Richard Scheidt, 1928-2009: Fireman in tragic school fire photo
April 08, 2009 | By Andrew L. Wang, TRIBUNE REPORTER and Tribune reporters Jeremy Gorner, Christopher Latham and David Elsner contributed.
The photographer sped after the firetruck as it headed toward the burning school on Chicago's West Side. He dodged police officers, firefighters and frantic parents, climbed atop a fire engine and pointed his camera at a door in one corner of the building.
"I was trying to get whatever I could get," said Steve Lasker, then a photographer for the Chicago American. "I just waited for a fireman to come out."
Firefighter Richard Scheidt emerged from the building carrying the body of a 10-year-old boy, and Lasker snapped a photograph. The image remains among the most poignant to emerge from the blaze at Our Lady of Angels School on Dec. 1, 1958, that killed 92 children and three nuns.
Mr. Scheidt, 81, whose drawn, crestfallen face at that moment graced the pages of hundreds of newspapers and magazines, died Monday, April 6, in his home in Oak Lawn, family members said. He had been hospitalized after a recent stroke and returned home the previous day.
Mr. Scheidt had been a Chicago firefighter for eight years when all 13 of the city's rescue squads were dispatched to the school that afternoon. The fire, he recalled in a 1995 Tribune interview, "was just roaring through the building."
Firefighters eventually broke a hole through a second-floor wall to find a smoky classroom full of unconscious pupils.
Mr. Scheidt said the men immediately tried to rescue as many as they could. He grabbed a boy and rushed out of the building.
But, he tearfully told the interviewer, "He was dead. He didn't make it, like so many of the rest of them." He then went back and brought out 19 more children, all dead.
Lasker said Tuesday that he and Mr. Scheidt later met at the coroner's inquest into the deaths. He approached the firefighter and said, "You did a hell of a job there."
Andy Scheidt said his father virtually never spoke of the fire, both because it was so disturbing and out of respect for the victims.
"He wouldn't talk about it at all for most of my life," his son said. "The photographs were all stored away."
Mr. Scheidt, three of whose older brothers also were firefighters, said in the 1995 interview he almost quit the fire department after the fire.
"But I went on," he said. "You just live with it. It happened. You were part of it. You might not have liked it, but you did your job. You might have liked to have done more, but you did as good as you could."
Mr. Scheidt was born in Chicago in 1928 and grew up near 64th and Honore Streets, the youngest of seven children, said his wife of 32 years, Frances. He attended Harper High School, and at 17 enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps.
Mr. Scheidt joined the Chicago Fire Department in 1950, his wife said, and for several years was assigned to Rescue Squad 1, which was based at Lake and Dearborn Streets. He later was stationed near 53rd Street and Wabash Avenue, said Eddie Rickert, a longtime friend and fellow firefighter.
He retired in 1986 as a captain.
Chicago Fire Department First Deputy Commissioner Bob Hoff said Mr. Scheidt was a "tough, tough man. I mean physically tough."
On one call in the early 1970s to a grocery store with a fire in the basement, Scheidt ordered his men not to go in because it was too treacherous but didn't listen to his own advice. He and one other firefighter went in with a hose and put out the fire.
"There was heavy smoke -- and this was before the use of masks," said Hoff, who was on the scene that day. "He didn't want to get anyone hurt, but he had to put that fire out."
In his own quiet way, Mr. Scheidt was a mentor who made impressions on younger firefighters by his example more than his words.
"He affected a lot of lives. You'd get a thousand stories about him, all good. I'm only one," Hoff said. "It was an honor and a privilege to work for a guy like that."
Andy Scheidt recalls visiting the firehouse as a boy and noticing his father's close, familial relationship with the other firefighters, a bond that extended to their calls.
"He never asked anyone to do something he wouldn't do himself," his son said. "His biggest thing was making sure all his guys got home to their families."
"He and all the men that he worked with -- that was their job, and they were brothers in that," a daughter, Nancy Coughlin, recalled. "He never thought he was any more of a hero than any of the men he worked with."
Mr. Scheidt's first wife, Nancy, died in 1975, and one of his sons, Richard, died in 2005. In addition to his wife, daughter and son, he is survived by a sister, Sara Hamilton; sons Gene and Jim Egan and Thomas and Timothy Scheidt; daughters Anna Lippner, Bonnie Mitchell and Susan
Imburgia; 28 grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren.
Visitation will be from 3 to 9 p.m. Wednesday in Thompson- Kuenster Funeral Home, 5570 W. 95th St., Oak Lawn, and a funeral will be held at 10:30 a.m. Thursday in St. Gerald Church, 9310 S. 55th Ct., Oak Lawn.
