Family, Friends, Strangers and the Icon. Forever!

       The Icon closed his chapter in the book of life after 99 years. Could forever last just 99 years? Imagine, 99 years of living, his chapter is chock full of amazing tales and journeys the like most of us have never heard of, never mind seen. He would leave an impression on everyone he touched even in the days up to his passing.

       I can see him, the virile age of 26 at the back end of Ladder Two pulling the roof ladder off the truck. Hip boots, jean jacket down just to the top of his thighs, open, flapping in the crisp wind that whips through the tunnel of buildings that line Main Street. Helmet tilted to the side, sweat running down his cheek sliding over his half smiling face. What's on his mind? Much like many firefighters since, follow orders and go to work. It was roughly 2 am on March 10, 1941. His crew had been ordered to make way to the roof of 15 School St. via the adjacent Kennedy building to ventilate. As he and the crew of Ladder Two reached the top of the Kennedy Building they made their way to the lower roof of what was the Strand Theatre. Mere seconds before contacting the roof of the Theatre with the butt end of the ladder the roof would collapse. Right away the Icon, even at his young age and minimal experience, knew men were trapped under the carnage. His officer without a thought gave the men the order to make their way down to assist in the rescue efforts. I wonder how much thought he put into how close he was at ending his forever the moment the roof fell. Twelve men died that night with twenty others injured. A few days later the thirteenth firefighter would succumb to his injuries.

       The Icon would be the sixth of just nine Fire Chiefs in the City of Brockton to date. Serving forty years, sixteen of which he spent as Chief. He was a "Chief's Chief, driving a Cadillac and smoking cigars." Clearly he was a Firefighters Chief as well. Many times he fought for the men and many times he won. Hard but fair, would never ask of you what he himself would not do. A good Jake! Throughout his career he had seen many losses. To many losses to count over 99 years. Witnessing death, or even experiencing death in your family (yes firefighters are a family) is quite hard to take. Can you imagine for a moment having to notify a wife or a mother of a loss? In 1964 he did just that. He had to make that notification to three separate families. To report to them they had lost their sons, fathers, brothers. To let them know these three men have ended their forever. As a new Chief he entered these homes and stood for the families in a way that could never be repaid. That was just his way.

The first look!

       I have had many moments with the Icon in my 18 year career. His quick wit and sharp tongue was never amiss. I remember the time about four years ago when he was around the age of 96. He was arriving at the Relief Association meeting by himself in a brand new car. He had just bought the car and purchased a 10 year warranty. I don't know if you just read the last sentence right so I will reiterate. 96 years old, new car, 10 year warranty. I know right? As we opened the door to walk with him into the building he asked us if we needed help, clearly we weren't out there to help him. So, as he made his way to the building he decided he would walk over and not around the giant mulch bed, you guessed it. He fell and broke his hip. Apparently it was our fault, we "slowed him down." He was tough to slow down that's for sure. I do know of one time we actually did finally slow him down, as a matter of fact he was at a loss for words which I'm not too sure that had ever happened before. It was may 10th 2008. The day we unveiled the Strand Theatre Memorial Statue. When the red silk cloak wafted off of the back side of the 12 foot tall bronze likeness of himself, he just stood in awe. Usually we were in awe of him, this day we were just proud.

Retired Chief Edward "Sonny" Burrell's reflection
as he gets his first look at the Strand Theatre Monument

      His funeral service was held in a church just slightly older than he. A wonderful contingent of firefighters both from Brockton and surrounding towns stood tall out in front awaiting the procession. The seven member honor guard and the eight piece bagpipe and drum band off to either side of the brick and granite church baring a century of wear were just the touch the service needed. This was a normal Catholic service with two speakers giving incredibly kind words. First the Icons son would stand at the podium. We tend to forget he was not just someone for us to look up to but his children held him there too. His sons words were brief but powerful. His admiration for him was clear and to the point. His thanks to us for making him feel welcome all of the time was well received. Then the retired Chief would step to the altar. His words were for us all. He spoke the way we all felt about the Icon. He did take liberty for a moment and speak to a topic that was personal to him, and for the first time ever I would see the retired Chief waver. His voice would crack as he was clearly taken for a moment by the emotion. He quickly regained his composure, but I do have to say, it was nice to see his emotion at that moment. Rather refreshing to say the least, if you understand.

