THE HOSE TOWER
along the way you come across things that are interesting
but you don't know where to put them, just like in the firehouse when they don't
know what to do with something it ends up in the hose tower
so here are some of the things that people send me for the web page
NICK NAMES
IT SEEMS ALL FIREMAN SOONER OR LATER WILL ACQUIRE A
NICKNAME THAT WILL
STAY WITH THEM THRU OUT THEIR CAREER, HERE ARE SOME OF THE ONE'S FIT
TO PRINT
LA LA- CAPT SMITH
TONNA- ASST CHIEF COAKLEY
DICKLES--PINO ---DICK PROIA
JOE NO SHOW--CHIEF LACROIX
THE GREEK--LT B NEGROTTI
EL DUCE'- --CAPT LOMBARDI
THE FIELD MARSHALL-- WILFRED DOUCETTE
POOFY--CAPT DICK HAY
HACK,, FIRST WHIP--RUSS CAVALLO
SQUASHY--DOM ANTONELLIS
HENRIETTA--DEPUTY CHIEF HENRY MURPHY
BULL---DEPUTY CHIEF J. MARTIN
SAVAGE----CHIEF REILLY
SHAKE AND BAKE---CAPT. A MOREAU
REBEL---LT. BOB BAURLE
JOCKO--LT.D MALONE
CONCRETE--RALPH CALDERONE
SACRETE-----NICK CALDERONE
MORTAR-----TONY CALDERONE
TRAPPER---JOE WASAK
THE FOOGE--AL FERARA
KO KO--GEORGE MALKASIAN
PAW--LT J. INMANN
GARAGE GEORGE--GEORGE ANDERSON
BULLET,BENNY MUSCLE'S--DEPUTY CHIEF B. ENGLISH
STAN-LEE THE CHINESE CAPTAIN--CAPT STAN DESTEFANO
NON NE- LT E. PESCOSOLIDO
NON NE NAW /,CAKES--CAPT J PESCOSOLIDO
HUGGY BEAR---LT P GIORDANO
PD--LT P LEONE
PS--LT P LEONE
JOE BEEF--J KEEFE
JOHNNY SMOKE--JOHN CEDRONE
BOOTS--KEVIN TIMMONS
DISCO--LT D MACEWEN
THE LIP--LEO GERACI
POO POO--FRANK VONA
THE DOCTOR--NUNZI LEONE
THE COMMODORE--ERWIN BEALE
THE COMMODORE--TED BAGLEY
RAY K--R KEEGAN
LA MOSCA THE FLY--JERRY LEONE
TWO GUN--LT R MURPHY
FIREBALL--R MCCARTHY
THE WEED--RICH SIAR
BARNEY,/TWO FINGERS--JOHN MATHEWS
THE SHAG--CAPT L MAZZOLA
LANCE--DEPUTY CHIEF CARVELLI
ME ME--MIKE GUZZI
FAST EDDIE--E.GOUDEAU
MOTHER--LT HERLIHY
CITY HALL SPECIAL---ENG.4
TOONAVILLE TROLLEY---ENG 8
CHEROKEE --GARY CHAMBERLAIN
ARMPIT DAVE---DAVE CARROLL
CRANKSHAFT---BOB ROGERS
FALSE ALARM FOLEY--FRANK FOLEY
GEBO--GEORGE GARABEDIAN
CRANBERRY EXPRESS---CHIEF PERKINS PICKUP TRUCK
BLUE MOON ODEM--STEVE GALLANT
NIBBY NORTON--NICK NORTARTOMASO
NINE FINGER----NICK FONTANO
PIERRE--CHIEF PERKINS
SHE,/THE MISSUS --CHIEF DANIELE
TOO TALL--E.SMITH
TEX-CECIL CLINTON
99--JOE YERARDI SR.
