Firefighters’ Names Endure in St. Patrick’s Towers
By DAVID W. DUNLAP
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
David W. Dunlap/The New York Times
In a dusty window in the south tower of St. Patrick's Cathedral, Firefighter Leonard Ragaglia of Engine Company 54 signed his firehouse nickname — "Rags" — on April 2, 1994, during an inspection tour. He died at the World Trade Center on 9/11.
You and I can think of many words to describe the ceiling of St. Patrick’s Cathedral: Intricate. Fussy. Medieval. Gloomy. Mysterious. Celestial. Uplifting. Inspirational. Awesome.
Firefighters have another word for it: Lumberyard.
The ceiling appears from the floor below to be a work of Gothic masonry. In fact, it’s an artifice of lumber and plaster. In the cavernous attic space between the ceiling vaults and the peaked roof is a forest of wooden trusses and beams, some of them 150 years old.
That makes St. Patrick’s a building of special interest to firehouses in the area — like Engine Company 54 and Ladder Company 4 — that would be the first to respond in case of disaster. The Fire Department routinely inspects the cathedral ceiling and new firefighters are given a tour of the “lumberyard.” This gives them the chance to familiarize themselves with its complexity and to learn a valuable lesson: a structure cannot be fully gauged by its facade.
It also gives them a chance to leave their mark at St. Patrick’s. The translucent windows in the north and south towers and in the western facade are covered with decades of grime, none of which can be seen from the street. The glass panes, in other words, are perfect for graffiti, lots and lots of graffiti, much of it bearing the giveaway designations “E-54″ and “L-4.”
When Msgr. Robert T. Ritchie assumed the rectorate of St. Patrick’s in 2006, he asked the building manager, William R. Kirwan, for a crypt-to-attic tour. Seeing the graffiti-filled windows for the first time, Monsignor Ritchie asked Mr. Kirwan: “Don’t we ever clean them? They’re so filthy.”
“Father,” Mr. Kirwan replied, “please don’t ever clean them.”
He pointed out four tags in particular: “Rags E-54 4-2-94″ (Firefighter Leonard Ragaglia), “Gill E-54 4-2-9…” (Firefighter Paul Gill), “Lynch L4 01″ (Firefighter Michael F. Lynch) and “Brennan E54 4-2-99″ (Firefighter Michael Emmett Brennan).
“These guys died on 9/11,” he said. “We’re keeping the windows the way they were to preserve the names.” (Mr. Kirwan is himself a retired firefighter.)
Monsignor Ritchie formalized the no-clean order, which has been followed by three subsequent building managers. It will stand during the impending renovation of the cathedral. “That will not be touched,” he promised.
Many visitors and worshipers are expected at St. Patrick’s this weekend. Those who come seeking a connection with the victims’ memories will be closer than they realize.
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