       After the service the Honor Guard and Band made our way by bus to the cemetery where his wife was buried. His arrival would not take long. The tree filled snow covered cemetery was prepared with green outdoor carpet leading up to the grave site. I would place the Relief memorial flag and remembrance stanchion next to the family head stone off to the side of the open grave prior to getting with the rest of the band. The funeral director would have the hearse pull up and wait just a moment while they place a few flower baskets near the head stone. As the pallbearers removed the casket from the hearse we began to play. We continued to play while all the attendees made their way to the grave side. The cold had a clear effect on the pipes but the music carried well. The Honor Guard looked sharp and the membership paid no attention to the frigid air. It was a wonderful tribute to a great man.  Once again, as I have done many times before, I had the honor of doing the walk away and with that and era was gone.

       As I walked away I thought about the word forever. What is forever? Forever begins the day we are born but does it end the day we die? Could forever for my son be the thirty odd weeks after the five years of studies to finally earn his black belt? How about the 60 years my friends father had or the 26 years my other friend had with his son? Is forever the three short years the young man has spent in the 54th MA, or the 40 year career of a 99 year old legend in the fire service. I mean really was his forever those 40 years or the 35 years he spent in retirement. I guess forever is up to us to determine. We all know the men of yesterday didn't want accolades, parades or even monuments. What do those things mean? Is it bragging or is it telling of history? They just wanted to do the job to the best of their ability and live a decent life. I get that but I feel we should continue to carry these people and their lives on. Everyone deserves the right to be remembered, have their story told. Through our words and stories, keep their history, build their monuments, be proud. Let's continue to give them a real forever.   

Peter

Six degrees?

         Yesterday I piped a funeral with a rather interesting set of connections. We all know or have heard how small a world we live in. Six degrees of separation is the theory that everyone and everything is six or fewer steps away, by way of introduction, from any other person in the world, so that a chain of "a friend of a friend" statements can be made to connect any two people in a maximum of six steps. So basically we are all connected within six acquaintances.

      The obituary read, "Robert C. “Bob “Kelley, of West Yarmouth passed away peacefully on Sunday, December 22, at home surrounded by his family. He was the beloved husband of Ann (Brady) Kelley of West Yarmouth and his first wife the late Margaret (Yuskaitis) Kelley. Robert, born in Brockton, MA on February 26, 1924, was the son of Margaret (Calnan) Kelley and Fred F. Kelley. He graduated from Brockton High School in 1942 and enlisted in the US Navy in 1943. He served in the Central and Western Pacific as an Aviation Radioman Gunner. Upon his honorable discharge from the Navy, Robert joined New England Tel & Tel. After a distinguished career Bob retired in 1983." What the obituary did not tell me was all the connections I had with this man, whom I never met, or so I thought when I first got the call to play the pipes. 

       The request for me to pipe the funeral came through fire alarm. The daughter called to see if the fire department knew of any bagpipers, knowing that the fire service and piping are connected. I left the station for Hyannis right after my night shift. The funeral mass was to be celebrated at St Francis Xavier church just outside downtown Hyannis at 10am. I arrived with plenty of time to spare so I stopped in Hyannis Fire Headquarters for a quick visit and talk to the gentleman that runs the MDA Chili festival each March. He seemed happy to get a face to face instead of the usual banter back and forth through email. After squaring away the plans for the festival I made my way over to the church to begin to warm up the pipes. It was cold! The wind seemed to rip right through the wool like it wasn't even there. I knew then that the cemetery would be a joy. After about 15 minutes of warming up the pipes I began to head into the front lobby of the church to warm up my hands, face, and ears. I noticed three well dressed older women coming toward me on the walkway. I found it strange at first the look on their face until I noticed one of them. It was My Great Aunt, my Grandmother's sister in-law, the last of our family from that generation. I gave her a quick hug and kiss before asking her why she would make the trek, wondering what her connection was. As it turns out she is a very close friend of the gentleman's widow Ann. They spend time together quite often. I realized I could have kept her talking for quite some time with questions of my kids and the holidays so for once I ended the conversation before I got out of control. Yes, I could talk the hind legs off a donkey.

       As the hearse opened I began to play. It was cold and the weather could be rather harsh on the tone of the pipes. I was able to tune them and lock them in but if I struck the bag in just a hair too hard or too soft my drones wouldn't sound just right. I was a little nervous because of this which would veer my concentration just enough that I noticed the people entering the church. I usually keep my eyes fixed down or at something specific so I don't lose concentration looking at the family. I didn't lose it but I did notice a man walking up the path while I was playing. He is retired Brockton Firefighter. That's when I remembered the obituary. He glanced at me and gave me a low wave from the hip and a quick head nod. I'm not sure if he noticed who I was or was just being polite. He was the widows brother.

