JAY WHEARLEY
Worcester Telegram and Gazette

WORCESTER - The first vow made Dec. 3, 1999, by the city's 400 firefighters was unshakable.

Six of their own had become lost that night in a vast, long-vacant building on Franklin Street that quickly became an inferno. Whatever it took, whatever was needed, those six - Joseph T. McGuirk, Paul A. Brotherton, Jeremiah M. Lucey, Timothy P. Jackson Sr., James F. Lyons III and Thomas E. Spencer - would come out of it.

Their second pledge was equally direct but required cooperation from others: Those six will not be forgotten.

The call that came in at 6:13 p.m. from the Worcester Cold Storage and Warehouse Co. initially appeared quite manageable. Lurking within the cavernous, six-story building, however, was a ferocious monster intensifying with each passing minute.

A city's worst nightmare was created by noxious fumes; smoke so thick it was impossible to navigate the maze that once was the area's biggest meat-packing plant; temperatures exceeding 1,100 degrees; desperate searches, first for two homeless people believed still inside, then for fellow firefighters who couldn't be located; and a deafening roar from myriad sources. Few would admit it at that point, but by 8 p.m. the "six men in, six men out" mantra didn't mean getting them out safely. It was finding their remains so they could properly be laid to rest.

The fire raged well into the next day. Hot spots flared repeatedly as firefighters worked around the clock, often on their hands and knees, sifting charred debris for any trace left of the men they called brothers.

It would take a week and a day, but the remains of the last of the six were unearthed and escorted away at 11:20 p.m. Dec. 11.

As the grim search continued, police confirmed that there had been two homeless people inside the warehouse before the fire and that one of them knocked over a candle, which prompted them to flee.

Had firefighters known, the scenario could have played out much differently.

In the aftermath of the tragedy, then-Mayor Raymond V. Mariano was thrust into a role never undertaken by anyone who has held the city's largely ceremonial post. "It's like a death in the family," he said at the time.

Ten years later, he said, the feeling sticks in his gut and the recollections of the fire and the days that followed still seem like yesterday. Haunting memories, yes, but also many positive ones.

The extraordinary generosity, grief and concern of Worcester people from all walks of life were evident everywhere he went, with everyone he talked to, said Mr. Mariano, now executive director of the Worcester Housing Authority.

"It seemed like the first words out of everyone's mouths after the fire," he said, "were, `What can I do to help?' People gave to funds for the (victims') families until it hurt. The schools were closed, I-290 was shut down, business at City Hall stopped ... Things got pretty inconvenient.

"But you know what? Nobody complained," the former mayor said. "It proved to me how good people here are, how good this city can be.

"The Worcester Fire Department helped show us the way."

Six firefighters went into a burning building that night, and six did come out.

And a grateful city has not forgotten.

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November 29, 2009