8 September 7 - 13, 2023 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents began working with the department in the late 1950s. The 3’s old location on Gaston Avenue was one of the last stations to house horse-drawn fire equipment, according to the Dallas Fire-Rescue History on the Dallas City Hall website. Minter’s daughter recalled her father wearing the protective gear on several oc- casions. He and his colleagues were con- stantly called out, not only to fight fires but also to respond to accidents and 911 calls from residents. But Suzanne wasn’t the only child to visit Minter at Fire Station 3. Kelly Kovar was 12 years old when, in the late 1980s, he sent a letter to Minter and oth- ers at Fire Station 3. He described watching the fire trucks go by his father’s worksite at the corner of Gaston and Good Latimer and asked about the job and what they do. One of Minter’s medics, Kovar recalled, sent a two-page letter to him, signed “The Men at the 3’s”, and talked about different aspects of the fire department — from the 52 stations and engines that pump water to the 20 trucks that carry ladders and the 22 am- bulances with two extra that go in service on the weekends. They sent him a package that included an orange metallic “E3” sticker that went on their helmets so they could identify one another whenever they were fighting a fire. They also invited him to visit the station. “Thanks for writing us and showing your support for the Dallas Fire Dept. where we work down here at 3’s. We don’t have too many people who appreciate us or the work we do for them. So when we have somebody write or call or say a little thank you, it really makes our day,” the Men of the 3’s wrote. “... The most important part of being a fire- fighter or paramedic is the willingness to help people. You can start that at any age. And your school is also very important. The Dallas Fire Dept. wants all its members to have some college behind them.” Kovar said that he spent the day with Minter and other firefighters, who let him try out some of the equipment and ride in one of the fire trucks to Fair Park, where he raised the ladders and pumped water. The day would inspire him to join Dallas Fire-Rescue when he got older. “The whole station is a camaraderie, a brotherhood,” Kovar said. “But going to visit the station is completely different. You get to see how they live and function during the day. … It wasn’t show-and-tell, like when they bring the fire trucks to the schools. It’s insight into how they operate every day.” Heroes I n early December 1974, Rudy Garcia, who was 6, was awakened by the cries of his little sister Yolanda. He saw fire all around them. Their mother, Maria, and their father, Rudy, had just returned from the pharmacy and were standing outside of their burning home with the firefighters, Minter, Hendrix and other family members. Their brother Antonio was on the front lawn with the others. Rudy and Yolanda were the only ones left inside. Despite it being cold and rainy, the flames had gotten too high for the family to save them, and Minter was somewhat discour- aged to go inside when they arrived and saw the burning home — until he heard Maria calling out that two of her children were still inside. “He did not think twice about going in,” Antonio said. Minter entered the house through a win- dow. Hendrix wasn’t far behind him. Minter began searching in the heat and darkness for possible survivors. He knew their chances of survival were slim in the smoke-filled burn- ing home. He found young Rudy covered in soot and crumpled on the wooden floor in the bed- room. He grasped the child and rushed him to the window where an ambulance crew waited. Hendrix then discovered Yolanda and rushed her from the home. In March 1975, the city awarded a Medal of Valor for bravery to each firefighter. “These are things he would never talk about,” Hendrix’s family wrote in his obitu- ary. “He was a quiet, modest man who wanted no thanks or attention for doing what he thought was right. He remained with the department until his retirement in 2003.” Minter seemed to be the same way. For years, he was a regular at a nearby Mexican restaurant in Irving. It was a small, well-re- viewed neighborhood diner. As a retired firefighter, he became familiar with the res- taurant owners yet never discussed his fire- fighting career, the Medal of Valor or the bravery he had shown when he rushed into the house to save the children. Neither the owners of Rudy’s Mexican Restaurant, the very same Garcias from the 1974 fire, nor Minter realized that they were again crossing paths all these years later. The man who had helped save their children from the blaze had become one of their fa- vorite customers. “I didn’t know he was still alive,” said Rudy Garcia, who grew up to become a priest at St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church in Frisco. Recognition I n late August 2022, Maria Garcia walked into the hospital room at a recovery cen- ter in North Richland Hills to meet the firefighter who had saved