Prior to Sept. 11, the Madison Fire Department was more or less a city-wide joke. Plagued by a highly publicized cocaine-scandal involving several Madison firefighters, the department suffered from low morale and community disrespect.

“We’d go down State Street before Sept. 11 and guys would [wipe their noses at us],” Lt. Dave Cerqua said, referring to the department’s cokehead reputation. “It made me ashamed to be with the department. People would make jokes at family gatherings.”

That changed when 354 New York City firefighters died on Sept. 11, sparking the ongoing nationwide admiration for firefighters.

“After Sept. 11, we’re heroes,” he said with a hint of bitterness.

Station 1, in downtown Madison, was the drug scandal’s epicenter. The station, located on Dayton Street, is barely four blocks from the former Jocko’s, the local dive bar at which several of Station 1’s firefighters were accused of soliciting cocaine.

Living together in 24-hour shifts, Madison firefighters are a close-knit group. Working in close quarters, they become family. Fighting fires, they routinely entrust their lives to each other. But even now, after the accused firefighters were fired, those remaining universally and convincingly insist the drug abuse was unbeknownst to them.

To that extent, the shift from the butt of local jokes to national heroes was a much needed morale boost for Madison’s bravest. Far from shaken or humble, the Madison firefighters at Station 1 are eager to talk about Sept. 11 and the New York Fire Department.

On the morning of our ride along, the previous week’s airing of “9-11” on CBS dominated breakfast table conversation. Everyone at the station watched the CBS special, either at the firehouse or at home with their families. Everyone agreed it was very well done.

Lacking the training and numbers of the FDNY — let alone the daily challenge of fighting high-rise fires — the Madison firefighters can only speculate what Sept. 11 was like for their New York brethren.

“Those guys went into hell,” one firefighter said.

“You mean they went to heaven,” a veteran responded.

“Well they went to hell first.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Albeit in a less extreme way, over course of the past three years, the firefighters of Station 1 have done the same — experiencing the worst of their profession, and now the best.