Firefighting
Pioneer and Renaissance Man
October
25, 2001
A
pioneer black firefighter, Vernon P. Cherry showed he belonged,
serving almost 30 years among the ranks of New York City's bravest.
But his zest for life and living radiated far beyond the walls
of Ladder Co. 118 at the base of the Brooklyn Bridge in the city's
largest borough.
Cherry,
who was about a month shy of 50 before he perished in the Sept.
11 attack, was 118's official vocalist. His melodic tenor voice
could be heard at most firefighters' functions, including medal
ceremonies and funerals.
He
-- along with his five-piece band, the Starfires-regularly performed
at weddings and bar mitzvahs, said his daughter, Selena Daniel
of Woodbridge, Va.
But
Cherry, a longtime court reporter, was as well-known and liked
in the halls of justice as he was in area wedding halls.
"He
was one of the most outgoing, friendly, nonpretentious persons
I had ever met," said State Supreme Court Justice Alice Schlesinger,
recalling when she first met him during the late 1980s, when they
worked Small Claims Court together.
As
he waited for cases to come before the bench, Cherry would take
it on himself to answer people's questions, going beyond what
he was supposed to do. "He hated just to do nothing,"
Schlesinger said of Cherry, adding that her family and his family-including
Joanne, his wife of more than 30 years, and three children-became
close. "He was just a terrific guy."
Cherry's
mother, Fannie Mae, now 82 and a resident of Woodside -- where
as a widow she singlehandedly raised six children -- noticed at
an early age that he liked to sing, Daniel said. Somehow managing
to obtain discount music lessons for her son, Fannie Mae took
him each week from the family's Woodside home to the Brooklyn
Academy of Music for voice instruction.
He
graduated from Aviation High School in Long Island City. While
working for the New York City Transit Authority fixing tracks,
her father took several civil service exams, Daniel said. Being
a product of the housing projects, he thought getting a city job
would bring his family the stability he didn't have as a child.
Her
father was somewhat of a Renaissance man, Daniel said. He was
a scholar, a historian and a genealogist, among other things.
And he also loved to rummage through thrift stores, where he acquired
some of his most treasured finds, including musical instruments,
artwork and golf clubs. "He couldn't pass up a good deal,"
his daughter said, amused that he had two sets of golf clubs,
a right-hand set and a left-hand set. "He didn't take life
for granted. He lived his life to the fullest," she said.
Daniel
and others said Cherry also was a giving man who easily bridged
racial barriers and got along with most everyone.
Cherry's
daughter recalled how once-during a shopping trip to the local
supermarket-her father tipped the bag boy $20 and told him to
keep up the good work and stay out of trouble. The boy reminded
Cherry of himself as a youngster, she said.
When
the family lived in Coney Island, her father had close friends
among virtually all the ethnic groups in the community, including
Russians and Jews, she said. And during his years as a court reporter,
Schlesinger recalled, Cherry regularly went out of his way to
help people fight their cases.
Often
some people would have to get transcripts but couldn't afford
to pay for them, she said. Cherry would type the material and
send it to them for free. "He was extremely generous and
friendly," his daughter said.
Cherry,
who had planned to retire at the end of the year, was working
the 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. tour Sept. 11. His was among the first companies
to be dispatched to the towers. As his engine raced into Lower
Manhattan over the Brooklyn Bridge, he and the five other firefighters
aboard could see the towers-both had been hit by then-engulfed
in a fireball.
By
the time Cherry's unit arrived at the scene, Daniel said one of
the surviving firefighters recalled, people were jumping out of
the burning skyscrapers. Cherry reportedly went straight into
one of the towers, which by now had been blazing for at least
half an hour. He knew by the time he got there that this was a
terrorist attack, his daughter said. Cherry's body was not recovered.
A
memorial service for Cherry was held Friday at the Antioch Baptist
Church in Corona. He also is survived by two sons, Ryan and Darien,
both of Brooklyn.
--
Collin Nash (Newsday)
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