We played a lot of ball down at 51’s schoolyard on 5th avenue…
Check out the background…
(Image compliments of Chris Johnson)
Today is September 11, 2018. Only one thing comes to mind, 9-11.
September 11, 2001 is a day this country will never forget.
Captain Vincent Brunton of Truck Company Ladder 105, one of the best from our neighborhood died that day. “Vinny” as we all knew him, was on the job in the World Trade Center doing his job…saving people.
Vinny attended Holy Name grammar school and Bishop Ford High School. He was an excellent athlete too. I recall watching him run point guard in the schoolyard during the summer league; and loved his passion playing football for Farrell’s down at Farragut Road.
(Jan. 2, 1958-Sept. 11, 2001)
Today is September 11, 2016.
The first thing that comes to mind is the awful tragedy 15 years ago.
It’s a day this country will never forget.
Captain Vincent Brunton of Truck Company Ladder 105, one of the best from our neighborhood died that day. He was a firefighter. “Vinny” as we all knew him, was on the job in the World Trade Center doing his job…saving people.
Vinny attended Holy Name grammar school and Bishop Ford High School. Was an excellent athlete too. I recall watching him run point guard in the schoolyard during the summer league; and loved his passion playing football for Farrell’s down at Farragut Road.
Denis Hamill, our guy from the neighborhood wrote this piece for the Daily News in 2001.
Three Brunton brothers from Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn – Tommy, 44, Michael 43, Vinny, 42 – among the very best this city ever makes, all converged that morning to the very worst horror the city had ever seen. By midafternoon, Tommy Brunton bumped into his brother Michael and they would learn Vinny was missing. Tommy knelt in the Ground Zero ash and wept.
One more; Came across another story – check it out.
“I could go into his office at 11:30 p.m. and ask him a fire question and he would lean back in his chair and tell me countless stories,” the letter from the firefighter, Will Hickey, said. “He would say the best way to learn is from your mistakes. ‘If you’re not making mistakes, you are not trying.’ “
Keep Vinny’s family in your thoughts today.
10 years ago today, 19 fanatics in four hijacked airliners did the unthinkable; they created the worst tragedy in American history. Today marks that terrible morning when 9/11 became the saddest day in every American’s life.
In the past I have written about Vincent Brunton here on the blog. Vinny passed away while saving lives at the World Trade Center; he worked for the FDNY and was one of the best from the neighborhood.
When I play word association and the name ‘Vinny Brunton’ comes up, I think, GREAT GUY!
One of my favorite writers, Pete Hamill (special to the Daily News) on his thoughts about the sad day.
Each of us remembers Sept. 11, 2001, in separate ways. Where we were. Who we called. What we did. The morning in New York was mild and lovely, with clear skies and a light breeze from the west. A fine day for walking. I had a 9 a.m. meeting at the Tweed Courthouse on Chambers St. and left home early to walk 10 blocks downtown in the splendid morning air. Bagels and coffee surely awaited me.
It was Primary Day. Democrats Mark Green and Freddie Ferrer were a point apart in the final polls. A Republican newcomer named Michael Bloomberg was far ahead of Herman Badillo. All were running to succeed Rudy Giuliani, barred from running again because of term limits.
There were a few campaign workers on the streets, some candidates’ stickers on lampposts, but no sense of political excitement. I bumped into a few friends. Politics? Hell, they didn’t even mention baseball. The Yankees were 11 games ahead of the Red Sox. The Mets were seven games behind Atlanta. One friend said: Jeez, it’s a lovely day, ain’t it?
I got to the meeting early, and was standing with the eloquent New York writer Louis Auchincloss, chatting about the architectural ugliness of the Municipal Building, scowling at us beyond the windows. Then we heard a fairly loud thump. If I’d looked at my watch it would have told me it was 8:46.
“What was that?” I said.
“Just part of the New York soundtrack, Peter, old boy,” Auchincloss said with a chuckle. Of course. Probably a controlled blast at some construction site. Something like that. I sipped my coffee. We sat down. The meeting was called to order.
At the time of this disaster I was driving in my car, on my way to my next class while I attended Central Michigan University. My wife had called me and told me what had happened. I didn’t believe her. I quickly turned on the radio and pulled over to listen to the special report.
Where were you on this awful morning? What were your thoughts? Would love to hear them…
My guy Denis Hamill of the New York Daily News on people profiting from Sept. 11; Jimmy Riches comes strong for a cause that seems to be making people a lot of money off off one of the most tragic days in American history.
A few years ago while visiting the World Trade Center I noticed street vendors hawking pictures of this devastating tragedy; all I could do was shake my head. How could anyone profit from so many innocent victims that lost their lives?
“It’s disgusting,” says Jim Riches, a retired FDNY Deputy Chief who lost a firefighter son, Jimmy Jr., 29, of Engine 4, on 9/11 and serves as Chairman of the Parents and Families of 9/11 Firefighters.
“The National 9/11 Memorial Foundation approached this Lieb Family Winery in Long Island to hawk this ‘9/11 Wine’ for a kickback of 10% of the sales of each bottle that sells for $19.11. Can we get any sleazier?”
Sure, how about a nice sweet Holocaust Riesling?
“But it doesn’t stop there,” says Riches. “There will be a gift shop at the memorial. Anyone who wants to go seven stories underground where the unclaimed body parts will be stored will have to pass this souvenir stand selling books, pictures, coffee mugs, T-shirts, like the skells hawking this stuff out on the street. People making money off the worst day in American history. I find it shameful that they’re making this sacred ground into a revenue-producing tourist attraction.”
