Amid charred ruins, an old soldier's portrait, a small sign of hope

Perhaps the painting had survived the flames - the cherished, nearly century-old portrait of Pvt. Boleslaw Grochowski, the first soldier from Bridesburg killed in World War I and the namesake of American Legion Post 396.

Firefighters said they had noticed a painting hanging amid the ruins.

Perhaps, by some miracle, it was not lost.

And the men standing outside the charred remains of American Legion Post 396 on Tuesday morning were looking for some kind of miracle, no matter how small.

Their post was gone, reduced to rubble after a Memorial Day fire. And with it, possibly, decades of mementos and keepsakes inside.

"We lost 98 years of history," said former Post Commander Pat Love. He stood on the corner of Orthodox and Milnor Streets next to Pat Driscoll, the post commander. The two men fielded updates from the firefighters and Licensing and Inspection workers coming and going from the building.

The reports were not good.

The fire had gutted much of the building, they were told. Sections of the second floor had collapsed onto the first. It was not safe Tuesday for post members to go inside, even for a few moments, to see what they could salvage, they said. Maybe tomorrow.

The treasured memorial wall, inscribed with the names of every deceased post member, the donated uniforms worn by members from World War I through Vietnam, the World War I-era Browning machine gun that hung above the uniforms, the POW-MIA memorial, nearly a hundred years of post records and photos - all of it could be gone, or badly damaged from the smoke, the fire, and the water.

All this loss on, of all days, Memorial Day. The day of their most solemn service: the "Post Everlasting" ceremony, when Love and Driscoll stand before Pvt. Grochowski's portrait and read the names of newly deceased members onto the memorial wall.

"I wouldn't care if I got hit in the head - I'd wear a hard hat if I could go in and get that picture," Pat Love said.

The post's Memorial Day festivities had started on an ominous note when a blown transformer on the street had knocked out power in the building. But by noon Monday, the power was back on and Post 396 had fallen into its usual holiday rhythms.

Pat Driscoll was in the kitchen whipping up a feast of hot roast turkey sandwiches, meatballs, and baked ziti.

Soaked with sweat after marching in the Bridesburg Memorial Day parade, Love, now a district American Legion commander, was in his office, changing into a crisp Legion uniform.

They had finished the Post Everlasting ceremony and commemorated the passing of 12 members with the singing of that old World War I song, "My Buddy" - Nights are long since you went away/ I think about you all through the day/ My Buddy, My Buddy - when someone smelled smoke upstairs and peeked into the dumbwaiter shaft to see burning ash drifting down.

Pat Love showed the firefighters upstairs. By then, flames had reached the ceiling.

"Then I just sat there and watched my building burn," Pat Love said Tuesday, wiping away tears.

There were more tears on Orthodox Street on Tuesday, amid the talk of what was lost - a beloved piece of the neighborhood, gone, for now.

Joe Slota from the Polish American Citizens' Harmonia Club down the street offered his condolences and help - and cried over the memory of meeting his wife at the club 14 years ago. It was Shrimp Night, he remembered.

"I still picture her coming up the stairs," he said, his voice catching.

There was laughter, too.

When a cry went up that at least part of the bar remained intact, Michael Sabatino cracked, "Well, I still got money on the bar, so grab me a drink."

But mostly, there was just silent shock - and waiting, waiting for some small sign of hope.

The street had grown quiet when an L&I worker grabbed Pat Driscoll's son, P.J.

"Wait here," he told him, returning with the portrait of Boleslaw Grochowski.

Pat Love and Pat Driscoll leaned it against a wall, as if tending to a wounded friend. They knelt to wipe soot from the canvas and the old soldier's stoic face began to appear. The painting was damaged, but it had survived.

"We can restore this," they agreed.

They promised to do the same for Post 396.

mnewall@phillynews.com

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