Frederick F Kelley Eng Co. 1
Died March 10, 1941

      After the mass started I ended up standing inside the lobby of the church as there really wasn't too much room to sit in the mass. Which is surprising for an 89 year old. He must have made a great impression on his circle. I started chatting with one of the men from the funeral home. As it turns out he did not directly work for this funeral home. He worked for a close friend of mine that owns a funeral home back here in Brockton. He will send his limos to other funeral homes when they need the extra cars. We chuckled about how we were both from the same place and "how small the world is." Just then two women walked in the church. They were very pleasant and asked me what clan I was from. I had to explain that the kilt I wear represents the County Clair in Ireland as this is where my family originates, to the best of my knowledge. This conversation was very brief as they were about ten minutes late already. They turned to head into the church with a Happy New Year in tow when they realized they were at the wrong funeral. I felt bad for these women, but there really was nothing I could do other than wait for them to leave before I laughed. Sorry folks but that is funny. As we continued to chat I told the driver the most interesting connection with this funeral. You have heard me mention here numerous times the Strand Theatre fire and collapse of March 10, 1941. I found out I had met Mr. Kelley back on May 10, 2008 and didn't remember. I had met so many that day. Robert Kelley is the oldest son of Frederick Kelley of the Brockton Fire Department, assigned to Engine Company One. Frederick lost his life while operating at the Strand. Firefighter Kelley was born in Haverhill, MA and resided at 37 Exchange Street, Brockton. He had served in the United States Army as a Combat Engineer assigned to the 26th Division in France during World War I and was a semi-pro baseball player prior to his appointment to the Brockton Fire Department. When he died he left his wife Margaret and two sons; Robert, (who we celebrate) and Frederick.in Haverhill, MA and resided at 37 Exchange Street, Brockton. He had served in the United States Army as a Combat Engineer assigned to the 26th Division in France during World War I and was a semi-pro baseball player prior to his appointment to the Brockton Fire Department. He left his wife Margaret and two sons, Robert, age 17 and Frederick, age 15.
Firefighter Kelley is buried in Calvary Cemetery, Brockton.Firefighter Kelley was born in Haverhill, MA and resided at 37 Exchange Street, Brockton. He had served in the United States Army as a Combat Engineer assigned to the 26th Division in France during World War I and was a semi-pro baseball player prior to his appointment to the Brockton Fire Department. He left his wife Margaret and two sons, Robert, age 17 and Frederick, age 15.
Firefighter Kelley is buried in Calvary Cemetery, Brockton.Firefighter Kelley was born in Haverhill, MA and resided at 37 Exchange Street, Brockton. He had served in the United States Army as a Combat Engineer assigned to the 26th Division in France during World War I and was a semi-pro baseball player prior to his appointment to the Brockton Fire Department. He left his wife Margaret and two sons, Robert, age 17 and Frederick, age 15.
Firefighter Kelley is buried in Calvary Cemetery, Brockton.    

       The service ended and the pipes played much better, even though the sun was gone and it was much colder now. I was so right about the cemetery. The grave was just off the side of the hill in the middle of the St Francis Xavier cemetery off of route 28 in Centerville. There were a few pitch pines and scrub oaks but not enough to block the slicing winds. The Navy had sent a two member unit to fold and present the flag. They had the "radio" bugle but for some reason they didn't fake it. Instead the seaman held the bugle at his side while taps rang out. Not sure how I felt about that. As I finished my walk away I noticed something a little different. The few trees that did line the cemetery held numerous wind chimes, all of which were ringing beautifully, filling the air with the thoughts of pleasantries and spring mornings. As I packed my pipes away on the tailgate of my pick-up I didn't think of the blistering cold or the usual feelings for the families loss. The chimes took my mind to all of the connections of the day. My Aunt, my colleague, the driver, the funeral director friend. Even the women that came when they didn't need too. To the thoughts of why I started this blog. To thoughts of my kids, how this is a great lesson for me and for them. The people we meet. We never really know who is connected to who or how they are connected, but we surely are within six degrees.
  

Peter
 

The Scranton Connection~ "Anthracite"



City Hall Rotunda

As you make the climb up the interior stairs of City Hall and onward into the octagonal shaped rotunda adorned with golden plaster carvings of civil war troops and accent flowers, surrounded by hand carved wooden frames depicting marble panels filled with inscriptions from wars past, you notice a rectangular black granite base about three feet tall supporting what appears to be a jet black stone trapped inside a glass square protective box in the center of the room. This base and stone sit just outside the Mayor's office as a reminder to the city what happened many years ago. What is this stone and where did it come from?

