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ORIGINAL NM OR FIELD NOTES (Moak one)
PUB....11041
(Corrtiovrt)
121211R kerfsePIN
110/8. UN.
OIESCIEBR
same annul (t)
"Living Lore in N.E." Series
The Fire House Scene
Francis Donovan
ThaMaston, Conn.
Jan. 30, 1939
There is no one in the Fire House today, and though I wait
hopefully for more than an hour, none of the members, active or
honoarary, appears. Though the weather is inclement, which may
account for the absence of some of them, it takes nothing less than
an Act of God to keep the rugged Mr. MacCurrie indoors and his
def eetion is something of a puzzle. I can only conclude that he has
pressing business of some kind this afternoon, or that be has decided to
spend a few hours at the home of one of his less active cronies.
The little circle which earlier in the fall numbered a good half
dozen has become sadly depleted. Old Ed, who in the ten years since
his retirement, rarely failed emze hell or high water to spend
each afternoon at the Fire House was the first to go --his demise
having been duly chronicled in these dispatches some weeks ago. Mr.
Odenwald has been in poor health for some time and is under orders
of his physician to "take it easy." His visits are bried and infre-
quent. Mr. Armstrong has but recently returned from the hospital
and is not yet permitted to come "down town." Mr. Richmond who because
of his penchant for disagreement with virtually any given statement
finds his popularity on our side at an all time low, frequents "the
other side" almost exclusively.
A few words about "the other side" may be in order. One of the
older members whose memory goes back to the early days of the organi-
zation of our Fire Department tells me that a spirit of bitter
rivalry marked the relations of "Crescent Hose Number One" mui "Hook
W/5704.
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old Ladder Number Two" fifty or more years ago. So intense was
the feeling between the two companies that members were forbidden
to enter the quarters of their rivals. Friendships of years stand-
ing were ruptured and in one or two notable instances blood relation-
ship was no bar to bitter quarrels. Old records of the two companies
provide an interesting sidelight on this curious feud.
These are replete with sardonic comment on the tardiness of
"the other side" in answering alarms, the sloppiness of their work
once they arrived at the scene of action and their general inepti-
tide. In their proficiency at more or less polite name calling the
secretaries of both companies in these early days yielded the palm
to no man.
Faint traces of the ancient feud remain, apparently a heritage.
Though "the other side" is no longer verboten there is a sort of
tacit understanding among members that the facilities of Crescent
Hose Number One belong exclusively to the members of that department
and vice versa, and that it is not exactly cricket for a Ladder man to
go over and turn on the Crescents radio. By this same token a mem-
ber of the Crescents who came over to use the new shower would be in
line for outspoken criticism.
The Crescents to this day retain the r eputation of being "hard
to get into," and the exceeding deliberation with which they go
about filling a vacancy in their membership list would seem to justify
popular belief. They are also said (but this may be a canard propa-
gated by some disappointed "joiner") to be more that+ a little "close"
in money matters. Be that as it may they are much less active than
the Ladder Company in sponsoring social events, and their financial
situation is a closely guarded mystery, while it is common knowledge
that our side operates blithely on the treasury deficit principle.
Our Fire House itself is of a style of architecture which no
doubt has been outmoded these many years. It recently became
necessary to reinforce the wooden floors, ahichmere seen to "give".
in alarming fashion when the heavy apparatus was driven in and out.
The exterior of the building however is of sturdy red brick, imper-
vious to the advance of time, and together with the town hall next
door --a matter of community pride. The building is set on a ranp
down which our two pieces of modern fire fighting apparatus thunder
in imposing fashion at the sound of the factory whistles --or as soon
thereafter as sundry volunteers can reach headquarters in their fast
cars.
Lower floor interiors, of course, house the trucks, but there
is room in the rear for a few card tables and straight backed wooden
chairs. The chairs which we occupy in our daily forums are towards
the front, facing the windows and from them we command a view of Main
street and the adjacent town hall. Thus we are often furnished with
conversational fuel by passersby when we have become talked out on
topics of the day.
Upstairs are the parlors, where company meetings are held in
Masonic seclusion. Those on our side have been recently renovated,
furnished with deep-set upholstered chairs and couch and at the
further end, with a ping-pong table. But this is a sanctum sactorum
into which I dare not venture except under the protecting wing of
some member, though I am tolerated downstairs by virtue of long
residence inthe community. It is here that Mr: Maeurrie retires
at periodic intervals daily to get his news programs over the radio.
Being an honorary member, the old gentleman has the run of the entire
"side" and is treated by younger =labors with a rough bantering
affection.
