Fireman Down: The Story of African American Firefighter: Arthur Reese

By Lee Shargel

It is the early 1980s when Artie and Angela Reese and their children move into their dream home in the Stoneybrook community in Charlotte, North Carolina, with the hope that the fears and prejudice that once overshadowed their African American family have melted away. Artie is now a lieutenant in the Charlotte Fire Department and Angela is an accountant for a banking firm. But as they settle in, no one has any idea of the everlasting effect that Artie and his family will soon have on the community and entire city.

Unfortunately, Artie knows his new assignment at University Station is not going to be easy. The fire station houses a den of redneck racists who are determined to make his life miserable. Although he knows he will be the only black man there, he still needs to command respect and authority from his brothers in uniform. As he rescues victims in burning buildings that he is certain are racist, Artie transforms into a courageous hero who does not see color—only lives to be saved—a decision that seals his fate and determines his legacy.

Fireman Down is the story of an African American firefighter who bravely wears his uniform during a time of racial unrest in Charlotte, North Carolina.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Sep 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665710770

Lee Shargel

Lee Shargel is a screenwriter and creative writing instructor who is passionate about racial equality, empowerment, and the thought-provoking subjects of science and reality fiction. He is a Six Sigma Master Black Belt and powerful motivational speaker. Fireman Down is his fourth novel.

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Copyright © 2021 Lee Shargel.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Archway Publishing

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6657-1078-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-1076-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-1077-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021916330

Archway Publishing rev. date: 08/31/2021

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Epilogue

Author’s Note

About The Author

I

dedicate this book to you the reader. I hope this story touches your heart and motivates you to action. To David Shargel, my brother. To Ernie Wilkins, my best Bronx friend. And to the most important person I know, Danae McKillop Shargel, my wife, my muse, my best friend. You are the pillar of my existence. My love for you will live forever.

Lee Shargel 6/27/2021

PROLOGUE

Sunday, March 11, 1984, at 5:20am, Charlotte, NC

C restwood Lake. A two-story luxury apartment complex was engulfed in flames. Early on a Sunday morning sleep-in day, and as the sun began to rise, and despite the noise of sirens, most residents remained asleep.

Fire trucks, engine ladders, and rescue companies had crowded into the parking lot. Several firemen now worked their way along the second-floor landing of building two, banging on doors, searching for any residents who might still be at home. Firemen on the street below, and on a ladder raised to the second-floor railing, sprayed a torrent of water at the center of the roof in an attempt to knock down the flames.

Leon, raise the ladder, shouted Artie Reese, nearing the tip end of the ladder. Higher, so I can get water on the roof!

The ladder inched its way up, and Artie sprayed water on the flames, now poking through the rear of the second-floor apartments. The fire was at the center of the roof and moving fast.

Help! came a scream, sounding like a young girl calling out from apartment 2B.

One of the firemen, Galen Caudell, boots on the second-floor landing, banged on the door. He tried to open it but was stopped cold.

Sonofabitch’s locked! Gotta kick her in. He stepped back to the railing and then kicked the door hard. The door frame splintered as the door flew off its hinges. Galen pushed it aside and charged into the apartment.

Fire Department! He yelled out. Where are you?

Help! I’m in here! the female voice replied.

Even as Galen charged into the apartment, the second-floor overhang made a loud snapping sound. Flames had weakened the internal braces, and it was about to break free from the roof just as Galen emerged with the young woman wrapped in his fire coat. From behind Galen, smoke billowed out of the doorway and windows of the burning apartment.

With a final uproariously loud snapping sound, the overhang broke loose. Wood and sheetrock rained down over the firefighters. They all scrambled to free themselves of the fiery debris.

I need some help up here! Galen yelled out.

A voice crackled through the radio on each fire-fighter’s remote.

Galen! Galen! came the authoritative voice of Captain Overmeyer from street-level. "We need a man on that second-floor landing. Nowww, damn it!"

Artie Reese held firm to the ladder with his left hand; with his right hand extended, he pointed the snorkel down on the firefighters in trouble, soaking them and the burning debris. He then flipped the jet of water back onto the roof, even as he leapt from the ladder and onto the landing.

Quick. Take her, Galen pleaded with Artie, holding the frightened young woman out to him. I’m burning up here, man!

