14 Jun '07 - Providence City Hall
Last night, my best friend and business partner, Fran Paliotta, took part in a Gallery Reception at City Hall in Providence. She was invited to hang two prints in the second floor atrium there by her high school classmate and friend, Rob Buco. This was a very important night for them both and even though Fran viewed it more as helping her friend, I viewed it as a night to get some outside interest going in her work as a photographer.
After almost thirty years of friendship, I'm not afraid to say that I am heartily proud of my best friend - the one friend in my life who has always been there for me through everything - good, bad or indifferent. She worked very hard to get through her photography schooling and even had a brush with death at Beth Israel Deaconess Hospital during a bout of pneumonia. I know how hard she worked for this and I know that she deserves to have her work out there, so that Gallery Reception was more important to me than I could possibly put into words.
I let my friends from the PFD know about it and although I knew that many would be there in spirit, I really didn't expect them to be able to show up. Especially considering the frequency of callbacks and such. It's the nature of the job. However...
Five members of the Department visited us and I received notes from many more wishing us well and asking how it went. As busy as these guys are, they took time out to show that they are truly there for not only me, but Fran, as well.
A truly loyal group, to say the least - and it only proves that I've been right all along... I've made some fantastic friends getting into this project.
That, in and of itself, makes the work all worth while.
15 June, 2007
05 June, 2007
Filming the Incidentals
May, 2007
I shot two sessions this month, both at the North Main Street Station with the crews of Ladder 4, Engine 7 and Rescue 5 (mainly with the Ladder and Engine Crews). Now, I probably have the firefighters thinking I'm out of my tree, because I was filming them cleaning the station, shopping for food and cooking dinner. The sad fact is that most people don't realize that firefighters do have to do these things - AT WORK, not just in their own homes.
It baffles me - is it just that I heard the stories from my Mom and have visted the stations? Why do people think that there are janitors (OH! Excuse me... Maintenance Engineers.) at fire stations? Do they think that people come in and clean and that the kitchen is there for show? Do they believe that fire trucks can fit into a car wash bay? I don't understand it, but people don't know that these things go on.
I can understand them not knowing that firefighters have to pitch in for appliances and televisions and such, but they don't know about the other stuff.
Well, they will when the documentary airs, because it's being included. It will be tough to do a voiceover for that part of the film... I'll have to bite my tongue.
So I filmed them washing walls, waxing floors, washing trucks... all that fun stuff. Then I went to the super market with them and filmed them shopping for their lunch. The manager of the store wasn't really thrilled about it, but the guys got him to relax and I got the shots I needed.
I went back on A-Group's first night shift and filmed them making dinner. As usual, the crew was exceptionally hospitable and invited me to join them for dinner. They do spoil me, I must say. :-)
My thanks to Captain Horton, Jay Fabrizio and all at North Main Street on A-Group for their participation!
I shot two sessions this month, both at the North Main Street Station with the crews of Ladder 4, Engine 7 and Rescue 5 (mainly with the Ladder and Engine Crews). Now, I probably have the firefighters thinking I'm out of my tree, because I was filming them cleaning the station, shopping for food and cooking dinner. The sad fact is that most people don't realize that firefighters do have to do these things - AT WORK, not just in their own homes.
It baffles me - is it just that I heard the stories from my Mom and have visted the stations? Why do people think that there are janitors (OH! Excuse me... Maintenance Engineers.) at fire stations? Do they think that people come in and clean and that the kitchen is there for show? Do they believe that fire trucks can fit into a car wash bay? I don't understand it, but people don't know that these things go on.
I can understand them not knowing that firefighters have to pitch in for appliances and televisions and such, but they don't know about the other stuff.
Well, they will when the documentary airs, because it's being included. It will be tough to do a voiceover for that part of the film... I'll have to bite my tongue.
So I filmed them washing walls, waxing floors, washing trucks... all that fun stuff. Then I went to the super market with them and filmed them shopping for their lunch. The manager of the store wasn't really thrilled about it, but the guys got him to relax and I got the shots I needed.
I went back on A-Group's first night shift and filmed them making dinner. As usual, the crew was exceptionally hospitable and invited me to join them for dinner. They do spoil me, I must say. :-)
My thanks to Captain Horton, Jay Fabrizio and all at North Main Street on A-Group for their participation!
03 June, 2007
Engine 8 - Take Two
Lt. Ernie Young, FF Bobby Alvarez, Erin Blackman, FF Todd Jones, FF Steve Dulong
Friday, April 20, 2007
I’m riding with Engine 8 again tonight. I had talked to Lieutenant Ernie Young and told him that I wanted to get some more footage on an Engine, being that the ride with Engine 3 had not yielded much. I arrive at the shift change and Bobby Alvarez and I have a coffee while we await Ernie’s arrival.
Around six o’clock, Ernie asked if I wanted to check out the scene of a fire that had happened the night before at an abandoned manufacturing facility. We hopped on the truck and headed out. That turned out to be an awesome walk-through. I’d never really been that close to a burned out building before – and it had to be doused again that morning because of hot spots that flared up. When we arrived, the dank smell of burned wood, plastic and God knows what else hung in the air – a wet, smoky smell. I filmed from doorways – it wasn’t really safe to go inside. As I filmed the water dripping down from a staircase, I looked to my right and saw Ernie, Bobby, Todd Jones and Steve Dulong (who had desperately been trying to avoid my lens) standing in a group and discussing what had happened the night before. I turned around and trained the camera on them and that was when it happened – I got my “money shot”. The perfect closing shot for my film. It was a beautifully exciting moment and I could barely contain myself. As they turned around and began walking back toward me, they fanned out into a line – they had no idea that I was filming them. I got a few more good shots, but that was the most fantastic shot I could have gotten.
As we stood and talked a little more about the fire, their radios began blaring.
