Remembering the 9/11 FDNY firefighters

FDNY rescue workers at Ground Zero. FEMA photo by Andrea Booher

FEMA photo by Bri Rodriguez

As a former blogger and proposal writer for an architecture firm specializing in fire stations, which designed 21st-century renovations of Fire Department of New York (FDNY) Engine Companies 63, 217 and 235, I find it fitting to remember the 343 FDNY firefighters killed in the line of duty while rescuing World Trade Center attack victims on September 11, 2001, 25 years ago today.

Collapse of South Tower on Sept. 11, 2001, 9:59 a.m., as
seen from Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Photo by Paul Joffe.

Those brave, lost souls included three from EC 217 in Brooklyn, who perished in the South Tower's 9:59 a.m. collapse: Steven Coakley (age 36), Neil Joseph Leavey (34), and Lt. Kenneth J. Phelan, Sr. (41) "We were standing in a sea of body parts," surviving EC 217 Lt. (ret.) Thomas McGoff told the Tunnel to Towers Foundation. "Stevie Coakley and Neil Leavey were with me, and they saw people coming out of the South Tower. Meanwhile, they're standing in the collapse zone of jumpers [from the tower]. So Stevie says to me, 'I'm going to take Neil across the street and chase these people up the block. Be careful, stay together, and we'll meet you at the command post.' ... Without Stevie and Neil, we would have lost more civilians by getting hit and killed by jumpers."

"Lieutenant Kenneth Phelan embodied that spirit of selflessness," said New York City Council Speaker Julie Menin at the dedication of a red memorial street sign in Phelan's memory in his hometown of Maspeth, Queens, NY, on July 22, 2026. "On September 11th, he answered the call to serve at a neighboring firehouse that was short a member, giving his life after fourteen years of dedicated service to the FDNY."

Firefighter Steven Coakley.

Firefighter Neil Joseph Leavey.

Lt. Kenneth Phelan Sr.

Collapse of North Tower on Sept. 11, 2001,
10:28 a.m. Photo courtesy of Facebook.

The North Tower's 10:28 a.m. collapse vanquished the entire crew of EC 235, aka the "Monroe Six," in Brooklyn's Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood: Lt. Steven Bates (age 42), Nicholas Paul Chiofalo (39), Francis "Frankie" Esposito (32), Lee S. Fehling (28), Lawrence G. Veling (44), and Capt. Timothy "Timmy" Stackpole (42), along with Chief Dennis A. Cross (60), last seen entering the North Tower. "My dad was with Captain Timothy Stackpole...their bodies were found relatively close," Cross's youngest daughter, Denise Cross Feldman, told Dons Press. "On that ride to Bellevue [Morgue], the city was quiet, solemn, covered in dust, covered in debris, plastered with pictures of the missing, a slow motion movie that Hollywood can never replicate, never... 

"With every breath I took in, I felt strong like my dad. I felt special and proud that I had a dad who risked his own life each day to save the lives of others."

Chief Dennis A. Cross.

"On March 10, 2001, Timmy returned to his lieutenant's job – full duty," his widow, Tara Stackpole, told the National Fallen Firefighters Association (NFFF). "He was promoted to captain on September 6, 2001, and was in FDNY headquarters, off-duty, the morning of September 11. Of course, he responded... His remarkable story has inspired many and his love for the job has touched many firefighters across the country."

Capt. Timothy "Timmy" Stackpole.

U.S. Navy photo by Journalist First Class Preston Keres

Joan R. Daley of EC 63 in the Bronx died of cancer at age 55 on September 27, 2009, eight years after her part in the 9/11 rescue efforts. She was but one of the more than 600 firefighters who have passed away as a result of inhaling the many toxins the tower collapses unleashed into the air. These include asbestos, benzene, cement/drywall dust, crystalline silica, polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons, and heavy metals such as cadmium, lead and mercury from office equipment and wiring.

Firefighter Joan R. Daley.

"Firefighter Daley was an amazing woman," reported the NFFF. "She was hired by the FDNY in 1982, as one of the first females in the department... She was not only a role model for women, she was a hero for those who felt they didn't belong... In 2001, when the Twin Towers fell, Firefighter Daley participated in the recovery efforts. Sadly, it was these long days that would cause her to become ill and ultimately pass away from cancer. In a career that is dominated by men, Daley broke ground until her retirement in 2009."

FDNY Firehouse Engine Company 10 on 9/11. Courtesy FDNY 10 House.

