Black firefighters remembered for 9/11 contributions

Author’s note: This article was originally published in 2022. Additional reporting by Tandy Lau this year reflects changes in the Vulcan Society. 

This year marks 22 years since the September 11 tragedy that cut down New York City’s iconic Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. About 3,000 people were killed during the terrorist attack when four planes were hijacked and flew two into the towers, and one into the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. The fourth plane crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. Almost 10,000 people were injured but survived that day.

Of the 343 firefighters who sacrificed their lives as first responders to the attack, 12 members of the Black Vulcan Society of the New York City Fire Department (FDNY) were lost during rescue and recovery efforts. The firefighters’ names were Gerard Baptiste, Vernon Cherry, Tarel Coleman, Andre Fletcher, Keith Glascoe, Ronnie Henderson, William Henry, Karl Joseph, Keithroy Maynard, Vernon Richard, Shawn Powell, and Leon Smith Jr. 

History of the Vulcans

Wesley Williams, founder of the Vulcan Society and the first Black battalion chief, established the society with more than 50 Black firefighters in 1940 because of issues of discrimination in the FDNY, previously reported Amsterdam News. 

The Vulcans became known for their advocacy work in fighting discriminatory practices in the FDNY and fundraising for the NAACP, Urban League, and Harlem YMCA. By 1960, the Vulcan Society had 500 members.

The organization is going strong, although its headquarters in Brooklyn is under construction. Every year, the president and members invite the families of 9/11 firefighter victims to a Brooklyn memorial service to honor their sacrifice.

Capt. Paul Washington, former Vulcan Society president, said last year they are also doing a street renaming on a section of Monroe Street to honor fallen firefighter Powell. Washington recalled that most of the 12 Vulcan members who died were inside or right outside the Twin Towers when the structures collapsed. 

“It’s up to us to keep the memory alive. They made the ultimate sacrifice,” said Washignton.

“While the city may forget, the families don’t,” said Vulcan member and firefighter Greg Shepherd of Engine Company 234. “A lot of these people had kids and some of them are firefighters now. I bet you they never forgot, either. For us, it’s about helping the families. They’re our extended family.”

President Regina Wilson recalls the fateful day

Vulcan Society President Regina Wilson—who returned to her leadership role earlier this year—shared her personal recollection of responding to the World Trade Center attacks with the AmNews. 

She recalled waking up to a beautiful, sunny day during a house watch, with plans to train new colleagues. A loud sudden noise came out of the kitchen, which wasn’t unusual given firefighters’ predilection toward laughter. But the sound wasn’t joy. Wilson saw the news broadcast of the 9/11 attacks as it occurred. She says it was surreal, like a movie. But there was no time to gawk—they were called to respond. 

While riding through the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel to get to Manhattan, Wilson said, the rig—which holds hundreds of gallons of water—shook violently and she felt like they were going to be caved in. But the firetruck got through.

“When we got to the other side, you [almost] couldn’t see anything. [There were] abandoned rigs, we ran into people that were in distress, a number of women had an asthma attack and charcoal was on their face,” said Wilson.

The firefighters started guiding the people toward Brooklyn. Her boss ensured Wilson put her mask on. But as she hooked the straps across her face, everything went dark—covered in smoke. Wilson recalled praying. 

When the smoke subsided, “We saw a lot of civilians, we saw other firefighters, but everybody was [in] distress,” said Wilson. “It was buildings on fire. We [saw] cars on fire. And then we just went into work mode.”

There was no water pressure in the nearby hydrants, so they had to venture into buildings to find another source, like water towers. Ultimately, a marine unit helped them get water through. 

Once the building fires had been put out, Wilson needed to inform her family she was okay in a pre-smartphone era. She spied a payphone.

“I called my nephew’s grandmother because I remembered her number only because it was the last [digits of the] year [of] my youngest brother’s birthday,” she said. “I called her up and I said ‘Listen, I’m down at the Trade Center. Please tell my family that I’m okay, tell them that I love them, and just let them know that I’m here. But if I die, I died loving what I’m doing.”

