On a cold afternoon in February of 1995 I found myself outside the offices of Metropolitan Ambulance in Canarsie, Brooklyn. My newly minted EMT Card was still attached to the certificate sheet, and I stood there on the parking pad waiting for the General Manager to arrive so I could interview for a job with my friend who would become my partner for my first year out.
Thirty minutes after my appointment a white truck painted in the Metropolitan Ambulance colors roared into the spot I was standing in, putting my nose to the scripted letters “Danielle” that was painted on the hood. Out of this white banged up Chevy K-5 Trailblazer stepped an imposing figure. Wearing blue jeans, a Yankee sweatshirt, and donning a salt and pepper mullet that on anyone else would be ridiculous the man sauntered up to us. In one of his massive hands was the newspapers of the day and in the other was a large styrofoam coffee cup from Dunkin’ Donuts.
“You kids waiting for me?” he asked. My friend and I looked at each other, unsure if this was really the General Manager of the largest private ambulance in New York City. “From the look on your faces yeah, you’re waiting for me. We’ll go inside, I’ll drink my coffee, you fill out the paperwork, and you start Monday at 9:00am.”
This was Artie Becker.
Artie was a very straight shooter, he always played above the board, and told you how it actually was as opposed to the way you may have preferred to hear it. Some people may have seen him as irreverent (and perhaps sometime he was) but at least he was always honest.
Artie was in charge of scheduling the ambulance crews. He did so using cutting edge technology… paper. Paper, a ruler, and white out.
A lot of white out.
And coffee. Artie had to have at least three large cups of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee regular with milk. For years, when I would do the coffee run, I brought him back two coffees and I’d have a bottle of Nestle Quick Chocolate Milk. He tried repeatedly to get me to drink coffee, and I persistently refused. It wasn’t until the summer of 2001 when I finally acquiesced and ordered my first ice coffee with Artie. Knowing I wasn’t a fan of the coffee flavor, he told the guy behind the counter to make it French Vanilla, light with cream, and four Equal to sweeten it up for me. Although I’ve swapped the Equals for the Splendas, that’s exactly how I order my coffee now 11 years later.
Artie always took the time to listen to what concerns or problems you had whether they were work related or personal. He always made time to speak to you one on one when there was an issue. For him to be able to do that, especially in a garage our size, required a lot of skill and he handled it exceptionally well.
Artie also had a thing for giving people nicknames. Perp. Squirrel. Hubcap. Dog. Once Artie bestowed a title upon you, it stuck. He himself went by a number of different nicknames such as Doc, the General, and the Ringmaster… because every circus needs one and alot of times an EMS garage can resemble a circus.
Artie wasn’t just a manager… he was a true leader, mentor, and friend.
There are a lot of stories I could tell you about Artie, but most of those would probably get me in some sort of trouble. There is one story I want to share though that will hopefully highlight why he was such an inspiration to so many…
O.C.F.
In early ’99 our company, like many other privately owned ambulance shops, was bought and merged with what would become the largest regional provider for the Mid-Atlantic. During this time our uniforms were in a state of flux and we were the contracted transport provider for Woodstock ’99.
In an attempt to provide some unification amongst those of us left standing after the merger and have some uniformity, Artie whipped out his pens and rulers and drew a very rough logo. We had a bunch of discussions about whether we should do shirts or hats with his masterpiece, and eventually settled on hats.
“You know what would be cool? What if we worked in a secret code? Like something only those of us who went would understand?” asked Artie, “Like the Freemasons!”
“Yeah, that would be cool,” we all told him, hoping he’d come back to the planning table because… well… the plans weren’t shaping up so well.
“I know, how about if we work in the letters O.C.F.?” he said with that glow in his eyes.
“Sure, but, what does it stand for?” we asked.
“Operation Cluster Fuck! Because you know, that’s what this is gonna be, right? Right?” he replied, and we all laughed our heads off, fully agreeing with him that it seemed this was indeed going to go down that route.
So he did it. He put O.C.F. on the sides of all the Woodstock ’99 hats. I actually didn’t think he’d do it, so when I saw the hats and saw that he had done it, well that was just too cool… even if the hats were white.
There we were on deployment day, with the fly cars and vehicles getting lined up in our bright white Woodstock ’99 hats when the Vice-President came over. He turned to Artie and said, “The press’ll be here in an hour or two. Make sure you’re ready and be sure you have a good story about this O.C.F. thing.”
Artie looked at me in a panic and said, “Oh crap. We can’t tell the press what O.C.F. really stands for!”
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be good publicity,” I agreed while backing one of the units into their spot.
“Publicity? Who cares about the publicity? That would destroy the secret! Do you think the Freemasons told the press about their secret insignia? Of course not! We need to come up with a cover story,” he said. Then he walked away, second coffee of the day in hand, muttering “O.C.F…. O.C.F…”
Finally, after about four hours when the reporter finally arrived (because they were two hours late) they asked Artie some basic questions like how many people were going, how many vehicles, how many patients did we expect to treat, and then finally the question he had been waiting for… what does O.C.F. stand for?
