Russell

   
                                                    Chief Russ Gow


An old friend passed away this week, doing what he loved most, running a pump.  While I never understood why, the story of how we met originally was one of his favorites, one which I heard him tell innumerable people.  So, here it is again….from the archives.  

Far from every funny or tragic incident from fifty years of three generations can make it into a single volume, the amount of material between the covers limited by practical considerations. This means that many interesting stories—told in fire houses for years—could not be included. 

One which has been repeated hundreds of times involves the first time I met my friend Russell. We were both assistant chiefs—he located two departments to the west. One day, a car wreck in Fleetville brought the rescues from both departments as well as the two of us. Crews from both departments went to work removing the roof and popping doors; the usual tasks, but the kid driving was still pinned. The crushing impact had brought parts of the dash and fire wall down onto his feet and lower legs.

Looking at it, Russell determined we could get a tool in next to his legs, but it would take four hands to properly position the tip and move the boy’s feet once the operator began to spread the jaws of the heavy equipment. Space in which to accomplish all this was at a premium. There appeared to be access for only one person, which left us one set of hands short, but never lacking ideas Russ proposed a solution to me, someone he had never met. 

Russ, the larger of the two of us, laid down, his head toward the spot where the tip of the jaws had to be placed. I lay on top of him, oriented in the same direction, and held the victim’s legs, prepared to move them as soon as they were free. With Russell guiding the spreader tips, they slowly opened and I could move the boy’s feet, allowing additional firefighters above us to slide him onto a back board and remove from the car. 

Being on top, I crawled out first, followed by my partner from below. He stuck his gloved hand out.

“Russ,” he said as I shook it.

“Gary,” I responded. We’ve been friends ever since.
 

I’ll miss him. 

 

From Triumph to Tragedy: The Legendary Phelim O’Toole

An otherwise ordinary evening was followed by tragedy and heroism in the early morning hours of April 11, 1877.  The elegant Italianate style six story Southern Hotel, almost a football field in length faced Walnut St. in downtown St. Louis.  At about twenty minutes after one in the morning, a fire was discovered in the basement.  Notification of the fire department was delayed by upwards of ten minutes due to a lost key to the fire alarm box, allowing the fire to spread to the upper floors via vertical shafts. 

The first alarm brought six engine and two truck companies for the fire which ultimately would go to three alarms and requirel the response of every piece of apparatus in the city.  The first arriving ladder company, a “Skinner Escape Truck,” was led by Foreman Phelim O’Toole.  O’Toole was an Irish immigrant who was hired by the St. Louis Fire Department at the age of 18, about ten years before that night. 

Upon arrival, O’Toole noted fire on the upper floors and almost a dozen occupants yelling from windows.  Positioning the truck was difficult due to obstructions, but when in the best position possible, they extended the ladder and O’Toole began to climb.  Fully extended, Phelim found himself five feet short of the 6^th floor window sill. 

Accounts vary some, but by most, O’Toole had the occupants tie bed sheets together as a rope, securing their end to a bedframe, and then lower the other end from the window.  He swung out on a rope from the ladder tip to the dangling bed sheets, and climbed to the upper window sill, and began to lower the victims to firefighters on the waiting ladder.  Moving from window to window, he is credited with saving over a dozen people.  Conditions continued to deteriorate, but the last reachable victim was removed just before the building collapsed, taking twenty one remaining occupants with it. 

It was following the Southern Hotel fire that the Pompier Corps of the St. Louis Fire Department was developed. Pompier Corps

O’Toole received a $500 award from the city, which he donated to assist orphans. This was a sizable sum when compared to his monthly salary of $75.00. 

The Southern Hotel was not O’Toole’s last experience at the end of a rope.  A serious fire erupted in the dome of the County Courthouse.  Phelim climbed the dome with an axe, rope, and hoseline.  After chopping through the roof, he tied off the rope and entered through the hole.  Dangling from the rope, he attacked the fire with the handline. 

Shortly after, on July 6, 1880, O’Toole died in the line of duty.  It was not another dramatic scene, but a “routine” cellar fire in a vacant house.  He entered the building with a hand held extinguisher, and when he began to operate it, the casing exploded, pieces tearing into his chest, fatally injuring him at 32 years of age.

His funeral service was as big as his reputation with an estimated 20,000 people attending.  Gone but not forgotten, the St. Louis Fire Department continues to honor his memory, christening the marine unit fire boat the “Phelim O’Toole” in 1994. 

Three Years Ago Today.....

In the early morning hours of August 24^th, 2009, the Buffalo Fire Department was dispatched to 1815 Greene St. for a commercial building fire with reported people trapped.  The building was heavily secured, but crews were able to access the first and second floors to conduct primary searches which were negative.  Access to the basement, however, presented difficulties due to a heavy steel door with multiple deadbolts. 

Thirty minutes into the incident, firefighters were ordered out to regroup and make a specific attempt to breach the basement door on the bravo side of the building.  Lieutenant Charles “Chip” McCarthy from Rescue 1 and two other firefighters entered the first floor Deli area from the alpha side to verify that previous crews had exited the building.  McCarthy was ahead of the other two firefighters and following a hose line when a collapse occurred.  The Lieutenant fell into the basement.  Shelves fell onto the other two firefighters who also noted deteriorating conditions, and exited the building, unaware that McCarthy had fallen into the fire below.  Lieutenant McCarthy activated his PASS alarm and made several MAYDAY radio calls, but his identification and location were not known. 

Firefighter John “Simeon” Croom of Ladder 7, part of the rapid intervention team (RIT), reportedly believed he knew where the Lieutenant was located and entered the structure while other team members worked on the bravo side.  Other firefighters followed the hose line in on the alpha side and discovered the collapse. 

Lieutenant McCarthy was identified as the missing firefighter during the first accountability check, but Firefighter Croom was not identified as missing until a third such check fifty plus minutes after the initial MAYDAY.  Ultimately, three alarms were struck for the fire.  For the next three hours, a major effort was made to reach the collapse area.  Fire conditions and structural concerns limited the ability to reach the victims.  The wall on the delta side was breached to gain access to the collapse area and the department worked to shore this exterior wall and the floor in the deli area.  

After control of the fire, Lieutenant McCarthy and Firefighter Croom were located, side-by-side in the basement without face pieces on and with SCBA bottles empty.  A subsequent NIOSH report included the following recommendations. 

·         Ensure that all personnel are aware of the dangers of working above a fire, especially a basement fire, and develop, implement, and enforce a standard operating procedure (SOP) that addresses strategies and tactics for this type of fire.

·         Ensure that the incident commander (IC) receives interior status reports and performs/continues evaluating risk-versus-gain.

·         Ensure that crew integrity is maintained at all times on the fireground.

·         Ensure that the incident commander (IC) receives accurate personnel accountability reports (PAR) so that he can account for all personnel operating at an incident.

·         Ensure that a separate incident safety officer, independent from the incident commander, is appointed at each structure fire.

On the third anniversary of their passing, may the brothers’ rest in peace. 

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