The Last of a Dying Breed

by Charles Angione

The romance of the American firefighter goes back to this nation’s colonial period. A man willing to take bold risks to save his neighbor’s life and property from the devastating common enemy of fire was highly prized and respected. Those who were attracted to this way of life were inspired by tales of heroic deeds, the nobility of community service and selfless sacrifice for others. To be a firefighter was to be a part of an increasingly proud and romantic tradition.

Over the years, the storied mystique of the tough, leather lunged smoke eater grew, not only in the imagination of the public he served, but in the firefighter’s as well. As life will often imitate art, he perpetuated this popular image, upholding traditions while both consciously and unconsciously setting further standards for his comrades: Firemen (as they called us then) ran into burning buildings while everyone else was running out. They took desperate chances in order to save a life, protect property and accomplish their difficult duty. They risked their health and were prepared to sacrifice their very lives, if necessary, for their sacred honor. Although often irreverent (and sometimes downright crude) a fireman was thought of, with some justification, as a kind of modern day knight.