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It was long Monday, and a rookie was assigned to clean the district chief's room. The chief sat at his desk when the rookie entered the room. Here was the rookie's chance to impress the chief. He intended to clean the room as it never had been cleaned before. The rookie carefully lifted each item as he dusted to leave the desk spotless. Each slat of the Venetian blinds was repeatedly wiped. He even dusted down the walls, being careful to leave the pictures plumb and level. The bathroom was left bright and shiny, the floor dustless. His final task was to mop the floor. As the rookie slid the bed from the wall, something fell and hit the floor with a thud. The rookie leaned down and saw a half empty bottle of booze. "Chief," the rookie whispered, "a bottle of whiskey must have fallen from under your bed." "There wasn't any bottle of whiskey under the bed," the chief retorted. "Yes chief, there it is under the bed," the rookie replied pointing to the bottle. The chief swung around in his chair and glanced where the rookie was pointing. "There's no bottle under that bed," the chief growled. "But chief, there it is," the rookie uttered still pointing at the bottle. "Rookie," the chief roared, "There ain't no bottle under that bed." The rookie finally caught on. "Yes sir," he meekly replied. "You're right, sir, there ain't no bottle under that bed," and silently continued his task, carefully mopping around the bottle.
Firefighters love playing jokes on one another. One of the jokes is to jack up the rear end of a car and place a block under the rear axle. The tires are left barely off of the pavement. The owner is unable to drive off. The crew at Station 4 in the mid-fifties put a new twist on the old trick. One of the firefighters had just purchased an Italian car called an Iseta, or some such name. It was a tiny three-wheel vehicle with a single rear wheel. Across the front was the only door to get into the two-seater. What looked like a big lawnmower engine propelled the light vehicle. One night after the owner of the car went to bed, several of the other firefighters picked up his car and put it on the outside hose rack. No one on the shift was around the next morning when the hapless firefighter left the station to go home. (He slept in when he could get away with it.) He tried everything to get the car off of the hose rack. Nothing worked. Finally (way after the eight o'clock tap), his pleading with the other shift got him a helping hand. To his dying day, he never learned who pulled off the trick.
Probationary firefighters were initiated soon after arriving at their fire station from the training academy. The ritual involved spreading a liberal amount of axle grease over the hidden parts of a rookie. Almost every firefighter went through the embassasing experience. Almost all, that is. One of the rookies that escaped initiation was transferred to another fire station soon after his first assignment. It did not take long before the new "buddies" decided it was time for his initiation. They grabbed and held the rookie, while one of the firefighters retrieved a can of grease from the mop room. The rookie fought as they tried to get his trousers down. "Hey, guys," he pleaded, "they greased me at the other station." The message finally soaked in, and the firefighters cut him loose. Never did any of the firefighters learn the rookie had lied (until now). His stay at the first station was too short, and the men there never got a chance to grease the rookie.
He was as strong as a bull. Larger than the average firefighter. He was captain, and no one was too tough for him to tangle with. He seldom could be pinned during rowdy episodes with his men. Varmints were a different story. He would jump on a chair whenever he saw something crawl. You could have him cowering by shoving an odd creature near his face. His toughness totally disappeared when faced with a varmint, especially after dark. The men began to set up tricks to make noise in his room after he retired. They would tie fish line to anything in his room and run the end of the line out into the apparatus room. It might be tied to the Venetian blinds or to something else that would make noise when moved, After the captain would get to sleep, the men would give the string a tug. A shriek always followed and the light came on. Before the captain could run from his room, the men had scattered for the dormitory. They jumped into their bed with their clothes still on, and covered with a blanket. The captain never found anyone missing when he checked the lounge and dormitory. Everyone was always found "sleeping" away. He had his suspicion that the men were playing with him, but never was able to prove it.