Artie grabbed the girl and snatched Galen’s coat from her. He quickly handed the young lady off to one of the other firemen on the ladder. This fireman lifted her up and over the ladder and carried her down. Moving quickly, Artie helped Galen get to his feet and back into his coat and Airpak harness. With his breathing mask dangling at his side, Galen pulled the glove off his right hand and extended it, inviting Artie to shake.

Thanks, brother, you-you saved my life, Galen said with a smile.

Artie, still wearing his face mask, helmet, and gloves, pulled off his right-hand glove to shake Galen’s hand. At the same moment, he took his mask off. Galen looked at Artie with astonishment and immediately snatched his hand away, hiding it inside his coat sleeve. Artie thought the white hand hiding in his sleeve looked like a turtle avoiding its prey.

"Don’t mention it, BROTHER!" Artie said, smiling back.

Galen scrambled backward as the other firemen on the landing came to his side, some still brushing away some of the debris. A look of amazement floated among them, settling on their faces. It was as if they’d never seen a black man before.

Who the hell are you? Asked Billy-Ray Dycus, one of the other firemen.

Artie Reese. I’m with the One-Sixty-Four over on Sugar Creek. Glad to be of service, gentlemen, Artie said, joyfully.

Galen looked at the others standing around him. It’s four to one, he thought, even as he asked, "Hey ain’t that the Nig … I mean that colored station over on 6th Street. The one they call The Soul Patrol?"

Yes, that’s us. We were in the neighborhood, so we thought we’d stop by and give you boys a hand. Artie’s smile widened, showing his pearly white teeth.

"Yeah, well, uhhh, thanks for the help there, son. I think we can take it from here," Galen awkwardly replied, leaving Artie to think: the man’s gotta look cool for his buddies.

You’re welcome, boys. Anytime. Artie hopped back onto the ladder and climbed down.

Once on the ground and the fire under control, Artie and Leon began stowing their gear into a compartment on the engine. Captain Jerome Williamson, the commander of station One-Sixty-Four, approached Artie.

That was some heroics up there, Arthur. The Captain gave him a thumbs up.

Thanks Cap. Just doing my job.

I’m putting you in for a commendation, Arthur, Captain Williamson replied.

Like I said, Cap. Just doing my job. If anyone deserves a commendation, it should be that guy. Artie pointed to Galen Caudell, being slapped on the back now at his engine truck sporting 123 in big white numbers along its sides.

Aren’t those guys from University Station, Captain? Leon asked.

Yeah. One-Twenty-Three. Wild Bill’s boys. Captain Williamson answered.

I’ve heard of those guys. Supposed to be a real wild bunch, Artie added.

Hopefully, not for long, Arthur, began Williamson. Things are changing in the department, and I like what I’m hearing.

Hey, speaking of change, come on fellas. We need to get packed up and back to the station. Angela wants to go looking at houses—this afternoon!

Leon laughed. Again!

Yes, again! And I can’t be late. Artie shot Leon a mocking smile. "My woman wants what she wants!

Good luck, Brother! Leon jumped in the back seat of the crew cab.

Captain Williamson pulled Artie aside, out of earshot. Arthur, don’t forget our meeting at the chief’s office tomorrow.

Don’t worry, Captain. Assistant Chief Whitehall already clued me in to what you guys are planning. I like the offer of a raise and a promotion, but to tell you the truth, I really dread the thought of transferring to University Station.

This plan’s extremely important, Arthur. Williamson held Artie’s gaze. Important for you and the whole department.

I know, Captain. Don’t worry, I’ll be there. Artie shook the captain’s hand, and with a salute goodbye, he turned and found his place in the fire engine cab.

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CHAPTER 1

A ngela Reese sat on the edge of the bed, clutching a picture frame in her arms. Like some priceless treasure that could be ripped from her grasp at any moment. She held onto it, weeping. Inside the gold and chrome frame was an 8 x 10 glossy photo of her husband, Arthur Reese. It was a proud depiction of a man on the day of his promotion to Lieutenant in the Charlotte, North Carolina Fire Department. Angela’s fingers caressed Arthur’s image. He stood proud and tall in his sparkling, freshly pressed uniform; the brass buttons and medals gleaming in the sunlight. It was a day of pride for everyone and now, Arthur Reese, the bravest firemen this city had ever known, was dead.

