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bittersweet remembering of a fallen
hero
Pascack Press
May 1, 2002
By Juliana Hendriks
WESTWOOD - With a sad smile and a glisten in
his eyes, James Voorhis reminisces about his father as would any son who
lost his father.
"I'll never forget that day as long as I
live," says James Voorhis, chief of the Westwood Volunteer Fire
Department, about to flip through his
father's file that remains a part of the Westwood Fire Department records.
"Just so you know, this is the first time I've ever seen this."
His eyes open wide. "In my 23 years with
the fire
department, this is the first time I have ever seen his file. Here's his
death certificate," says the unsuspecting chief. "There's information on
here I never knew - my grandmother's maiden name."
As he flips through the pages, the words come
easier. All the memories of that tragic day come flooding back...
April 12, 1977 was an unusually hot and
sweltering day for early spring. Pascack Valley residents were fighting
the blazing heat of the sun's 90-degree temperatures in an effort to keep
cool. But in Westwood, they were fighting more than a surprise heat wave.
Dozens of firefighters were fighting the blazing flames of a ferocious
fire - a fire which claimed the life of one of their own, and a fire which
will never be forgotten.
The fire broke out at 3:15 that afternoon.
Comfort Coal and Lumber Company, an abandoned warehouse located on the
corner of Irvington Street and Broadway, was fully engulfed in raging
flames.
"It was surround and drown," tells Fire
Captain John Domville, explaining that the blaze was so fierce, it was too
dangerous for firefighters to go inside the vacant warehouse to battle the
flames. Instead, firefighters had to literally surround the structure and
douse it with flames from the outside. He recalls playing in the abandoned
lumber yard as a child.
James Voorhis' father, James "Jake" C.
Voorhis, was captain of the Westwood Volunteer Fire Department at the
time. He arrived in his usual fashion that day - late. "He never made the
truck," recalls James, telling that his father would often drive directly
to the scene of fire calls instead of rushing to the firehouse to make it
in time to ride on the fire truck.
Jake joined his fellow firefighters that day,
standing in lines of firefighters five men deep, and grasping with the
last of his strength the massive hoses used to saturate the fire. A
dedicated member of the department, Jake was finally convinced to take a
break from the fiery battle. He stepped back to take a breather and just
collapsed. It was determined that Jake suffered a smoke-induced massive
heart attack. He was 43 years old.
James was a 15-year-old working at Sunden's
Farm in Old Tappan that fateful day. "I remember working at the farm," he
says. "I saw the smoke in the sky. I thought it was in River Vale." So,
assuming it was a mutual aid call in that town, he thought nothing of it
when an Old Tappan fire truck passed by the farm a short time later.
Evening fell and at about 6 p.m., James was
helping close-up the farm for the night. He was putting up a chain to
block cars from pulling in the driveway when an Old Tappan police car
pulled in. As with many other people, the officer had difficulty
enunciating James's name. "I thought he was saying 'Forest'," laughs the
chief. When it was finally determined that he was looking for a kid named
"Voorhis", the officer simply stated, "They want you to get home right
away."
James questioned the officer about the fire
that had taken place that afternoon. "I asked about the fire - then I
started to think," recalls the chief. But despite knowing the magnitude of
the Westwood fire, and despite the fact that all were silent and "acting
funny" when he returned to the farmhouse, the possibility that his father
had died was not a thought that even remotely passed through James's mind.
The teenager rode his bicycle to work that day, so his boss loaded it into
his own car and offered to drive the teenager home to Westwood. The police
had called to inform James's boss about the tragedy.
"I saw his truck and I felt at ease," says
James, knowing that his father "never made the firehouse" and had likely
driven to the fire scene. But his sense of ease was cut short as his boss
uttered the words, "Everything will be alright. Don't worry, everything
will be alright."
As the car slowly made its way up Oakland
Avenue to the Voorhis residence, the young James saw two cars by his house
that meant something was terribly wrong. One car belonged to a police
officer, the other to the pastor of St. Andrew's Church. James waited in
the car as his boss went in the house. He emerged minutes later with
police officer Bob Saul, who had the daunting task of telling James his
father had died.
James went inside to be with his two brothers
and two sisters. Their mother, Dorothy, was in Florida visiting her mother
and made it home at 2 a.m. after catching an emergency flight.
