Remembering Battalion Chief Ron E. Rourk….

Whether sitting around a kitchen table in the firehouse, teaching about it in a classroom, or appreciating it when pinned to the floor with flames over our heads, brotherhood is what sustains us and gives us a sense of belonging to a special group of people. Unfortunately, many people preach it but just do not understand what it is all about. You cannot buy it, you are not awarded it on a plaque, it does not come to you with a badge, nor is it earned by achieving a certain number of years on the job.

So, you may be asking, from where does it come? Well, after a long time in the Fire Service, I just in the last few days I have been reminded of what it is all about. You see, this week, my longtime friend and truly my brother, Ronnie Rourk passed away. His passing has put me in a tailspin of sorts. To understand that, you must first know a little about our history. Ronnie and I began our 54 year friendship when we both entered the Fire Service in the late 60’s at the St. Andrews Fire Department. He was 19 years of age and I was 17 years of age. We worked together for a few years, riding the tailboard together, side by side, on an actual tailboard where you hung on for dear life. God only knows how we survived.

Ronnie would eventually leave St. Andrews to join his Dad and his brothers in North Charleston. Little did I know at the time that we were destined to get together again when in 1976, when he orchestrated getting me hired as an Assistant Chief on the new third shift of their 24/48 schedule. How all that came about is something meant to be shared at a different time. That move surely led to some of the most exciting and rewarding times of my life. Being back together with Ronnie as we became a part of the junkyard dogs of North Charleston and had the privilege of working with the men and women of the District, truly an unbelievable experience. Ronnie was so cool headed and never met someone he did not like. If he had a problem with someone, he sure kept it to himself.

By the way, you will know when that “brotherhood thing” is starting to work in you when you realize someone has become a part of your thought process. More simply spoken. If we were at a working fire, and I knew he was enroute or on the fireground, most of my worries went away. He was an amazing fire officer and could read fireground conditions or smoke like no other I have ever known. We knew what each other was thinking, I believe from our time together hanging on the tailboard in the early days.

And, by the way, not all our relationship was about the fire department. We were there for each other when we each got married, when our children, Grant, Leigh, Theresa, and Sarah were born, when our parents and our siblings passed, and he was there for me when I finished my career at the District. Ironically, Ronnie was promoted to take my Chief’s position and even got my Chief’s car after my departure.

I was able to talk to him by phone last week but was prevented from seeing him in the hospital because of COVID restrictions. I became distraught because selfishly I wanted to see him. Unfortunately, that was not meant to be but thanks to Mary, I was able to visit with him privately today when I accompanied her to the funeral home to plan for his service. It was a little different, but, as usual he allowed me to drone on. I do not necessarily believe you get “closure” in a situation like this but, I did get peace in my heart. I know he in the presence of the Good Lord now, one thing he always wished for. I look forward to when we can ride that tailboard in the sky. Rest easy, my Brother, and thank you for sharing your life with me. I will keep checking on Mary and the girls and I will see you down the road.

Gerald