The bedroom was silent save for the sound of snowflakes floating against the windowpane. Angela thought she could hear the growing snow accumulating outside. The heavy wet flakes combined to make a soft, melting sound, as unique as the tiny and cold star patterns of ice melting down the warm glass. Angela watched as each flake touched the window for an instant of glory. She could see the magnificent pattern of each icy flake, frozen into a form only God could create, before each was reduced to a drop of water racing to join the pool on the windowsill. For a moment, it made her smile. She thought of how much Artie liked the snow and the cold weather that signified the holiday season. She stood, still clutching Arthur’s photo, and stepped to the window, where she watched the snow fall gently on the decorated lawns of her neighbors. Angela’s thoughts drifted back to last year and Christmas in the old house. Their home was crowded with furniture, knick-knacks and Artie, Jr’s, baseball, football, and other sports gear strewn about.

The Christmas tree in the living room was so big that Artie had to put the recliner chair in the garage to make room for it. Presents of every size and description were under the tree. The same as every other year, she thought. Artie would get so carried away with gifts for the kids. And there they were, wrapped in bright holiday paper and bows. Angela was amazed that they all fit in the room. And still, she remembered, Artie, Jr’s new bicycle was at the firehouse waiting for assembly and a big holiday ribbon. Even with the over-crowding, Angela thought it would be hard to leave their house.

Now as she struggled through tears of sadness, thinking how Artie would never feel the joy of Christmas in this new home, his dream home. The one he worked so hard to get for all of us, she thought. Angela returned to the bed and sat in the darkened room, thinking back to the time when she and Artie talked at length about moving to a larger house, and how they promised one another that in the spring they would begin the search. She held the picture tighter in her arms and wept silently.

Oh Artie, I miss you. What are we to do? Oh, God, what are we to do without you?

Momma? Are you okay? Jolana softly asked. The solemnity of the moment was broken as Angela looked up to see that her daughter was standing in the doorway.

Fourteen-year-old Jolana Reese was a picture of loveliness. Tall for her age, brown eyes sparkling with life, Jolana wore her long, jet-black hair draped over her shoulders, framing a beautiful face full of life and a beaming smile. Her features were indeed striking. And Jolana was also an intelligent young lady, and like her mother, the youngster was an exceptional student. A freshman in her new high school, and halfway into the school year, she was already tops in her class and an A student.

Artie had always been so proud of his daughter, Angela thought, recalling how they’d already discussed the possibilities of the collegiate future that lay ahead of her.

Momma? Jolana called out again.

She stood there in the doorway of the darkened room watching her mother seated at the edge of the bed, facing the window. Angela, catching her breath, motioned for her daughter to enter the room. Come here, baby. Sit next to your Momma. She wiped the tears with a Kleenex from the nightstand. Jolana stepped into the room and sat on the bed next to her mother.

Please don’t cry, Momma, she pleaded.

Angela placed the picture frame on the nightstand next to the digital clock. It was nearly 10:30 pm on Christmas Eve. She took her daughter’s hand in hers and kissed it. Then she put her arm around Jolana and pulled her close. For a moment, they sat silent in the quiet darkness, watching the snowflakes do their wintery dance outside on the lawn.

Hey, you two, what’s goin’ on in here? Is everything okay? Artie Junior asked.

He now stood at the bedroom doorway. A precocious young man of twelve years, Artie Jr. was tall for his age, handsome and stocky like his father, but he was as yet immature and prankish. His life revolved around school sports and his dad. In seventh grade, he played as a linebacker on his middle school football team. Artie Senior had, of course, dreamed that his son might make it all the way to the NFL someday.

Artie, Jr. loved sports. Trophies and medals occupied every space in his room, proud testimony to his athletic abilities. He loved baseball even more than football, and his dad promised that in the summer, mom and dad would send him for a week to baseball camp. The two of them, father and son, had a great relationship. Artie Sr. had set up a batting cage for his son in the back yard, and on warm days, he would toss a fastball or two.

Artie was just as attentive toward his daughter, Jolana, although a bit sheepish about some of the more feminine things in her life; in which case, he would defer his daughter’s concerns to Angela. In short, Artie Reese was a good man, husband, and father to his children. And now Artie and Angela’s son stood in the doorway, and Angela wondered if the young Artie, could come to terms with the sad reality that his father was gone. Had the tragedy really sunk in for him, she asked herself, or was he trying to bury the pain deep within his heart?

