The deed of trust still stirs emotions a century later.

"We live in a heroic age," Andrew Carnegie wrote in 1904. "Not seldom are we thrilled by deeds of heroism where men or women are injured or lose their lives in attempting to preserve or rescue their fellows; such are the heroes of civilization."

Martha Rial, Post-Gazette Raemonda Freeman of Brighton Heights at the softball field in Northview Heights where she helped saved a teenager's life in May 1993 when gunfire broke out during a game. Freeman will recieve a Carnegie Hero Award for her heroic efforts. Click photo for larger image. Century of Heroes To observe its centennial this fall, the Carnegie Hero Fund Commission has undertaken a variety of projects. Among them are: An Oct. 16 program featuring historian David McCullough at the Carnegie Music Hall in Oakland. To reserve tickets -- $17.50 plus handling -- for the 5:30 p.m. program, call 412-456-6666 or visit www.pgharts.org. "A Century of Heroes," ($29.95, University of Pittsburgh Press), a 240-page book on the commission's history and its heroes. A radio series in association with WDUQ-FM of 90-second programs beginning Oct. 18 recounting 100 acts of courage drawn from the commission's files. The series will run at 12:59 p.m. and 6:59 p.m. Monday through Friday, and will be carried on other public radio stations and worldwide on the Armed Forces Radio Network. Short profiles culled from the radio series that will appear twice a week in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette beginning Oct. 18.

With that, and a $5 million donation, he established the Carnegie Hero Fund Commission that year. Of all his prodigious philanthropic efforts in education, science, the arts and world peace that he endowed with $350 million, the Hero Fund was his favorite.

"It is the fund that may be considered my pet," he once said. "I don't believe there's a nobler fund in the world."

The Hero Fund's uniqueness is not just its longevity, although only one Western Pennsylvania foundation is older, nor its singular focus on everyday rescuers. Such specificity of purpose was typical of early foundations.

And despite the cachet of the Carnegie name, other philanthropists, too, have left deep imprints through charitable works.

The commission's distinctiveness is derived solely from its connection to one of society's most illusory icons: the hero.

Carnegie recognized the importance and bravery of soldiers, police and firefighters, but wanted his fund to recognize people who voluntarily risked death. He could not have foreseen how today's society relished the destruction of its heroes as much as their elevation. But he knew the commission needed a timeless ethic and an enduring value.

Potential Carnegie heroes undergo rigorous scrutiny; the awards are based on objective facts, not subjective motivations.

"We're very, very careful," said Walter Rutkowski, a commission employee of nearly 30 years, one of its former field investigators and now its secretary. "If there's significant doubt [about any aspect of a rescue or attempted rescue] we don't proceed."

Exactly 8,849 heroes have been recognized by the Pittsburgh-based Carnegie Fund, including 773 from Pennsylvania and more than 200 from Pittsburgh and Western Pennsylvania. More than one-fifth of all rescue attempts -- 1,873 -- have ended in posthumous awards.

The first hero was Louis A. Baumann Jr., 17, of Wilkinsburg, who, in 1904, saved a 16-year-old from drowning. Last month's announcement of the 26 latest heroes included three men in Latrobe and Canonsburg.

Yet it remains a barely known foundation, in a suite of rooms on the 16th floor of the Regional Enterprise Tower, Downtown. Its total assets are $31 million, a piddling amount alongside today's multibillion-dollar nonprofits.

Its existence is often news to even potential medal recipients, whose first contact usually is a mailed questionnaire from the commission asking 39 questions about the rescue. The commission announces 90 new recipients a year, sifting through an average of about 800 nominations.

Nearly always, it's a national clipping service that provides the commission with its first notice of a heroic act, although occasionally it's through a phone call or note. A letter is then sent to the law enforcement agency involved in the incident, seeking an official report, or to courts for a trial transcript. The next step is the mailing of questionnaires to the rescuer, eyewitnesses and the victim, if he or she is alive. On-site investigations ended 20 years ago.

It can be months before the commission's three investigators progress to phone conversations with the principals. Their findings are distilled into two- or three-page "case minutes," which are read by the 21 commission members in the weeks leading up to the five yearly meetings that determine new recipients.

Nominees who don't make the final cut receive letters that state: "The decision by the Commission should in no way detract from the valor of your deed."

Awardees are represented by men and women, young and old, all races and various religions. Women and blacks were recipients long before they gained equal footing in American society. The youngest rescuer was a 7-year-old girl; the oldest, an 86-year-old woman.

Raemonda Freeman was a 31-year-old married mother of four when she performed the deed that brought her to the attention of the commission.

Eleven years later, she can still hear the popping sounds and see the puffs of infield dirt kicked up by the bullets on that day, May 7, 1993. She can describe the thud of bats against a man's skull and the way blood seeps into the dirt around second base.

When gunfire erupted at the beginning of a softball game at Northview Heights Park, instead of scrambling to safety from the bleachers like everyone else, Freeman ran toward a young man behind home plate who had been shot in both legs.

She shielded the 18-year-old victim with her body. Three or four men stood threateningly over the pair before running off to attack two others. Only later, Freeman said, did she discover that one of the men had a gun.

Court testimony showed that Freeman had jumped into the middle of a gang fight. Two men were killed in front of her that day, and ultimately, three gang members were sentenced to prison.

"I saw the [wounded] person, that he needed help, and that's what I did," said Freeman, who used a Carnegie Fund scholarship to get training as a paralegal and today works at the Downtown law firm Balzarini & Watson. "I just wanted to help him."

Each Carnegie Fund hero receives a certificate, an engraved bronze medal and a check for $3,500.

The commission also provides monthly benefits to recipients injured in the course of performing their rescues. In the event of death, a recipient's family receives financial help. There are cases in which survivor's benefits have been paid for more than a half century. In addition, educational benefits, based on financial need, are paid to heroes or their surviving dependents.

A study by a sociology professor of 214 interviews with Carnegie Medal awardees found that "normocentric behavior" -- the beliefs and values learned from parents and the community -- was cited in 78 percent of interviews as the most significant motivating factor for attempting rescues. Social responsibility was mentioned by 66 percent, self-esteem by about 39 percent and instinct by more than 27 percent. Other factors included religious and spiritual beliefs, and reciprocity.

Modesty is important, too, Rutkowski said, for most of the recipients. There was one, however, who wore his medal around his neck while water skiing.

Four people have been awarded the medal twice. One man has been recipient of both a Carnegie Medal and the Medal of Honor. Four people received recognition for rescues after the Air Florida crash in Washington, D.C.'s Potomac River on Jan. 13, 1982. And an entire town in Nova Scotia was honored in 1958 for its efforts after a mine explosion.

Recognizing the passengers and crew of United Airlines Flight 93 as well as all responders in New York City and Washington, D.C., as "heroes of civilization," the commission gave $50,000 grants to two charitable organizations who provide assistance to those affected by the attacks.

"We always find heroes," said Mark Laskow, the commission's president. "There are always heroes in our midst, and we find them when we need them."