Ground Zero also highlighted what matters most when we break ground on new or renovated fire stations, designing for those who constantly put their lives on the line for public safety. This design process extends beyond quickening response time, upgrading dispatch technology, and building hardening to provent structural disaster like what happened to FDNY Station 10, across the street from the World Trade Center, on 9/11. Post-9/11

FDNY Firehouse EC 10 after reconstruction. Photo by Michael DiNatale.

advancements in fire station design and construction also encompass decontamination systems with dedicated turnout gear rooms and state-of-the-art toxin-extractor equipment washing machines. These features divide the fire station into "hot," "warm" and "cold" zones.

Decontamination room in new fire station, North Acton, MA. Photo by Maia Kennedy.

The hot zone, or Red Zone, encompasses the apparatus bays that garage firetrucks and exterior equipment storage, that is, the area with the highest contamination. The warm zone, or Yellow Zone, incorporates decon rooms, dirt and toxin extractor washing machines, showers, and specialized Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) cleaning spaces, that is, the transition area between the fire station's dirtiest and cleanest realms. 

Fire station single bunk room. Photo by FirePhoto.

The cold zone, or Green Zone, is the toxin-free living area: living quarters, bunk rooms, kitchens, dayrooms, break rooms, fitness rooms, offices. Cold-zone air pressure is often heightened to stop filtration of contaminants. 

Training room, Northbridge Fire Headquarters. Photo by Robbie Robinson.

New and renovated stations also receive individual bunk rooms, larger break rooms and kitchens, larger and more numerous apparatus bays with fortified bay doors and concrete slab floors, backup power grids and substations, and roomier high-tech training rooms.

Cambridge Fire Headquarters, Cambridge, MA, in renovation. Courtesy of LinkedIn.

In the name of both environmental protection and firefighter health and safety, today's stations incorporate sustainable green technology: photovoltaic solar panels, LED lighting, and high-efficiency heating and cooling powered by underground geothermal wells. This has enabled some stations to be net-zero and fossil-fuel-free, reducing the carbon footprint.

My old firm practices all these new standards, and more, regularly in its public safety facility designs. The architect's post-9/11 commitment to these design principles earned him coveted admission to then New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg's NYC Design and Construction Excellence Program in 2005. 

This honor enabled the architect to redesign the aging EC 217 and EC 235 in 2009 and EC 63 in 2013. All three of these revamped fire stations were cited as outstanding examples of public safety facility design in We Build the City: New York City's Design + Construction Excellence Program (ORO Editions, 2013).

Engine Company 217, Brooklyn, NY, built 1909, renovated 2009.

EC 217 and EC 235, built respectively in 1909 and 1895 as single-bay fire stations, each received a hardy new apparatus slab floor with drainage and firetruck maintenance systems. These met FDNY standards for supporting the 90,000-pound fire vehicle that hadn't been around in the days of the horse-drawn fire wagons these stations were built for, and was certainly needed for extreme emergencies like 9/11. EC 217 was reinforced with a new concrete truck apron for structural disaster hardening and containment of toxic fumes from the new bunkrooms, restrooms and offices on the upper floor, but its historic frontage was restored.

Engine Company 235, Brooklyn, NY, built 1895, renovated 2009.

As part of its own historic restoration and structural disaster hardening, EC 235 was tuck-pointed with new mortar and crowned with a new copper roof, ensuring it an additional century of service to its old neighborhood. The service of both stations was fortified with new housewatches and gear grids with the most advanced FDNY dispatch technology, allowing firefighters quicker response.

Engine Company 63, Bronx, NY, first organized 1896, renovated 2013.

EC 63 was expanded to house three fire vehicles – Batallion 15, Engine 63, and Ladder 39 – to expand its readiness for emergencies. Structural disaster hardening was supplied with an all-new structure and façade, faced in ash-gray with a terra cotta rainscreen and inset cement board panels, contrasted with fortified red bay doors and an American flag waving on a flagpole, in remembrance of 9/11 and other firefighter tragedies, and as an expression of fortitude in the face of danger. Toxic fume containment was fully taken care of with a decontamination area on the first floor, safely separated from the new bunkrooms, lockers, restrooms, fitness center, offices, and training/study rooms on the upper level.

Ladder 39 exits EC 63 in the evening. Image courtesy of YouTube.

We Build the City described EC 63's renewal as follows: "This expansion doubles the building's size and meets Fire Department of New York guidelines – giving firefighters the room they need to perform their duties safely and effectively." 