“Attention Engine Eight and Rescue Four a still alarm,” the dispatcher’s voice proclaimed. We headed back to the truck and off to a scene that the police were already attending.
Despite the fact that I had worn a Providence Fire Department shirt, which was clearly visible, a Providence Police Officer approached me. I explained that I was with Engine Eight, then Ernie walked over and confirmed that for them. I didn’t get much footage there, but once the Rescue had arrived, we got back on the truck and headed back to Messer Street.
It was a bit of a quiet night, oddly enough. I was beginning to think that my luck with getting lots of calls was turning. The bell tipped again around five thirty – turned out someone had pulled a false alarm at a box on Union Avenue. When we arrived there, Bobby got out and reset the alarm, then we headed back to the station.
We got another call shortly thereafter for a child who had had a seizure. We got to the scene and I shot some good footage there. I also managed to notice something that no one else had noticed – the child had a large gash on the back of his head. It wasn’t bleeding – just open. Ernie mentioned it to the Rescue Lieutenant before we left. That was kind of nice – I felt like I’d actually helped a little bit. That one bothered me a little bit – the poor kid seemed like he was having a hard time.
It was quiet until after eight o’clock, when we got a call to go to Cumerford Street with the Providence Police for a domestic dispute. We pulled up to the scene and I got out of the truck with my camera in hand. Just as I was about to pull of the lens cap, I heard a woman going off on a kid who was lying in the gutter. I quickly assessed the situation and decided to stuff the camera into the pocket of the turnout coat that Bobby had lent to me. Yes, I was back in a turnout coat – but I’d learned, Steve didn’t have to catch me that night. Anyway, I stuffed the camera into my pocket and just stood back from the commotion. The police were separating the mother from her son. She was saying that she was sick of him and this girl that he kept saying he was in love with. As it turned out, this kid had gotten into an argument with his mother and ended up putting his fist through the glass window inside the front door of their residence. After much debate and the firefighters and police keeping the two separated, the rescue crew arrived and took the pair off to Hasbro. Well, that was interesting – and would have made great film footage, but no way in hell was I going to let this irate mother see me filming the tirade in progress. So… off we went, back to the station.
Some time later, the bell tipped again – must have been after ten at night. We were dispatched to back up a Rescue for a call of a baby not breathing. We all ran to the truck and headed over to the home, which was nestled in some crazy little back streets that looked out onto Route Ten. My chest was getting tight – this one was scaring me. This baby that we were responding for was apparently only fourteen days old. When we got to the house, the family said that they had gotten him breathing again, which made all of us breathe a little easier (no pun intended). They took the baby to the hospital just to be safe, though and we headed back to the station.
The most wonderful things happened that night, though. Not only did I get my fantastic shot for the closing of the film, but something even more awesome happened. Earlier in the shift – I think it was when we got back from the false alarm on Union Avenue – we got out of the truck and left the garage door open. The five of us – Ernie, Bobby, Steve, Todd and I – stood there for a while talking. We looked out into the approaching dusk at the neighborhood goings on. They told me about the locals – the ones they knew, those who always waved to them or stopped by to say hello every once in a while. Then they told me about Red – she’s an interesting character. I won’t get into that, though. Anyway, it was strange – sort of like an initiation for me. It was as if I was a new member of the crew and they were acclimating me to the neighborhood. I felt like I had somehow been adopted into their family, for lack of a better explanation. I felt like I was one of their own. That was an awesome feeling and it made me proud to know that these men were willing to make me feel at home in their firehouse.
I talked to Ernie Young on the telephone the next day and he told me that he was sorry it had been a slow night. I told him I didn’t care – I had gotten some amazing footage, but more importantly, I felt as though they had made me an honorary “Screaming Eagle”.
When I rode with Rescue Four, Zach and Kevin had made me feel like I was riding with my Big Brothers – like they had brought me to work to show me what they do – which was fabulous. When I rode the first time with Engine Eight, I felt like a filmmaker, but one who was working with friends. The same was true with Engine Three.
When I rode with Engine Eight on April 20th, Ernie, Bobby, Todd and Steve seemed to truly embrace me into a very tight-knit and very personal world. The camaraderie between them was actually visible to me that night – I was able to see that these men had been through some incredible experiences together. They had saved each other’s lives at one point or another, watched each other’s backs, kept each other safe. I could feel that bond between them, and they seemed to extend it to me.
I will never experience anything like this again in my lifetime – I know this. I also know that I am making some truly amazing friends that will be in my life long after this documentary is shot, made and aired.
Friday the Thirteenth... ugh.
FF Carl Betz, Lt. Kevin Jutras, FF Ron LeFaivre, FF Chris Wagner
Friday, April 13, 2007
Okay, so I decided to run a day shift. Once again, the officer that I was supposed to ride with wasn’t going to be there, but I was riding anyway. I knew two of the other guys on the truck, so that would work fine. I got to Washington Street at seven in the morning – man, did that one hurt. Anyway, I showed up with a ton of brownies from my Mom and after waiting for FF Ronnie LeFaivre (who had worked a call back at another station the night before), I finally decided to go upstairs and find FF John Woodard instead. When I got to the lounge, there were a few guys up there that I knew. They were very happy to see the brownies from Mom, which I found exceedingly cute. We sat around and I caught up with a few friends I hadn’t seen in a while. When Ronnie got there, he introduced me to the third firefighter on their group, Chris Wagner. He and I seemed to get along well – talking about Ireland a great deal. We Irish ones tend to find common ground fairly quickly! Carl Betz also came around and said hello – I’d be riding with him, too.
Being that it was Friday the thirteenth, I knew that it was either going to be a weird, busy day or an absolutely dead day. Sadly, it was the latter of the two. However, after both Carl and Chris had been pulled from our truck to attend HazMat training and we were given a replacement firefighter, the Lieutenant had decided that we should take the truck out and check out the area.
