"The landscape of Lower Manhattan has significantly improved with the addition of a single sign," Lt. James Donuhue said last month to more than 100 firefighters, friends and family that packed into the Ladder Company 8 firehouse at the corner of a street that used to just be called North Moore.

		The street sign at North Moore and Varick now reads “Lieutenant Vincent G. Halloran Street”—newly named for the Ladder 8 firefighter who died in the World Trade Center collapse. “You know, uptown in Central Park, they’ve got Strawberry Fields,” Donohue said. “Well, we’ve got our own corner down here now. It’s called Lt. Vincent G. Halloran Street, and any time friends or family want to come down, especially when I’m working, they can toast his name under that sign.” The sign was the first co-naming of a street in Lower Manhattan for a victim of the terrorist attack. Last month, Community Board 1 approved the co-naming of a second street—a block of Beach Street—as “Colaio Way,” for a family that lost three men in the attacks. “Clearly, this was the right thing to do,” said Councilman Alan Gerson, addressing Halloran’s widow, Marie, who
sat in the front row with her five children during the ceremony. Halloran, who was 43 and a 20-year veteran of the fire department, led Ladder 8 into the north tower on Sept. 11. “When the order came for Ladder 8 to get out of the building, he was on the 30th floor,” said Lt. Larry Mack. “Ladder 8 made it out, but he probably stopped to help someone.” It was a tragic “last act of compassion” for a man known around the firehouse as someone who would go the extra mile, even for a stranger, Mack said. “We had a guy come here to the house once, asking if we knew where he could get his tire changed,” Mack recalled. “Most of us would have just pointed the guy to the nearest service station, but Vinny asked what size tire. When he found out it was the same as his, he just went out to his trunk and gave the guy his spare.” Mack also described Halloran as a humble man who didn’t care for the spotlight. “He’s probably looking down at us today a little sheepishly, embarrassed about all this fuss about him,” he said. Asked if she thought her husband would be embarrassed by the street sign, Maria Halloran said: “I think he would approve—for the kids. They’ll be the ones coming down here one day with their grandkids to say ‘This is where my father was.’” Halloran’s youngest son, Declan, unveiled the sign, giving the tether a sharp tug. The paper sheath ripped cleanly in half, leaving only part of his father’s name revealed. Seconds later, as the bagpipes began to play, a breeze came up and lifted the remaining piece of veil into the air.