Queens Tribune
 
....May 17, 5:45 PM
 
 
 
Facing Last Call: Fire That Drives Chief Still Burns, But 36-Year Veteran Steps Down


By MICHAEL CUSENZA

Danny Conlisk had seen it before, but the lump in his throat told him it could be the last thing his eyes ever saw.

The FDNY lieutenant watched closely as the warehouse door turned an ominous shade of cherry – a sure sign the insatiable fire on the other side hungered for more.

“If it gets past the door, we’re going to die,” he thought to himself.

Conlisk and his men backed up and braced themselves, all the while manning a charged hose, pelting the unpredictable beast.

He had strict instructions. Hold that wall.

And so they did, saving the building and cheating death in the process.

Just another day at the office.

Those days are over for the 59-year-old Conlisk, now retired chief of Battalion 54 stationed at Engine 317/Ladder 165 in St. Albans. The 36-year veteran of the FDNY officially hung up his helmet earlier this month, ending an illustrious career filled with heart-pumping excitement and gut-wrenching loss.

“It’s the best thing I ever did,” Conlisk related.



A Reluctant Beginning

The lifelong Ridgewood resident’s firefighting career almost didn’t happen. Prior to shipping out with the army to Vietnam in February 1969, Conlisk reluctantly took the FDNY written exam. He had already earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in business administration from St. John’s University.

“While I was in Vietnam, my father wrote me a letter saying [the FDNY] called me for the physical,” Conlisk remembered. “I was all set to tell him I didn’t want to be a fireman.”

Instead, Conlisk agreed to take the physical when he returned home from his 15-1/2-month tour of duty.

He passed the grueling exam and was later sworn-in to the fire department on March 6, 1971. His first assignment was Engine 40 on Amsterdam Avenue and 66th Street near Lincoln Center. Conlisk recalled his first fire with a rookie’s grin.

“An alarm came in, we all got our stuff on and jumped on the rig,” he said. “We’re coming down the block and they had given me the nozzle. I had only been on the job a week. There was a big guy next to me, and as soon as we got there he sees the flames blowing out the windows and he says to me, ‘Kid, you don’t got the nozzle today.’”

After 12 years on the job, Conlisk passed the lieutenant’s exam and was relocated from Engine 261/Ladder 116 in Long Island City to Engine 229/Ladder 146 in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. In October 1987 he reached the rank of captain and led Engine 257/Ladder 170 in Canarsie for nine years. He became a battalion chief on June 8, 1996.

“Leading the guys is the greatest thing,” Conlisk said. “You’re putting them in situations where they can die a lot of times, but they go right ahead and do it. They make me look good.”



The Darkest Days

A veritable walking encyclopedia of fire knowledge and incredible stories of heroism, Conlisk recounts bringing back to life a man passed out on the floor of a candy store on Fresh Pond Road in Ridgewood as one of his fondest memories. The darkest moments came on Sept. 11, 2001 and the days that followed. It was one of the five or six incidents in his career where he thought he might not make it out alive.

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Turning in his gear on his last day of duty.


“I never leave the house saying ‘I love you,’ but I said it that day to my wife,” he recalled. “Because I thought that was the day I wasn’t going to come home.”

Conlisk and his son, Chris, who was still in the fire academy at the time, headed downtown separately, unsure of what lie ahead.

On the job for more than 30 years at the time, Conlisk said nothing could have prepared him for what he witnessed.

“When I got [to the World Trade Center] it was utter chaos – I never saw chaos like that in my life,” he remembered with sobering clarity. “Now I have a bunch of guys I took with me and I told them to stay together. We went down to West Street and I see a chief standing on a bus, and I said to him ‘Billy, you got a mask?’ He said, ‘No, we don’t have any masks.’ I said, ‘You got a radio? I need a radio.’ He said, ‘No, we don’t have any radios.’ I said, ‘Well who the hell is in charge?’

‘Nobody,’ he said. ‘Everyone’s dead.’”

Along with countless other heroes, Conlisk spent all day and into the night searching for survivors. He estimated that he personally knew more than 50 of the 343 firefighters that perished at the World Trade Center.

After hitchhiking from six different vehicles Conlisk made it home that night. Still covered in soot and dust he sat on his front steps trying to make sense of it all.

“My wife came out, and the first thing I said to her was, ‘The city’s going to lie about what we breathed down there,’” he said. “Because I saw guys puking up rocks. It was horrible.”

Conlisk also said he observed extraordinary acts of selflessness at Ground Zero. In between the shriek of whistles signaling the rescue workers to “run for your life because they thought the surrounding buildings would come down,” Conlisk saw men sacrifice their bodies to find trapped survivors.

“You want to talk about heroes?” he asked. “Talk about these guys that were taking tremendous risks crawling in these holes – God knows how far they went in. It was frightening.”

As a result of working at Ground Zero, Conlisk said he’s developed acid reflux, polyps on his esophagus and the “Trade Center Cough.”

“I just hope it doesn’t get worse,” he said.



Family Tradition

Unsurprisingly, firefighting is in the Conlisk blood. Danny’s father, Charles, and uncle, Pat, were both deputy chiefs that served for 35 years. Two of his sons – Chris, 27, and Jason, 25 – serve at Ladder 170 and Engine 225, respectively.

“I’m very proud of them. Having guys follow in my footsteps is great,” Conlisk beamed.

“He’s been a big influence,” said Chris, a six-year veteran. “I want to get promoted and take over where he left off. I want to make sure there are more bosses like him.”

Though he wanted to continue on as a battalion chief, a severe shoulder and back injury suffered during a recent fire convinced Conlisk to retire.

Now that his children are grown, the father of three boys and four girls plans on traveling with his wife, Kathy, and relaxing at home.

In between trips you’ll undoubtedly find Conlisk perched atop his front steps, surveying the only block he’s ever called home. Many people pass by – some he knows, but the revolving door of residents has made most faces unfamiliar.

But everyone should recognize him. They should know what he’s done for his fellow citizens.

They should know how much Danny Conlisk gave for their city.