Definition of a hero
Definition of a hero
Byron Smialek, Senior writer and columnist
Definition of a hero Jeremy LaBella died a hero. He gave his life serving the people of Washington.
The 27-year-old Washington firefighter died tragically Sunday while fighting a stubborn fire that reduced a garage on Allison Avenue to rubble.
The garage roof collapsed on him and fellow firefighter George McMullen. McMullen was the fortunate one, sustaining only a knee injury and smoke inhalation. He was treated at Washington Hospital and released as news got out that a firefighter had died.
Before his death, LaBella and McMullen, and every other firefighter for that matter, already had met the first qualification of hero.
Joe Marm of Washington, a Medal of Honor recipient for heroism in Vietnam, defined hero as "an average guy who is the last one to run for safety." That fits every firefighter, and every police officer as well. They are the ones running forward while the rest of us go the other way.
As far as fires go, the 9:30 a.m. blaze in the concrete block garage at 1275 Allison Ave. that was once a Harley-Davidson cycle shop was not particularly spectacular, not like the Oct. 15 fire at the George Washington. More than 100 residents and workers were able to get out of the venerable former hotel safely.
The only injury in that one was to Washington police Officer Ron McIntyre, who fell more than 50 feet from a seventh-floor window onto a roof. He was trying to escape the thick, black smoke when he tried to rappel down a standing fire hose and lost his grip. He is recuperating from leg and back injuries sustained in the fall.
Using Marm's definition, McIntyre earns hero status because he stayed inside the smoke-filled corridors looking for anyone who might have been trapped in the acrid smoke. But all cops are heroes for facing bad guys with guns and few reasons not to use them.
With his death Sunday, LaBella became the first firefighter to lose his life in the line of duty in the more than 100-year history of the Washington Fire Department as a paid professional. In 1955, firefighter James Williams died of a heart attack after returning to the fire station from a fire.
Although he died in the line of duty, LaBella's sudden passing Sunday was the third death in as many weeks of dedicated men who spent their professional lives serving the residents of Washington. There is a great difference, though. Neither city police Lt. Ted Zets nor Patrolman Fred Lyle were on duty when they died. Both were retired. Zets, 67, died Jan. 10 after a brief illness. Lyle, 80, died Wednesday after a two-year illness. Both died in bed, as older men are supposed to if they are fortunate enough to escape into retirement.
But the young man who grew up wanting to be a firefighter, just like his father and uncles, and who learned his trade as a volunteer in the same Canton Township volunteer unit where his father is assistant chief, gave his life. He gave his life in full gear on a city sidewalk under a pile of smoldering rubble, not in bed. He was only 27, and a hero.
Contact Byron Smialek at bsmialek@observer-reporter.co.
Byron Smialek, Senior writer and columnist
Definition of a hero Jeremy LaBella died a hero. He gave his life serving the people of Washington.
The 27-year-old Washington firefighter died tragically Sunday while fighting a stubborn fire that reduced a garage on Allison Avenue to rubble.
The garage roof collapsed on him and fellow firefighter George McMullen. McMullen was the fortunate one, sustaining only a knee injury and smoke inhalation. He was treated at Washington Hospital and released as news got out that a firefighter had died.
Before his death, LaBella and McMullen, and every other firefighter for that matter, already had met the first qualification of hero.
Joe Marm of Washington, a Medal of Honor recipient for heroism in Vietnam, defined hero as "an average guy who is the last one to run for safety." That fits every firefighter, and every police officer as well. They are the ones running forward while the rest of us go the other way.
As far as fires go, the 9:30 a.m. blaze in the concrete block garage at 1275 Allison Ave. that was once a Harley-Davidson cycle shop was not particularly spectacular, not like the Oct. 15 fire at the George Washington. More than 100 residents and workers were able to get out of the venerable former hotel safely.
The only injury in that one was to Washington police Officer Ron McIntyre, who fell more than 50 feet from a seventh-floor window onto a roof. He was trying to escape the thick, black smoke when he tried to rappel down a standing fire hose and lost his grip. He is recuperating from leg and back injuries sustained in the fall.
Using Marm's definition, McIntyre earns hero status because he stayed inside the smoke-filled corridors looking for anyone who might have been trapped in the acrid smoke. But all cops are heroes for facing bad guys with guns and few reasons not to use them.
With his death Sunday, LaBella became the first firefighter to lose his life in the line of duty in the more than 100-year history of the Washington Fire Department as a paid professional. In 1955, firefighter James Williams died of a heart attack after returning to the fire station from a fire.
Although he died in the line of duty, LaBella's sudden passing Sunday was the third death in as many weeks of dedicated men who spent their professional lives serving the residents of Washington. There is a great difference, though. Neither city police Lt. Ted Zets nor Patrolman Fred Lyle were on duty when they died. Both were retired. Zets, 67, died Jan. 10 after a brief illness. Lyle, 80, died Wednesday after a two-year illness. Both died in bed, as older men are supposed to if they are fortunate enough to escape into retirement.
But the young man who grew up wanting to be a firefighter, just like his father and uncles, and who learned his trade as a volunteer in the same Canton Township volunteer unit where his father is assistant chief, gave his life. He gave his life in full gear on a city sidewalk under a pile of smoldering rubble, not in bed. He was only 27, and a hero.
Contact Byron Smialek at bsmialek@observer-reporter.co.
