By JOSEPH KELLARD
Irene Spear therefore hoped that the gloomy weather would break for the ceremonial unveiling of a street sign dedicated to her son, Robert, a firefighter killed in the World Trade Center attacks. Just before the ceremony began on Saturday morning, June 14, the sun pierced the clouds to shine on Irene and her family and some 200 people who joined them to celebrate the sunshine that Spear's life radiated.
At the corner of Brower and Fortesque avenues, under towering arches formed by two tall ladders on engine trucks from the Oceanside Fire Department, Hempstead Supervisor Kate Murray was one of several government officials who set the ceremony's tone.
"Prior to September 11, many people thought that there were no modern heroes," Murray said. "Then we came to know so many people who went to work that day to support their loved ones and lost their lives in the first battle of the first war of the 21st century."
On Sept. 11, Spear, 30, had just completed an overnight shift and was waiting for his replacement when a call came that put him at the World Trade Center. At the time, Spear had been working out of Engine Co. 26 in Manhattan, in the midst of a year-long rotation from his original company, Engine Co. 50/Ladder 19 in the South Bronx. Both companies were represented at the ceremony.
Irene Spear, who headed the dedication effort, wanted the signs mounted outside her home at Brower and Fortesque, where her son lived most of his life, from age 11 to 28.
"Robbie," as Spear was affectionately called, attended School 3 and the middle school, and after graduating from Oceanside High School in 1989 he tried to attain his dream. But he had to wait several years before becoming a firefighter. Meanwhile, he drove trucks for various companies out of Kennedy Airport, and jumped from planes as a paratrooper in the 82nd Airborne at Fort Bragg, N.C.
In the mid-1990s, Spear became a supervisor with Emery World Wide, a freight forwarding company. On May 22, 1999, he married Lorraine Ferara, and later that year he left Emery and took a $30,000 pay cut to fight fires with Engine Co. 50/Ladder 19.
"It's hard to fathom where people get the courage to do their job and to run into a building that's on fire and is in severe distress when everyone else is running out," Councilman Anthony Santino told the crowd, which included families of other fallen 9/11 firefighters. "It's something very, very special. It's something very much to be honored, to be among people who devote their lives to being there at the last extremity, at the worst of times, and putting their lives on the line for their fellow human beings."
When Lorraine Spear took to the podium, before which stood a poster-sized photo of her husband on their wedding day, she admitted to having reservations about the dedication, confessing she didn't want to cry each time she saw the sign when visiting her mother-in-law's home.
"But I just decided that only I can control how I remember Rob," she said, the sun making her squint gently. "I can remember him in sorrow, or I can remember him as the man he was, the fun, the laughter, and the blessed life he had given me."
The Spears had no children, something Lorraine had reflected on often since 9/11. But she came to recognize that a man doesn't necessarily have to bear a child to leave a legacy.
"You just have to do good and set a good example with your time on this earth," she said. "That was what Rob was about."
Her husband's philosophy was defined by putting his family above everyone else, living life to its fullest, and choosing a profession he loved and sticking with it.
"His legacy is one of accomplishment," Lorraine said. "A career he loved, a life full of love and laughter, a family that worshipped him, and a wife who adored him. To me, that is a legacy."
Spear's 84-year-old grandparents, Mamie and Phillip DeSantis, unveiled the fire engine-red sign that reads "Robert W. Spear Jr. Pl." alonside a 9/11 FDNY badge.
"He was a very dear grandson," said Phillip, who wore a sky-blue "Robbie" baseball cap decorated with American flag pins in the shape of the United States. "He did so many things for us even when we didn't ask him."
"He was a lovable, sweet person," said Mamie, a heart-shaped medallion bearing Spear's portrait dangling on a fine chain around her neck, as she recalled how she taught him to swim in the pool at Oceanside Park.
"The road we began going down on Sept. 11 has been a winding, mountainous road that at times we felt lost on," said Jerry Cash, a firefighter from Engine Co. 50/Ladder 19, who had gazed skyward and thanked Spear for the warm, sunny weather. "But now, this road has been named after Rob and will be straighter and more direct because Rob is in charge."
Following the ceremony, Spear's eldest sister, Amy Haviland -- who on 9/11 also lost her husband, Tim, a vice president at insurance brokerage Marsh McLennan in the World Trace Center -- said, "I'm really touched by how many people came out to honor Robbie. He would have loved this. He loved parties, barbecues and music."
Haviland added that she missed her brother more and more, that the members of his family would honor him until they died, and that he was never far from their thoughts.
During the ceremony, Irene Spear read, "We Remember Him," a Jewish prayer about visiting graves, which she received from her bereavement group.
"At the rising of the sun and its going down, we remember him," she began as the sunshine embraced her.