April 08, 2009 | By Andrew L. Wang, TRIBUNE REPORTER and Tribune reporters Jeremy Gorner, Christopher Latham and David Elsner contributed.
The photographer sped after the firetruck as it headed toward the burning school on Chicago's West Side. He dodged police officers, firefighters and frantic parents, climbed atop a fire engine and pointed his camera at a door in one corner of the building.
"I was trying to get whatever I could get," said Steve Lasker, then a photographer for the Chicago American. "I just waited for a fireman to come out."
Firefighter Richard Scheidt emerged from the building carrying the body of a 10-year-old boy, and Lasker snapped a photograph. The image remains among the most poignant to emerge from the blaze at Our Lady of Angels School on Dec. 1, 1958, that killed 92 children and three nuns.
Mr. Scheidt, 81, whose drawn, crestfallen face at that moment graced the pages of hundreds of newspapers and magazines, died Monday, April 6, in his home in Oak Lawn, family members said. He had been hospitalized after a recent stroke and returned home the previous day.
Mr. Scheidt had been a Chicago firefighter for eight years when all 13 of the city's rescue squads were dispatched to the school that afternoon. The fire, he recalled in a 1995 Tribune interview, "was just roaring through the building."
Firefighters eventually broke a hole through a second-floor wall to find a smoky classroom full of unconscious pupils.
Mr. Scheidt said the men immediately tried to rescue as many as they could. He grabbed a boy and rushed out of the building.
But, he tearfully told the interviewer, "He was dead. He didn't make it, like so many of the rest of them." He then went back and brought out 19 more children, all dead.
Lasker said Tuesday that he and Mr. Scheidt later met at the coroner's inquest into the deaths. He approached the firefighter and said, "You did a hell of a job there."
Andy Scheidt said his father virtually never spoke of the fire, both because it was so disturbing and out of respect for the victims.
"He wouldn't talk about it at all for most of my life," his son said. "The photographs were all stored away."
Mr. Scheidt, three of whose older brothers also were firefighters, said in the 1995 interview he almost quit the fire department after the fire.
"But I went on," he said. "You just live with it. It happened. You were part of it. You might not have liked it, but you did your job. You might have liked to have done more, but you did as good as you could."
Mr. Scheidt was born in Chicago in 1928 and grew up near 64th and Honore Streets, the youngest of seven children, said his wife of 32 years, Frances. He attended Harper High School, and at 17 enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps.
Mr. Scheidt joined the Chicago Fire Department in 1950, his wife said, and for several years was assigned to Rescue Squad 1, which was based at Lake and Dearborn Streets. He later was stationed near 53rd Street and Wabash Avenue, said Eddie Rickert, a longtime friend and fellow firefighter.
He retired in 1986 as a captain.
Chicago Fire Department First Deputy Commissioner Bob Hoff said Mr. Scheidt was a "tough, tough man. I mean physically tough."
On one call in the early 1970s to a grocery store with a fire in the basement, Scheidt ordered his men not to go in because it was too treacherous but didn't listen to his own advice. He and one other firefighter went in with a hose and put out the fire.
"There was heavy smoke -- and this was before the use of masks," said Hoff, who was on the scene that day. "He didn't want to get anyone hurt, but he had to put that fire out."
In his own quiet way, Mr. Scheidt was a mentor who made impressions on younger firefighters by his example more than his words.
"He affected a lot of lives. You'd get a thousand stories about him, all good. I'm only one," Hoff said. "It was an honor and a privilege to work for a guy like that."
Andy Scheidt recalls visiting the firehouse as a boy and noticing his father's close, familial relationship with the other firefighters, a bond that extended to their calls.
"He never asked anyone to do something he wouldn't do himself," his son said. "His biggest thing was making sure all his guys got home to their families."
"He and all the men that he worked with -- that was their job, and they were brothers in that," a daughter, Nancy Coughlin, recalled. "He never thought he was any more of a hero than any of the men he worked with."
Mr. Scheidt's first wife, Nancy, died in 1975, and one of his sons, Richard, died in 2005. In addition to his wife, daughter and son, he is survived by a sister, Sara Hamilton; sons Gene and Jim Egan and Thomas and Timothy Scheidt; daughters Anna Lippner, Bonnie Mitchell and Susan
Imburgia; 28 grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren.
Visitation will be from 3 to 9 p.m. Wednesday in Thompson- Kuenster Funeral Home, 5570 W. 95th St., Oak Lawn, and a funeral will be held at 10:30 a.m. Thursday in St. Gerald Church, 9310 S. 55th Ct., Oak Lawn.
