I remember David, he was one of my playmates when I lived at 443
N. Harding Ave. There was a whole group of us who played together. We
mostly gathered at Lucille and Grant Whittaker's (Teresa's parents) store. We played together often during the summer months, day and/or early evenings, even after the street lights went on. We usually played tag with the girls and boys from the block. If the girls played alone it would be in Teresa's backyard or in the front of the store. You know, girl stuff -- lemonade, cookies cake and games.
I remember the last time I saw David; it was fall and were playing tag. I was chasing him since I was the person guarding home base. Home was represented by the bricks on the far North end and in the front of Lucille and Grant's store. Anyway, I was chasing him to tag him "out" without out any luck. That boy could really run fast. Needless to say I didn't catch him. We ended up with him standing at one end of the empty city lot and me at the other. This lot stood between the store and another house to the south of Theresa's parent's store. I just remember us looking at each other and him waiting to see if I would still try to tag him. I gave up, out of breath.
Those were fun time for all us kids. David was the youngest of all his brothers, and a real good kid. David's sister was born after he left us, but I never got to know her. My family, like many others, migrated to the suburbs about two years after the fire.
-- (Pauletta (Giandonato) Stepanek, Neighbor - October 2015)
David was 10 years old when he died in the fire. He was born in February 1948. At the time he was one of four boys. I will never forget when my mother ran to the school. She was looking for her two sons. My one brother was at someone's house until 7:00 pm, when we found him. We never found David: finally my father and I went to the morgue to identify him. My parents were never the same again. It's very hard to look at pictures. I still have some of his belongings. He is buried at Queen of Heaven. I'll never forget his face he was always smiling. He was an angel. I named my son after him: David Biscan.
-- (Steve Biscan, Brother - October 2015)