JOE GOLD,/THE PRINCE OF NONSENSE --JOE SILVA
TONKA,/THE GORILLA-TONY LOCHIATTO
MAD DOG,RIPCORD--LT ANDREW CORRIGAN
DIGGER ODELL--CAPT BILL GREELEY
HORACE--JOHN GREELEY
THE DEPUTY-MIKE GREELEY
THE SILVER FOX--LT.BOB QUINLAN
THE COUNT--WALTER GROGAN
THE HAWK--JAY LEONE
THE HAWK--BILL HOUGH
JUNEY--JOHN GREELEY
BO BO--LT J CLISHAM
SARGE--JW. CLISHAM
BIG JOHN--LT J.COLELLA
NOT SO--JIM BRIGHT
WEE--DAN KELLY
SKIPPY WELCH--LT J BOURGOIS
THE PAPER TIGER--CAPT CASTRO
DOOMEE--CAPT BUTCH CADMAN
GLOOMY--BOB CADMAN
SUE ME--MARK CADMAN
CAPT NASTY--CAPT JOHN CHAGNON
LITTLE NASTY--BOB CHAGNON
NASTY JR. BOB CHAGNON JR
THE PEST--MARK COLANTONIO
CARMINOOCH--LT.C DAGOSTINO
THE MOANER--LT. G DAVIS
SLICKSTER--LT MICK DEMEO
THE ROOSTER--RICK DESIMONE
DOUBLE D--DAVE DAMICO
TOMMY TOLLROAD--TOM FARRELL
RAMBO--JIM HERBERT
CAPT CHAOS--CAPT J. KENNEDY
BLACKHAWK--DAVE LANGAINE
TEE LOW--LT T LOPEZ
THE BOMBER--STEVE MANDILE
SGT BILKO--CAPT LUCHETTI
THE SENATOR--TOM MCLAUGHLIN
THE JIVAL--ANDREA MYERS
BIBSEY--BOB OTOOLE
STICK--GREG GENTILE
SLICK WILLY--WILLY RIOS
GIANT KILLER--BOB FISKE
SILKY SMOOTH--BRIAN MCNAMARA
THE LEGEND --CHUCK PENDERGAST
THE PUPPY--MATT PACHECO
JIMMY ME,,JIMMY CROSSWALKS--LT SBORDONE
SNOWSHOES--T SBORDONE
PEANUT--PAUL STEVENS
THE GOOD CAPT.--CAPT ROCHE
THE KID--LT R TOLI
COACH,, SWIFTY---JIMMY SWIFT
SPIKE--MIKE VACCA
THE PRINCE--LT BARI
LUGNUT/,SHREK---J TOBIAS
ACE,GOD--CHIEF PROIA
THE TORPEDO--AL MAZZOLA
APPLES--ROB MCINTOSH
THE MOO--JOE MUZI
CACTUS JACK--CAPT J TRACY
JIGGS-JAMES COFFEY
JERKO JOE--J CUCCHI
YO YO--JOE CAPELLO
THE COLONEL--LT M. HERNANDEZ
THE ADMIRAL--J KNIGHT
RACOON---S MURPHY
CHEEZY CHAZ--CHARLIE ALLEN
JOE RED--- JOE BLANCHARD
THE WISE ONE---RICH BAIMA
THE IRON SHEIK---JIM PANZERA
MOUSE--MIKE MORRISSEY
THE DON--LT FONTANO
THE KING--CAPT MIKE PROIA
MECCA THE PECKA--FRANK SOSTILLIO
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This was written by the son of "Buzz" Gross a Brookline Jake
who died May 3,2004 in the line of
duty, he dedicated it to all who serve in the fire service
(click to enlarge)
FLAG RAISE AT THE WORLD TRADE CENTER
The following was written by PAUL HARVEY
Nobody knows why
firefighters are firefighters. Not even they can tell you why. It's time
somebody try. Firefighting
is the most risky of all dead end jobs and yet also the one where most workers
are most likely to punch in early.
It's hard enough to believe that; it's impossible to explain it. Fire and ice
are uncomfortable separately or together. Wives hate the hours. Kids love the
noise. Fire and ice. Any day
at the firehouse the bell from hell puts the dispatcher on the horn with a
tenement tinderbox address. Into the bunker pants, turnout coat, grab the mask
and go. Minutes later you're onsite. As others run out, you go in. You'll need
all you can carry. The four pound axe, a six foot rake, the halligan bar. The
ceiling concealing the smoldering has to come down and it's one of those
stubborn tin ones. In the scary dark with the heat eating your ears, you're
gouging out and tearing loose and pulling apart, gulping air and tasting black.
Your windpipe is closing and you've lost track of which way is out. Is it worth
it? They've budget cut your
ladder company from six to five, so now everything you do is 16.67 percent more
difficult and more dangerous. Your air is low. Inside your mask you're throwing
up. There's a searing ember down your neck. Torn gloves expose a smashed hand.
