The fire horse
Don Coldsmith
Originally published 02:24 p.m., October 15, 2007
Updated 02:24 p.m., October 15, 2007
Once in a while, I’ve encountered a situation that was very meaningful as a life experience. Sometimes with no connection at all to the purpose of my visit. Such an event reminds me of a wise saying of an Indian friend: “The spirits have a sense of humor, you know.” But, back to my story.
The year was about 1950 and I was beginning my first full time professional job, as a YMCA Youth Director in Topeka.
I was lining up some educational field trips to places of business and civic functions, police station, courthouse, etc. Among the most interesting to my youngsters was always the fire station.
I had not yet met anyone in the fire department, but stopped by to ask when would be a good time to get acquainted. By coincidence, I encountered one of the most interesting men I have ever met, the long-term chief of the operation.
He was preparing for retirement and began to tell me about the changes that he had seen since he started as a green recruit many years before. Fire engines, at that time, were pulled by horses and the water was pumped by steam pressure. A very complicated profession, to be sure. To further push my imagination and the old fire chief’s memories, the Topeka fire station was located exactly on its then current site. He showed me the antique pumpers and the assortment of changing equipment through the decades. It was easy to see that his major interest had been not the machines, but the horses.
He pointed out the framework overhead in the big engine house. Those frames had once held harness, ready to drop on the backs of the horses in stalls on either side. The stalls had now been converted to equipment rooms. Originally, however, at the sound of the alarm, the stalls opened and each horse would rush to his assigned position. A lever would drop a harness on each horse and it required only a moment to buckle up and be en route to the fire.
I had read, in our grade school books, about the retired fire horse who, hearing the fire alarm, broke away with the vegetable wagon of his current status, to race through the streets to the fire.
In this case, however, the parking lot out back had been an exercise yard for the horses not “on duty.” They could lie down and roll, a favorite means of relaxation, and be rotated back in turn to full duty.
Old “Bill,” the memorable horse of the old fireman’s story, once happened to be in the exercise lot when the bell sounded. I suppose that they had another animal ready (in) reserve to answer the alarm, but the old fire horse couldn’t handle it that way.
With a running jump, he cleared the fence into the alley, down to the cross street and around the block to the engine house. There, he ran in from the front, turned and took his place under the suspended harness. Now, there’s a specialist who loved his job.
With all the mechanization we have endured in the past few decades, I have to think we’ve lost a lot. Our family spent enough years in the management of livestock to give our girls some pretty good experience.
There are still people who on a scientific basis (presumably), tell us that animals are not capable of reasoning, thought or emotion. Invariably, these turn out to be people who never had a pet. That in itself, is a tragedy. A kid may have benefited (and I use the term loosely) from every electronic gadget that comes along. But has he (or she) ever spent a warm summer afternoon simply lying on the grass in the shade, watching the shapes of the clouds as they change their pictures?
And, always, it’s better if we are in the company of a favorite pet, who will understand.
See you down the road.
Author and columnist Don Coldsmith lives in Emporia.