her children. Her husband, Rudy, and her son Antonio were with her, and her son Rudy was on his way. “It was deeply emotional and brought back memories and the ability to say thank you,” Father Garcia said. When Suzanne Minter called to invite them, Antonio said that his mother felt sorry about it because she had never thanked Minter for saving her children. She didn’t speak English well and was more concerned about her children, both of whom had suf- fered severe burns. Thinking about that night, Antonio said, also evoked negative memories. “But if it wasn’t for the heroics of the fire- men, she wouldn’t have her daughter and her older son,” he said. “It was very impact- ful to her.” Minter didn’t look like his robust self from the old photographs that Suzanne shared with the Observer. His health had de- teriorated. He’d been in and out of ICU since January 2022, fighting lung, skin cancer and heart health issues. “It’s crazy how the hospital would push him out so early and within no more than two to three weeks he would be right back in ICU every time,” Suzanne said. “I have 15 discharge papers from 15 admissions. And it has always been his lungs being the cause of his problems, not enough oxygen or blood- gas issues.” One reason for his discharges involved Medicare, Suzanne said, because it wouldn’t pay after 30 days. About five months after Minter’s hospital stays began in January 2022, his former partner, Hendrix, died at the age of 79. Su- zanne said the cause of death was prostate cancer. Firefighters have only a short window of time after they leave the fire department to seek coverage for their cancer as an on-duty injury, said Elaine Maddox, a recently re- tired fire inspector and assistant chaplain for Dallas Fire-Rescue. They need to have been diagnosed before they leave the de- partment, she said. Maddox said they also have only 30 days to file a workman’s comp claim, and they often end up in court after their claim is denied. “Once they retire, maybe five years or so down the way, and they get cancer, there’s not a law in Texas like California where they have within 10 years of when they leave the firefighting profession to get coverage,” Maddox said. According to the California Professional Firefighters, under its Cancer Presumption guidelines, any cancer that manifests during a period while a member is in service with a department is covered. This coverage also applies to members who leave the service and develop cancer within 10 years of their departure, depending on the length of their employment. In Texas, a claimant must have been a full-time professional firefighter for more than five years, have regularly responded to fire or firefighting calls and have responded to an incident with a “documented release of radiation or suspected carcinogen,” accord- ing to “Dallas Fire-Rescue Cancer Aware- ness & Prevention,” a 2017 presentation by the City Council’s Public Safety Committee. There is a presumption that firefighters are eligible for coverage unless their em- ployer — in this case the city of Dallas — can prove that the cancer wasn’t the result of their firefighting duties. Without the pre- sumption, the firefighter must prove it to re- ceive benefits. “We got lots and lots of firefighters dying of cancer after their retirement,” Maddox said. A Family A s her father fought against an unseen enemy, Suzanne Minter began posting to the retired firefighters’ page on Face- book, asking if there were firefighters who had worked with her father — Capt. Harold Minter — and if they would come visit him at the hospital. Several rescue workers vis- ited him over the course of his hospital stays, including those from his old firehouse. “When we have a retired firefighter pass away, we’ll have a bagpiper there if the fam- ily wants and the last alarm bell ceremony,” Maddox said. “The fire department is a fam- ily affair.” That family affair was showcased in Su- zanne’s 2022 video recording of Kelly Kovar visiting her father shortly after he awoke from a coma. Kovar, who’s now one of the captains at Fire Station 7, credits his child- hood visit with Minter for inspiring him to become a firefighter in the early 2000s. Minter had taken a photograph with 12-year-old Kovar on his trip to the station in the late 1980s. “I still have that picture hanging in my locker,” Kovar said. Nearly a year later, in early April 2023, Minter was home and spending time with family. Suzanne said he seemed to be doing well. He was moving around and walked out to his front porch to check out Suzanne’s son- in-law’s new pickup truck while the rest of the family was in the backyard. He went out the front door and tripped over the threshold at the bottom of the door and fell inwards. He hit his head on a table in the entryway. Dallas Fire-Rescue arrived to take him back to UT Southwestern for the last Mike Brooks Maria Garcia (center), with her sons Antonio (left) and Rudy. Minter and a partner rescued two of the Garcia children from a fire in 1974. 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