After that, we almost got called out to a scene, but got turned around ten seconds after we pulled out of the station. Carl Betz and Chris Wagner got back from training and rejoined us. I did manage to get some footage of the guys cleaning in the station – John Woodard washing Ladder 1, stuff like that. Later on, we got called to a box alarm down near the North Main Street Station at Citizens Bank. I did get a little bit of footage there – caught Jay Fabrizio there checking out the alarm box in the hallway of the building with Battalion Chief Curt Varone. But otherwise, fairly uneventful. I think we were actually heading back to the station from that call when we got called to a nursing home down near Women & Infants’ Hospital. There was a patient who was bleeding from the shunt in her arm. She had just had dialysis treatment. We got there and after some chaos ensued (I won’t go there…) the rescue picked her up. Carl Betz spent the better part of thirty minutes holding this woman’s arm up in the air and keeping pressure on the shunt to keep her from bleeding out too much.
I ended up leaving around four-thirty, even though the shift ended at five. I had found out that my doctor and very dear family friend, Ernie Zuena, had died unexpectedly and his wake was that night. I did enjoy hanging out with my friends, but a fairly uneventful day, sad to say. At least I didn’t have to wear a turnout coat that day – just a short, black jacket with a PFD patch on the shoulder.
Engine 8 - Take One
Friday, February 16, 2007
I am supposed to ride with Engine Eight out of Messer Street tonight. We had a storm – the entire state is covered in ice. The road crews did manage to clear the streets during the day and salt them down, so I’m not so concerned about that, but everything else is sheer ice. It’s a bit foreboding, really. It’s freezing cold outside – the temperature went to about twenty-eight degrees during the afternoon, but the later it gets, the faster the temperature is dropping. The news says it will be about thirteen degrees by midnight. This ought to be interesting.
At about three-thirty, I get a phone call from Engine Eight’s Lieutenant, Ernie Young. He says that he can’t go in tonight, but that if I still want to ride, Captain McDaniel okayed me to ride with him and the rest of Ernie’s D-Group Crew – FF Bobby Alvarez, FF Steve Dulong and FF Todd Jones. I decide to go ahead and do it – I need to get this footage shot and get rolling.
I arrive at the station around five-thirty and ring the bell. I am escorted upstairs by one of the guys from Ladder Two, the second unit housed at Messer Street, and brought to Captain McDaniel’s office. As I enter the room, I can see that this man is a seasoned, veteran firefighter. FireMAN, more accurately. He is also an ex-Marine, from what I’m told. He has a gruff appearance at first and I’m already nervous to begin with. I know Ernie well – a good friend – and his absence here is felt in its entirety. I explain my project to the Captain and he lays down his rules. He will let me know if it’s okay to enter a scene. If he tells me to stay on the truck, there’s a reason – do it. If there is a fire, just say clear of the structure that’s burning and if I get cold or feel like I’m in the way, get back on the truck and stay safe. That’s the main concern for him – that I am not in harm’s way and I don’t get left at a scene inadvertently. And don’t miss the truck!!
Bobby Alvarez comes to the Captain’s office, greets me and brings me into the lounge area to meet the rest of the crew. I make sure that everyone knows I’m filming and no one has any issues with that, thank God. Jeff is busy making dinner in the kitchen area and the rest of the guys are going in and out of the lounge. Bobby and I chat while I set up my camera and get the light settings ready. Not long after, the bell tips and we jump and run to the truck. The call was for an elderly person who dropped a pot full of boiling water and her foot was burned. Captain McDaniel leads the crew into the building and while they assess the woman’s condition, he radios Fire Alarm to let them know we’ve arrived on scene. We’re told that the Rescue is en route and will be there shortly. I’m trying to film from the hallway, with residents walking through trying to see what’s happened and not wanting to go into the tiny apartment. It was already jam-packed with four firefighters, the victim and her neighbor. The Rescue crew arrives and brings two more firefighters, along with a gurney, into the mix. I follow as they take the woman out to the rig and get her settled in. When all is said and done, we get back into Engine Eight and head back to Messer Street. When we arrive back at the station, I get out of the truck and Captain McDaniel is looking me over, his brow furrowing in concern.
“That’s not going to work, Kid,” he says to me. “Your jeans are light, but not light enough. That dark coat is going to be a problem. We won’t be able to see you and if the police are on scene, they won’t know you’re with us. Come with me.” He walks me into the gear room. As we walk toward it, I turn and see Bobby, Todd and Steve smiling at me. I’m getting a little concerned. The Captain looks through a row of turnout coats hanging on a bar. “Okay, choose one of these two and lose the coat. Keep the hooded sweatshirt on under this, though. I don’t want you freezing to death out there and it’s gonna get colder before the night is out.” I look at the two coats he’s chosen and take one from a hangar. The damned thing must have weighed fifteen pounds. I try it on over my jacket and sweatshirt, my knees almost buckling underneath me. I walked back out to the apparatus floor where the three others are standing there, arms folded across their chests, grinning and snickering as I try to walk with this extra weight on me.
“Good God,” I say to them, “and this is just the coat? I can’t imagine a full set of turnouts.”
“A little heavy for ya there, Erin?” Bobby smiled at me. “It’s better than that dark jacket. We’ll be able to see you in that.”
“Come over here, Kid,” the Captain says to me. He’s standing at the passenger door of the Engine and is reaching for something by the Captain’s seat. He steps down from the truck with a huge flashlight in his hand. He walks over to me and sticks it into the top pocket of the coat. “Here, keep this in that pocket and if you need it, just hold this button down. That way it’ll just be there for you.”
“Thanks, Cap,” I say, trying to adjust to the extra five pounds he just dumped onto my left shoulder. I see the other guys grinning and walking up the stairs. I put the turnout coat onto the truck so I could just grab it and go, then proceeded to go back to the lounge upstairs.
