Part 2

Thus it was not coincidence that saw most volunteer fire companies being replaced by professional fire fighters about the same time hand pumpers were succeeded by steamers. Cincinnati had pioneered the first successful steam fire engine, and it was Cincinnati that established the first paid fire department in 1853—the same year that marked the triumph of Moses Latta’s ponderous “Uncle Joe Ross.” The Queen City was also the first to have an all-steam fire department.

Dayton followed her neighbor’s example a decade later when three steamers were purchased following the burning of the old Dayton Journal by a mob incensed over Civil War issues. This famous blaze proved to be the last stand of the old volunteers and also the final time that hand pumpers were operated in Dayton without the assistance of steam fire engines.

Early in 1864 the Dayton City Council resolved that “an appropriation be made in favor of fire department for the sum of $300, payable to the chief of said department for the payment of employed men, purchase of feed, etc.” It was also decided that “compensation of engineers of steam fire engines shall be $50 per month and the firemen, drivers and pipemen shall be $36 per month until further ordered by Council.”

At the same time a paid fire department was established in Dayton, the Council summarily disbanded all the volunteer organizations as of March 1, 1864. The reputation of the volunteers at the time of disbandment must have been at an all-time low. Nowhere in its various resolutions did the Council extend a single word of thanks for the colorful vamps’ (volunteers’) four decades of service without pay. The rowdy behavior of the old-time volunteers is in sharp contrast to the efficient community service performed by today’s volunteer firemen.

By now, conversion to steam was taking place throughout the United States. The steam fire engine, often called a “bulljine,” could run for hours without tiring. It made its debut in cities large and small, and firehouses began to assume some of the aspects of livery barns, since the steamers were usually too heavy to be pulled by men. Hay and oats soon came to be as much a part of fire department supplies as hose and axes, although just as firemen had opposed steamers as an insult to their strength, so they opposed at first the use of horses to pull equipment to the fires. In some cases horses were obtained, after an alarm was sounded, at nearby livery barns, but the delay inherent in this procedure proved prohibitive.

As the trend to steam fire engines grew to landslide proportions, manufacturers of the new machines mushroomed all over the eastern United States. Almost every heavy machine shop which had had any experience with steam brought out an engine. Some erstwhile manufacturers never built more than one machine; others produced hundreds. Moses Latta, the pioneer in the field, enjoyed only a few brief years with minor competition, eventually selling his business.

The city or town which wanted to replace its old hand-pump engines and modernize its fire-fighting facilities had a wide choice in steam fire engines. If funds were low and the needs modest, an engine could be purchased for as little as $800. One such economy engine, built by the Knowles Steam Pump Works at Warren, Massachusetts, was as plain and homely as it could be; it offered no shiny plating or fancy striping, but it put out fires just the same.

At the other extreme were such monsters as those turned out by the Manchester Locomotive Works at Manchester, New Hampshire. One of this firm’s machines, the “Extra First Size,” towered more than ten feet and was almost twenty-five feet long. It weighed four and a half tons minus water, and was guaranteed to deliver at least 1,100 gallons a minute.

Training fire horses to pull the heavy engines was a long and complicated task. The setting off of the fire gong, which often automatically opened the stable doors, was the signal for the horse to take his proper place without guidance under the swinging harness which hung from the rafters of the engine house. This was of vital importance; a wrong or clumsy move would entangle the delicately arranged harness, delaying the run to the fire.

Running at full speed over rough and often poorly lighted streets with a several-ton engine rolling behind required perfect coordination with the other horse or horses in the team. Animals were often badly injured in falls and had to be destroyed. Like race horses, fire horses had to be kept in top condition.

The confining life of the fireman and his constant proximity to and dependence on the horses resulted in close relationships between the men and animals. When a horse grew too old for the demanding fire department life, his departure from the firehouse for a less arduous job, such as pulling a delivery wagon, was usually a touching occasion and a trying one, too, since it meant another long breaking-in process for his successor. It is no myth that former firehorses seldom forgot their original training. Stories are still heard of how the owners of former fire horses were dragged unwillingly to fires in their buggies and delivery wagons by horses which heard the alarm and immediately responded to their old training. Many fire horses could actually tell by the first digit of the alarm whether the fire would be a run for their own company, and most soon came to realize that a burning building was always their destination.

All over America, in cities large and small, the exciting spectacle of the steam fire engine rumbling to the scene of a blaze became commonplace, but never so commonplace that it failed to thrill both young and old. The interest in steam fire engines, which was kindled by various water-throwing contests, spurred additional competition, which in turn increased interest in the steamers still further.

As had been the case in the era of the old hand pumpers, different companies vied for honors in decorative skill also. Ornate and costly scrollwork and platings appeared on the engines with increasing frequency. Terse mottoes which set forth the firemen’s creed, such as “We Do Save,” were beautifully lettered on the engines. Many a latter-day fire captain climbed his first rung to higher rank by proving to be a capable man with the brass polish in his days as a rookie fireman. The phrase, “All dressed up like a fire engine,” had its origin in the loving care given the steamers and the old “musheens” which preceded them.

