Detroit firefighter honored for rescuing family

Like most heroes, Sgt. Dennis Dooley, 46, of the Detroit Fire Department doesn't like being called one.

It doesn't matter that he was recently awarded the department's Meritorious Medallion Award for saving the lives of six people who would have perished in their home had he not nearly broken their front door down.

It doesn't matter that he was not on duty when he came upon the fire and thus wasn't wearing any protective gear when he ran up the smoke-filled stairs to awaken the family, who were already unresponsive due to smoke inhalation.

It doesn't matter that upon meeting Sgt. Dooley at Ladder 8, Engine 27 on W. Fort Street, he does not acknowledge the 4-inch-long burn on the side of his face until you ask outright, because it's all in a day's work.

And it doesn't matter that everybody who works alongside him here at the firehouse — this band of brothers who run into burning buildings for a living — say he's a unsung hero, most notably his chief Mike Cleland, who grabs Dooley by the shoulder as he attempts to skirt by unnoticed to tell you "Good man, here. We're sure proud of him."

In his personal life, Dooley is the kind of guy who moved into his sister's house for a few weeks so that she could tend to her dying husband. Says a sister-in-law: "He's wonderful guy and very much hates the spotlight on him."

Of course, knowing this was all the more reason for his fellow firefighters to rib him during the interview.

Just as he was answering a question, a voice broadcast on the intercom: "Sgt. Dooley, your wife is on the phone. She wants know when you want her to bring the medication for your hemorrhoids."

In fact, he only did the interview because his childhood buddy, Wayne County Circuit Court Judge David Allen, goaded him into it. For his part, Allen, (who comes from a family of Detroit cops and firefighters and knows whereof he speaks) says: "I have had many accomplishments, accolades and awards in my own life and career, but I'm not quite sure I measure up to his quiet integrity and bravery. He is one of my great heroes, and I hope my kids measure up to his example."

While Dooley says saving six lives was "nothing more than a kick in the door," Joe Peacross, Mary Allen, Lakysha Allen, Ahmad Cooper, Kijuanna Richardson and Khalil Warr would beg to differ.

All of them were asleep on May 1, a Sunday morning in their two-family flat on 1551 Military St. on the city's southwest side. Dooley was on his way to work, sitting at the light at Vernor and Livernois, just looking at the sky.

Firefighters are "always looking," he says, because after you've carried a limp child in your arms out of a fire, you are always looking. It's ingrained."

When he discovered the back of the house was engulfed in flames, Dooley started pounding on the front door with both fists. No sooner had he gotten everybody out when the entire first floor of the dwelling was leveled.

Days after the fire, the survivors came to the fire house to thank Dooley. TV cameras were rolling. They were calling him "Angel Dooley."

Dooley rolls his eyes. "I'm no angel, trust me. The only reason they were saved is because of the grace of God. I just get to be part of that grace."

He's not the hero, he says. His wife Annabel is. Because while he's been fighting fires for the last 21 years, she's been raising their five kids: three boys and two girls ranging in age from 22 to 3 years old.

He's not the hero, he says.

"All of these guys are," he says, with a wave of the hand. "I know when I go into a fire, I know that if something bad were to happen, there's a whole crew of guys that will come in and get me. I can say that about guys all over the city."

Dooley would prefer us to settle on a hero among heroes. Sorry Dennis, but your buddy Judge Allen knows better: "In a world full of bad news and in need of a hero," he said, "here we have one right under our nose."