Wilson is one of the many Black firefighters who responded to 9/11. But after such efforts, she says the world never gave them their due.

“I think the public as a whole disrespected the efforts made by not only [Black firefighters] but the contribution of women,” said Wilson. “Most people, if you close their eyes and ask them what is the image of a firefighter, they will see a white man. The fact that the world focused in and visualized and interviewed and gave deals to and highlighted on TV—it was never a diverse field. We never knew about the 12 Black firefighters themselves on 9/11.” 

Families remember Black firefighters killed in 9/11

Joining the FDNY was the first time Keithroy Maynard went his own way, recalled his twin brother Kevin. As kids, they attended the same junior high and the same high school. As adults, they both worked for Continental Airlines. They even finished each other’s sentences. But Keithroy, a key union organizer at LaGuardia Airport, wanted to be a role model in his neighborhood of East Flatbush, so he became a firefighter. 

Keithroy Maynard became one of the 12 Black firefighters who died during 9/11. He was in the Vulcan Society. 

“One of things I didn’t like was that we were just alike, but now that my brother is no longer here, [it’s] something that I cherish. You want to live your own independent life because you look just like someone and we were just alike,” said Kevin Maynard. “But now when I think about it, I wish I could go back to that point. For me, I look at a lot of stuff now that he is no longer here and I wish I didn’t really feel that way about it.”

Another fallen firefighter, Powell, has been immortalized in a Bed-Stuy street naming. His sister, Monique, remembered him as a decent man who split his time between the military and fire department. And as quite the craftsman and the creative, when the two were children. 

“Everybody was playing ‘skully’ at the time, [and] he created our own skully board, in the living room,” said Monique Powell. “Surprised my mother let him do it, but she did. My mother was very supportive, so he was always creating stuff.” 

She also recalls their sibling fascination with “Mission Impossible” and subsequent attempts to remake gadgets and keys from the spy movie. It was just the two of them, so they did everything together.

“He [was] very kind, very caring,” she said. “I just miss him because he’s my brother. And I miss that support of him being my brother.”

For Leila Joseph, her brother Karl lives on through her work helping youngsters in their birthplace of Haiti. 

“We started a foundation in memory of him for Haiti,” she said. “The reason we did it was also when the earthquake happened in Haiti—everybody was going down there. And I knew there was a group of firefighters in FDNY who actually went to Haiti.” 

Through the FF. Karl Henri Joseph Educational Fund, Leila Joseph was able to start a school offering courses from kindergarten to grade four. 

She remembers Karl Joseph as a bookworm—he was always studying. And he was family-oriented, staying at home despite earning enough to move out, so he could support their parents and siblings financially when their mother wasn’t working. These days, their younger brother also serves in the FDNY, receiving a promotion just recently.

According to former Vulcan Society president Dellon Morgan, many family members of the 12 firefighters moved out of New York City over the past 22 years, but Powell and Joseph, whose brothers worked together in Engine Company 207, both stayed, becoming support systems for one another.

“Through the years, [with] everything that has gone on, [the Powell family] has always been there for us,” said Joseph. “We all go to each other’s thing. They’ve been great. And we’ve gotten to know them.”

“Karl Joseph’s family has been very important in my life in the past few years—they look after me, they make sure I’m okay,” said Powell. “They let me go with them on family functions. I speak to Leila all the time.”

Kevin Maynard did not stay in New York City. He left for Houston, to serve as a firefighter in Keithroy’s memory. But there’s something about the Big Apple that he can’t let go. Maynard has refused to change his phone number and area code to keep some connection with the city. Whenever he returns to visit his mom, he swells with pride on seeing Black firefighters throughout town, followed by a wave of sadness.

“I see the fire trucks, and I see all these brothers on these fire trucks,” said Maynard. “It makes me feel sad that my brother’s not here to enjoy some of it.”
Ariama C. Long and Tandy Lau are Report for America corps members and write for the Amsterdam News. Your donation to match our RFA grant helps keep them writing stories like this one; please consider making a tax-deductible gift of any amount today by clicking here: bit.ly/amnews1.