Lt. John J. Cashman's "Disaster on Broadway" Submitted by and with comments from Francis Brannigan A veteran fire officer tells a gripping story of a fatal collapse which caused compulsory retirement to be instituted in New York. Those familiar with Herman Wouk's Caine Mutiny will see again the agonizing question of how does a subordinate officer react to a disastrously incompetent order. Reprinted below is an article by the late John J. Cashman, entitled "Disaster on Broadway," first published in part by Firehouse in 1993. I thought it would be helpful to the reader to provide a few comments before the article, so you would understand certain terms used. About The Author The late Jack Cashman and I were friends for over 60 years. We met in 1937 when we were fellow buffs at 24 Truck in midtown Manhattan. He and I were the last two surviving founding members of the Fire Bell Club. Jack entered FDNY and came from a firefighting family. His grandfather was a volunteer who joined the new paid department in 1865 and rose to deputy chief. His grandmother was a sister-in-law of James Dale, the last chief of the Brooklyn City Fire Department. His uncles were a captain of 71 Engine, a FDNY assistant chief of the Fire Patrol, a fire marshal, and chief of Ridgefield Park, N.J., Fire Department. His cousin was a battalion chief, FDNY. Jack was active in the organization of the Levittown, N.Y., Fire Department, formed to protect the huge community which sprang up in potato fields to house returning veterans, and was its first chief. He retired as lieutenant of 5 Truck, after 26 years "south of 14th St." He was chief of the Barrington, R.I., Fire Department for 10 years. After a standing ovation from the citizens at a public meeting, he was fired by the city manager for refusing to sign that an old three-story school being converted to senior housing was only two stories high and thus did not need sprinklers. Those of you who study my book Building Construction For The Fire Service are the beneficiaries of a number of nuggets of his hard-won experience worked into the text. He is a charter member of the FDNY Honor Legion (at least 5 citations for bravery). He holds the Delehanty and Department Medals for valor. One of his several citations is a Class II for his great personal risk in the Broadway collapse rescues. About The Fire Department During the depression, there were many officers and firemen acting out of rank to save money. There was even a helmet frontpiece "Acting Battalion Chief." The fact that command officers were acting above their usual rank was crucial to the disaster which occurred. Acting officers are naturally reluctant to dispute the orders, however incompetent, of a superior. This was especially true in the New York Fire Department of that era. It was founded in 1865, and many of its original officers had served in the Union Army during the Civil War. Blind obedience to incompetent superiors cost thousands of lives in that war, but the same military tradition permeated the fire department. All reports began Army-style: "Sir, I have the honor to report.....; officers’ uniform coats were a copy of a cavalry officer's, complete with a split back and buttons for horseback riding, etc. Firefighter deaths were considered a demonstration of how dangerous a firefighter's job was. In the decade 1930-39, the 6,000-man department suffered 82 line-of-duty deaths, which were accepted as part of the job, much as military casualties are accepted in battle. The area below 14th St. was considered by the fire department to be special. Originally, firefighters had to serve several years below 14th St. before they could be transferred elsewhere. The firefighters who served there were called the "Iron Men," and they perpetuated this sobriquet as they were transferred to other areas, by telling sea stories. I can testify from personal observation that the truth was tough enough and needed no embellishment. The old "Loft Buildings" of New York tenant factories are well described in an excellent article in December 1992 Firehouse by Lt. (now B.C.) Harry Hill. Most of the buildings dated back to a building boom right after the Civil War. They had heavy fire loads and provide desperate battles even today, unless sprinklered. We should note, however, that any tenant factory in New York is called a Loft Building, so this includes high-rise, fire-resistive, sprinklered garment, millinery, and fur lofts in midtown Manhattan. New Year's Eve 1946 New Year's Eve 1946 was solemn in the fire department. Six companies were to be disbanded as of midnight, victims of stiffnecked official pride. It was customary to downplay the number of units which served at a fire. If two engine companies combined to get a line to the sixth-floor rapidly and cut off the fire (a common practice today), only the engine which supplied the line was credited, and so forth. When the city asked the Rand Corporation to provide recommendations for elimination of companies, the "no duty" reports doomed several first-class units. The breakup of a fire company can only be compared to the breakup of a family of orphan kids farmed out to relatives. Three of the six disbanded units were involved in the disaster. There was no ceremony honoring those who had served the city so well over the years. At midnight chauffeurs from the shops arrived on the fire ground to take the apparatus of the disbanded companies to the shops. High-Pressure System Early in the 20th century, it was evident steam pumpers could not reliably deliver the water quantity and pressure needed. A system of high-pressure mains and hydrants was laid in the severe hazard areas. On a box alarm, the pressure was raised to 125 psi (the pressure required to raise the water tower). The pressure could be raised in increments of 25 psi to a maximum of 300 pounds. The highest pressure I ever saw, however, was 225 psi at the Furman St. Rubber Warehouse fire in 1935. The system was so reliable that on the first alarm, pumpers were left in quarters with the chauffer, and engine companies responded with just the hose wagon. Pumpers did respond on greater alarms. It was quite a sight to see, all the deck pipe and water-tower streams increase in pressure simultaneously. When a handline was taken from the high-pressure hydrant, a control valve was attached first and set to a suitable pressure. It was like having a pumper already hooked up, and lines were placed in service in very short order. The system was really a rapid-supply system. Lines could be gotten into service very rapidly. It was abandoned many years ago. Alarm Responses In those days, companies were heavily manned. A downtown first alarm brought more personnel than all but a few major fire departments had on duty, and very severe fires were fought with just the first alarm assignment. Note that 72 Engine could have a hydrant man , a man on the deckpipe, a man back in quarter with the pumoer, and still stretch and operate