Just after dinner, the bell tipped again and we answered a call for a young man with AIDS who was apparently suffering from pneumonia, or “High Five”, as the firefighters call it. This one’s a treacherous call – firstly because I made the mistake of putting the turnout coat on and then trying to pull myself up into the Engine. Thank God Steve Dulong was behind me – he caught me and pushed me up into the truck. As he got into the jump seat, I thanked him. (That was when I decided to leave the coat on my seat and wrestle into it as we rode to calls, rather than trying to pull myself up into the truck with it on again. As I learned, once I got used to the weight of it, it became easier to get onto the truck with it on.) We got to the house where the young man was and his Visiting Nurse met us at the door. Navigating that sidewalk and driveway were pretty frightening, the ground was covered in sheer ice. The Captain did keep an eye on me and told me that he’d let me know if it was okay to come in. I let them all go up into the man’s second-floor apartment before I ascended the stairs, my camera rolling. I waited at the landing, just where I would be in the Captain’s line of sight. He waved me in and I proceeded toward the door, not wanting to actually enter the apartment and jam things up. They administered oxygen to him and as I filmed this and listened to the questions they asked him, it reminded me of my friend, Alan, who died at the age of twenty-five due to complications from AIDS. It was breaking my heart, I felt terrible. I discovered that this guy was only forty-one years old. Then I heard the unmistakable bark of a small dog – that Napoleonic, large bark that sounded like a little kid trying to sound like an adult. I thought to myself, “who’s going to take care of that poor little thing?” My mind kept going back to how emaciated Alan had been when he died. He looked like he was ninety years old – his thighs only as big around as my forearms. It was terrible, and this poor bastard was on his way to looking exactly the same as Alan had. I tried to push the thoughts out of my head. I looked out the window in the hall and saw the Rescue Crew coming. I got myself out of the way and once they were inside the apartment, I went back outside. The wind was whipping – a sustained wind of at least twenty miles per hour, with gusts up to forty miles per hour. My lips immediately went numb and I was freezing – at least the parts of me that weren’t covered up by the two hundred pound turnout coat. I stood off to the side of the driveway on a small patch of concrete that was not covered in ice, waiting for them to come outside with the young man. As they appeared in the doorway, I could see that they were having trouble adjusting in the darkness. I switched on the ten pound flashlight and pointed it toward the stairs. One of the guys looked over and smiled, followed by a nod of thanks. I filmed as they brought him to the rig and Captain McDaniel was suddenly at my side. He asked me if I had caught what was going on – he answered a couple of questions for me, then we headed back to quarters.
We had a few other rescue calls, one back to the same building where we’d picked up the woman who had burned her foot. The second call was for a man who was having a bad asthma attack. The guys gave him a breathing treatment and we had to wait for what seemed like forever for Rescue One to make it there from the other side of the City. They really need more rescues, I’ve got to tell you. It was amazing. But, that’s why they dispatch an Engine to every rescue call – we got there a good ten or fifteen minutes before the rescue did and the guys had started treatment and at least made the man feel a little more comfortable. Once the rescue got there and took over, we got back into the truck and headed back home.
Just when I was about to pack myself up and head out, the bell tipped one more time. We got a call for a fire on Cranston Street at Potters Avenue. As we left for the call, I was being told that a young man had been bludgeoned to death at that very corner not three weeks earlier. His friends had set up a memorial for him at the telephone pole on the corner and apparently the rival gang that was responsible for his death had torched the memorial. When we got there, the fire had already burned out almost entirely, only embers glowing at the base of the pole. We got out of the truck and Captain McDaniel was immediately at my side.
“Now, be careful here, Kid,” he said. “There was a murder here, did they tell you?” I nodded. “Well, the gang that killed this kid probably torched his memorial. They could still be hanging around here, so keep your eyes peeled. Stick close and if there’s any sign of trouble, run for the truck.” That was the first time that I really got scared doing this. He was not kidding – not by any stretch of the imagination. I shook it off and filmed Bobby dousing the remainder of the embers with water. “Can you smell the gasoline?” I nodded to the Captain. “That’s why it burned out so fast. They doused it with gasoline and torched it. Once the gas burned off, it went out. Good thing, too.”
I left not too long after we got back from that call. I had gotten pretty scared with that one and it was ridiculously cold out there. Bobby walked me out to the parking lot and unlocked the gate for me. I ran my car for a couple of minutes and said good night to him.
As I drove home, I found myself thinking of that young man with AIDS and missing Alan – and Richard – and even Derek Meader. It was strange… when I told the Captain that I felt bad for the guy, he said, “you can’t let that stuff get to you, Kid. There is a lot of nasty, nasty stuff out there. If you let them all get to you, it’ll send you crazy.” He was right – I tried to let go of it.
I am supposed to ride with Engine Eight out of Messer Street tonight. We had a storm – the entire state is covered in ice. The road crews did manage to clear the streets during the day and salt them down, so I’m not so concerned about that, but everything else is sheer ice. It’s a bit foreboding, really. It’s freezing cold outside – the temperature went to about twenty-eight degrees during the afternoon, but the later it gets, the faster the temperature is dropping. The news says it will be about thirteen degrees by midnight. This ought to be interesting.
At about three-thirty, I get a phone call from Engine Eight’s Lieutenant, Ernie Young. He says that he can’t go in tonight, but that if I still want to ride, Captain McDaniel okayed me to ride with him and the rest of Ernie’s D-Group Crew – FF Bobby Alvarez, FF Steve Dulong and FF Todd Jones. I decide to go ahead and do it – I need to get this footage shot and get rolling.
