This memorial to Firefighter Louis Valentino is on Court Street, just outside of Carroll Park in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn. Firefighter Valentino joined the FDNY in 1984. By 1993, he was a member of Rescue 2 in Crown Heights, an elite unit whose purpose is to rescue firefighters in trouble.Â
On February 5, 1996, Rescue 2 was searching an illegal garage in Flatlands for wounded firefighters. Firefighter Valentino was killed, the only firefighter who died that day.
Louis Valentino Jr. lived in Carroll Gardens as a child. He played softball on the FDNY team. He was named for his father. His mother saluted his casket. He had a brother, a sister-in-law, and two nieces. He had a wife.Â
I lived in Carroll Gardens from 2010 - 2013, from when my son was born until he was three. We spent a lot of time in Carroll Park, and I would often stop at the memorial.
I imagine many who pass by without pausing to read the plaque (not pictured) mistake it for a 9/11 memorial. I know 9/11 is where the mind first goes when you think of firefighters dying in the line of duty. Mine does, too, and I grew up in a fire-family, listening to stories about fatal fires and the firefighters lost to them.Â
The Last Men Out by Tom Downey is about Rescue 2, before, during, and after 9/11. The book details the tragedy of Valentino's death. Tom Downey is also from a fire-family; his uncle is the legendary Captain Ray Downey, who helmed Rescue 2 and was killed on 9/11.
I read Downey's book while researching my novel, Ashes of Fiery Weather, which is about the women of a Brooklyn, New York family of firefighters. Ashes begins with the line-of-duty death of a firefighter whose loss has a devastating effect on his mother and sister, his wife and his children. In early drafts, Sean was killed along with five others in a fire loosely based on the Waldbaum's fire of '78, which killed six firefighters. When I read about Louis Valentino, though, I changed the story so that Sean's death was the fire's only fatality. Not because it was more tragic, or less. It's neither. That's why.Â
The post-9/11 reverence for the FDNY and their customs surrounding line-of-duty deaths was strange to watch. Bu it's always this way, I remember thinking. I believe I said it aloud a few times while listening to reporters talking about the FDNY Emerald Society Pipes & Drums playing "Going Home" and "Amazing Grace" at funerals. The purple and black bunting draped over the firehouse doors. The widow, or sometimes an older child, holding the helmet. Â
Downey's nonfiction book, and I hope my novel, stand as a testament to how firefighters have always mourned the lost, whether one or 343.Â
Never Forget. Any of them.
Thank you for writing this. Louie was a friend, and he is still very much missed.