December 26, 2001
By EDWARD J. CROWDER
ecrowder@ctpost.com

BRIDGEPORT -- It was late Christmas morning and all was not well at the Green Homes apartment complex off Washington Avenue.

Nine-year-old Cornelius McCullough had somehow gotten a ring stuck on his finger, and four firefighters were crammed into his apartment -- already crowded with family and gifts -- to pry it off.

The boy's eyes widened as firefighter Joe Taylor reached for a tool that resembled a cross between a pair of pliers and a circular saw. A dentist's drill would have looked friendly by comparison.

"Don't pinch it," winced Cornelius, as Taylor wedged the tool's clamp end between the ring and finger and spun the cutting wheel.

"I'll try not to," Taylor replied.

He didn't.

A few moments and a couple of tears later, the ring was off and Cornelius' finger was free.

Taylor and his comrades wished a merry Christmas to all and headed back to Bridgeport Fire Headquarters, where a hearty Christmas brunch of eggs and sausage awaited them. They paused on the way back to help some hapless soul change a flat tire.

Back at headquarters, firefighter Frank "Mo" Modugno towered over a stove sizzling with eggs, ham, sausage, home fries and English muffins. His colleagues peeled potatoes and chopped onions, then lined up with plates in hand for the feast.

"You'd better eat some," one firefighter advised a visitor. "Mo's the biggest guy in the department. You wouldn't want to offend him."

The visitor, who had eaten breakfast not 90 minutes before, accepted a heaping plateful.

Like any family, the firefighters at Bridgeport Fire Headquarters have their holiday traditions. Christmas brunch is one of them.

In the common room, the firefighters had put up a Christmas tree and decorated it with odds and ends from around the firehouse.

A picture of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, a photograph of the mayor and a black sock were among the trimmings.

Even on holidays, a minimum of 17 firefighters must be on call at all times at fire headquarters, the largest of the city's eight firehouses.

The Christmas shift is usually a breeze, firefighters say. Most regular chores and duties are deferred, so barring the occasional emergency, the day usually passes with quiet camaraderie.

"The single guys, they'll come in to work for the guys who've got kids," said firefighter Tony Hooks. "Everyone's family here."

Hooks said his three boys -- 15, 18 and 21 -- don't mind that he's working. He gave them the chance to open gifts before his 8 a.m.-to-4 p.m. shift. They chose to wait.

"Christmas is on hold until 4 o'clock," Hooks said.

Even as they ate Tuesday, the firefighters knew they could be sliding down the poles and gearing up at a moment's notice.

The holidays can be particularly hazardous with the flammable combination of electric lights, extension cords and evergreen trees, said Assistant Chief Fred Haschak.

Earlier Christmas Day, an overturned kerosene heater had sparked a small fire at a Nautilus Road home.

Firefighters also routinely respond to less-urgent calls: people locked out of their cars, trapped in elevators or with rings stuck on their fingers, he said.

The public has a new appreciation for even the smaller roles firefighters play, Haschak said. The tragedy of Sept. 11 recast the profession as heroic.

"We are tremendously more appreciated now, more recognized," he said.

Haschak noted that 343 firefighters died in the Sept. 11 attacks on the World Trade Center. The Bridgeport Fire Department employs 344 people, including civilian staff.

"They lost our entire department," he said.

The tragedy struck close to home at fire headquarters.

Dana Hannon, a former Bridgeport firefighter who had gone on to his dream job with the New York City Fire Department, was among the casualties.

More than 120 firefighters from the local department attended the memorial service in New Jersey earlier this month, said Lt. Rich D'Onofrio, a friend and fishing buddy of Hannon's.

"Everyone was just in tears. It was the saddest thing you've ever seen," he said.