I arrive at the station around five-thirty and ring the bell. I am escorted upstairs by one of the guys from Ladder Two, the second unit housed at Messer Street, and brought to Captain McDaniel’s office. As I enter the room, I can see that this man is a seasoned, veteran firefighter. FireMAN, more accurately. He is also an ex-Marine, from what I’m told. He has a gruff appearance at first and I’m already nervous to begin with. I know Ernie well – a good friend – and his absence here is felt in its entirety. I explain my project to the Captain and he lays down his rules. He will let me know if it’s okay to enter a scene. If he tells me to stay on the truck, there’s a reason – do it. If there is a fire, just say clear of the structure that’s burning and if I get cold or feel like I’m in the way, get back on the truck and stay safe. That’s the main concern for him – that I am not in harm’s way and I don’t get left at a scene inadvertently. And don’t miss the truck!!
Bobby Alvarez comes to the Captain’s office, greets me and brings me into the lounge area to meet the rest of the crew. I make sure that everyone knows I’m filming and no one has any issues with that, thank God. Jeff is busy making dinner in the kitchen area and the rest of the guys are going in and out of the lounge. Bobby and I chat while I set up my camera and get the light settings ready. Not long after, the bell tips and we jump and run to the truck. The call was for an elderly person who dropped a pot full of boiling water and her foot was burned. Captain McDaniel leads the crew into the building and while they assess the woman’s condition, he radios Fire Alarm to let them know we’ve arrived on scene. We’re told that the Rescue is en route and will be there shortly. I’m trying to film from the hallway, with residents walking through trying to see what’s happened and not wanting to go into the tiny apartment. It was already jam-packed with four firefighters, the victim and her neighbor. The Rescue crew arrives and brings two more firefighters, along with a gurney, into the mix. I follow as they take the woman out to the rig and get her settled in. When all is said and done, we get back into Engine Eight and head back to Messer Street. When we arrive back at the station, I get out of the truck and Captain McDaniel is looking me over, his brow furrowing in concern.
“That’s not going to work, Kid,” he says to me. “Your jeans are light, but not light enough. That dark coat is going to be a problem. We won’t be able to see you and if the police are on scene, they won’t know you’re with us. Come with me.” He walks me into the gear room. As we walk toward it, I turn and see Bobby, Todd and Steve smiling at me. I’m getting a little concerned. The Captain looks through a row of turnout coats hanging on a bar. “Okay, choose one of these two and lose the coat. Keep the hooded sweatshirt on under this, though. I don’t want you freezing to death out there and it’s gonna get colder before the night is out.” I look at the two coats he’s chosen and take one from a hangar. The damned thing must have weighed fifteen pounds. I try it on over my jacket and sweatshirt, my knees almost buckling underneath me. I walked back out to the apparatus floor where the three others are standing there, arms folded across their chests, grinning and snickering as I try to walk with this extra weight on me.
“Good God,” I say to them, “and this is just the coat? I can’t imagine a full set of turnouts.”
“A little heavy for ya there, Erin?” Bobby smiled at me. “It’s better than that dark jacket. We’ll be able to see you in that.”
“Come over here, Kid,” the Captain says to me. He’s standing at the passenger door of the Engine and is reaching for something by the Captain’s seat. He steps down from the truck with a huge flashlight in his hand. He walks over to me and sticks it into the top pocket of the coat. “Here, keep this in that pocket and if you need it, just hold this button down. That way it’ll just be there for you.”
“Thanks, Cap,” I say, trying to adjust to the extra five pounds he just dumped onto my left shoulder. I see the other guys grinning and walking up the stairs. I put the turnout coat onto the truck so I could just grab it and go, then proceeded to go back to the lounge upstairs.
Just after dinner, the bell tipped again and we answered a call for a young man with AIDS who was apparently suffering from pneumonia, or “High Five”, as the firefighters call it. This one’s a treacherous call – firstly because I made the mistake of putting the turnout coat on and then trying to pull myself up into the Engine. Thank God Steve Dulong was behind me – he caught me and pushed me up into the truck. As he got into the jump seat, I thanked him. (That was when I decided to leave the coat on my seat and wrestle into it as we rode to calls, rather than trying to pull myself up into the truck with it on again. As I learned, once I got used to the weight of it, it became easier to get onto the truck with it on.) We got to the house where the young man was and his Visiting Nurse met us at the door. Navigating that sidewalk and driveway were pretty frightening, the ground was covered in sheer ice. The Captain did keep an eye on me and told me that he’d let me know if it was okay to come in. I let them all go up into the man’s second-floor apartment before I ascended the stairs, my camera rolling. I waited at the landing, just where I would be in the Captain’s line of sight. He waved me in and I proceeded toward the door, not wanting to actually enter the apartment and jam things up. They administered oxygen to him and as I filmed this and listened to the questions they asked him, it reminded me of my friend, Alan, who died at the age of twenty-five due to complications from AIDS. It was breaking my heart, I felt terrible. I discovered that this guy was only forty-one years old. Then I heard the unmistakable bark of a small dog – that Napoleonic, large bark that sounded like a little kid trying to sound like an adult. I thought to myself, “who’s going to take care of that poor little thing?” My mind kept going back to how emaciated Alan had been when he died. He looked like he was ninety years old – his thighs only as big around as my forearms. It was terrible, and this poor bastard was on his way to looking exactly the same as Alan had. I tried to push the thoughts out of my head. I looked out the window in the hall and saw the Rescue Crew coming. I got myself out of the way and once they were inside the apartment, I went back outside. The wind was whipping – a sustained wind of at least twenty miles per hour, with gusts up to forty miles per hour. My lips immediately went numb and I was freezing – at least the parts of me that weren’t covered up by the two hundred pound turnout coat. I stood off to the side of the driveway on a small patch of concrete that was not covered in ice, waiting for them to come outside with the young man. As they appeared in the doorway, I could see that they were having trouble adjusting in the darkness. I switched on the ten pound flashlight and pointed it toward the stairs. One of the guys looked over and smiled, followed by a nod of thanks. I filmed as they brought him to the rig and Captain McDaniel was suddenly at my side. He asked me if I had caught what was going on – he answered a couple of questions for me, then we headed back to quarters.
