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| Turning in his gear on his last day of duty.
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“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. |