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thedrifter
10-30-07, 06:37 AM
Vet's brother serves as guardian of memorial
Jim Moran channeled his grief into becoming unpaid caretaker for Penn's Landing shrine

By DAFNEY TALES

talesd@phillynews.com 215-854-5084

http://media.philly.com/images/20071030_dn_G1JIMM30C.JPG

JIM MORAN is most at peace during the quiet of the night surrounded by the polished, charcoal-gray granite walls of the Philadelphia Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

He cherishes it - the site where his brother's name is carved into memory.

Moran, 63, says that almost every night, he prays for his brother while he traces his name, Bernard J. Moran Jr., with his fingers.

His brother, a Marine, was killed while flying a reconnaissance mission in 1971. For years afterward the grief-stricken Moran was on an emotional downward spiral.

Christmas was the worst, he said, a tortured reminder that Bernard was never coming back.

"I would get drunk until New Year's. I wanted to be alone," he said.

In one of his bouts, Moran headed toward the memorial, on Spruce Street near Front, the day before it opened to the public in 1987.

As he stood staring at his brother's name, his empty feeling began to dissipate. In its place, he felt a peace he hadn't felt in years.

That night, Moran stayed at the memorial for 14 hours. Twenty years later, he clocks in nearly 50 hours a week as the memorial's unofficial custodian.

"It's an obligation to my brother," he said. "I love that memorial; it means a lot to me."

Rain or shine - except when he's not feeling well - Moran stays there until the wee hours of the morning undoing the day's damage: picking up litter and making minor repairs.

He doesn't get paid for his work, said Terry Williamson, president of the Philadelphia Vietnam Veterans Memorial Advisory Fund, but his dedication surpasses anyone else's.

"No one puts in the same level of dedication as he does," he said. "We've come to rely on him."

As thanks, Moran is sometimes given a cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes, said Williamson.

But there's no need. Moran is content with the role of unpaid caretaker.

During the day, he bathes and cooks for his sick mother, with whom he lives near 27th and South streets, keeping her company while she watches her "stories."

At night, when she's asleep, he goes to the memorial for his late-night maintenance check and patrol.

After making sure that each flower wreath is straight, every smudge wiped clean and each trash can emptied, he sits in his car looking out for vandals.

"I've been called more names than anyone in Philadelphia," he said of the teen skateboarders and adult dog owners he's tussled with on numerous occasions.

More than 100 people were arrested under his watch over the 20-year period, he estimates.

Although it bothers him that the memorial is not as sacred to others as it is to him, Moran - whose son is in the Marines and was scheduled to be shipped to Iraq in late October - will stay as the memorial's lone soldier.

"I'll continue as long as I can," he said, " . . . until I'm gone." *

Ellie