By Clarence Williams
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, December 17, 2006
During downtime at the Brentwood fire station, Tarick Ali played with D.C. firefighters in every sports game going, but especially basketball. On the court, he carried the nickname "chin checker" -- a man unafraid to make contact, especially with trash talkers on the court.
But Ali had an Achilles' heel in his game -- his footwear -- which left welts on his feet.
"He would never wear basketball shoes. He would only wear Chuck Taylors," laughed John Barnes, a firefighter and friend, referring to the old-school sneakers that gave Ali blisters. "When he came inside, you saw the smoke coming off his feet."
It was this set-in-his-ways demeanor that led to a defining moment of his 16-year firefighting career, when Ali was forced to choose between his profession and a beard demanded by his Islamic beliefs.
Ali and five other D.C. firefighters made headlines in May 2001 when they filed a federal lawsuit alleging that then-Fire Chief Ronnie Few illegally interfered with their religious beliefs by ordering them to cut their hair or trim their beards to conform with the department's grooming policy.
"You have doers and you have sayers. He was a doer," said Lawrence Tucker, a co-worker and friend. "If that's what he believed in, he went all the way with it."
In recent years, the conflict has continued, as fire officials issued a new order against facial hair, stating that beards could allow biological or chemical agents to slip into the protective masks. The lawsuit is still before the court.
On Nov. 7, U.S. District Judge James Robertson ordered the fire department to test several face masks on Ali to see if there would be one that operated properly with his tapered, graying whiskers. The test did not go well, said friend and fellow Muslim firefighter Marcus Craig.
Apparently, Ali's health also was failing. This year, Ali, 43, had surgery to remove kidney stones, Craig said, and Ali's weight began to drop as he complained of constant stomach pain. His roughly 200-pound frame faded further as he observed the Ramadan fast.
By mid-November, pancreatic cancer had spread to his liver and kidneys, and Ali was admitted to Southern Maryland Hospital Center and then Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. On Nov. 28, fire officials announced his death across the department's airwaves.
Born in Alaska to an Air Force family, Ali traveled the world while growing up, and the family eventually settled in Prince George's County. He graduated from Central High School and joined the Marine Corps.
As was typical of him, a brother said, Ali, who was raised in the Catholic faith, did a lot of studying before deciding to dedicate his life to Islam.
Frank Lewis, Ali's older brother, described Ali as a strong, private man who was willing to handle difficult situations without bringing others into the fray, such as keeping information about his lawsuit and illness from even his family.
"He was always willing to fight other peoples' battles. That's what he believed," Lewis said. "He fought by himself for everybody."
Throughout his career, Ali was transferred to many stations and assignments, some because of his lawsuit, his co-workers said. But he found a home four years ago when he arrived at the station in the 1300 block of Rhode Island Avenue NE.
"It was blessings from Allah that he got the chance to come up here and work with his brothers," Craig said.
Although Ali confronted the department, some firefighters said the lawsuit never interfered with his dedication to the fire service. Barnes said their careers began together in the fall of 1991, and he described Ali as a man who knew how to leave his personal issues outside the firehouse.
"When he came here, it was the business at hand," said Barnes, who served in the same platoon with Ali the past four years in Northeast.
Ali was a skinny man with a beer belly, although he didn't drink alcohol. Friends described him as a bull-in-a-china-shop firefighter who was prone to breaking such equipment as chain saws and pumpers.
"If it had to be dealt with gently, you didn't want him to put his hands on it," Craig joked.
But his friends also remembered a gentle personality who was a great firehouse cook, putting together an unforgettable 15-bean soup or deep-fried turkeys.
"My man was a chef," said Elliot Warley Jr., another firefighter.
In photos, a smiling Ali embraces Santa Claus at a holiday party for Northeast children, although he didn't celebrate Christmas, and rides a mechanical bull in Cancun, Mexico. Ali traveled often to Caribbean islands and other destinations with his firefighter buddies and as an eager golfer always wanted to hit the links early.
"We tried to sleep, and he was up at 6 o'clock in the morning, ready to go," Barnes recalled.
During the three-day breaks between fire station shifts, Ali was known to work as many odd jobs as he could, usually driving around in "Big Cheese" -- his canary-yellow Chevy pickup truck. Ali painted houses, hauled trash and performed lawn services.
Described as "thrifty" by his firehouse friends, Ali often spoke of $10 deals on jeans at thrift stores, or he would be seen driving around in his single-seat, early '70s Volkswagen Super Beetle as gas prices rose to $3 a gallon. His Maryland historic license plates read "chnchkr" for his basketball moniker.
Still, Ali, who was married and had three children, is remembered most for a joking, outgoing, outspoken personality, which rarely displayed an angry mood.
Barnes summed up his friend: "Good man. Good dude. Good firefighter."