We all have our own story regarding the tragic events that happened on 9/11. I was sent this story/ link/event by a loyal reader of Container Diaries about an off-duty fireman, Stephen Siller who walked through the tunnel to get to the World Trade Center as it was burning down.
This looks like a great event! The race is Sunday so if you can. get out and get running!
Stephen Siller, beloved husband and father of five, was a firefighter from Squad 1, Park Slope Brooklyn. On 9/11, he was off-duty, and on his way to golf with his 3 older brothers.
When Stephen heard on his scanner that the World Trade Center had been hit, he turned his vehicle around and headed towards the site. When his truck was prohibited from entering the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, typically of him, he raced on foot towards the site with his gear strapped to his back.
He was last seen alive on West and Liberty Streets where he, more than likely, went looking for his Squad, all of whom perished. The Tunnel to Towers Run retraces Stephen’s footsteps on that fateful day.
In running along his path, we honor the memory of all the Firefighters, Police, and EMS workers who performed their duty that day. In running this race, we are reclaiming still another part of the city for all our heroes and for all of those who died on 9/11.
They will never be forgotten!
The year was 1973, I was 9 years old and WHAT a year it was!
The Miami Dolphins had completed their perfect season with a Super Bowl victory over the Washington Redskins. Ronnie Bloomberg became the first DH in the A.L., the World Trade Center officially opened and of course the New York Knicks won their second NBA title.
But forget all that. How about the class photo on today’s blog entry?
What a picture…Man-o-man, thanks to T.P. this is an incredible shot of Mr. Jennings (Danny Partridge look-a-like?) and his class. (Click on the picture a couple of times and it enlarges…)
I miss those words coming from a high volume mouth of a deli owner in Lower Manhattan.
In my younger days working as an apprentice ironworker on 7 World Trade Center, I use to get the guys’ order for coffee and spend an hour in the local coffee shop directly across the street from where the Twin Towers once proudly stood. (I still can’t believe those buildings are no longer there)
Each morning, Monday through Friday at around 8:15 I would place my order (amounting close to $100) and the owner would comp my breakfast. (One hand washes the other, right?)
Deli Owner: “Steve, what are you havin’?” he’d ask with a smile on his face, in an Eastern Europe accent.
Me: Toasted bagel with cream cheese and a juice.”
Deli Owner: “TOASTED BAGEL WITH A SMEAR!” He would scream out without batting an eye.
This morning while munching on a plain toasted bagel with cream cheese and sipping some O.J., I thought back to the days of ordering a buttered roll and a light & sweet coffee at Pynn’s deli.
That was the norm for most.
I don’t recall ever getting a bagel though.
Even when you had to hop on the ‘F’ Train into Manhattan you always carried that small brown paper bag, newspaper tucked under your arm as you made your way underground. Once seated, you pulled out the items one at a time while you sat back on the lovely IND.
The fellow commuters who skipped breakfast that morning, already seated across from you, had a tendency to stare.
One day in the early 80’s a bagel shop opened up where L&J Bakery use to be and the avenue finally had bagels.
I don’t recall the guy’s name who opened it up but a few years later it was ‘under new ownership’
Louie (from St. Rose of Lima) to this day is the proud owner of a very successful bagel shop, Terrace Bagels. Whenever I am in town I always make it a priority to have a seat in the cafe portion of the bagel shop and enjoy my bagel and newspaper. (Does Rocco still work the counter?)
Salted bagel, Cinnamon Raisin, Poppy and Sesame all have been my favorite at one time or another. I still can’t get the courage to ask for an ‘everything’ bagel.
What I notice lately in a lot of places is that they don’t put the cream cheese on the bagel for you. No, they ask you if you would like it and if you happen to say yes, (they go ahead and charge you an extra .45) they reach into a fridge and pull out a small cup of cold cream cheese.
Oh, by the way, the knives are over there – the Barista boldly points out as they direct you half-way across the cafe.
Back in the day before bagels, we would get a buttered roll and pint of O.J.
Where did we consume this nutritious breakfast? On the park bench, boys or girls schoolyard or we sat on the front hood of a car parked on the avenue.
Other times we’d squat on Jimmy Cullen’s stoop at 175 Windsor discussing the Knicks, Mets or even Yankees.
The newspaper, bagel/roll and coffee or juice – I miss those days…
Back in the day Windsor Terrace was filled with strong families. They were friendly, outgoing and hard working.
One family in particular comes to mind when I think of the traits mentioned above. They lived on Terrace Place, right off Prospect Avenue.
They were a large family (like many other wonderful families in the neighborhood). Good athletes, caring people, down to earth and most of all, always available!
The oldest son was a great basketball player. He was one of the best from the neighborhood. Some say he is one of the best to ever play for the FDNY (they used to have a league, not sure if they still do) but I believe he scored the most points ever in the league! He played his college ball at Iona.
I played ball in Holy Name with the youngest son.
Their youngest daughter married my cousin.
I’m talking about The Riches!
During 9/11 at the World Trade Center Jimmy, (a deputy fire chief in the FDNY) who is the oldest Riches, lost his son James Jr. who at the time was a NYC firefighter.
Along with Jimmy, there was Roddy, Margie, Tommy, Eileen, Beatrice and John.
I came across this guest book dedicated to our fallen hero. Feel free to leave a message.