We had a few other rescue calls, one back to the same building where we’d picked up the woman who had burned her foot. The second call was for a man who was having a bad asthma attack. The guys gave him a breathing treatment and we had to wait for what seemed like forever for Rescue One to make it there from the other side of the City. They really need more rescues, I’ve got to tell you. It was amazing. But, that’s why they dispatch an Engine to every rescue call – we got there a good ten or fifteen minutes before the rescue did and the guys had started treatment and at least made the man feel a little more comfortable. Once the rescue got there and took over, we got back into the truck and headed back home.
Just when I was about to pack myself up and head out, the bell tipped one more time. We got a call for a fire on Cranston Street at Potters Avenue. As we left for the call, I was being told that a young man had been bludgeoned to death at that very corner not three weeks earlier. His friends had set up a memorial for him at the telephone pole on the corner and apparently the rival gang that was responsible for his death had torched the memorial. When we got there, the fire had already burned out almost entirely, only embers glowing at the base of the pole. We got out of the truck and Captain McDaniel was immediately at my side.
“Now, be careful here, Kid,” he said. “There was a murder here, did they tell you?” I nodded. “Well, the gang that killed this kid probably torched his memorial. They could still be hanging around here, so keep your eyes peeled. Stick close and if there’s any sign of trouble, run for the truck.” That was the first time that I really got scared doing this. He was not kidding – not by any stretch of the imagination. I shook it off and filmed Bobby dousing the remainder of the embers with water. “Can you smell the gasoline?” I nodded to the Captain. “That’s why it burned out so fast. They doused it with gasoline and torched it. Once the gas burned off, it went out. Good thing, too.”
I left not too long after we got back from that call. I had gotten pretty scared with that one and it was ridiculously cold out there. Bobby walked me out to the parking lot and unlocked the gate for me. I ran my car for a couple of minutes and said good night to him.
As I drove home, I found myself thinking of that young man with AIDS and missing Alan – and Richard – and even Derek Meader. It was strange… when I told the Captain that I felt bad for the guy, he said, “you can’t let that stuff get to you, Kid. There is a lot of nasty, nasty stuff out there. If you let them all get to you, it’ll send you crazy.” He was right – I tried to let go of it.
Riding with Rescue 4
Friday, November 11, 2006
I cannot believe it – I am actually going to start filming the documentary I’ve been talking about for a year. I’m excited, a little nervous – slightly scared, but I know that I’m in the best hands I could possibly be in. Lt. Zach Kenyon and FF Kevin Burns are good friends and I have known them for quite a while. I know that they will keep me safe. My bigger concern is keeping myself out of their way.
On my way to Washington Street, my cell phone rings – it’s my Aunt Jean. She is worried about me, tells me to be safe and that she’ll be listening on her scanner. I have to smile – she’s good to me. I assure her that I’m in good hands and that the guys will make sure I’m safe.
It’s seven o’clock on a Friday night – unseasonably warm weather makes me a bit uneasy about what we might encounter. People get crazy when the weather should be cold, but it feels like Spring. I grab all of my equipment and go into the station. Zach and Kevin are on a call. I sit and talk with some of the other firefighters while I wait for them to get back. I hear Zach on the Voc Alarm at around seven-thirty.
“Rescue Four to Fire Alarm,” Zach says.
“Go ahead Rescue Four,” the dispatcher responds.
“I need you to put us out of service temporarily so I can return to quarters and pick up our ride along.”
“Rescue Four, temporarily out of service and returning to quarters, nineteen-thirty.”
A short time later, Zach and Kevin arrive and greet me. Zach goes over some rules with me to keep us all safe and shows me to an empty dorm room where I can crash – if I get the chance, that is. Before eight o’clock arrives, the bell tips and we’re on our way.
In twelve hours, Rescue Four answered fourteen calls – I only missed a few. (I did miss the truck once when the bell tipped – but that was because I never heard the page on the Voc Alarm! I was the first on the truck for every call after that.)
We had some interesting events happen – a man with chest pains on the East Side of the city, a girl with a burned arm at the Hartford Projects, a drunken man with a bloody nose on Broad Street, a fussy baby having trouble breathing in South Providence, a guy who got hit in the head outside a nightclub Downtown, an elderly woman with emphysema who still smokes five packs a day while on oxygen, an elderly Asian man in the Armory District with some sort of illness (that was at ten minutes to six in the morning, seventy minutes before the end of the shift). There were a couple of nonsensical calls, but most were fairly valid. Of course, the false alarm for a motor vehicle accident on 195 East at three-thirty in the morning was maddening. We had even seen Life-Flight bringing in a victim of a motor vehicle accident to Rhode Island Hospital Trauma Unit. I thought that was going to be an awesome piece of footage.
At that particular point in time, my family and I had just gone through an absolutely horrific scare with my Dad. He had a tumor in his left lung, right by his aorta. He underwent a new procedure called Tumor Ablation at Rhode Island Hospital to kill off the tumor. After the procedure, his lung had collapsed and he was hospitalized for two weeks. He had just gotten out of the hospital two days before this ride along happened. The woman that we picked up – the one who had emphysema and still smoked like a fiend – that one really got to me. I had to stop filming her and turn away from everyone. Tears rolled silently down my cheeks. I told Kevin I had to stop filming when he asked if I was okay. It just really bothered me. My father had quit smoking ten or eleven years ago and never smoked while he was on oxygen. I couldn’t believe that this woman was so willing to put a high-rise full of people, including her own son, at such risk. A cannula in her nose, pumping three liters of oxygen into her lungs and she’s lighting up. Amazing. I know it’s hard to quit – I’m an idiot myself and still smoking – but for the love of God… anyway…
It was an incredible learning experience – these two are an awesome team. I learned so much from them that night. Running Rescue means that you have to play doctor, nurse, mommy, daddy, psychologist and cop – it is a very delicate balance. I noticed something, too – the calls for babies really bother them. They show concern in every situation, but the babies really worry them. Once they ascertain that the child is okay and safe, they’re fine, but it does get to them. Fascinating, to say the least – and an interesting study in human behavior on all fronts, not just the firefighters, but the people, as well.