       As many of you may know, on March 10, 1941 my city fire department lost thirteen men to structural collapse while operating during the overhaul phase of a fire in a local theater (a story to be better touched on more in-depth at a later time). This news in 1941 would travel throughout the United States shaking the core of the fire service. At the time the amount of firefighters lost at this incident was catastrophic to say the least. As the news reached down the east coast and onto the central part of the country firefighters from Scranton Pennsylvania took notice.       
       
       The Coal region or Pennsylvania Anthracite region is home to the largest known deposits of anthracite coal found in the Americas. There is a reserve of seven billion short tons of Anthracite believed to be within the valleys. It is these deposits that provide the region with its nickname. The discovery of anthracite coal was first made by a hunter in Schuylkill County 1791. It would only be 16 years after that the North Field saw its first mine. The Region lies north of the Lehigh Valley and Berks County Regions, south of the Endless Mountains, west of the Pocono Mountains, and east of the region known in Pennsylvania as the Susquehanna Valley. The Wyoming Valley is the most densely populated of these valleys, and contains the cities of Wilkes-Barre and Scranton. According to Erin L. Nissley an assistant metro editor at The Times-Tribune.com "What most people saw simply as fuel to heat their homes, C. Edgar Patience saw as fuel for his imagination. The Wilkes-Barre man coaxed art out of chunks of anthracite coal, from small trinkets to a 4,000-pound altar for the chapel at King's College. A 3½-ton piece of coal Mr. Patience polished and sculpted was displayed at the Smithsonian, and a 5½-foot-tall, 1-ton monolith he made was displayed at the William Penn Memorial Museum in Harrisburg. Scranton's Pennsylvania Anthracite Heritage Museum owns two busts he carved - one of George Washington and another of Abraham Lincoln. The Lincoln bust has been selected as one of the state's top 10 endangered artifacts by the Conservation Center for Art & Historic Artifacts." To date I have not been able to pin down exactly who carved the Anthracite in our rotunda but this guy makes perfect sense to me.


        The Anthracite is about twelve inches square and about four inches deep, a striking stone with its own base. The front of the stone had been polished to a high sheen prior to its carving out to create a negative image on its front. You can easily read the names of the thirteen men lost on the Strand Theatre fire as well as who the stone was dedicated to, Local 144. The base of the stone once again clearly shows in a negative image that it was donated by the members of the Scranton Local, then 669. In the center of the base is carved the firefighter scramble donning the IAFF logo. This memorial stone clearly shows the strong union stance of the forties one that truly is carried on today.

       At some point during the summer of 1941 a Brockton firefighter and his new bride had made their way to the Pocono Mountains to celebrate their nuptials. On the return ride this firefighter and his wife happened to stop in at a Scranton fire station where he would intern be given the Anthracite that had been carved in memory of the 13 lost on March 10th earlier in the year. He would wrap the carving in a shirt or towel from his luggage and place it in his trunk for the return trip. I had heard stories of this carving staying in the truck for quite some time before its unveiling but this is not something I can confirm. In the fall of 1941 members of the Scranton Fire Department made their way from Scranton Pennsylvania to Brockton for a dedication ceremony. At this ceremony these two departments would unveil the beautiful Anthracite coal carving that is still in place to this day. This was not just a ceremony for the coal, but more of a ceremony of a symbol, a symbol of people and friendships. This ceremony would build a bond not to often spoken of but one that would stand the test of time. As time would continue on, fifty years to be exact, in 1991 the members of the Scranton fire department would once again make their way up the east coast to celebrate the remembrance ceremony for the Strand theatre fire of 1941.

       After numerous attempts to raise funds over the years the members of the Brockton Fire Department decided it was time to move forward with our own memorial to our lost members. In early 2007 a committee was formed one of which I am honored to have been a part of. I was assigned 3 tasks; Logistics-parking and where the membership would place during the ceremony, contacting and organizing the massed bands, and inviting the Scranton Fire Department. The first  two tasks were simple, the emotions of contacting Scranton on the other hand would be a different story. The day my assignments came up I had coincidently read online that the Scranton Fire Department lost a member of theirs at a fire. They had been operating a tower truck when the bucket of the tower had contacted the live power lines in front of the house. I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to invite these guys to a ceremony of remembrance up here in Brockton when they had just lost one of their own, with another lying in a Scranton hospital bed. I then decided to take it up with the band. The members of my band, without hesitation, said yes we would go down and pipe any ceremony they wanted, we owed them for what they had given us over 65 years earlier. So I took a deep breath and made the call.




to be continued...