So you emerge from the holocaust hugging, with your elbows, somebody's singed
kitten. Fire and ice. You've
had minutes of exhilaration on the bouncing rear mount of a steaming hundred
foot Seagrave, hours of using all you've learned and learning more. Now you're
back at the station house. You've unstuffed your nostrils with soapy fingers;
you can almost breathe again. Next come the tedious hours as you and Brillo gang
up on the grimy tools. The cleanup crew at the firehouse is you when windows
need washing and toilets need cleaning and floors mopping and beds need making,
you do it. Fire and ice, they both go with the job. Then
there's that night another engine company gets there first and you see this
wet-eared rookie hot-dogging ahead; his academy boots still shiny. You lose him
inside the crackling dark and you forget about him until your helmet warning
bell says get out. The battalion chief is calling you off. You get out; the
other guy didn't. He had heard a scream from the bottom of burning basement
stairs and he headed down there, when on the bubbling tarpaper roof the
three-ton compressor broke through, that day we lost two. Oh,
yes, firefighters cry, but only briefly because now comes the inevitable and
evermore paperwork just in case OSHA complains or somebody sues. Is it worth it?
Your B crew pumper swapped his day
shift so some family guy could be home for his kid's birthday and then, outbound
toward a false alarm, your buddy gets blindsided by a hotrod driven by a drunk.
Fire and ice. The intercom
barks again. This time it's a warehouse, a big, fast, multiple blaze, probably
torched. Onsite engine men draped with icicles dragging an inch and
three-quarter hose are waiting for your big line: ladder men can't make the
building without you. Search, rescue, ventilate. Eventually it's over and out.
You're smoke smudged and sleepless and wrung out, but you won. Behind
graffiti-fouled walls you saved what you could. But the raging blaze that wanted
to consume adjacent buildings did not because you were there. Back
at the firehouse before cleanup, you and the guys sit a spell, tired but
stimulated, drinking coffee and laughing, and feeling good about one another.
Nobody outside your world can ever quite know that feeling. In any other uniform
you get streets named after you for killing people; in this one you risk your
life to save people. Until one day you run out of chances and at one final fire,
either you buy it or you don't. If you don't, it's only eventually to be brushed
off with a puny pension. Yet there's no third way you'd ever leave this job and
you're doubting even God knows why. You're
out of the shower now; most of the grime and some of the cynicism are down the
drain, when you hear a strangely familiar voice saying, "For salvaging
things and people from flames, I have to rely on your hands." You look
around, still nobody. But when you get over your incredulity, you feel better.
Suddenly today's crew cook in the kitchen hollers chow. It's time to eat. It
smells like roast beef today, and that'll be good. But you'll eat fast, for any
next alarm you'll want to be ready.
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The following poem was written and sent to me by Alycia Gregorio Linch who is very proud
of her dad
Her dad is retired Brookline firefighter, Tom Gregorio
A
Firefighter, A Hero, My Father
History
in the making, the 11th day of September.
We
will never forget it, we will be forced to always remember.
The day that brought the people together hand in hand.
The day that made America BELIEVE in United We All Stand.
The day that hit so many of Americans close to home.
The day that began the journey for firemen to roam.
The grounds of zero and onward, over and again.
For ALL firemen are heroes, they are our fathers and our friends.
It saddens me to think it took a tragedy as such.
For people to admire now the firemen so much.
Only those who know one can honestly say.
Their not just heroes for what they do, they are one in every way.
For
his family who gets that feeling when he walks out that door.
For they know it only takes a hero if he keeps going back for more.
For the small and the big fires he puts out.
For the capability he has to hear the weakest shout.
For he saves one and all genders old and young.
For his heart that breaks when he just can’t save someone.
For
the miracle he makes along in his strife.
For the people’s safety, he’s willing to give up his own life.
Only those who know one are always forced to see.
That a blazing hail of rage may take him from his family.
For he is not just a firefighter, but also a great man.
That will be there in any and all times to lend his hand.
For he is a soldier, destined to win his fight.
For he is the shining light some of us see at night.
For he is a friend, for good times to share.
For he is a husband and for his wife, he will always be there.
For he is a character, full of laughter and wit.
For he is a grandfather, his grandkids love to play with.
For he’s full of love and care and always full of life.
For he is a father who hurts when his daughters cry.
For he’s always in all of our prayers.
May god always bless him, let him know how many of us care.
For all those golden hearts that stopped beating, and hard working hands
that got lay to rest.
God breaks our hearts to prove to us, he only takes the best.
A
firefighter IS a HERO above any other.
This
I can honestly say because that hero is MY father.
