One had thick, dark, heavy smoke pushing upward ? a good job somewhere off Mermaid Avenue. The other smoke was the white and thin ? the dying remains of a worker closer to Seagate.
We turned down Neptune Avenue and did not waste time to look at the 3rd Alarm in progress off Stillwell Avenue. We parked next to the new firehouse on W 8th St. No surprise that it was empty. Two cops were dragging a handcuffed teenager into the 60th Precinct next door. Kids were walking down the sidewalk and did not even notice the cops dragging their prisoner. It was a common sight. We entered quarters and quickly placed turnout gear next to the empty battalion bay. There was about a dozen pair of black low quarter shoes spread around the apparatus floor. There were drip pans centered where E 245 and L 161 parked their rigs. The odor of exhaust fumes lingered. The department radio was a constant stream of box announcements and progress reports. It was a typical afternoon.
One of the truck guys from the incoming night shift was waiting in the kitchen. He explained matter-of-factly that some Coney Island gangs had spent the day setting fires. They threatened to burn each other?s blocks down. The 9x6 shift had several good jobs but had missed the 3rd alarm because they were operating at a vacant building on Surf Avenue. The battalion solid red station wagon pulled up and Chief Harry Dammers jumped out wearing a sweaty gray and black tee shirt and a filthy uniform hat. He was big, burly and talkative. That afternoon, he was quiet and appeared exhausted. He had a content smile on his face, the kind of smile an athlete has when he has gone all out in a game and is satisfied with his efforts.
Chief Dammers explained that he was had changed into his last white tee shirt after lunch and gone through two other shirts earlier in the day. He tenderly rubbed his shoulder and claimed that he had to take a door down with it because he did not have a truck company available at an earlier job. I didn?t doubt him. He said all his fires were suspicious, that the Fire Marshals had been requested and that he would like to have a Halligan tool and five minutes with the assholes who were burning down Mermaid Avenue. The battalion aide arrived, Louis Massuci, as the Voice Alarm announced our first run. It was the same address they had just operated at, a large abandoned rooming house on Surf Avenue. L 161 was just arriving back at quarters as we pulled out. The truck just turned their lights back on and responded down W 8th St.
The dispatcher was still trying to locate an available engine company as we passed W 15 St., the location of the former firehouse of E 244. The city disbanded E 244 in 1968 just as the War Years were taking off. A third engine on Coney Island could have made a big difference during those years. We transmitted a 10-30 when we were still 4 or 5 blocks away. An empty apartment on the second floor was burning. E 318 and L 166 became available and responded in. It took 7 or 8 minutes for E 246 to arrive. No FAST truck, no squad, no rescue, no deputy chief. Tower ladder in operation, one line stretched. No exposures ? just empty lots with bricks, trash, ADVs. No cars driving down Surf Avenue towards Seagate even slowed down to look at the activity of 24 firefighters going to work. There was not much left of the building. This job was quick. Then the Brooklyn dispatcher ? ?43 battalion, available??
Our second job was a store on Mermaid Avenue. It was actually a vacant apartment above a locked-up store. E 245 had been special called and transmitted the 10-75. I believe it was Captain Frank Tuttlemundo, a great guy. A burglar alarm was ringing from the empty store. E 254 was the 3rd engine. Usually, most jobs on Coney Island were 2&2. This was an ?all hands? but we only had 3 engines and two trucks. Rescue 2 was assigned on the 3rd alarm to Coney Island boxes back then and Rescue 5 had not been reformed. No squads. Field Comm unavailable. No ?all-hands? chief available. Division 12, and the other near-by battalions were still operating at the 3rd alarm. We were lucky to have the 3rd engine.
The fire on the 2nd floor was extinguished and companies had started overhauling when the L 166 officer announced on his handi-talkie ?L 166 to 43 ? Chief I can see a fire across the empty lot on West something street ? we got another job!?
One engine remained at the store job and everyone else moved across the empty lot to the vacant tenement. There were flames coming from the second floor. The tenement was unoccupied but exposures were occupied. Kids were playing on the street in front of the fire building. No one seemed to care about a fire in a vacant building. Fire was a common sight. Another 10-75. Same units operated.
The tower ladder went into operation. One line stretched and in operation. A second line was stretched. Then one of the members announced on his handi-talkie ?Bn43 ? there is smoke coming from one of the buildings across the street.? Another job.
Our aide, Louis, called the dispatcher with the location. An engine and truck were special called. This was 1&1 for a structure fire. No available chief. The 43 Bn took both jobs simultaneously. Neither fire was significant. Routine.
On the way back to quarters, we stopped at the site of the 3rd alarm. It was an old hotel. A few units were still at that location. Another 3500 Coney Island box came in. On the boardwalk. Louis, the battalion aide, drove past the box location, turned off the lights, drove up the ramp and rumbled along the boardwalk hoping to catch or scare the kids who pulled the box. A false alarm. 10-92 transmitted. Headed back to quarters. Important decisions have to be made.
Frequently a member was left back on runs to finish cooking the meal if one was planned. This tour there was no time. Pizza? Who is in? Pepperoni? Sausage? Where are we going to pick it up from? Before we can pick up the pizzas, a couple of runs ? trash and another 10-92. We pick up the pizza, return to quarters, and start inhaling the slices. The voice alarm interrupts another meal. Location is near Seagate. L 166 transmits a 10-30 shortly after leaving quarters because of the orange glow in the sky. A vacant bungalow is fully involved. 2&2 job.
We had another 5 or 6 runs through the night. Nothing significant. Routine. We ate a few slices of cold pizza. It was the best pizza I ever had. We got about 2 or 3 hours of sleep.
My dad?s relief came in about 7:30. There was a quick cross over. Then we headed home.
I always remembered that night because it was the first time I realized and appreciated the occupation my father was in. No rescues were made. No one thanked any member for the work done. No jobs made the newspapers or the local news. But I saw the same look on the faces of the members who had worked that shift that I had seen on Chief Dammers when he finished his tour the afternoon before. It was the look a professional has when their work is challenging and well done.
