If you have read any of my writings over the years, you know I suffer from a chronic medical condition. I don’t ask for sympathy or donations; I and my family just deal with it.
My condition is somewhat debilitating at times; it has interrupted many a family vacation or car trip.
I suffer from a fire truck affliction. As of this writing, there is no known cure. In actuality, I’m not sure anybody is even looking for one. We don’t even have a celebrity spokesperson or a telethon.
I suffer from flare-ups quite frequently. I can be driving along when suddenly a rusty fire truck sitting in a field or behind a building causes me to initiate the anti-lock brake feature on the family car. I can be in a restaurant when one drives by and l am overcome with the desire to take a photo.
There is no aura like in seizures but I have identified some triggers. Any vintage classic apparatus will always cause a flare up.
Small town icons
Whenever I pour over a fire truck especially the older retired ones, I am struck with the thought of what this truck saw in its service life, especially in small towns. If it just had a video system embedded somewhere, we could fast forward through.
Any good slice of Americana is going to have a fire truck in the photo. For example, there’s the spring Little League baseball parade, a rite of passage for a lot of kids.
If the timing was right, a fire truck saw a youngster start out in the lowest age group and move through the ranks up through high school. That same fire truck was there every spring Saturday morning gleaming for the annual parade.
It probably hauled Santa Claus around to hand out candy to the delight of small children. A fire truck can see a lot of kids grow up over its service life of 15 or 20 years, sometimes longer.
Santa making an appearance on the fire truck is something people remember their whole life for some reason. The same kids who stood on the curb now take their kids out to see the show.
Fellow sufferers
One thing I can take solace in is that I am not alone in my fire truck condition. I have met a lot of folks who appreciate a vintage fire truck like myself, especially with social media.
Recently, I came into possession of a disc of old fire truck photos from all over Texas. As I scrolled through the Galveston section, one caught my eye — a yellow 1947 American LaFrance pumper with an open cab.
I believe this model was called a Foamite. I always refer to them as having the bathtub front. It was the predecessor to the Century series. I always loved ALF Centurys.
My flare up was a powerful one and I made a call to the current Galveston Fire Chief Mike Wisko, who is a longtime friend. Chief Wisko followed in his dad’s footsteps, who was the Galveston fire chief back in the day. I asked him if his dad had any history on the ALF.
Jackpot! This really illustrates my point. This is the story of one fire truck in one community.
Ole’ Engine 8
The truck in question was red when it was purchased new. The truck came equipped with a 300-gallon tank and a 750-gpm pump. It was designated Engine 8 and assigned to Station 8 right off the beach and seawall.
In 1965 a new central fire station was opened and Station 8 was closed. Engine 8 was retrofitted with a 750-gallon water tank and painted yellow. The now yellow ALF served its remaining life at the central fire station.
However, it was a cold January night for that was worth remembering. Jan. 19, 1963 was unusually cold for this part of the world. The temperature was 19 degrees; rain was falling and freezing.
Engine 8 was operating at a two-alarm fire at a three-story house, which started around 2 a.m., when another fire was reported at 4 a.m. at 2310 Winnie.
Shields up
Engine 8 left the two-alarm fire and was first to arrive at a three-story house that was heavily involved. Trapped occupants were jumping out of windows on the second and third floors.
Driver Joe Abraham found two people lying on the ground on the east side of the house; they had been injured jumping from an upper story to escape the flames. He drove into the vacant lot and placed Engine 8 between the injured and the flames to try to protect them from the radiant heat.
Five civilians died at that house fire that night.
On a side note the first in ladder company was delayed in responding from the first fire also because the aerial was frozen and was unable to be retracted. I saw a photo of that in Philadelphia recently.
There you have it — just one story of one fire truck in one town that saw action long ago. Sadly, Abraham and Engine 8 are both long gone.
Abraham died over 10 years ago and Engine 8 was sold at a city auction in the late ‘70s. This whole incident is probably now forgotten by most.
It would be nice to think Engine 8 was bought by a collector, a fellow fire truck affliction sufferer, and is still intact. But, it was probably scrapped for it’s metal. What a shame; think of the stories it could tell.
Let me hear from you.
