Families, friends, leaders grieve for fallen firefighters

In a brief, searing, and politically charged ceremony outside City Hall on Tuesday afternoon, grieving families, heartsick friends, city officials, and union leaders gathered to mourn the deaths of three firefighters.

Under the heat and glare of an intense sun, the crowd gathered for half an hour, sharing sorrow and indignation.

Initially, the event was organized to mark the first anniversary of a warehouse fire in Kensington that killed Lt. Robert Neary and firefighter Daniel Sweeney. But it took on even greater weight when Capt. Michael Goodwin was added to the list of the fallen.

Goodwin, a 53-year-old father of two, had spent 29 years with the city's Fire Department. He died Saturday battling a blaze on Fabric Row.

After bagpipe renditions of "God Bless America" and "Amazing Grace" and an opening prayer, Neary's widow, Diane, stepped up to the podium.

With her chin raised, blond hair shining, and lips tight, she quickly segued from prayerful to strident, shaming city officials for their "hearts of stone" and for not paying firefighters "their full due."

Firefighters have been wrestling with the Nutter administration over a contract since 2009. The most recent arbitration contract award is being appealed by Nutter, who says the city cannot afford it.

"I don't know how many more of these gentlemen have to die," Neary said.

She then addressed her hopes to heaven.

"I love my husband. I miss my husband. He might be saying, 'Just shut up,' " she said, eliciting laughs. "But I hope someone up there hears what I have to say."

Word of Neary's remarks reached the mayor, who was attending an event at the Youthbuild Charter School in North Philadelphia, recognizing the contributions that national service organizations give to cities.

"The mayor said he has nothing but respect and love for Mrs. Neary," said his spokesman, Mark McDonald. "He respects her opinion and viewpoint. Her husband was a great firefighter and a hero who died in service to all Philadelphians. The contract matter, however, is a separate issue."

The mayor is confident, McDonald said, "that the contract will eventually get resolved. But it is a conversation for another day." Not, he said, a matter to be addressed on a day focused on "the loss of heroes."

When the applause for Neary quieted, Marian Sweeney took the microphone.

"A mom should not lose a baby," said Sweeney, noting that her son, Danny, was only 25 when he died in the Kensington fire.

Speaking so softly that her words barely carried beyond the first row of television cameras and reporters, she added, "And happy anniversary to my husband." Their son, she explained, had perished on their 28th wedding anniversary.

Most of the people in the crowd of about 100 were firefighters from across the city and region, who wore T-shirts identifying their engine houses, ladder companies, or unions.

Mike McLane, 29, was one of at least half a dozen young firefighters who brought their children to the ceremony in strollers.

Rocking his 4-month-old son, Jack, in his arms, McLane said he became a firefighter six years ago to carry on his family's tradition of public service.

"The greatest thing that people can do is lay your life down for others," he said. Although his son won't remember this day - he spent the entire time napping - McClane said he wanted to include him in honoring these men who gave their lives heroically.

The camaraderie lasts beyond retirement, said Michael Board, who retired in 2000 after 23 years in the department. Board, 59, a thin man wearing a black memorial ribbon in his Ladder 8 baseball cap, said he always knew he wanted to be a firefighter. His father, Bert, spent nearly three decades in the department.

It's a career that seeps into a family's blood, Board said. For better and for worse.

"A few years after I retired," he said, "my wife told me that if I called her in the middle of the night, she was always scared to answer the phone."

Councilman James F. Kenney, also the son of a firefighter, said the ceremony touched him personally.

Kenney, a likely mayoral candidate in 2015, accused his once-ally Nutter of nursing a personal grudge against the union for not endorsing him in the last election. "I really believe the mayor is cold and callous," Kenney said.

Then he recalled his father's routine after returning from the firehouse.

"He would throw his clothes down the stairs, and we could smell the acrid smoke through the house," Kenney said, his eyes brimming. "We were lucky. My father came home."