Sometime around four in the morning, we were called to South Providence to pick up a twenty-four year old female complaining of chest pains. When we arrived, she told Zach that she didn’t think she really needed to go to the hospital. This was when I witnessed Zach’s incredible talent for hiding what he was really thinking. Being that I know him, I could hear the aggravation in the tone of his voice, but the girl had no idea.
“Well, since it’s four in the morning and you thought it was important enough to call us, maybe we should at least take you to be checked out,” Zach said. I had to choke back a laugh and Kevin just smiled and rolled his eyes at me. She agreed and Zach called out to Kevin from the rear of the rig. “All right, Kevin, let’s hit the road.” Kevin shook his head and off we went to the hospital.
We arrived a short time later at the Emergency Room at RIH. Kevin and Zach delivered the girl and got her signed in with the triage nurse. Zach stayed inside to finish the process and Kevin came back out to me.
“That woman that they brought in on the Life-Flight? That was a car accident up in Fall River. Her husband’s here too. It’s his birthday and I guess they were going out to celebrate. She got ejected from the car. She died shortly after they got her here. Hell of a happy birthday, huh?” I could see that Kevin felt for them, but I could also see that he has trained himself to not let it bother him too much. I, on the other hand, did not take it so well. I had no idea why, but I walked off to a corner where no one could see me and I cried for this couple. I didn’t know them – my only connection to them was that I had filmed the helicopter bringing her in to be treated. I just couldn’t help crying – I felt terrible. That was when I had decided to not use that footage – she was actually dead when the brought her in. Clinically dead, but dead nonetheless. I just couldn’t bring myself to use the footage.
I got about fifteen minutes of dozing time – no sleep at all, really. The bell tipped and we went rushing out to the Armory District call. When we arrived, Engine Eight was already there. My friend, FF Bobby Alvarez, was working a call back with C-Group. He sleepily smiled and waved to me… all of us looked like zombies. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. It was a little chilly by then, but still unseasonably warm. As I looked at all of the guys, I felt for them. I was beginning to understand the exhaustion that they felt and I gained an entirely new level of respect for them there on that street, waiting for them to get the elderly man and his daughter to the rig. I got into the front seat and turned my camera to the back of the rig as they put the old man in and his daughter sat on the bench. She had to translate for him, because all he spoke was his native language. I’m still not sure whether it was Chinese or Korean, but I’d at least narrowed it down to one of the two. I waved goodbye to the Engine Eight boys as they got back on their truck and went back to Messer Street.
As we drove to Rhode Island Hospital with the elderly Asian man at ten to six in the morning, the sun was rising higher over Providence. The sky was turning from black to navy blue to powder blue to amber… beautiful, really, even with no sleep. I don’t see that transition very much. Anyway, Kevin Burns summed it all up for me in one phrase…
“Well, there it is,” he said to me, pointing at the rising sun, “every rescue man’s worst nightmare, sunrise.”
“Why is that?” I asked this as I turned the camera to get his answer on film.
“Because it means another night with no sleep,” he tiredly replied. As I turned the camera back toward the sunrise, I kept my eyes on Kevin. He was exhausted, his face drawn, his eyelids fighting to stay open.
I don’t know how they do it – it’s amazing to me. I begin to wonder what riding the Engines will be like. I won’t find out for another few months because the holidays are coming up.
These guys are absolutely awe-inspiring to me. I’m drawn to their amazing ability to stay awake and not go ballistic on people who call at four in the morning and say they are sick, only to have us arrive and they decide they don’t need to go to the hospital. I can’t fathom doing that four days week for years on end. Just think – I missed the shooting victim they picked up a few days before I rode with them. If they hadn’t arrived when they did, the guy would be dead now. Zach and Kevin saved him. Unbelievable.
I cannot believe it – I am actually going to start filming the documentary I’ve been talking about for a year. I’m excited, a little nervous – slightly scared, but I know that I’m in the best hands I could possibly be in. Lt. Zach Kenyon and FF Kevin Burns are good friends and I have known them for quite a while. I know that they will keep me safe. My bigger concern is keeping myself out of their way.
On my way to Washington Street, my cell phone rings – it’s my Aunt Jean. She is worried about me, tells me to be safe and that she’ll be listening on her scanner. I have to smile – she’s good to me. I assure her that I’m in good hands and that the guys will make sure I’m safe.
It’s seven o’clock on a Friday night – unseasonably warm weather makes me a bit uneasy about what we might encounter. People get crazy when the weather should be cold, but it feels like Spring. I grab all of my equipment and go into the station. Zach and Kevin are on a call. I sit and talk with some of the other firefighters while I wait for them to get back. I hear Zach on the Voc Alarm at around seven-thirty.
“Rescue Four to Fire Alarm,” Zach says.
“Go ahead Rescue Four,” the dispatcher responds.
“I need you to put us out of service temporarily so I can return to quarters and pick up our ride along.”
“Rescue Four, temporarily out of service and returning to quarters, nineteen-thirty.”
A short time later, Zach and Kevin arrive and greet me. Zach goes over some rules with me to keep us all safe and shows me to an empty dorm room where I can crash – if I get the chance, that is. Before eight o’clock arrives, the bell tips and we’re on our way.
In twelve hours, Rescue Four answered fourteen calls – I only missed a few. (I did miss the truck once when the bell tipped – but that was because I never heard the page on the Voc Alarm! I was the first on the truck for every call after that.)
