The Original Denis Leary

Today we think of Johnny and Roy as an ancient historical portrayal of firefighters; their all-American wholesomeness overtaken by more complex characters and stories in Backdraft, Ladder 49, Rescue Me, and now Chicago Fire.  All of these, and the original “Emergency” are but Johnny-come-lately’s (pun intended) to the original and main theatrical firefighter of American History. 

Fireman Mose Humphreys was played by actor Frank Chanfrau in thousands of performances on stages throughout the country in the 1840s and 1850s.  Although nine scripts were written, only one survives.  He became an urban folk hero; the personification of New York firemen and to some degree, all volunteers of the day. 

Mose was a cigar smoking, heavy drinking, hard fighting, baby rescuing, rowdy fireman who stood for good against con-men, crooks, and politicians.  Think Denis Leary before there was Denis Leary.  The working class of the day related to the character and stories as he protected the community, rescued “damsels,” and fought the politicians.  The middle class viewed him differently as a symbol of societal unrest. 

The performances in the 1800s resulted in something more than just entertainment.  They provided fuel for debates on fire department reform, particularly in cities which experienced firefighter violence.  While many historians today agree that the early stories of firemen fighting each other on scenes were overblown and not as widespread as legend has it, the instances which did occur were likely magnified by the fictional portrayal.  Mose became a caricature, and as he grew in popularity, so did the inaccurate perceptions that all firefighters were involved in violent behavior. 

In today’s world with the pervasive presence of social media, you tube, and myriad other forms of entertainment, this past history is interesting in showing that public perception being shaped by art is not new.  There was no actual Mose, but his character was based—with obvious fictional liberties—on the characteristics observed in firemen of the day.  That a fictional character influenced public debate and change in the fire services of the day should be instructional to us.  Who is more real; Tommy Gavin or Johnny and Roy? 

 

Are We Better Off?

Not long ago, I had one of those “solve the world’s problems” conversations with a close friend of mine.  We do this from time to time and although we accomplish absolutely nothing, changing not a thing, we both feel better at the conclusion.  Part of this particular chat covered a topic not new to us and one we’ve “solved” before.  The operative question was “have the technological ‘improvements’ to fire apparatus actually resulted in being able to better extinguish fires?”   

Our short answer to this burning question was “no.”  There is no question that today’s apparatus with the enclosed cab is far safer and has gone some distance in reducing injuries and fatalities from the days of open jump seats and riding the back step (getting dressed on the back step wasn’t just crazy—it was stupid).  That, however, was not what we were talking about.  It was more fundamental concept; that of putting wet stuff on red stuff.   

My friend and I both started with engines without crosslays; back when all pre-connects came off the back (one thing from the old days that seems to slowly be regaining some favor).  The pump had two gauges.  If two lines of different lengths or sizes were in operation, the pump operator established his pressure (yes it was always a him back then—no editorial comment intended) and gated the other line down by experience and feel.  Not the most accurate method, but it worked well for generations.  What the pump panel didn’t look like was the cock pit of the space shuttle, which some of today’s bear a striking resemblance to.   

Individual gauges?  Love them.  But flow meters, electronic valves, etc. simply add more things to break.  I won’t even begin to talk about adding CAFS to the equation; a subject for another day.  Not needing a ladder to get up to the deck gun was arguably an advantage of old versus new; and reaching hose lines and ground ladders without having to climb another one. 

Pumps ran, lines and ladders were pulled, and fires went out in the old days.  Simple has some attractive benefits.  It breaks less often, is easier to maintain and, arguably, to teach.  I’m not advocating a return to the open cab ’68 of yesteryear, but ask yourself honestly if the fires are going out better, quicker, or easier with the increased complexity of modern engines and if you’re honest, the truth is obvious. 

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Heidi Ruby Miller: HEIDI'S PICK SIX: Mike Mehalek

Heidi Ruby Miller: HEIDI'S PICK SIX: Mike Mehalek

More you might be a Redneck Firefighter if….

The soda machine in the station is actually loaded with Genesee, Iron City or insert low end beer here.

Four guys get off a piece of apparatus and three of them are related (whether they know it or not).

The portables still have extendable antennas.

The “donations” from filling pools with the tanker are a major source of department income. 

The Memorial Day Chicken Barbeque at the station is the social event of the year. 

A call comes in at 7:00 AM on the first day of deer season and the only one who moves are the deer. 

One of the first line pieces still has coats, boots, and helmets hanging from a rack on the side.

The port-a-pond doubles as the town swimming pool on hot summer days. 

Dilbert and the Fire Department

The cartoon “Dilbert” wouldn’t be so funny if it weren’t so situationally accurate which long ago led me to develop one of “Ryman’s Rules” relating to the strip. This one is not a law of physics, but a sociological paradigm which states that: Morale of any organization is inversely proportional to the number of Dilbert cartoons hanging on the walls.  With that in mind, how many of these comic strip worthy situations have you seen or experienced?

Pulling into a fire scene with an assignment to lay a supply lie and finding the hose bed empty, the line having accidentally laid during the response.  Funny how that never happened when we rode the back step; oh well.

Watching a hose bed turn into silly string when the pump operator charges the wrong line—the one not pulled.