Love phones were the telephones at fire stations paid for by the men for their personal calls. The watchman usually answered the love phone and announce the call over the PA system with "John Doe, love phone." One devilish watchman received a call for a firefighter who he could see in the back of the station with his wife. She was there to visit him, as wives did occasionally. There was a speaker on the back of the station to loudly alert firefighters outside to a fire or other message. The watchman gave out the usual love phone call: "John Doe, love phone, " and then added, "It's your wife." The joke was a hit. Even the wife was seen laughing. It became the new way to call someone when a spouse was at the station. But an "It's your wife" call went over like a lead balloon one day. After the victim's wife left, the firefighter severely chewed out the poor watchman, threatening to skin him within an inch of his life if he ever called him like that again. The victim had been having problems with his wife over her suspicion he was stepping around with someone else.
Station 37's Capt. Steve Baranowski was a man of the earth. He had a green thumb, and could grow anything. He loved working with the ground and always planted a garden at the fire station. Both a spring garden and fall garden. He knew when to plant, when to fertilize, and when to harvest. Every spot around the fire station had been transformed into a garden. There were vegetables in the front flower bed, in the narrow strip between side of the station and the driveway, behind the hose rack, and even a ways into a vacant lot behind the station. New potatoes were the captain's favorite crop. They took up most of the garden in the vacant lot. It was also a favorite of two culprits on the other shift. This year the tubers were plentiful and beginning to grow. The culprits pushed the season. They would dig into the hills to snip the yet-matured potatoes and smooth back the hill. Masters they were at camouflaging their thefts. The culprits were always gnawing a potato, and the shift had plenty of spuds for lunch or dinner. They went to extremes that year. Really got greedy. When it came time to harvest the crop, the captain could not believe it. He had never seen such a poor crop when the leaves were so plentiful and large. To his dying day, he would bitterly recall the potato famine of '57.
Some firefighters never shut up. They always have something to say except when they are asleep. Real gater-mouths. Some wives too had the habit. It must have been a nightmare when both spouses talked all of the time. Of course, some couples were exactly the opposite. One talked excessively, the other stayed mute. The following story is how one firefighter handled a spouse who never shut up. The captain was on watch, as was the custom while the men cleaned the station after the eight o'clock tap. A couple of the men had come to the watch office for a break. The captain was telling the men a story about the good old days when the love phone interrupted. It was the captain's wife. Both firefighters got up to leave so the captain could have some privacy, but the captain motioned with his hand to stay put. After a couple of minutes, the captain laid the phone receiver in a desk drawer, shut it, and continued the story. Every few minutes, he would retrieve the phone, listen for a moment, say "Uh huh" and pop the phone back into the drawer. This went on throughout the lengthy story. Whether he was talking with someone, working on his log, or watching TV, the captain always used this method to mute his yakking wife. Even if he was doing nothing when she called, he would drop the phone into a drawer and whistle away.
Everyone is sensitive to something or other. Firefighters are no different. Take the captain on Engine 4 in the 1950s. He was sitting on the edge of the watch office desk when the fill-in man strolled in. The fill-in man was curious,as fill-in men are at a different station, and began reading everything on the walls. He got to the riding board and studied it deeply. (A riding board tells a firefighter where he is to ride that day.) After a moment, the fill-in man came across the captain's name in the first slot under "Pumper." He began to spell the name. "K-A-U-I-T-Z-S-C-H. What is that?" the fill-in man uttered. "Kawtswick, Cowzechaush, Kaitshis...." The captain stopped him short. "Can't you read, damnit, it's Kauitzsch," drawing out the name slowly and distinctly. (The name was pronounced Couch.) Needless to say, the man never became the captain's favorite fill-in.
