In Memory of Vincent D. Kane

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It was a long time ago when I met Vincent on his visit to Ireland to look up his roots, he flew to Dublin and hitched his way west to a small village in Galway called Creggs arrived at our home my Grandmother filled him in on his relatives of old and where they lived. I was about 12 years old at the time I think Vincent was 21. He was one of the people you meet going through life that you will always remember. It broke my heart to hear of his untimely passing and my thoughs are with his family and everyone close to him at this time. John Griffin, Four Mile House, Roscommon, Ireland.

*** Posted by John Griffin on 2011-09-09 ***

It was a long time ago when I met Vincent on his visit to Ireland to look up his roots, he flew to Dublin and hitched his way west to a small village in Galway called Creggs arrived at our home my Grandmother filled him in on his relatives of old and where they lived. I was about 12 years old at the time I think Vincent was 21. He was one of the people you meet going through life that you will always remember. It broke my heart to hear of his untimely passing and my thoughs are with his family and everyone close to him at this time. John Griffin, Four Mile House, Roscommon, Ireland.

*** Posted by John Griffin on 2011-09-09 ***

Amid a boisterous group of friends, made up primarily of city cops and firemen who socialized weekends at the beach and in their neighborhood backyards and bars in the late 1990s, was a soft spoken young man who played the guitar. He had been a member of the NYPD, having joined, he said, because he wanted to help people. Later he left the force to become one of New York’s Bravest.
When asked if he regretted no longer carrying the badge and the gun, he admitted it had felt odd at first to no longer possess those symbolic and real articles of power. But he had found his calling. He was helping people and said he did not miss the more violent aspects of police work.
He was in many ways a gentler soul than most of those larger than life cops and firemen who populated the same beach and block parties during those youthful summers.
He often brought an acoustic guitar to the beach house and would play and sing a variety of blues and pop. Sitting on the back deck or in the living room, he would encourage others to join in, regardless of their ability to sing or play an instrument. He had an encyclopedic knowledge of his favorite musical group, the Allman Brothers. But he could also discuss history and current events with an admirable evenhandedness, never allowing his emotions to sully the debate.
And although he was quiet in contrast with his rambunctious brothers in uniform, that quietness could never be mistaken for timidity. For he had the heart of a lion. He was helping people the day that heart was stopped, the day he was killed in the line of duty. We who knew him, think of him often to this day, especially this time of year, but also any time we hear the Allman Brothers or see the New York City skyline. We assume you are familiar with the date on which he was killed. Rest in peace, Vincent Kane.

*** Posted by dave willinger on 2011-07-29 ***

I'll always remember you ... your love of life, music, and your family. What a tragic loss. You will always be a hero.

*** Posted by Carol Malloy on 2007-11-17 ***

Thank you, Vincent Kane, for giving the ultimate gift at the WTC on 9/11/01. In a memorial ride here in Wilmington, NC, 258 motorcycle riders carried, each one, a tag with the name of a fallen firefighter. I carry you--not only your name on a tag, but your memory in my heart. I don't know you personally, but I know your honor well. I am the daughter of a 25-year firefighter. I take my hat off to you! Love, pride, and gratitude.

*** Posted by Sally Shafer on 2007-09-09 ***

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