The Berg Lab explosion

TODAY, Wednesday, Oct. 15, Philadelphia Fire Fighters' Union Local 22 will be honoring the firefighters killed in the line of duty at the Charles W. Berg Laboratories in 1954.

At 11 a.m., a memorial plaque will be unveiled at the northeast corner of City Hall, pointed in the direction of Berg Labs, which was located at 5th and Berks streets, now a vacant lot.

My uncle, Deputy Chief Thomas A. Kline, my father's brother, was one of the firefighters killed on that fateful day.

Reports of ammonia fumes in the vicinity of 5th and Berks streets in North Philadelphia came into the Fire Department just after 6 a.m. As a deputy chief, Uncle Tom was one of the first on the scene, responding with his battalion chief, John Magrann.

As they arrived, a 4,000-gallon aluminum-alloy tank full of hydrochloric acid (which played a role in World War I days as an ingredient in creating one of the battlefield poison gases) exploded from a heat and pressure buildup.

Uncle Tom was killed instantly when a steel bolt used to hold the tank together slammed him in the head from the catastrophic force of the blowout. It threw him several feet into a brick wall, and his helmet was found 30 feet up on the roof of the Berg Labs building.

Along with Kline and Magrann, Battalion Chief John J. News, firefighters Bernard Junod, Joe Vivian, Tom Wilson, Lt. Charles Holtzman, Jimmy Doyle, Joe Bandos and James Tygh gave the ultimate sacrifice.

Many of the deaths were a result of the release of poisonous chemicals like phosgene.

Firefighters were pulled out of the blast area covered in a dark burning syrupy liquid that suffocated them.

Others died directly from the blast, with crushed chests and lungs. Twenty-three other firefighters and two city police officers were severely injured that day as well, and, 54 years later, we will honor their memory and the ultimate price they paid in their service to the city and its citizens.

I come from a firefighter family.

Not only was Uncle Tom one, but his nephew George, my godfather, was in the Fire Department, and his son Buddy carried on the tradition.

We all lived in Port Richmond, at Weikel and Ann streets, in small rowhouses where everybody sat outside on the stoop, and your aunt, cousins and grandmom either lived next to you, across the street or - even with you.

Talk about close-knit: My parents raised nine kids - and my grandmother also lived with us, sharing a three-bedroom, one-bathroom rowhouse.

Back in 1954, people didn't use funeral homes for a viewing. You were laid out in your front parlor, and that's how Uncle Tom was laid to rest. Hundreds of people crammed the intersection of Weikel and Ann streets to bid him a final farewell and pay respects to his wife and son.

THE VIEWING went on well past midnight as police and firefighters tried to quell the crowds and direct traffic.

To this day, people still tell me they remember Kline's funeral and how the whole neighborhood was in shock and at a standstill over his untimely yet heroic death.

The Berg Labs explosion left 25 children without their fathers, and, because of this catastrophe, the Philadelphia Hero Scholarship Fund was created to help the children of firefighters and police killed in the line of duty pay their college tuition. When you buy tickets to the Philadelphia Thrill Show, the proceeds also aid the fund.

Today my family will join others at the northeast corner of City Hall to unveil this memorial.

I invite everyone to this service to remember the 10 firefighters who didn't come home to their families on Oct. 28, 1954, and I ask you to carry on the tradition that we were taught when we were very young kids.

Whenever you hear the sirens of some police or fire emergency, bless yourself and say a prayer for the safety of Philly's finest. *

Joan L. Krajewski is a city councilwoman, representing the 6th District in Northeast Philadelphia.