Getting ready to drain the drop tank and finding the drain placed on the uphill side. 

Extending the “blue line” with yellow hose and handing it to a new crew who then asks for the “yellow line” to be charged. The reason I hate color coded lines.

Scanning mobile and portable radios—the important information always gets cut off. Enough said.

Pump operators who think “100 pounds is good enough for everything.”

Did you ever notice the same five guys who always have to leave for work the minute it’s time to wash the rigs and hose after a run?

The company responding for RIT that calls out with five and shows up with a driver and four juniors. 

The officer, who when in charge of a training night, waits until everyone arrives and then says “so what do you guys want to do tonight?”

Fire Police who drive like Jeff Gordon for some reason assuming it is critical they be the first on scene—in order to direct traffic. 

The citizen who on an annual basis, waits for the windiest day of the year to burn trash, resulting in a 5 acre brush fire, and then acts surprised when he gets yelled at. 

Looking at the personal vehicles parked during the inevitable call on the afternoon of the first day of buck season and marveling that there is more firepower present than that possessed by the entire local police department. Actually true most any day for rural departments.

The local cop who on an automatic fire alarm offers to shoot the lock off the door instead of waiting for the apparatus or key holder.  His offer was turned down.

The guy with more state class patches on his sleeve than a Sergeant Major has stripes—who won’t go inside. 

The guy with the two door subcompact car and a blue light bar so big it extends feet beyond the sides of the car. So big you wonder if the car will rotate when the lights are turned on.

The guy who carries three pagers and two portable radios—all on his belt at the same time. Note: The three above are often the same guy. 

The brush fire in a two acre field with only a single solitary tree located right in the center—which the brush truck driver hits while backing up.    

You know you’re really in trouble when three pieces of apparatus, all responding to the same call, reach the same intersection; and one turns left, one goes straight, and the third turns right.

Last, but certainly not least, (insert favorite personal activity here) with your significant other is invariably interrupted by the pager.

Fire Archaeology: Still Salvaging After All These Years

The stories of most major fires concentrate on the immediate impact; the deaths and injuries which resulted.  Just over 40 years ago, a fire occurred which caused no deaths or serious injuries, the impact from which is still being felt.  Just after midnight on July 12, 1973, fire broke out on the sixth floor of the National Personnel Records Center in Overland, Missouri.   

Construction work on this building to hold military service records was completed in 1956.  When the original studies were conducted during the design phase, conflicting advice was received from archivists and personnel at other government records retention facilities.  Some strongly recommended the inclusion of automatic sprinklers and others argued against.  Not surprisingly, since we are talking about this fire forty years later, the anti-sprinkler forces won.  Storage of paper records in folders and boxes packed on metal shelves and file cabinets filled the building—a massive fire load.   

The fire response exceeded 6 alarms.  The interior attack was abandoned at 3:15 AM that morning due to deteriorating conditions, but the exterior attack continued for days.  On the 14^th, firefighters re-entered the building to begin final extinguishment and overhaul on the sixth floor; a task complicated by partial structural collapse of the roof.  By the 16^th of July, a single company remained on scene.   

Following fire extinguishment began a salvage operation which continues even today.  Computer tapes and microfilm records were among the early transfers to an off-site facility.  All six floors of the building experienced substantial water damage, and the recovery of water soaked records was a massive operation.  Wet records were re-boxed and the escalator railings used as a slide to move them to the ground floor for transport.  Setting up a temporary facility at the nearby Civilian Personnel Records Center, plastic milk crates, eventually 30,000 of them, were used for open shelf drying, but a better solution was on the horizon.   

A vacuum drying chamber was located at the McDonnell Douglas Aircraft plant in St. Louis.  The chamber was originally constructed for space simulation as part of the Apollo moon program.  Once archivists confirmed the technology worked, two additional chambers at the Sandusky, Ohio NASA facility were located and used as well.  Wet records were placed in the plastic milk crates, which were stacked nine high on wood pallets, and the records loaded into the chamber, which was sealed.  Air was evacuated from the chamber and the temperature lowered to freezing.  Hot dry air was then introduced until the wetted materials reach 50 degrees F.  Depending upon how wet the material was, multiple cycles could be needed to dry the records.  With a single chamber capable of holding 2,000 milk crates, nearly eight tons or 2000 gallons of water could be removed during a run.   

The charred and burned materials recoverable from the sixth floor created another challenge.  Luckily, this material was not disposed of following the fire, but stored as “B” files, as improvements in technology have made the information from some of these materials usable again.  Today a team of thirty uses the latest restoration techniques to recover information from these documents. Working in latex gloves, this group represents an archival CSI for documents; cleaning mold and debris and utilizing digital technology, scanners, and specialized software, some information from burned sections can be revealed and recovered.   

This information remains important.  Requests are received from veteran’s families for information needed to obtain various programmatic government benefits along with on-going work by genealogists and historians.  The meticulous work the recovery team does, like archaeologists unearthing an ancient village filled with information, is critical in helping these servicemen. 

 

Sprinkler protection became an important component for all such government facilities following this fire; a lesson learned like many others, through disaster.  While we will likely never know how many records were lost in the fire, the cause of which remains undetermined, that recovery and restoration continues forty years later is nothing short of miraculous.