The
Ciafardoni Crew
First Assistant Chief Robert Ciafardoni of the Centerport
Fire Department is pictured with his family at the
Centerport firehouse. From left, are daughter Carolyn, 9,
wife Janet, son Brian, 11, and daughter Kelli, 6, hugging
Dad Chief Bob.
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Fire News Photo by Steve Silverman
East
Williston Father and Son
Pictured are Father Truck Lt. Richard
Cramblitt and son Engine Capt. Daniel Cramblitt, both
pictures are from Memorial Dan 2008 both officers are also
NYS EMT's.
Submitted by Capt. Daniel
Cramblitt
Looking Back
at Father’s Day
By Dennis
Whittam, Assistant Editor
A few days ago I came across an old photo that my brother
took of the members of Engine Company 233 in Brooklyn around
1960. Look carefully behind the wheel and you will see a
shadow of a young boy that was learning to be a “buff.” This
day has stayed with me for my entire life. Looking at the
photo, I can almost hear the voices of the firefighters come
to life. I can close my eyes and see them playing softball
at the yearly firehouse picnic that was held at Belmont
State Park. My father, second from the left in the photo,
always referred to the guys as “the gang.” The gang was a
close group of guys who cared about each other’s families
and their children. Yes, this sounds like your firehouse.
However, there is another message here.
Soon after this picture was taken, my Dad was promoted to
Lieutenant and moved on to a new company that was in walking
distance from our home in Ridgewood, Queens. Throughout the
years, I was fortunate to be able to ride my bicycle to the
firehouse for daily visits. Spending hours at the house
watch, I learned how to count bells, pull assignment cards,
manually open the truck bay doors, and I learned the
importance of having a good sense of humor if you were going
to last in the fire service.
Over the years, my ears became fine tuned to the pitch of
the siren. No matter what I was doing, I could always hear
the siren as it neared my street corner. I would always stop
what I was doing to listen for the secret signal that my Dad
had when he knew he had a “worker.” Regardless of the
weather, time of day, or what I was doing at the time, I
would run to the scene to watch the men who by now had
become surrogate fathers to me go into battle.
The 1960’s and 1970’s was a time that was known as the war
years in the fire service. Countless times I watched the
members of Engine Company 291 and Ladder 140 walk into a
wall of smoke that took my heroes from sight. After what
seemed like an eternity to a kid, I would see the smoke
clear and watch the blackened faces of the firefighters
emerge victoriously to a crowd of people who were in awe. I
never once thought of the danger that surrounded my heroes.
It was not until 1977 that I realized how dangerous the job
was. Lieutenant Joseph Sparacino died while covering for my
father. My father never spoke of this incident. Visibly
shaken, he returned to work reassuring my mother that he
would be careful. Following my father’s lead, I too went
back to buffing with my heroes.
Throughout my father’s 32 years with the New York City Fire
Department, I never realized that something was happening to
me. Like so many of us who become firefighters, it is our
childhood memories that haunt us until we join the fire
service. I became a firefighter after my father passed away.
Haunted by the special times I had with the members of his
company, I was compelled to answer the call to become
a firefighter.
Every Father’s Day, I know I will hear sirens in the
distance that will remind me that someplace there are
firefighters serving their community without once thinking
of the dangers that surround them. I know I will say a
prayer for Henry Ford, John Downing, and Brian Fahey, all
who lost their lives on Father’s Day in 2001. And I know I
will think of the fond memories I had with Dad and silently
thank him for letting me be part of his career so that I too
can proudly serve my community.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad!