Awards the renovation of EC 63 received include the Bronze Place 2013 National Station Style Design Award for Renovated Fire Station Design from Penton's Fire Chief Magazine, in addition to the 2014 Fire Station Design Excellence Award from the Fire Industry Education Resource Organization (F.I.E.R.O.).

FDNY rescue workers at Ground Zero. FEMA photo by Andrea Booher.

As we remember 9/11's fallen FDNY firefighters, as well as the 72 lost NYPD law enforcement officers and the 2,977 civilian victims all those brave souls endeavored to rescue, let us move forward with the most advanced fire station design and construction possible to more fully equip our first responders for calamities such as these.

Never Forget.

An architectural declaration of independence

The 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence has piqued my obsession with the architecture of its birthplace. Of prime appeal for me is how Independence Hall in Philadelphia (built 1732-1753 as the Pennsylvania State House) not only was designed to create the breathing room, elbow room and room to grow for Continental Congress to debate, shape and ratify this pivotal parchment, followed by the Constitution in 1787, but was also conceived with the foresight of America's future expansion and the architectural user-friendliness it would require.

This 1752 drawing shows that the State House had its hip-roofed wings, linked to the headhouse by arcaded hyphens, from the beginning. This civic symmetry touted the edifice's central significance as the seat of the local government.

The building's tripartite arrangement was planned to compartmentalize various bureaucratic functions into separate entities for the sake of efficiency of operation, clarity of location, and hierarchy of social standing. In the central headhouse sat Pennsylvania's Legislative Assembly, Executive Council and Judicial Courts, as well as the Long Gallery the colonial governor used for banquets and public events, all solemnly topped by the cupola-crowned tower where the Liberty Bell rang until its crack reduced it to the status of a sculptural folly, but emblazoned it with its own Mark of Zorro of the justice the founders fought for and the rebellion by which they won us our country.

The West Wing, as its houselike form suggests, housed living quarters for doorkeepers of the Pennsylvania Assembly and books for the Library Company of Philadelphia, which Benjamin Franklin founded in 1731 to make books accessible to all.

Today the West Wing proudly displays the Great Essentials, original printed copies of the Declaration of Independence, the Articles of Confederation, and the Constitution, paying homage to those founding charters that were debated and drafted in the great room next door.

Also displayed is the Syng Inkstand, into which 56 Continental Congressmen reportedly dipped their quill pens to "mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor" by signing Timothy Matlack's final scribed parchment of the Declaration.

The identical East Wing stored public documents and governmental paperwork, so that the governing bodies would not be buried in paper as they politicked. Today the East Wing houses the America's National Parks store, a gift shop selling historical books, 250th-anniversary souvenirs, and mementos such as magnets, postcards, and miniature Liberty Bells. Proceeds from their sales directly fund educational and preservation programs at the Independence National Historical Park.

The foyer and bridal stair in the entry tower give us a taste of the Hall's sheer expanse by ushering us up to the grand rooms. We also see how architects Andrew Hamilton and Edmund Woolley distributed the Hall's load-bearing columns to create unobstructed spaces, in a proto-modernist vein.

The ornate woodwork – banisters, scrolls, wainscoting, pediments, Palladian window, fluted Ionic pilasters, crown moldings – gave historical framework to the Liberty Bell until its 1976 relocation to accommodate more tourists.

Today the bell hangs solo in the ultramodern Liberty Bell Center, in plain window-wall sight of its old home but bereft of its historical milieu. Yet this new setting sheds new light and space on the bell's fortes and flaws.

Now we clearly see the wood yoke, its metal ties and bolts, the relief lettering of its recasters' names (Pass & Stow), the clapper, the braces, the edge frayed by souvenir hunters' pinching fingers, and the crack – which was not caused solely by ringing, but mainly by repairs gone awry. In 1846, to ring the bell for George Washington's birthday, the existing hairline crack was drill-widened to retard it and reduce its buzz when rung. (Forty drill-marks can be seen along the seam.) This worked at first – the ringing was "clear as a bell" on the Founding Father's anniversary – but soon the fissure spread, silencing the chime for good.

Nonetheless, the crack has become symbolic of the struggle and strain with which our founders fought for our freedom, emerging scarred and cracked but largely intact. The crack is also a distinguishing mark that sets this bell apart from others, much as how the Leaning Tower of Pisa derives its tourist appeal from its tilt.

