'These 2 men are heroes to me': Fire survivor reunites with firefighters decades later

In the early morning hours of May 17, 1972, a fire broke out at a row house located at 245 Kenmore Blvd., killing three children and injuring four other people, including another child.

Christina Surgeon, then 1 year old, suffered third-degree burns over 85% of her body when the fire spread to her building next door. She was saved when her uncle threw her out of a second-story window to Charles Sims who, along with Joseph Shir, had spotted the fire in its beginning stages while they were driving through the neighborhood.

Christina's 20-year-old mother was badly burned, dying 19 days after the disaster.

Shir and Sims did all they could to stop the fire. When it became clear that it was out of control, they began knocking on doors, trying to wake residents. Shir ran to the corner and triggered an alarm box, summoning the fire department.

Firefighters David Sullivan and Larry Steele responded.

Though neither of the retired Akron firefighters take credit for Surgeon's survival, she feels otherwise.

"And I mean, I could have been one of the little kids that they were body bagging, and my children wouldn't be here, my grandchildren wouldn't be here," Surgeon said. "So, these two men are heroes to me."

More than five decades later, Surgeon finally got the chance recently to thank them for their efforts that fateful day.

'The whole world's on fire'

The deadly Kenmore blaze was Steele's first working fire.

He'd participated in controlled burns of houses for training, but this was different. This was chaos — towering flames, smoke and alarms, people leaping from windows.

"The whole world's on fire," Steele recalled. "I mean, the whole world's on fire at three o'clock in the morning."

According to a Beacon Journal article reporting the tragedy, the blaze began in a pile of clothing stacked on a table left on the front porch as part of a weeks-long "porch sale."

Sullivan arrived ahead of Steele as part of a separate fire company.

"When we pulled up," he said, "the chief was waiting on the curb and said, 'Sullivan, get it round back, we got kids upstairs.'"

There was already a ladder waiting, used in an unsuccessful rescue attempt by Shir, Sims and Paul Blair, the stepfather of the children.

When Sullivan entered the room through a second-story window, he discovered it was too late.

The three children were dead.

Later, it was up to Steele and some of the other rookies to put the children into body bags.

"Jeez," Steele said, recalling the moment, "It's like you're watching — you're watching, not really there doing something, but you're watching; you're not part of it."

Reconnecting Kenmore fire survivor with her heroes

After nearly 52 years, it was a Facebook post on the Kenmore Historical Society's page that brought Surgeon, Steele and Sullivan together again.

Sullivan and Steele say there's only one other firefighter still living who responded to the May 17 blaze. His name is Richard Marsh, said Sullivan, and he lives in an extended care facility in southern Ohio.

Surgeon saw the photo of the remaining apartments by chance.

"It was just weird," said Surgeon.

Reading the comments, Surgeon saw Sullivan mention that he had worked on the fire. The two got in touch, and Sullivan reached out to Steele, who eventually spoke with Surgeon.

Sullivan was stunned to hear from Surgeon. People thanking firefighters decades after the fact only happens in movies, he said.

"She's the first person who's ever acknowledged any thanks that I'm aware," he said. "And for it to be 52 years later, especially from this incident, for me, was cathartic, actually; it was just providence."

For Steele, hearing from Sullivan and Surgeon transported him back to the day of the fire.

"And the whole thing is just like yesterday, and you know, it was a doozy," he said.

Finding closure and peace

Meeting in person last month at the Kenmore Community Center after 52 years provided a sense of catharsis for all three.

"That fire in particular traumatized me," Sullivan said. "I can't tell you why. It wasn't particularly the most gruesome scene I've ever seen. My first day on a fire, a little baby died in my arms. Firefighting is a tragic sport."

"It was kind of a nightmare," Steele said. "But then, she's here and she's okay."

Knowing that Surgeon survived changed something in Sullivan. It matters to firefighters, Sullivan said, that people live through ordeals like these.

"They swear to fight fires save lives, and when they can't do that, some of them carry it for a long time," he said, "and this particular one was the one for me.

"I have a piece within me that I didn't have before. Someone survived that fire. I had nothing to do with it, except to witness it. And I had to witness it, just to know that someone survived. And there's children there," he said referencing Surgeon's daughter and grandchild, "and they will have children. And it'll go on and on and on."

The knowledge that someone survived a such a horrific scene provided Sullivan and Steele with a sense of closure — closure that Surgeon shares.

Her life, she said, has been hard. Her son, Jamarrick Keyshawn Valentine, was murdered in in 2019. But meeting the two men who fought the fire that almost claimed her life helps her find some peace.

"Just to know that they were young at the time and for them to carry all this with them through the years, and then to hear them say that me calling and reaching out to them is healing for them, is healing for me," Surgeon said.

Contact reporter Derek Kreider at DKreider@Gannett.com or 330-541-9413

This article originally appeared on Akron Beacon Journal: Firefighters and survivor of 1972 Kenmore fire reunite, find closure