THE FOLLOWING WAS SENT FROM DANNY ORTIZ;
"I Wish You Could See"
I wish you could know what
it is like to search a burning bedroom
for trapped children, flames rolling above your
head, your palms
and knees burning as you crawl, the floor
sagging under your weight
as the kitchen below you burns.
I wish you could
comprehend a wife's horror at 3 in the morning as
I check her husband of 40 years for a pulse and
find none. I start CPR
anyway, hoping to bring him back, knowing intuitively
that it is too late.
But wanting his wife and family to know
everything possible was done
to try to save his life.
I wish you knew the unique
smell of burning insulation, the taste of
soot-filled mucus, the feeling of intense heat
through you turnout gear,
the sound of flames crackling, the scared
sensation of being able to
see absolutely nothing in dense smoke that I've
become too
familiar with.
I wish you could understand
how it feels to go to work in the morning
after having spent most of the night, hot and
soaking wet at a multiple
alarm fire.
I wish you could read my
mind as I respond to a building fire " Is this
a false alarm or a working fire? How is the
building constructed? What
hazards await me? Is anyone trapped?" Or
to an EMS call," What is
wrong with the patient? Is it something minor
or life threating? Is the
caller in distress or is he waiting for us with
a gun?
I wish you could be in the
emergency room, as a doctor pronounces
dead a beautiful five year old girl that I have
been trying to save during the
past 25 minutes. Who will never go on her
first date or say the words "I
love you Mommy" again.
I wish you could know the
frustration I feel in the cab of the engine
or my personal vehicle, the driver with his
foot pressing down hard on
the pedal, my arm tugging again and again at
the air horn chain, as
you fail to yield the right of way at an
intersection or in traffic. When
you need us however, your first comment upon
our arrival will be " It
took you forever to get here!"
I wish you could know my
thoughts as i help extricate a girl of
teenage years from the remains of her
automobile. "What if this was my
sister, my girlfriend or a friend? What is
her parents reaction going to be
when they open the door to find a police
officer with hat in hand?
I wish you could know how it
feels to walk in the back door and greet
my parents and family, not having the heart to
tell them that I nearly did
not come back from that last call.
I wish you could feel the
hurt as people verbally and sometimes physically
abuse us or belittle what I do, or as they
express their attitudes of "It will
never happen to me".
I wish you could realize the
physical, emotional and mental drain or missed
meals, lost sleep and forgone social
activities, in addition to all the tragedy
that my eyes have seen.
I wish you could know
the brotherhood and self-satisfaction of helping save
a life or preserving someone's property, or
being able to be there in time of
crisis, or creating order from total chaos.
I wish you could understand
what it feels like to have a little boy tugging
at your arm and asking "Is mommy
okay?" Not even being able to look in his
eyes without tears from your own and not
knowing what to say or to have to
hold back a long time friend who watches his
buddy having rescue breathing
done on him as they take him away in the
ambulance. You know all along that
he did not have his seatbelt on. A
sensation that I have become too familiar with.
Unless you have lived with
this kind of life, you will never truly understand
or appreciate who I am, we are, or what our
jobs really means to us...
I wish you could though.
Author Unknown
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you just can't win
When the fire trucks are delayed 40 seconds in traffic, People say:
"It took them 20 minutes to get here."
When the fire truck races at 40 mph, it's:
"Look at those reckless fools."
When four men struggle with an eight man ladder:
"They don't even know how to raise a ladder."
When firemen open windows for ventilation:
"Look at the wrecking crew."
When they open the floor to get at a blaze:
"There goes the axe squad."
If the chief stands back where he can see and direct his men:
"He's afraid to go where he sends his men."
If they lose a building:
"It's a lousy department."
If they make a good "stop", folks say:
"The fire didn't amount to much."
If lots of water is necessary:
"They are doing more damage with water than flames."
If a fireman gets hurt:
"He is a careless guy."
If a citizen gets hurt:
"It's a crazy department."
If a fireman inspects property:
"He's meddling in somebody's business."
If he wants a fire hazard corrected:
"I'll see the mayor."
If he gets killed and leaves a family destitute:
"That's a chance he took when he joined the fire department."
Author Unknown
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When
I'm called to duty god
wherever flames may rage
give me strength to save a life
whatever be its age
Help me to embrace a little child
before it is too late
or save an older person from
the horror of that fate
Enable me to be alert
to hear the weakest shout
and quickly and efficiently
to put the fire out
I want to fill my calling and
to give the best in me
to guard my neighbor and
protect his property
And if according to your will
I have to lose my life
bless with your protecting hand
my children and my wife
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