Artie grinned and his eyes glowed as he leaned into the microphone and said, “One Caring Family.”
That’s what they printed.
That’s what I think he really, secretly, wanted it to mean.
Good Journey
Artie Becker at the 1993 World Trade Center Bombing
Avianca Flight 52, The 1993 World Trade Center Bombing, Woodstock ’99, and The 2001 World Trade Center Attacks just to name a few of the better known incidents.
Today, Artie Becker will be buried.
Death, like taxes, is inevitable… even for those of us who spend our lives fighting on behalf of others against it. Our ends are all destined to be the same, but what truly matters is how we played our part on the big stage of life. Artie didn’t just play his part… his role as Ringmaster of a band of well-intentioned misfits… he exceeded it and inspired others to exceed in their parts as well. More than a boss, more than a co-worker, more than a Ringmaster… he was first and foremost a friend.
A friend we remember and we miss.
A friend we wish a good journey to…
No related posts.
Dog,
I couldn’t have written something better. Artie meant so much to so many of us. I always felt special because Artie saw something in me and quickly included me in his “inner circle.” I truly believe those were the best times of my life. Artie, you, me, Johnny, etc. I never worried when Artie was there. For a man of such large stature he was unbelievably gentle. He always made things better and NEVER turned us away when we needed something….no matter what it was. Artie Becker will forever be ingrained in my mind and I will never forget the things he did for me, taught me, and of course his antics. 15 years later I am still referred to as “Perp” and I couldn’t be prouder of that nickname because Artie gave it to me.
Thanks for the memories Artie…..Good journey my friend!
Perp!
Dave couldnt have been said any better.
We’ll said. Miss you all. G-d bless.
I do not know any of you, and came across this by accident. However, I am a nurse who happens to live in a large military town, and understand the sentiment this man obviously generated. When you walk through the fires of hell to save people you don’t, a bond is formed that will never be forgotten and not always understood by others. May your friend and brother rest in peace, and his memory inspire all who come behind him.
For those of you that might still remember me , my unit was the famous ‘ Medic 123 ‘ , Metro’s paramedic unit extraordinaire, the pride of the fleet, right behind ‘ Car 5 ‘ and of course ‘ Car 1 ‘, responding to all ‘ Hatzolah ‘ calls and representing ‘ Good Old Metro ‘ in all EMS events , across the Big Apple !!! During my 9 years with ‘ Metro ‘ , I worked very close with Artie , coordinating the medics and providing the best paramedic emergency care , there was . I WILL NEVER FORGET the 1st attack on the Twin towers of Feb. 26th 1993…Metro’s ‘ Medic 123 ‘ was there and hence the well known picture of me and Artie ; me – carrying on a wheel chair an off duty PO ( look for the badge on his neck ) out of the 1st tower , as you can see , he was quite heavy and Artie – providing high con. O2 with a non-re breather , while carrying the portable O2 . That picture was published , 2 years later ( Feb 23 1995 ) on page 50 of ‘ US News and World Magazine ‘, when they run an article on how the FBI nailed it’s most wanted man – Ramzi Ahmed Yousuf , the mastermind of that attack ! I left ‘ Metro ‘ a couple months later and went home to Greece , where I became the Director of EMS for the city of Athens , a position I cherished for 10 years , till my recent repatriation , in 2006. I have kept in contact via Facebook with a lot of you , since then and had been informed of Artie’s medical condition till a few days prior his passing !!!
Artie , ” Medic 123 ‘ is 98 !!!
Paramedic John Antoniades
http://www.johnantoniades.ws
That was awesome….well said, well said….RIP Artie
Thanks for perfectly describing the real Artie. He was someone who more then once stopped many bullets aimed for me. He was honest, dedicated and a real human being. I too remember many stories that i cant reveal since it would get us all in trouble. I will miss him, and may he rest in peace.
Very nice tribute to a man who touched a lot of lives. He was all that has been written. He told it like it was and the way it was going to be. I started at Metro before Artie, and even before Rupport, was there from Ave. L.
Those that learned life’s lessons from Artie ought to be thankful because those lessons are hard to come by. Remembering someone and copying them is one of the best and nicest and respectable ways to pay tribute to someone.
Rest in peace Artie- it was a pleasure knowing you and working with you and what ever else……
Brian
My heart was truly broken when I heard of Artie’s passing. Artie hired me for my first job as an emt 25 years ago.I too have many Artie memories that I will cherish forever. As time went on I became operations manager,I covered the day tour and Artie relieved me for the evening tour. Everyday he greeted me the same way,” Honey I’m home” It became our thing,and this is how he said hi to me for 20 years.I can still hear his voice now. If Artie liked you,he loved you. He was always there for me. He was there if I had a problem, always with good advice. He was there for the birth of my children, and when I buried my husband. Artie was there period. I feel blessed for having known him. My heart goes out to his family,especially his daughter. Her father had the heart of a lion. R.I.P. my friend………Honey you’re home.