a 2½-inch line on the third floor for over an hour. During daytime, the last-due engine was held back for economy. In those radio-less days, the signal calling for it notified the buffs of a working fire. The Fire Patrol The New York Fire Patrol is the last of the salvage units maintained by insurance companies in a number of cities. The patrol has a proud record. Over the years "patroleos" have made many good rescues. (All patrol units carried scaling ladders.) To my personal knowledge, Patrol Deputy Chief Cashman was a very astute fire officer, and this story would not have been written if Assistant Chief XX (ACXX, in the story below) had followed his example. He earned a Fire Department medal for rescuing Fireman Harry Murphy of Engine 26 at another fire, the only one ever presented to a non-member. Asst. Chief Tommy O'Brien Tommy O'Brien is one of my real heroes, and mentors. I first met him as captain of 65 Engine in 43rd St. opposite Stern Brothers Department Store, where I was auditor. He taught me more practical firefighting hints than I can name. One saved the day at the last fire I commanded for the Navy in 1949. He was always calm and mentally organized at a fire and gave clear and explicit orders. It is my opinion that if Tommy O'Brien had been on the scene, the tragedy would never have occurred. He would have told off ACXX in unmistakable New Yorkese. A man who spent 180 days in the front line in France in World War I as a machine gunner in New York's Famous Fighting Irish 69th regiment, would hardly back down to an assistant chief. He retired as an assistant chief. My pet story is this: A lady stopped at 65 one day and asked if fireman Doe was on duty. "Madam, he is not on duty; but let me tell you, to the longest day he lives, he will never be a fireman. He is simply a member of the uniformed force." Buffs Today the word buff is accepted as the designation of an unpaid enthusiast of a field for which others are paid. There are railroad buffs, airline buffs, ski buffs, theater buffs, or whatever. The word has been used in England. At that time the word buff was confined to aficionados of the New York Fire Department. Boston has Sparks, Chicago has Fire Fans, San Francisco has the Phoenix Society. If you said you were a fire buff, you had to explain it; and people shook their heads. New York volunteer fire houses had no sleeping accommodations. "Red hot" members would sleep in, on the floor, rolled up in buffalo robes. When the department went paid in 1865, those civilians who hung around were called Buffs. Gordon Mullins, a well-known Bell Club member, brought around a Journal American reporter named Johnnie Weisberger, who was a red-hot buff and later very active in the Eastern Division of the IAFC. John had a friend, a corpulent sports reporter named Syd Livingston. Syd was not a buff; but he would watch a fire if he fell over it. He took the word buff over to the sports pages, and now we have all sorts of buffs. Could A Similar Disaster Happen Today? Certainly not in New York, and probably not anywhere in the same way. Too many TV cameras around. But some neanderthals are still out there. A ladder-company officer in Florida, familiar with the dangerous roof of the fire building, refused to put his people on the roof and was never thereafter assigned to command of the ladder. A former officer of a fire department which lost two firefighters in a truss-roof collapse told me that at a fire he had refused to take his men up on a dangerous roof. The chief said, "You are suspended." Seconds later the roof collapsed. "Forget about the suspension," the chief said. Many fatalities have resulted because personnel have not been adequately informed or have not understood potential failures in structures. I was told point blank by a fire chief, "I don't want my guys even hearing you speak. I want them to do what I want done, period!" This attitude is illustrated by two almost unbelievable cases of fire officers who took statewide promotion exams. In both cases, they were failed for indicating fire-ground operations which took the safety of fire fighters into consideration. In my "The Building Is Your Enemy " Column 9 in Firehouse.com, a fire officer tells of twice telling a captain that a collapse was imminent and "he just walked away." Shortly thereafter, the collapse occurred. Some of these attitudes will change over time, and some will be changed after civil or criminal legal action is taken. The Seattle Fire Department was assessed a substantial fine by its State Labor Department for safety deficiencies. The retired safety officer won a very substantial judgment from the city for the bad treatment he received. The Montreal Fire Department was found guilty in the death of a firefighter in an abandoned building. The warning to chief officers is clear: You may bury the firefighter with an impressive funeral, but your problem may not be buried. There was no administrative system by which men who observed Assistant Chief XX’s erratic and dangerous conduct on the fire ground to pass this situation up to the top, and it is not clear that if this was done that there would have been any action. With shootings by disgruntled employees, even in a firehouse, seemingly a regular occurrence, fire departments should be more aware of the possibility that an officer might cause deaths by his incompetence. Live Fire Training Live firefighter training may inadvertently be delivering the wrong message. The training often emphasizes taking the punishment and "putting the wet stuff on the red stuff." There is no need to be concerned about collapse or hidden fire in the training building. However, hidden fire and collapse are major hazards to firefighters, despite the fact that they are too dangerous for live training. Classroom lectures and discussions should present these hazards so forcefully that they become equally as important to the firefighter as hitting the fire. Now Jack tells the story in his own words:
Lt. John J. Cashman (retired), FDNY, died in Feburary 2002. R.I.P. Francis Brannigan's text, Building Construction for the Fire Service, a 667-page third edition, is credited with saving lives. It was written by a firefighter for firefighters and is available from NFPA. The NFPA price is $74.95 +7.95. He offers the book autographed and postpaid at a substantial discount. Call (301) 572-7517 or e-mail Fbrannigan@comcast.net for order information. It makes a fine Christmas or promotion gift or for a mate who is a firefighter. The first edition was written in 1971 at a time when fatalities were considered an integral part of firefighting. “My last fireground command was in 1949, but I never forgot the fundamental responsibility of an officer: bring your people home. As my friend Vincent Dunn says, ‘No building is worth the life of a firefighter.’” — FLB © Copyright Firenuggets.com 2005 • Click here for Terms and Conditions of Use
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