Richard Scheidt, 1928-2009: Fireman in tragic school fire photo
April 08, 2009 | By Andrew L. Wang, TRIBUNE REPORTER and Tribune reporters Jeremy Gorner, Christopher Latham and David Elsner contributed.
The photographer sped after the firetruck as it headed toward the burning school on Chicago's West Side. He dodged police officers, firefighters and frantic parents, climbed atop a fire engine and pointed his camera at a door in one corner of the building.
"I was trying to get whatever I could get," said Steve Lasker, then a photographer for the Chicago American. "I just waited for a fireman to come out."
Firefighter Richard Scheidt emerged from the building carrying the body of a 10-year-old boy, and Lasker snapped a photograph. The image remains among the most poignant to emerge from the blaze at Our Lady of Angels School on Dec. 1, 1958, that killed 92 children and three nuns.
Mr. Scheidt, 81, whose drawn, crestfallen face at that moment graced the pages of hundreds of newspapers and magazines, died Monday, April 6, in his home in Oak Lawn, family members said. He had been hospitalized after a recent stroke and returned home the previous day.
Mr. Scheidt had been a Chicago firefighter for eight years when all 13 of the city's rescue squads were dispatched to the school that afternoon. The fire, he recalled in a 1995 Tribune interview, "was just roaring through the building."
Firefighters eventually broke a hole through a second-floor wall to find a smoky classroom full of unconscious pupils.
Mr. Scheidt said the men immediately tried to rescue as many as they could. He grabbed a boy and rushed out of the building.
But, he tearfully told the interviewer, "He was dead. He didn't make it, like so many of the rest of them." He then went back and brought out 19 more children, all dead.
Lasker said Tuesday that he and Mr. Scheidt later met at the coroner's inquest into the deaths. He approached the firefighter and said, "You did a hell of a job there."
Andy Scheidt said his father virtually never spoke of the fire, both because it was so disturbing and out of respect for the victims.
"He wouldn't talk about it at all for most of my life," his son said. "The photographs were all stored away."
Mr. Scheidt, three of whose older brothers also were firefighters, said in the 1995 interview he almost quit the fire department after the fire.
"But I went on," he said. "You just live with it. It happened. You were part of it. You might not have liked it, but you did your job. You might have liked to have done more, but you did as good as you could."
Mr. Scheidt was born in Chicago in 1928 and grew up near 64th and Honore Streets, the youngest of seven children, said his wife of 32 years, Frances. He attended Harper High School, and at 17 enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps.
Mr. Scheidt joined the Chicago Fire Department in 1950, his wife said, and for several years was assigned to Rescue Squad 1, which was based at Lake and Dearborn Streets. He later was stationed near 53rd Street and Wabash Avenue, said Eddie Rickert, a longtime friend and fellow firefighter.
He retired in 1986 as a captain.
Chicago Fire Department First Deputy Commissioner Bob Hoff said Mr. Scheidt was a "tough, tough man. I mean physically tough."
On one call in the early 1970s to a grocery store with a fire in the basement, Scheidt ordered his men not to go in because it was too treacherous but didn't listen to his own advice. He and one other firefighter went in with a hose and put out the fire.
"There was heavy smoke -- and this was before the use of masks," said Hoff, who was on the scene that day. "He didn't want to get anyone hurt, but he had to put that fire out."
In his own quiet way, Mr. Scheidt was a mentor who made impressions on younger firefighters by his example more than his words.
"He affected a lot of lives. You'd get a thousand stories about him, all good. I'm only one," Hoff said. "It was an honor and a privilege to work for a guy like that."
Andy Scheidt recalls visiting the firehouse as a boy and noticing his father's close, familial relationship with the other firefighters, a bond that extended to their calls.
"He never asked anyone to do something he wouldn't do himself," his son said. "His biggest thing was making sure all his guys got home to their families."
"He and all the men that he worked with -- that was their job, and they were brothers in that," a daughter, Nancy Coughlin, recalled. "He never thought he was any more of a hero than any of the men he worked with."
Mr. Scheidt's first wife, Nancy, died in 1975, and one of his sons, Richard, died in 2005. In addition to his wife, daughter and son, he is survived by a sister, Sara Hamilton; sons Gene and Jim Egan and Thomas and Timothy Scheidt; daughters Anna Lippner, Bonnie Mitchell and Susan
Imburgia; 28 grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren.
Visitation will be from 3 to 9 p.m. Wednesday in Thompson- Kuenster Funeral Home, 5570 W. 95th St., Oak Lawn, and a funeral will be held at 10:30 a.m. Thursday in St. Gerald Church, 9310 S. 55th Ct., Oak Lawn.
