Paddy‑O Laid To Rest

IMG_2991.jpgAfter a final ride in a fire truck, a fallen firefighter was bid farewell with white-gloved salutes, traditional Irish tunes, and a plaque above his perch at his favorite drinking hole.

Patrick Joseph Reardon, 42, was sent off with full pomp and circumstance at a funeral Monday. He passed away last Tuesday, 10 days after suffering a brain injury in a firehouse fall.

During a day of ceremony, loved ones remembered him as Paddy‑O the friend, Uncle Lumpy the family man, and just plain Pat, who’d sacrifice himself for his team, at the firehouse or on the beach volleyball court.

Reardon was also remembered with a plaque above his bar stool at Rudy’s Bar & Grill, where everyone knew his name, his grin, and his unmistakable laugh.

The New Haven County Firefighters’ Emerald Society kicked off a long day of remembrances Monday morning with a procession of bagpipes and drums leading up to West Haven’s St. Lawrence Church, where a long line of firefighters, from New Haven and beyond, stood at attention. (Click on the image to watch.) Before the Irish Catholic ceremony began, one bagpiper honored Reardon with a Coors Light in the shade.

The church at 207 Main St. soon teemed with members of Reardon’s born and adopted families: his parents and two sisters, his friends from various parts of his life, and his extended family in the New Haven Fire Department.

Brian Jooss, who entered the firefighting force with Reardon in 1994, recounted how a band of young Irish recruits, including Reardon, Jooss, Kevin Owens, Jimmy Blakeslee and Patrick Egan, became known in the academy as the Brat Pack. They’d get into mischief drinking at Big Tony’s on Water Street and end up swinging from the rafters at the Branford Elks.

Reardon became a firefighter after nine years working for the SNET telephone company. In joining the force, he followed in the footsteps of his elders: His dad, Jimmy Reardon, is a retired fire captain. His uncle, John Reardon, was a city fire chief.

Over the years, Reardon and his buddies in the Brat Pack shared milestones in each others’ lives. Reardon was part of Jooss’s wedding, though he refused to wear socks. A diehard Boston baseball fan, he was buried with a green Red Sox hat and, reportedly, no socks on his feet.

n1603291628_30174854_4719038.jpgReardon (pictured) was single with no children. He was a loving uncle of four. When his niece, Gillian, gave him a crayon drawing of a bright orange sun, he proudly displayed the gift by getting the image tattooed on his leg.

Fire Chief Michael Grant described him as a top-class firefighter with an engaging smile.” A good pump operator with strong EMT skills, Reardon was cited three times for excellence on the job. Grant spoke of a sense of family shared among those on the force.

We all die a little bit when one of our brothers dies,” said the chief.

After the church service, New Haven’s bravest loaded the casket onto Reardon’s former firetruck, Engine 6, for a procession back through New Haven, past his Goffe Street firehouse. Those firefighters who weren’t on duty, tackling flames on Winthrop Avenue showed up in force to the All Saints Ceremony in North Haven to lay their brother to rest.

Barry McMurtrey, Pat’s buddy from Rudy’s and a former Whiffenpoof, bid him farewell with a stirring rendition of the traditional Irish tune Danny Boy,” which he used to sing to Reardon on his birthday in the bar.

Crowds dispersed to drink in Reardon’s honor at the Knights of St. Patrick’s club, at Rudy’s and at Jack’s Bar and Grill, another of his favorite drinking spots.

To anyone who’d met him, Reardon was known as the life of the party. He’d celebrate the St. Patrick’s Day parades to the fullest, in New Haven and beyond. Over the years, he played softball for the Rudy’s team in East Shore Park. He also played beach volleyball, where, friends say, he wasn’t afraid to sacrifice his body for the team.

I’ve known Pat for about seven years. We used to pile into the back of his pickup truck, a green Ford Ranger with Grateful Dead stickers, and head out each week to play with the Rudy’s soccer team. It was a new team, a hodge-podge mix of bar regulars called Elm City United.

Pat always found something to celebrate. On the field, he played in bursts of remarkable speed. He would sprint his heart out on a fast break, make a dash at the goal, then retire to the sideline to relax with a cigarette. To mark our season’s opener, he popped open a bottle of champagne on the field.

IMG_2998.jpgAfter our games, he’d lead the charge back to Rudy’s at 372 Elm St. for a victory toast. He was well known, and liked by all. Like clockwork, he’d be there at happy hour, with a Bud and a shot of Polish brandy, sitting two stools away from the door. He’d greet everyone with a smile or a kiss on the cheek.

Over the past two weeks, it’s been tough to open that front door. There’s a big emptiness in the room.

In the place where he used to sit, bartenders draped an NHFD shirt over the back of the chair. They’ve kept a candle burning on the bar next to his favorite drinks. They put up a gold-colored plaque in his honor.

In loving memory of Patrick J. Reardon,” it reads.

We’ll miss you, Paddy‑O.”

Sign up for our morning newsletter

Don't want to miss a single Independent article? Sign up for our daily email newsletter! Click here for more info.