They were going to start a business together after retiring from the New York City Police Department — a casting company for cops looking to pick up a little extra cash on the side working in movies. Easy money.
John Perry would retire first, and his buddy, Marc Manfro, who had some acting credits to his name, would follow after working 17 years on the highest crime beat in the country in the 1980’s and 90’s – the New York City subway system.
“John’s retirement date was Sept. 11, 2001, but he put it off for one more day,” Manfro said last week from his home in Castaic, remembering his good friend as the 20th anniversary nightmare of 9/11 approaches.
“He couldn’t leave his fellow officers that day. He had to be there with them. He was in the courtyard of the South Tower trying to clear it from people on the ground so they wouldn’t be hit by the poor, desperate people jumping from above.
“The tower began to shake and it collapsed on him. I was on duty guarding the site the day they recovered his body.”
For more than a year after 9/11, Manfro worked overtime 10 stories underground in subway tunnels, looking for possible suicide bombers trying to cause more death and chaos by blowing up a subway station.
He loved being a cop, but his health began to deteriorate after 9/11. It was time to go. NYPD Chief William Bratton awarded him one of the department’s highest honors, the Medal of Distinguished Duty, to go along with his other 60 awards and commendations for his 17 years of service.
Then, Manfro packed his bags, said an emotional goodbye to all the officers he had worked side by side with, and moved his family to warm, sunny, Castaic, California, where he began to work high-level security jobs.
It had been 15 years since we last talked on the fifth anniversary of 9/11. He was coaching his son Steven’s Santa Clarita Wildcats youth football team, and wanted to give them a pep talk at practice that had nothing to do with football, and everything to do with life.
The boys, all 13, were confused. What’s 9/11 got to do with us, coach, they asked? Trust me, Manfro said, that day has something to do with everybody in this country.
His son smiled. Steven knew the story — the decorated cop, who was raised in a tough neighborhood in Queens where not a day went by that some bigger kid didn’t try to take your lunch money, and you’d better be ready to fight for it.
He and his brother, Marc, knew how his dad’s semi-pro football career had been cut short by injuries, and how he turned to a new team, the NYPD, because he wanted to be one of the good guys protecting people from all the bullies out there trying to steal our lunch money. Or our lives.
What Steven didn’t know at 13 listening to his dad give his teammates the pep talk of his life, was that he himself would go on to become a star receiver and running back at UCLA, suffer his own career-ending injuries, and become a patrol officer with the Los Angeles Police Department.
He protected this city, like his dad protected New York.
“It’s going to be 20 years since 9/11 next month, can you believe that?” Manfro asked when we talked. No, I don’t think anyone can believe that.
He was finally getting his strength back after his second heart operation early last year. Like so many police officers, firemen and civilians exposed to the toxic dust from 9/11, he suffered from the World Trade Center Cough, as it was called. He had debilitating headaches and was out of breath after climbing only a few steps.
He had watched his own partner, officer Pete Mione, die of respiratory complications in 2008, and knew the same time bomb was ticking inside of him.
“I was having my second heart procedure after suffering a bilateral stroke and heart failure,” Manfro said. “They gave me a 50% chance to make it to 60, which I just did.
“The pre-op nurse heard I was a former emergency responder and exposed to the 9/11 toxic site. I usually get a thank you for my service, but not this time. She was angry at the mere mention of 9/11, and thought it was best that it be forgotten. I told her I completely disagreed.
“To forget the ultimate sacrifices the first responders made that day is to disrespect every one of them. Thousands of innocent victims, cops and firemen were killed coming to the rescue. Their family’s lives were torn apart. How can we forget that?”
Every night, as he falls asleep, Manfro knows John Perry will be in his dreams. It’s September 10, 2001, and they’ll be visiting the top floors of the World Trade Center, meeting the workers, and talking about their families and what they want out of life for their kids and spouses, for themselves.
Then, they’ll visit the police commands, and talk to the officers about their retirement plans, and what vacations they’re planning to take, what sports their kids like to play.
“We’ll visit all the firehouses and do the same,” Manfro said. “Then, I’ll wake up to the same realization every morning. Those people never got the chance to live all their hopes and dreams.
“Forget 9/11? Never.”
Dennis McCarthy’s column runs on Sunday. He can be reached at dmccarthynews@gmail.com.