Along with pay for firemen also came a more professional stature. The engineer of a steam fire engine in a well-respected company was a man of some standing, especially among the younger set. The American’s traditional love for machinery and for gadgets to make his work simpler found one of its most potent outlets in these glittering machines. A locomotive, its valve gear flashing as the engineer thundered past a Middle West whistle stop, was a stirring sight at any time, but it could hardly compare with the glamor inherent in the old fire engine. Here were all the wonders of steam with the added dramatic ingredients of danger and the fight against man’s eternal enemy, fire. It is not surprising that “running with the engine” became as popular a sport as the church socials or Saturday night band concerts that characterized America in the late 19th Century.

During the heyday of the steamers, progress in fire-fighting was being made in other directions also. The first aerial ladder truck was perfected in 1870 and became popular following the famous Chicago fire of 1871. The aerial ladders were often called “big sticks,” and at first were raised by manual power. The water tower, which placed a powerful stream forty-five to sixty feet in the air, developed from a “hose elevator” constructed before the great Chicago fire and had a platform which could be raised or lowered. The water tower eventually became one of the fire-fighter’s most potent weapons.

The sprinkler system was introduced in 1874, and an automatic alarm device used in conjunction with sprinklers has proved to be one of the most effective fire-fighting aids ever devised. The same year, Rochester, New York, became the first city to install a high pressure water system, which delivered water at fireplugs under such great pressure that pumpers were not required, but the high cost resulted in a delay of twenty-five years until other cities began adopting similar systems.

Although the steam fire engine brought great gains in fire-fighting efficiency and ended many of the evils inherent in the old volunteer system, it was not a panacea for all the fire-fighting problems of the time. In most cities, politicians recognized a good thing when they saw it, and were quick to take an interest in the newly created paid departments. One historian wrote that Dayton’s paid fire department from 1864 to 1880 was under the “mismanagement of council” and largely subject to “the caprice, partisan aims and hunger of the politicians.”

But in 1880, disgusted with the estate to which the department had fallen, the citizens of Dayton obtained passage in the Legislature of a bill which created a non-partisan board of fire commissioners. The board immediately appointed Daniel C. Larkin as fire chief, and with this appointment the more modern era in Dayton fire-fighting history began. The department was reorganized after adoption of the commission-manager form of government in 1913, and has continued at a high level of efficiency.

The Steamers’ Last Stand

The demise of the steam fire engine was not an overnight occurrence. Most of the time-tested machines survived well into the 20th Century, despite the coming of the automobile and the accompanying mechanization of most forms of transportation.

At first, in the early 1900’s, gasoline tractors were attached to many of the steamers, retiring the luckier fire horses to pasture and the others to a more strenuous life. As gasoline engines increased in reliability, however, the next logical step was to use the gasoline power plant to run the pumps as well as to pull the vehicle. By the advent of World War I, most large cities had partially converted their fire-fighting equipment to gasoline, and by the mid-twenties the steamers were making their last stand, even in the smaller towns.

Just as the old “vamps” had opposed the steamers as replacements for hand pumpers, so opposition developed when the steamers were in turn replaced by gasoline equipment. Many firemen, willing to concede that the automobile was here to stay, were not so sure about the gasoline-powered fire truck. A few diehards took a dim view about the internal-combustion engine in general. Cries of “undependable” and “cantankerous” were hurled in answer to talk about substituting gasoline power for the faithful fire horses. Such sentimental objections were a strong factor in postponing the death of the steamers.

There was one big advantage to gasoline mechanization, however, that could not be shouted down. Dependable as they were, the fire horses cost money. A few gallons of fuel, it became apparent, were much cheaper than the constant drain on the supply of hay and oats needed for the horses. According to one estimate, the savings each year after a gasoline tractor replaced the hungry horses that formerly pulled the steamer amounted to almost $1,000.

When these economic facts finally became apparent, it was obvious to most fire departments that all of the sentimental considerations in the world could not arrest the decline of the old steamers. More and more cities, including Dayton in 1916, joined the parade to gasoline.

At first, most of the cities replacing their steamers kept some of the old machines in reserve, but after several years they were usually consigned to the scrap heap, so that today only a tiny fraction of the machines once in use are still intact. Although they date back much farther, more of the hand pumpers perhaps have been preserved than their successors. In many older towns throughout the United States the old “musheens” are still operated at firemen’s festivals and other civic events similar to the old-time firemen’s musters.

Although gone forever, the steamers are far from forgotten. To many, modern-day fire-fighting equipment pales in comparison. Like the Clipper Ship, the steam fire engine seems likely to endure as one of the most colorful legacies in our great American heritage.

The Carillon Park Engine

The steam fire engine on display at Carillon Park has been preserved through the efforts of the Sidney and Dayton Fire Departments. Originally the property of the Sidney Fire Department, it was donated to the Dayton Fire Department in 1953 for reconditioning and subsequent display. The refurbished engine, in like-new condition, was moved to Carillon Park concurrently with the opening of the park’s 1955 season. Educational and Musical Arts, Inc., the non-profit civic organization which operates Carillon Park, provided the structure which houses both the engine and the old-time fire bell which once hung in the fire station at Fifth and Brown Streets.