"I remember the funeral as if it happened 10
minutes ago," says James. With flowers flowing over the side of the fire
truck, the funeral procession passed by the Center Avenue firehouse. Life
seemed to stand still as the procession made its way down Westwood Avenue
toward St. Andrew's Church, the bell of the firehouse tolling in the
distance. "The whole business area, Westwood Avenue just ceased, stopped,
as we passed by. It was very intense," he adds.
Following a funeral mass at St. Andrew's
Church, the funeral procession "will momentarily stop as Jake says goodbye
to his abode," wrote Sgt. Saul in his memorandum regarding the procession.
Jake Voorhis was survived by Dorothy and five children. James Voorhis and
his brothers and sisters - Arlene, 16; Thomas, 13; Andrew, 11, and
Theresa, 9.
"It was the first time I was away from my
family," recalls Dorothy Voorhis.
The love and support of family, friends, and
the entire community helped Dorothy to remain strong in the face of
tragedy. "The fire department was my family," she says. "My immediate
family was there and my fire department family was there. It was an
amazing thing."
If there was one thing Dorothy acquired from
her years of marriage to Jake, it was his attitude of "life goes on." The
vast support system she found in the community made going on a little less
painful.
"There were bags of groceries that just
appeared on my porch," she recalls. As the days turned into weeks and
months, support and help continued to pour in to the Voorhis family.
Members of the fire department often helped around the house, cleaning out
the garage, doing yard work and the like. The following year, at Easter
time, Dorothy discovered a card that had been placed in her mailbox. There
was no stamp, no return address, just a plain white envelope. Inside was
$50, with a card simply signed "from a friend."
One of the most vivid memories Dorothy has, is
that of women coming to offer consolation. Though they conveyed sincere
words of comfort and condolence, Dorothy could tell they were glad it was
not their own husbands who had died. She could also tell they felt guilty
for having such feelings. But the grieving wife knew if the tables were
turned, she would be having the same feelings they were experiencing.
Charles Bellon, mayor at the time of Jake's
death, and members of the Westwood Borough Council sought to have a street
named after the fallen fire captain. To avert the mess of red tape in the
process, they opted to rename Lafayette Park, just off Lafayette Avenue,
as Jake Voorhis Park.
"I sincerely regret, the loss of your fellow
officer and fireman, Jake Voorhis," Bellon wrote in a letter to the fire
department. "In the true tradition of firefighters, I feel he made the
supreme sacrifice in the line of duty. There is no greater sacrifice than
a man giving up his life saving his fellow man. Jake, as well as all of
you gentlemen, put your lives on the line at the Comfort Coal fire."
As much as it had been an integral part of
their father's being, the fire department soon became a mainstay in the
lives of the rest of the Voorhis family. Members of the fire department
soon became the male figures in the lives of the Voorhis children. "They
didn't have the cadets back then, they had the Voorhis kids," laughs
Dorothy.
"In his life, he gave a sense of community
service to his children," Dorothy says of her husband. "I am most proud
they took all the good parts of what Jake was trying to teach them."
Though 25 years have passed since her husband
died so tragically, the pain is still so real. But as her husband always
said, "life goes on." Dorothy sits in the den at her son James' Westwood
home. With a smile, she motions to a family portrait of the Voorhis
children, their spouses and children, and says, "life goes on, and that's
(Jake's) life."
The 25th anniversary of Jake's passing was
marked with a somber memorial service held at Firemen's Park on the
evening of April 12. Chilly spring rains turned into a gentle mist long
enough for Dorothy, James and others to share words of remembrance about
Jake. Flowers were placed in the form of a half circle at the foot of the
memorial stone at the park.
Two years after his father's death, James
decided to join the fire department. He was later joined by his brothers,
one of whom remains a firefighter today. Arlene is married to a Westwood
firefighter and has a son who is a member of the Westwood Fire Cadet
program. Instead of being frightened that her sons were becoming
firefighters, Dorothy felt a sense of pride. "When your time is up, it's
up," she says.
For James, it is an honor to be chief of the
department his father served, particularly during the 25th anniversary of
his father's passing. For Dorothy, seeing James as chief comes with a
sense of pride.
"I'd rather see my children serve the
community, and just get up and live this day - and live it to the best
they can be," says Dorothy. "I can sit back and say how proud I am because
Jim did live that; he did what he was taught."
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