Mr. MacCurrie has confessed more than once that he would be
"lost" if he couldn't come "doom to the Fire House." He boards with
relatives who have a house full of children and be must seek else-
where the peace and quiet that his nerves demand. Hence, his lengthy
walks, his almost unalterable routine. For though he is fond of
children, there is a certain point, he declares, beyond which his
patience will bear him no longer.
Though he is not averse to conversation by any means, he is not
so loquacious as some of his cronies, and his .opinions on matters
other than politics are obtained only after adroit maneuvering.
Politically, however, he will take the field at any time and with
any adversary, his frosty blue eyes snapping with excitement and the
broad Scots rolling off his tongue like butter.
In his national and state sympathies he is uncompromisingly
Republican. Lifelong conviction has been unseated where town polities
are concerned, however, for Mr. MaeCurrie bears a grudge against our
First Selectman which will never be satisfied until that gentleman is
defeated for office. This is the result of what he declares was a
deliberate misappropriation of "compensation money" rightfully belong-
ing to him. Mr. MacCurrie carries in his pocket and will produce
with little or no urging especially when he has "had a few" irrefuta-
ble evidence of the wrong which has been done him. To the uninitiate
the evidence might seem lacking the cohesiveness which is deganded
by the more finicky of the judiciary, but Mr. Maeurriels explanation
is convincing.
However, the days when Mr. MeoCurrie "has a few" one concludes,
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are much fewer than he would like them to be. Reminiscences of
his early youth and his lusty manhood, are apt to be prefaced, or
concluded with the remark "Of c
oorse
at the time."
I was aboot half seas over
His slender purse these days will not meet the demands of too
heavy a thirst, and Mr. MacCurrie finds solace more often in his
snuff box. He has recourse to it, indded, whenever contemplation
of the shifting scene furnishes puzzles too complex to be easily
solved. ,The British foreign policy, the Sino-Japanese war, the gold
standard, Messrs. Mussolini and Hitler, and economic and social
bogies of all descriptions have been vanquisheA by the MacCurrie
snuffbox time and again.
The keen, alert mentality of Mr. MacCurrie is excellently com-
plemented by his sturdy physique. Though be is in his seventy-fifth
year, he never has an "ache or a pain," and he firmly believes that
his inflexible habit of taking four or five mile walks daily is
responsible in large measure for his splendid health. He has taken
the winter in his stride, and bids fair to come through without so
much as a cold.
He has been made the central figure in these little sketches
largely because the daily forums on "our side" revolve around him
and because he has been during all these weeks as immutable a fixture
at the Fire House as the honor roll containing the names of the
members who saw service during the great war.
Of the others who from time to time appear, Mt. Coburn is per-
haps most worthy of note. He is typical, if anyone may be said to
be typical, of the younger membership on "our side." In his early
thirties, unmarried, pleasure loving., Mt. Coburn is vitally interested
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in little except what he describes as a "good time," though he will
talk at length upon any conceivable subject. His political opinions
are in a state of flux, for he is one day right and one day left,
and he is often contradictory, though never uninteresting. Temporari.
ly employed, Mr. Coburn will not be with us except possibly on
Tuesday afternoons when the stores are closed, for some time.
Our Fire House, incidentally, is probably the last outpost of
the old way of life, and it is here, if anywhere, that one may catch
brief glimpses of the fusion of two eras. The few remaining old
timers ---rugged Mr. MaeCurrie as an outstanding example ---belong to
an age obviously regarded by their young successors as prehistoric.
They were born .and raised and spent their youth in a world incompre-
hensible to Mr. Coburn though it is doubtful whether that gentleman
has ever given the matter much thought.
He meets Mr. MacCurrie here on a common ground, and their
conversations are of subjects purely contemporary. On the other
hand, on the occasions when there are other oldsters present, the
discussion will eventually become reminiscent in character, and on
the days when sufficient numbers of both old and young have gathered,
there will be a formation of two distinct groups, oftentimes at
opposite ends of the room.
In our town, the cracker barrel discussions in grocery stores
are a thing of the past, and the barber shops resemble those of the
city -impersonal places shining with chromium fittings and too many
mirrors where conversations are muted, and business proceeds with
utmost efficiency, We have a post office --vintage 1938 —which is
the last word in modernity, and no longer do the young swains linger
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at the church doors on Sunday evenings waiting for the girls.
The old order changes --even the town hall, we fear, will
soon be in the nature of a white elephant, for it is losing
tenants year by year. But the Fire House remains the same in its
red brick austerity. Perhaps it is the only place an old timer
can feel secure these days.