Almost every fire station had a commissary. It was owned by the men, anywhere from a few to all of the men on a shift. Lunch snacks, canned soup and fruits, candy and cigarettes were sold. Some even stocked toothpaste and other toiletries. Profits of a commissary were loaned when a man fell short near payday. The loan rates were high. Usually ten percent, whether for a few days or an entire pay period. Commissaries were real loan sharks. A couple of the men ran the commissary and had to balance the books periodically. Many times, they were short, but the shortage was made up out of the profits which were usually distributed to the stockholders just before Christmas. The commissary at Fire Station 37 was really unique. It never had a shortage, thanks to one of the men on the shift. He was single and roamed all night when he worked days. Everyone had a key. Often he swung by the station in the middle of the night to help himself to money from the commissary. When a keeper of the commissary noticed money missing the next morning, Woody was asked if he got some money last night. He could not always remember and would answer probably so. The amount missing went on his tab, plus interest. If someone else had mistakenly forgotten to pay, the shortage was made up the next time Woodie had a night out. Stockholders of the commissary made out, and always had an enriched Christmas.
It was Sunday afternoon at Fire Station 1 on Preston in the early 1950s. The water tower just returned from a fire and was ready to be backed into the station. Two old timers were driving, the chauffeur steering the front wheels and the tillerman the rear wheels. It was a sight to see. The chauffeur, after a time getting the gear into reverse, began to ease toward the door. Just before the rear end of the tower reached the door, the tillerman turned his huge steering wheel in the wrong direction. Squeech went the brakes, and the chauffeur flew up from his seat. He began a long tirade at the tillerman interspersed with a slew of cuss words. Responding, the tillerman fired back with equally bad words. Each trying to out-shout the other. Both blamed the other. After a minute or so, the chauffeur pulled back to the other side of Preston to try it again, only to wind up in the same position at the door. This went on and on, back and forth. It was Sunday, and there was scant traffic downtown (unlike Sundays today). Yet, the traffic had backed up way past Fannin. A Trialways bus filled with travelers was in one of the lanes near the front of the lines of cars. It was quite a show for the out of town passengers. A real embassassment. Finally, one of the younger firefighters at the station took the place of the tillerman and steered the water tower into the station. Stories had circulated through the department how these men fought. They even stopped on the way to fires and argued at the top of their lungs about the driving of the other. Both cussed like a sailor. This eposode confirmed the stories one may have ever heard about the two old-timers who came on the department shortly after the water tower arrived.
The fire phone was used for official business only. One long ring on the fire phone indicated general information. The watchman merely listened and recorded the message. Two short rings on the fire phone meant some official was calling, or the fire dispatcher had a fire for the station. The phone was to be picked up immediately and before the phone rang again. A watchman was in trouble if the fire phone rang a second time. There was seldom a legitimate excuse in those days to miss the first round of the fire phone. A religious old-timer was trying to convert a young probie on watch one day in the mid-fifties. He was seated between the probie and the fire phone when the telephone rang twice. The probie jumped to reach for the phone. "Don't worry," the old-timer said as he grabbed the probie's arm, "God will take care of that." The probie ferociously struggled to reach the fire phone. After a brief clash, the old-timer was knocked from his chair, and the probie got the phone just as the second round of the bell began.
Consoles in watch offices of the fire stations had three switches: An acknowledgment switch to signal when a box alarm came in, a switch for the house lights and a switch to sound the house bell. Each switch had a different colored handle. Red for the acknowledment switch, white for the lights and black for the house bell. A rookie at a station sometimes memorized which switch by color. Sam Neal tells how they tricked rookies on watch at old Station 19. He said the men would switch the handles when a rookie was on watch that night. When an alarm tapped in on the joker, the rookie would acknowledge the alarm with the house bell switch, waking up everyone in the middle of the night. The rookie was usually raked over by the captain.
Then there was a time when another switch was added. It was called the Perino button or referred to as God's button. Joe Perino had the system installed after he made fire chief so he could keep the men informed of what was happening in the fire department. When he had something to say, a signal was sent to the fire stations. The Perino button was pressed after the men had assembled, and his message was broadcast. There was mass grumbling when the fire chief interrupted a firefighter's routine to spread his propaganda. Tip of the Day A Tip of the Day was offered at one point in time to the firefighters every morning during the Joe Perino administration. The tip was broadcast over the vocal system. One old timer's favorite was when the tip of the day was "Don't slide the fire pole when wet." Needless to say, the tips turned out to be the joke of the day for firefighters. |