The Assembly Room supplied the requisite elegance for Pennsylvania Assembly meetings and ratification of the Declaration and Constitution, giving civic grace to these occasions without excessive visual distractions.

The scrolled pediment that enthrones the central seat of the President of Continental Congress was the perfect regal mitre for John Hancock to enscribe his famed signature on the Declaration (and coin the logo for the eponymous life insurer).

But most of all I can hear the strains of "Sit down, John!" echo through the chamber in the movie 1776 as John Adams implores his congressional adversaries to "Vote yes! Vote for independency!" and rants about how "we piddle, twiddle, and resolve, not one damn thing do we solve!" in his plaint about the political inefficiency Indy Hall's designers sought to curb.

To reduce piddling and twiddling, the designers created the Committee Room. Pedimented doors provided a tasteful setting for the Assembly's committees to attempt to resolve conflicts and for local militia to store ammo (hence the muskets – I had to laugh at their sign, PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH THE GUNS).

The Governor's Council Chambers provided wood-panel warmth and fireplace radiance for colonial governors' meetings with the Council to green-light or red-light legislation the popularly elected Pennsylvania Assembly had passed.

The Supreme Court Chamber was an incubator for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court's growth in power and, well, supremacy, as a future model for the U.S. Supreme Court. 

Fluted pilasters, triglyph friezes, pediments, turned-baluster rails, and a painting of the Pennsylvania Coat of Arms (replacing King George III's in 1785) lent learned solemnity to the chamber.
The three arches signified the open democracy to come.

Thank you for visiting. I welcome your comments!

Sullivan's travels come home

World Trade Center West, the signature building of Seaport World Trade Center in Boston, may be my favorite of the diversely creative palette of buildings that kicked off the development of the city's Seaport District but unfortunately failed to inspire future designs of comparable originality there. For me, there are two reasons why this postmodern masterpiece rises above the rest.

Seaport World Trade Center, Boston. Photo by SeaportBostonHotel (CC BY-SA 4.0).

For one, it was designed by Kallmann McKinnell & Wood (KMW) in their signature postmodern style of squared columns articulating and monumentalizing building structure in the classical column tradition, but with the geometric simplicity of those Cuisenaire rods many of us learned mathematical concepts from (or just built things with) in school. 

This gives World Trade Center West an outstanding expression of structural honesty in the soar of its verticality, unlike its undistinguished neighbors, Seaport Boston Hotel (above, center) and World Trade Center East (above, left), whose brick and sandstone cladding largely obscure their structure in a rather pompous fashion—and especially unlike the steel-and-glass skyscrapers that largely dominate Seaport's streetscape now. KMW used brick and a cantilevered cornice on World Trade Center West to recall the historic brick warehouse buildings of nearby Fort Point Channel, and the curving western façade allows more of its offices picturesque waterfront views, with a nod to the brick bowfront architecture of Beacon Hill and the South End as well as the billows of waves and ship sails. "The form, language and materials of the building relate to the maritime character of the site," according to KMW's website.

Wainwright Building (1891, Louis Sullivan), St. Louis, MO.
Photo by W. LeMay (CC BY-SA 2.0).

World Trade Center West also recalls the brick high-rises of Louis Henry Sullivan—my second reason for making it the cream of Seaport's crop. As the virtual inventor of the skyscraper, Sullivan went for an honest, organic expression of the skyscraper's structure and the upward soar of its verticality, hence the brick piers culminating in Celtic-inspired floral ornamentation at the cornice, giving the impression that they are growing up like flowers. That was what Sullivan meant by "form follows function": the soaring vertical form of a skyscraper is shaped by its function as a tall building housing multiple offices, yet it stands as a monument to progress — upward mobility, and the necessity to build taller on limited footprints to house increasing populations of workers. For that was the proper function of the skyscraper, in Sullivan's mind, which gave it its monumental form.

Interestingly enough, Sullivan was born in Boston, but never practiced there. He detested its architecture for being too cramped and old-fashioned for his taste. Ever the innovator, he was drawn to the from-scratch reconstruction of Chicago following its Great Fire of 1871, where he could leave his own imprint on a new city in the sky. So I'm grateful that KMW was paying tribute to Sullivan's Boston origins with their World Trade Center West. This, in effect, brought him home to the city he had abandoned, to show what an impact he had, both in the new Chicago and now in the new neighborhood built from scratch in Boston — the Seaport District.

Thank you for visiting. I welcome your comments!