We had some interesting events happen – a man with chest pains on the East Side of the city, a girl with a burned arm at the Hartford Projects, a drunken man with a bloody nose on Broad Street, a fussy baby having trouble breathing in South Providence, a guy who got hit in the head outside a nightclub Downtown, an elderly woman with emphysema who still smokes five packs a day while on oxygen, an elderly Asian man in the Armory District with some sort of illness (that was at ten minutes to six in the morning, seventy minutes before the end of the shift). There were a couple of nonsensical calls, but most were fairly valid. Of course, the false alarm for a motor vehicle accident on 195 East at three-thirty in the morning was maddening. We had even seen Life-Flight bringing in a victim of a motor vehicle accident to Rhode Island Hospital Trauma Unit. I thought that was going to be an awesome piece of footage.
At that particular point in time, my family and I had just gone through an absolutely horrific scare with my Dad. He had a tumor in his left lung, right by his aorta. He underwent a new procedure called Tumor Ablation at Rhode Island Hospital to kill off the tumor. After the procedure, his lung had collapsed and he was hospitalized for two weeks. He had just gotten out of the hospital two days before this ride along happened. The woman that we picked up – the one who had emphysema and still smoked like a fiend – that one really got to me. I had to stop filming her and turn away from everyone. Tears rolled silently down my cheeks. I told Kevin I had to stop filming when he asked if I was okay. It just really bothered me. My father had quit smoking ten or eleven years ago and never smoked while he was on oxygen. I couldn’t believe that this woman was so willing to put a high-rise full of people, including her own son, at such risk. A cannula in her nose, pumping three liters of oxygen into her lungs and she’s lighting up. Amazing. I know it’s hard to quit – I’m an idiot myself and still smoking – but for the love of God… anyway…
It was an incredible learning experience – these two are an awesome team. I learned so much from them that night. Running Rescue means that you have to play doctor, nurse, mommy, daddy, psychologist and cop – it is a very delicate balance. I noticed something, too – the calls for babies really bother them. They show concern in every situation, but the babies really worry them. Once they ascertain that the child is okay and safe, they’re fine, but it does get to them. Fascinating, to say the least – and an interesting study in human behavior on all fronts, not just the firefighters, but the people, as well.
Sometime around four in the morning, we were called to South Providence to pick up a twenty-four year old female complaining of chest pains. When we arrived, she told Zach that she didn’t think she really needed to go to the hospital. This was when I witnessed Zach’s incredible talent for hiding what he was really thinking. Being that I know him, I could hear the aggravation in the tone of his voice, but the girl had no idea.
“Well, since it’s four in the morning and you thought it was important enough to call us, maybe we should at least take you to be checked out,” Zach said. I had to choke back a laugh and Kevin just smiled and rolled his eyes at me. She agreed and Zach called out to Kevin from the rear of the rig. “All right, Kevin, let’s hit the road.” Kevin shook his head and off we went to the hospital.
We arrived a short time later at the Emergency Room at RIH. Kevin and Zach delivered the girl and got her signed in with the triage nurse. Zach stayed inside to finish the process and Kevin came back out to me.
“That woman that they brought in on the Life-Flight? That was a car accident up in Fall River. Her husband’s here too. It’s his birthday and I guess they were going out to celebrate. She got ejected from the car. She died shortly after they got her here. Hell of a happy birthday, huh?” I could see that Kevin felt for them, but I could also see that he has trained himself to not let it bother him too much. I, on the other hand, did not take it so well. I had no idea why, but I walked off to a corner where no one could see me and I cried for this couple. I didn’t know them – my only connection to them was that I had filmed the helicopter bringing her in to be treated. I just couldn’t help crying – I felt terrible. That was when I had decided to not use that footage – she was actually dead when the brought her in. Clinically dead, but dead nonetheless. I just couldn’t bring myself to use the footage.
I got about fifteen minutes of dozing time – no sleep at all, really. The bell tipped and we went rushing out to the Armory District call. When we arrived, Engine Eight was already there. My friend, FF Bobby Alvarez, was working a call back with C-Group. He sleepily smiled and waved to me… all of us looked like zombies. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. It was a little chilly by then, but still unseasonably warm. As I looked at all of the guys, I felt for them. I was beginning to understand the exhaustion that they felt and I gained an entirely new level of respect for them there on that street, waiting for them to get the elderly man and his daughter to the rig. I got into the front seat and turned my camera to the back of the rig as they put the old man in and his daughter sat on the bench. She had to translate for him, because all he spoke was his native language. I’m still not sure whether it was Chinese or Korean, but I’d at least narrowed it down to one of the two. I waved goodbye to the Engine Eight boys as they got back on their truck and went back to Messer Street.
As we drove to Rhode Island Hospital with the elderly Asian man at ten to six in the morning, the sun was rising higher over Providence. The sky was turning from black to navy blue to powder blue to amber… beautiful, really, even with no sleep. I don’t see that transition very much. Anyway, Kevin Burns summed it all up for me in one phrase…
“Well, there it is,” he said to me, pointing at the rising sun, “every rescue man’s worst nightmare, sunrise.”
“Why is that?” I asked this as I turned the camera to get his answer on film.
“Because it means another night with no sleep,” he tiredly replied. As I turned the camera back toward the sunrise, I kept my eyes on Kevin. He was exhausted, his face drawn, his eyelids fighting to stay open.
I don’t know how they do it – it’s amazing to me. I begin to wonder what riding the Engines will be like. I won’t find out for another few months because the holidays are coming up.
These guys are absolutely awe-inspiring to me. I’m drawn to their amazing ability to stay awake and not go ballistic on people who call at four in the morning and say they are sick, only to have us arrive and they decide they don’t need to go to the hospital. I can’t fathom doing that four days week for years on end. Just think – I missed the shooting victim they picked up a few days before I rode with them. If they hadn’t arrived when they did, the guy would be dead now. Zach and Kevin saved him. Unbelievable.
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