The fire engine is a single-pump Ahrens-Fox and originally cost $4,000. It was purchased by the City of Sidney in 1883 and remained in active service until 1916. From that time until 1928 it was kept in reserve. After 1928, the engine remained in storage until its restoration to original condition. The City of Dayton at one time employed a number of similar Ahrens engines, but of larger size. None of these machines could be located for restoration, however.

Named for Henry Young, the chief of the Sidney Fire Department at the time of its purchase, the engine was drawn by a team of pure black horses throughout much of its period of use. In addition to the steamer, the Sidney Fire Department had a ladder wagon, a hose wagon and a number of hose reels. Although this equipment seems scant as well as out-moded by present-day standards, Sidney in the latter 19th Century was listed as one of the better-equipped cities for fire-fighting in the United States in relation to its size.

Besides participating in many major fires at Sidney during its thirty-three years of active service and twelve years in reserve, the Henry Young was used several times to combat out-of-town blazes. At two of these fires, in Quincy and Piqua, the Henry Young was rushed by railroad flatcar to the scene after the fires had passed beyond control of the local departments.

During its long span of service, the Henry Young compiled an admirable record of dependability. In operation, the engine was first fired with wood which in turn ignited coal. Usually by the time the engine arrived at a blaze it had already developed a head of steam and was ready for use. As with most steamers, constant attention to the flues was required if the engine was to operate at peak efficiency.

Another problem recalled by old-time residents of Sidney was the shower of sparks emitted when the engine was in use. Its operators were subjected to this fiery barrage at frequent intervals, with the result that coats and other items of clothing were often perforated by the red-hot cinders.

An anecdote which has survived along with the Henry Young concerns one hectic fire run during which the engine was almost wrecked. With the horses plunging ahead at full speed and the engine rounding a turn, one of its wheels hit a severe bump. For several long seconds, the engine careened wildly on two wheels. The thoroughly frightened driver sat paralyzed, even after the engine had righted, but the veteran fire horses headed unerringly toward the scene of the blaze. Proof that the horses really did find the fire, old-timers say, is that the driver was still immobilized at the end of the run, and had to be helped from his seat.

The Ahrens Manufacturing Company of Cincinnati, which built the Henry Young, was at one time the largest producer of steam fire engines in the Midwest. The ancestry of the Ahrens engines can be traced all the way back to Moses Latta, who accomplished what the world’s mechanical geniuses had hitherto failed to do by devising a boiler which not only generated a lot of steam but in addition produced the steam quickly. Once this milestone had been passed, the road to widespread and successful usage of steam fire engines broadened, and progress became correspondingly rapid.

The Ahrens firm had its start in 1868, having succeeded Lane & Bodley, the company that had bought Latta’s works. Ahrens was quick to make significant improvements. Whereas Lane & Bodley had built only seven or eight machines, depending on Latta’s patterns, Ahrens immediately introduced new designs which greatly increased the efficiency of the engines.

Ahrens engines were made in several sizes. The larger models had two cylinders and two pumps and were known as “double” engines. The smaller types had a single cylinder and a single pump. The Henry Young is a single-pump Ahrens, Size No. 2. Its steam cylinder has a diameter of nine inches and a stroke of nine inches; its pump cylinder has a five-and-a-half-inch bore and a nine-inch stroke. The engine weighs 5,800 pounds and can pump 350 gallons of water a minute.

The Old-Time Fire Bell

Once the pride of Dayton firemen, the large fire bell which today is housed in Carillon Park alongside the steam fire engine is almost a century old. It was cast in 1858 by the Meneely Bell Company, the same concern which several generations later produced the bells used in Deeds Carillon.

For more than a decade after its purchase, the $700 bell tolled out fire alarms from the tower of the firehouse at Fifth and Brown Streets. It was considered the loudest and finest fire bell in the Dayton area. During an extended tolling, however, the bell suddenly cracked. Although attempts were made to repair the fissure, the bell’s tonal qualities were lost and it was subsequently replaced.

In 1914, the bell seemed headed for the junkyard until a group of citizens learned of plans for its disposal. The city manager of that period was advised that a committee opposed to destruction of the bell would call on him to register their protest. When the committee arrived, however, the city manager showed them the bell ... which had been quickly converted into a giant flower urn at the Main and Monument Firehouse. “Gentlemen, there is your bell,” he said. “You can see that it is perfectly safe and sound.”

The committee’s fears were thus alleviated, although it is doubtful that they expected the bell to remain in that location for more than forty years. It was finally transferred to Carillon Park in 1955.

CARILLON PARK DAYTON, OHIO

One of a series of Carillon Park booklets. Price ten cents.

AS-8575 I15XX PRINTED IN U.S.A.

Transcriber’s Notes

—Silently corrected a few typos.

—Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook is public-domain in the country of publication.

—In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by _underscores_.