Angela guessed that her son had yet to reconcile with his loss. She knew, too, that Artie, Jr. was now the man of the house, and he was trying as hard as he could to assume his new role in the most mature way his twelve years of experience would allow. Angela felt he would need time to come to terms with this. They all would. But will we ever get past it?

Everything is fine, dear, Angela said before glancing at the nightstand clock, and seeing the lateness of the hour, she then chided her son."

You should’ve been in bed a half hour ago, young man,

Come on, Momma, please, it’s Christmas Eve, and besides, Dad always let us stay up late on Christmas Eve.

You’re right, baby, I forgot. Come here and sit with us. Angela beckoned. She patted the bed and motioned for her son to join her and his sister. Artie, Jr. stepped into the darkened room and sat on the bed next to his mother. Angela was now flanked by her children, the threesome sitting in silence, watching a strange and different world outside the window.

Are we gonna’ have to move now, Momma? Artie asked, breaking the silence.

Shut up, Artie, Jolana said through gritted teeth.

Don’t go up-setting Momma now.

It’s okay, dear. I’m not upset, Angela lied.

What’s gonna’ happen now, Momma? Artie Jr. pleaded. I don’t think Dad would want us to move.

Jolana reached behind her mother, poked her brother in the ribs, and mouthed a whisper under her breath. I told you to shut up.

Artie, Jr. just gave his sister an annoyed look. Angela pulled her children closer and gave them both a big hug. She choked back her tears, as she stared out of the window and spoke to them both.

I don’t know what’s going to happen, babies. We just must trust in God and pray for Him to watch over us. I love this house, too. It was your father’s dream home. Angela said.

Jolana jumped up from the bed and stood by the window.

Hey, do you remember the first time we saw this house? I can still see that look on Dad’s face. Jolana seemed desperate to change the subject.

I remember how excited we all were that day, replied Angela, the melancholy seeping back into her voice.

"Artie Jr. running around the yard like a newborn puppy. and you prancing around upstairs like a princess. It was such a good day. Now … it seems so far away."

Jolana, realizing her mother was about to begin crying again, seized the moment.

It was a good day, Momma, and we will always remember it and how daddy kept saying, she paused to deepen her voice to mimic her father’s voice: ‘Now Angela, don’t you think this place is a bit big for the four of us?’

Angela smiled at the thought of that day, when Artie, Jr. broke in, Yeah, I remember him saying that, too. Gee, Momma, are we gonna’ have to move now? Artie asked again.

Once again, the mood turned somber, as Angela rose from the edge of the bed and lifted the picture from the nightstand. She seemed to drift off as she began to speak to her children.

I remember that day, too, Angela dreamily said, adding, It was such a happy time for all of us. She returned to the window and looked out.

It was as if she could see back in time, as she wistfully spoke.

I remember that day as if it were yesterday.

Angela continued staring out the window, as if she could see the past playing out like a movie on the glass pane. She continued speaking, not to the children, but to some ethereal person beyond her reach. Out there amidst the reflection of the gaily colored Christmas lights.

It was a beautiful and sunny spring day. The trees were just beginning to bloom. The neighborhood was so beautiful. All of the houses looked so pretty. I told your father I had a feeling about this place the moment we saw it. I remember pulling into the driveway. Melanie Rodgers, the real estate agent, was waiting for us at the door.

She’s a nice lady, and her kids are so easy to be with, Jolana put in.

Your father was so worried, bless his heart. I can just picture him standing there in the grass, complaining all the way to the front door. Angela, still at the window, looked beyond the snow-covered lawns and the twinkling Christmas lights.

She spoke as if their first moment of finding their new home was happening now rather than nearly a year ago. Jolana and Artie, Jr. stood and moved to Angela at the window. As their mother spoke, they both looked outside. The snow was falling harder now. Not a blizzard by any means, but a steady flurry of snowflakes, covering trees, bushes, and grass. It was a beautiful winter scene. Like something out of a Currier and Ives print.

They stood there, mother, daughter, and son, watching, all hoping and praying that for just a moment they could turn back the clock to a different time, a happier time, a time of joy and