April 08, 2009 | By Andrew L. Wang, TRIBUNE REPORTER and Tribune reporters Jeremy Gorner, Christopher Latham and David Elsner contributed.
The photographer sped after the firetruck as it headed toward the burning school on Chicago's West Side. He dodged police officers, firefighters and frantic parents, climbed atop a fire engine and pointed his camera at a door in one corner of the building.
"I was trying to get whatever I could get," said Steve Lasker, then a photographer for the Chicago American. "I just waited for a fireman to come out."
Firefighter Richard Scheidt emerged from the building carrying the body of a 10-year-old boy, and Lasker snapped a photograph. The image remains among the most poignant to emerge from the blaze at Our Lady of Angels School on Dec. 1, 1958, that killed 92 children and three nuns.
Mr. Scheidt, 81, whose drawn, crestfallen face at that moment graced the pages of hundreds of newspapers and magazines, died Monday, April 6, in his home in Oak Lawn, family members said. He had been hospitalized after a recent stroke and returned home the previous day.
Mr. Scheidt had been a Chicago firefighter for eight years when all 13 of the city's rescue squads were dispatched to the school that afternoon. The fire, he recalled in a 1995 Tribune interview, "was just roaring through the building."
Firefighters eventually broke a hole through a second-floor wall to find a smoky classroom full of unconscious pupils.
Mr. Scheidt said the men immediately tried to rescue as many as they could. He grabbed a boy and rushed out of the building.
But, he tearfully told the interviewer, "He was dead. He didn't make it, like so many of the rest of them." He then went back and brought out 19 more children, all dead.
Lasker said Tuesday that he and Mr. Scheidt later met at the coroner's inquest into the deaths. He approached the firefighter and said, "You did a hell of a job there."
Andy Scheidt said his father virtually never spoke of the fire, both because it was so disturbing and out of respect for the victims.
"He wouldn't talk about it at all for most of my life," his son said. "The photographs were all stored away."
Mr. Scheidt, three of whose older brothers also were firefighters, said in the 1995 interview he almost quit the fire department after the fire.
"But I went on," he said. "You just live with it. It happened. You were part of it. You might not have liked it, but you did your job. You might have liked to have done more, but you did as good as you could."
Mr. Scheidt was born in Chicago in 1928 and grew up near 64th and Honore Streets, the youngest of seven children, said his wife of 32 years, Frances. He attended Harper High School, and at 17 enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps.
Mr. Scheidt joined the Chicago Fire Department in 1950, his wife said, and for several years was assigned to Rescue Squad 1, which was based at Lake and Dearborn Streets. He later was stationed near 53rd Street and Wabash Avenue, said Eddie Rickert, a longtime friend and fellow firefighter.
He retired in 1986 as a captain.
Chicago Fire Department First Deputy Commissioner Bob Hoff said Mr. Scheidt was a "tough, tough man. I mean physically tough."
On one call in the early 1970s to a grocery store with a fire in the basement, Scheidt ordered his men not to go in because it was too treacherous but didn't listen to his own advice. He and one other firefighter went in with a hose and put out the fire.
"There was heavy smoke -- and this was before the use of masks," said Hoff, who was on the scene that day. "He didn't want to get anyone hurt, but he had to put that fire out."
In his own quiet way, Mr. Scheidt was a mentor who made impressions on younger firefighters by his example more than his words.
"He affected a lot of lives. You'd get a thousand stories about him, all good. I'm only one," Hoff said. "It was an honor and a privilege to work for a guy like that."
Andy Scheidt recalls visiting the firehouse as a boy and noticing his father's close, familial relationship with the other firefighters, a bond that extended to their calls.
"He never asked anyone to do something he wouldn't do himself," his son said. "His biggest thing was making sure all his guys got home to their families."
"He and all the men that he worked with -- that was their job, and they were brothers in that," a daughter, Nancy Coughlin, recalled. "He never thought he was any more of a hero than any of the men he worked with."
Mr. Scheidt's first wife, Nancy, died in 1975, and one of his sons, Richard, died in 2005. In addition to his wife, daughter and son, he is survived by a sister, Sara Hamilton; sons Gene and Jim Egan and Thomas and Timothy Scheidt; daughters Anna Lippner, Bonnie Mitchell and Susan
Imburgia; 28 grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren.
Visitation will be from 3 to 9 p.m. Wednesday in Thompson- Kuenster Funeral Home, 5570 W. 95th St., Oak Lawn, and a funeral will be held at 10:30 a.m. Thursday in St. Gerald Church, 9310 S. 55th Ct., Oak Lawn.
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