Uncle Harry

All,

More days and nights have passed with unending, depressing reports of the dreaded bug and its victims. There certainly hasn't been much to cheer about except for the blessings of Amazon, DVR's, Kindle readers and our communication devices.

Hopefully, some brightness will emerge soon juxtaposing with the next, needed rainstorms in California.

Do you remember the great "blackout" that took place for several days in New York many years ago? It seems those moments produced one of the greatest increases in childbirth rates in New York history. I am wondering what several months of quarantine will do to the population of New York nine months from now?

I'm including a story that mixes the fire department and another one of my unique relatives.

Six foot hugs,

Les

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Uncle Harry

My life had changed for the better once I entered the San Francisco Fire Department in September of 1969. After the fire college, I spent ten months at a firehouse in North Beach. That was a great experience in firefighting along with meeting all kinds of people, genuine characters all.

The following year I applied for and earned a spot (regular position) at one of the great firefighting stations in the department, 21 Engine, Battalion 5. Located between the outer Fillmore and Haight Ashbury, it was one of the busiest, hard-charging and aggressive firefighting companies in the department with a fabulous reputation for getting to the fire scene as fast as humanly possible. It was a great spot and I was thrilled to go there. In the early seventies, the Fillmore, Haight-Ashbury, and Western Addition neighborhoods were the hub of fire activity and 21 Engine Battalion 5 were at the center of it.

It was everything that I had hoped for, great officers and men plus the battalion chiefs and their drivers were vastly experienced. They were a wealth of knowledge. They were not kids but men who had participated in almost every kind of fire and emergency. For the most part, they had entered the fire department after vast experiences in civilian life and military service; they knew everybody and every place. Following them was both reassuring and comforting.

I had been at 21 Engine about six months when I saw my Dad’s Uncle Harry at a family Christmas gathering. My Dad and Mom both came from large families whose gatherings were always festive and enjoyable. My immediate family grew up with that experience and it was always a joy. As a youngster, I had the opportunity to enjoy and engage without really knowing my Dad’s relatives and their life experiences, especially those who were two generations removed. Uncle Harry and his brother Fred were my Dad’s uncles. They were often visitors to our family, Mom, their nephew Bud, me and my two brothers. They would take the streetcar out to the suburbs to visit and always managed to get a gallon of ice cream to our house before it softened. They came dressed in the style of the day, suits and ties; Uncle Harry always with an overcoat and I never knew why. I still haven’t figured out how they did that in the early fifties. They’d travel by streetcar, visit, tell stories and enjoy the ice cream with us. They were always great to see. They also did two more things, they always called before they came, setting us up for the excitement and they always placed a shiny quarter in each boy’s hand upon leaving. We loved those guys. We loved them but didn’t really know that much about them other than they were Grandma Gertie’s brothers and Dad’s uncles. We’d never been to their house or saw their dog. We didn’t know what they did to earn a living or why each had never married. We’d ask Dad but he knew very little as well or a least he wasn’t sharing. When he was a boy, he had had the same experience with them as we were currently enjoying, great visits, ice cream and a quarter. While Dad didn’t know what they did for a living, he was just always happy to see them during their visits with us or at other family gatherings.

At the Christmas family function, I was approached by Uncle Harry. He was informed that I had joined the San Francisco Fire Department and he was elated over the news. He discussed my experiences with me, my location and how much I was enjoying my work. He also inquired about visiting me one day at the firehouse and that he would bring along a good friend of his who was a retired fireman, in fact, he had been a lieutenant at my firehouse many years ago. His name was Tommy Curtin. I loved Uncle Harry and was looking forward to the visit; maybe get some ice cream and a quarter.

One evening at home, I received a telephone call from Uncle Harry. He asked about which day next week would be good for him and his friend Tommy to pay a visit to the firehouse. We agreed on the following Tuesday. That would give me an opportunity to clear it with the firehouse Captain and crew.

On that Tuesday, we had an all-star crew. The Captain, John Healy, was in charge of the engine all staffed with senior firefighters and me. The Battalion was staffed by Battalion Chief (BC) Herb Drendel and his aide Frank Granzella. Except for me, this was a very experienced crew in firefighting and in life. BC Herb had been a cabbie in San Francisco before he entered the fire department and knew the ways and wherefores of the City plus every street, alley, and peddler. Frank had worked at the telephone company and knew every shortcut imaginable, racing to a fire location.

We were all gathered in the communication room when Uncle Harry and Tommy Curtin announced themselves through the double doors. The senior members were all happy to see Tommy. It had been years since he had been back at 21 Engine. I took the time to introduce Harry to the crew as one of my favorite uncles. When I introduced Uncle Harry to BC Herb, Herb remarked, “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Uncle Harry, somewhat chagrined and withdrawing, murmured that they’d never met. Herb replied, “No, I know you from somewhere. I used to be a cabbie you know, I knew everybody. It will come to me.” Herb left the room for his office in the front of the firehouse, his brain permutating through his expansive memory banks.

BC Herb was gone about twenty-five minutes. He burst back through the communications room doors interrupting the casual conversation the remainder of the crew was enjoying with Uncle Harry and Tommy. “I knew it, I knew it, you’re Harry, Harry the Horse, bookmaker Harry, I used to run bets to you all the time, you’re the guy who always wore an overcoat, “announced Herb. Busted! Uncle Harry never had much color in his complexion. He also didn’t have a lot of hair. Upon BC Herb’s announcement, his complexion became the color of chalk and what remaining threads of hair had suddenly disappeared. Uncle Harry was dumbstruck. He was trying to form words but nothing came out as BC Herb stood confidently by him knowing his mental Rolodex had won the day again. The best Uncle Harry could do was mutter, “That was a long time ago.”  Uncle Harry stood with his head hung low. Inside of a minute, BC Herb, Tommy Curtin, and Uncle Harry were laughing and exchanging names and experiences of people they had interacted with, in the old days. It didn’t matter to either what had happened in the past; as for Uncle Harry’s past, who knew how far ago it was. Theirs was a historical bond.

Our guests left with fanfare and with warm assurances that they would be back for another visit and more memories. I couldn’t wait to get to the phone booth to call my Dad, a Lieutenant with the Daly City Police Department. When he answered the phone, I gave the news to THE policeman. A rite of passage had been accomplished on my part. “Solved the mystery Dad,” I found out what Uncle Harry did for a living,” I stated. “Well, what was that son?” replied Dad. “Uncle Harry was a bookie. He was busted right here in the firehouse by BC Herb Drendel, an ex-cabbie,” I replied. “Good work son, now it’s your turn to pretend you didn’t know what he did for a living,” as he hung up the phone.