By: Brian Zanzonico
It was a gesture symbolic of the man himself, for Meyran, a 16-year member of the New York City Fire Department, was someone his family, friends and fellow firefighters could always depend on.
"He made sure Firefighter Brendan Cawley got out the only exit available, helping him off with his gear as he exited the window," said Harold Schaitberger, general president of the International Association of Firefighters, in his eulogy last Saturday.
Cawley (Ladder 27) and firefighters Jeffrey Cool (Rescue 3), Joseph DiBernardo (Rescue 3) and Eugene Stolowski (Ladder 27) survived the 50-foot jump from an apartment fire at the corner of East 178th Street and Grand Concourse in the Bronx on Jan. 23 that killed Meyran (Battalion 26) and Firefighter John Bellew (Ladder 27). Fire officials said that an illegal wall in the fourth- floor apartment prevented the six from reaching the fire escape.
Cawley was the first to be released from the hospital. Cool, DiBernardo and Stolowski, whose wife is pregnant with twins, are still battling to survive. Firefighter Richard Sclafani (Ladder 103) was the third firefighter killed that day, losing his life in a Brooklyn blaze. It was the department's darkest day since 343 firefighters perished on Sept. 11, 2001.
With some 12,000 people gathered both inside the church and along Wright Avenue, Meyran, 46, was remembered as a man who spoke about the FDNY when he was with his family and about his family when he was at his beloved Bronx firehouse. He adored Jeanette and cherished his children, Dennis, 16, who wore his father's FDNY jacket and clutched his white officer's cap, Angela, 10, and Danine, 6. When his daughters showed an interest in figure skating, Meyran, a skilled carpenter, built an ice skating rink in the yard. For Dennis, an avid skateboarder, he built ramps in the driveway. So it was no surprise to those who knew him that he rushed into a raging inferno when he heard that a woman and child were trapped on the fourth floor.
He did not save any children on that fateful day, but he had years earlier. In 1997, he rescued a 2-year-old girl from a basement fire in Brooklyn.
"Curt gave his life so you, your kids and the city could live peacefully and safely," New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg said to Jeanette before turning to Meyran's mother, Virginia. "I never know what to say to parents. This is not the natural order of things. But your son died doing what he loved to do. He's a great hero."
Fire Commissioner Nicholas Scoppetta praised the 16-year veteran for always seeking to work in the busiest firehouses, whether it be Brooklyn or Howard Beach or the Bronx, calling him a "go-to guy." Meyran could have worked in virtually any firehouse once he became a lieutenant, but chose active firehouses, where his boundless energy and enthusiasm could best be served.
"If not for a great fire department and the likes of Curt Meyran, the city would not be the wonderful place that it is," Scoppetta said. "Curtis will be welcomed [into heaven] by all those [firemen] who left before him. He gave his life so others may live."
In the Mass homily, the Rev. Anthony Stanganelli, a family friend, asked the question that arises whenever someone is taken so young: Why?
"To Curt, why did you want to choose busy houses? Why not settle to be ordinary?" Stanganelli asked. "Why give 1,000 percent to everything? Why? Why is it you couldn't simply be like the rest of people and settle?" Anyone who knew Meyran already knew those answers.
Meyran's first commander, Phil Gaetani of Ladder 161 in Coney Island, said Meyran always thought of others even when enduring a personal crisis. Danine, now a healthy child, was born with a heart defect. At her first birthday party, Gaetani's wife remarked to Meyran how she enjoyed the wine that was being served. A week later, a case of the wine was delivered to the Gaetani home.
Gaetani also recalled a time when Curt and Jeanette were on the way to a restaurant and saw a woman having car trouble. They looked at each other, and not a word was spoken. It was a given that Meyran would pull over and assist. At Meyran's wake last week, the woman came to pay her respects.
"I want you to know once you got into Curt's heart, you were there forever," Gaetani said. "Jeanette, I want you to know a lot of us here have Curt in our hearts, and he will always be there."
At the end of the service, as pallbearers carried out Meyran's casket, Jeanette clutched Dennis's arm as a bugler played "Taps." "You're the man of the family now," Bloomberg had told Dennis earlier in church. "Do what your father was doing."
He didn't necessarily mean what Meyran accomplished as a fireman. The mayor referred to the contribution Meyran made as a go-to guy to everyone he touched.
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