I was there in 1974 on the day Stan Balsis and Mike Whalen drowned.
So maybe I take it too personally that someone spray-painted graffiti all over the Firemen's Memorial near the spot where the two Elgin firefighters drowned in the Fox River on that hot June day 38 years ago.
Balsis was a captain and Mike Whalen was a young firefighter, my age, ready to make his bones in a profession that had no tolerance for fear. He went to school with my cousin at St. Edward High School and I knew him by acquaintance. He didn't deserve to die that way. I guess no one does.
Some idiot on a raft went over the dam on a dare, trapping him in the powerful boil at the base of the dam below Kimball Street where water's backward rotation can pin a boat that three men couldn't lift.
It was a Sunday. The day was glorious; brilliant skies, soft breeze and what always appears as a placid, benign river flowing gently through the All-American city.
Balsis was a veteran, a seasoned and highly regarded fireman with a young family. His daughter still lives in Elgin, on the North end, the last I knew. She carries his death with her every day of her life.
Balsis and Whalen were sent to rescue the rafter in a canoe-like boat, wholly unfit for the task. We know that now. They didn't then.
The waters were rough and choppy around the boil and the canoe wobbled ominously as it neared the backwash where the trapped rafter waited, clinging to his raft. Hundreds of people lined the Kimball Street Bridge. Hundreds more gathered on both sides of the riverbank. Traffic had been diverted. No one spoke, no music played. The only sound was the thunder of the remorseless boil, the deep bass rumble felt in everyone's chest.
They got close; close enough for the rafter to grab hold before the chop and the omnipotent force of tons of water overwhelmed the inadequate craft. The canoe tipped. Balsis and Whalen fell out, the rafter ironically was shot out of the boil to the calm waters beyond. He made his way to shore and though charged with disorderly conduct, presumably lived the long, full life his rescuers were denied.
Whalen was knocked unconscious and the powerful churn literally stripped him of his clothing before expelling him as well. He was long dead before anyone reached him.
Balsis remained trapped there, his shoulder broken, clinging to life for over 45 minutes, unable to grasp lifelines which were lowered or help potential rescuers save his life.
Hundreds of people watched this brave man cling desperately to life, his face contorted in agony, safety only feet away. After three quarters of any hour, he allowed himself to slip under the water.
Fire Chief George Van De Voorde and Balsis had been friends for years with children roughly the same age. It was Van De Voorde who gave the order that put the men in the water. Saving people's lives is what firemen do. Neither man gave it a second thought.
People who knew George well said a part of him died on that day too. Although he went on to become a two-term mayor, he was haunted by the image of his friend clinging to life just out of reach.
A lot of lives were forever changed that day. A lot of lives never happened because of that day. A lot of us looked at life a lot differently after that. Bad things happen to good people. Not all stories have a happy ending.
Life, we discovered, is just a conspiracy of caprice.
That memorial held no significance to whoever spray-painted it with filth and foul words. They can be forgiven only in that they cannot know what that memorial means and what it signifies; the ultimate act of giving one's life for another.
That memorial stands as a tribute to the highest and best in a man and a profession.
Back before we called everyone a hero, back when it really had meaning, these men were heroes.
So maybe I take it too personally that someone spray-painted graffiti all over the Firemen's Memorial near the spot where the two Elgin firefighters drowned in the Fox River on that hot June day 38 years ago.
Balsis was a captain and Mike Whalen was a young firefighter, my age, ready to make his bones in a profession that had no tolerance for fear. He went to school with my cousin at St. Edward High School and I knew him by acquaintance. He didn't deserve to die that way. I guess no one does.
Some idiot on a raft went over the dam on a dare, trapping him in the powerful boil at the base of the dam below Kimball Street where water's backward rotation can pin a boat that three men couldn't lift.
It was a Sunday. The day was glorious; brilliant skies, soft breeze and what always appears as a placid, benign river flowing gently through the All-American city.
Balsis was a veteran, a seasoned and highly regarded fireman with a young family. His daughter still lives in Elgin, on the North end, the last I knew. She carries his death with her every day of her life.
Balsis and Whalen were sent to rescue the rafter in a canoe-like boat, wholly unfit for the task. We know that now. They didn't then.
The waters were rough and choppy around the boil and the canoe wobbled ominously as it neared the backwash where the trapped rafter waited, clinging to his raft. Hundreds of people lined the Kimball Street Bridge. Hundreds more gathered on both sides of the riverbank. Traffic had been diverted. No one spoke, no music played. The only sound was the thunder of the remorseless boil, the deep bass rumble felt in everyone's chest.
They got close; close enough for the rafter to grab hold before the chop and the omnipotent force of tons of water overwhelmed the inadequate craft. The canoe tipped. Balsis and Whalen fell out, the rafter ironically was shot out of the boil to the calm waters beyond. He made his way to shore and though charged with disorderly conduct, presumably lived the long, full life his rescuers were denied.
Whalen was knocked unconscious and the powerful churn literally stripped him of his clothing before expelling him as well. He was long dead before anyone reached him.
Balsis remained trapped there, his shoulder broken, clinging to life for over 45 minutes, unable to grasp lifelines which were lowered or help potential rescuers save his life.
Hundreds of people watched this brave man cling desperately to life, his face contorted in agony, safety only feet away. After three quarters of any hour, he allowed himself to slip under the water.
Fire Chief George Van De Voorde and Balsis had been friends for years with children roughly the same age. It was Van De Voorde who gave the order that put the men in the water. Saving people's lives is what firemen do. Neither man gave it a second thought.
People who knew George well said a part of him died on that day too. Although he went on to become a two-term mayor, he was haunted by the image of his friend clinging to life just out of reach.
A lot of lives were forever changed that day. A lot of lives never happened because of that day. A lot of us looked at life a lot differently after that. Bad things happen to good people. Not all stories have a happy ending.
Life, we discovered, is just a conspiracy of caprice.
That memorial held no significance to whoever spray-painted it with filth and foul words. They can be forgiven only in that they cannot know what that memorial means and what it signifies; the ultimate act of giving one's life for another.
That memorial stands as a tribute to the highest and best in a man and a profession.
Back before we called everyone a hero, back when it really had meaning, these men were heroes.
