The Steam FIRE ENGINE
                      _and the old-time fire bell_


    [Illustration: The steam fire engine on display in Carillon Park
    represents the third, and perhaps most colorful, phase of man’s long
    battle against fire. During the time of the bucket brigade,
    fire-fighting was carried on without the help of machinery. A great
    step forward occurred with development of hand-operated pumping
    machines in the early 18th Century. Later, the steam fire engine
    replaced human muscle in the operation of the pumps. The modern era
    of fire-fighting began with use of the internal combustion engine
    for both motive and pumping power.]


Various photographs and drawings in this booklet were reproduced through
the courtesy of the following: The H. V. Smith Museum of The Home
Insurance Company granted permission to reproduce drawings and pictures
appearing on Pages 3, 6, 7, 9, 11, 14 and 15; The Dayton Daily News, the
Dayton Journal-Herald and the American-LaFrance-Foamite Corporation also
contributed photographs.

    [Illustration: Horse-drawn Fire Engine]

The steam fire engine—like the Conestoga wagon, the Concord coach and
the canal boat—has faded from the American scene. But as long as man
thrills to the battle against fire, as long as he is intrigued by
intricate machinery and stirred by bold actions, this wondrous vehicle
is not likely to be forgotten.

This booklet summarizes the story of the steam fire engine—its birth
amid derision, its growth in utility and popularity, its golden era of
service and its final decline in the face of relentless technical
progress.

Humor and pathos, heroics and rowdyism, brilliant inventiveness and
indomitable Yankee spirit comprise the bright pattern of steam fire
engine history. These gaudy machines are perhaps as symbolic of life in
America during the latter half of the 19th Century as any other
mechanical memento left behind by preceding generations.

England deserves the credit for invention of the steam fire engine, but
to America goes the distinction of having perfected it. Nowhere was the
steam fire engine more widely used than in the United States, with its
preponderance of highly inflammable wooden buildings. Certainly nowhere
else were the caretakers of the glittering engines so zealous in
exhibiting their machines’ amazing qualities at every opportunity.

Most of those who knew and admired the steam fire engine during its
heyday have departed, and few of the machines themselves have escaped
the final oblivion of the scrap heap. Those engines that have been
preserved, however, attest to the craftsmanship of their makers. In
symmetry of design, sound construction and elegant finish they
constitute a classic example of fine American manufacture.

The cities and hamlets of America will not witness again the drama of
plunging horses speeding to a fire with a heavy, smoke-belching engine
clattering behind; the piercing alarm of the steam fire whistle has been
stilled. The era to which these things belonged lives now only in
memory, pictures and words.

This booklet has been prepared to help recapture for present-day readers
at least a segment of that vanished world.




                     Leather Buckets and “Musheens”


    [Illustration: A Fire Brigade]

Although fire is one of man’s most useful servants, it has also been one
of his deadliest enemies. Most of the great cities of the world at one
time or another have been totally destroyed or badly damaged by fire.
The number of lives lost to flames down through history will never be
known, but it has been of staggering proportions.

Early attempts in America at doing something about this constant peril
consisted mainly of making the best of a bad situation, since technical
knowledge was so limited that development of efficient fire-fighting
machines was slow. Thus, in the first fire society, organized in 1718,
members were charged with salvaging what they could when a neighbor’s
house caught fire. Each man in the society carried a large bag, into
which he stuffed the householder’s personal effects before they were
consumed by the flames. Other equipment included a bed key with which to
dismantle the family bed, usually the most valuable piece of furniture
the colonist owned.

Benjamin Franklin’s broad genius was to make itself felt in the field of
fire-fighting as in others. The inventor-statesman was a co-founder of
the first fire-fighting company in Philadelphia, in 1736, and also
co-founder of the first successful fire insurance company in the United
States, in 1752.

The development of fire-fighting machines cannot be claimed exclusively
by recent generations. As early as the reign of the Ptolemies in Egypt,
some 200 years before the Christian era, a hand-pump fire engine was
constructed which was similar to those later used in the 19th Century.
This first known fire engine was described by the Greek writer Heron,
who reported that the machine operated through a pump and air-chamber
mechanism which forced water out of a spout by means of compressed air.
As has frequently happened in the up-and-down course of history, the
techniques involved in the manufacture of this early engine were lost.

Richard Newsham of London is generally credited with invention of the
first successful fire engine of more recent times. One of his hand-pump
machines, an early model in a long line of “musheens” (machines), was
imported by the City of New York in 1731 and was the first fire engine
to be used in that city. In 1743, the first successful American hand
pumper was built by Thomas Lote. For the most part, however,
fire-fighting in colonial America was accomplished largely through the
centuries-old “bucket brigade.”

    [Illustration: The first fire engine used in New York was this
    machine imported from London in 1731. Water was pumped from the
    “tub” at the bottom of the engine out through the “gooseneck” hose.
    Power was supplied by sturdy colonists who pumped the handles,
    called “brakes.” The engine’s water reservoir was filled with
    buckets.]

The buckets, made of leather, were customarily hung at the front of
houses. When an alarm was sounded, citizens racing to the fire would
seize the nearest bucket available. Once on the scene of the blaze, they
would locate a source of water and then form two lines between it and
the fire. One line, usually composed of men, passed the full buckets
from hand to hand. The other line, made up of women and children, would
pass back the empty buckets for refilling. Anyone who attempted to break
through these lines during the course of a fire was subject to a more
complete dousing by the fire-fighters than was the blaze itself.

After the fire was extinguished—or when it had burned itself out—the
buckets were placed in a central public location and messengers sent
throughout the city shouting “Claim your buckets.” This seldom presented
a problem, since most householders labeled their buckets by name, and
some even emblazoned them with brilliant colors and family
coats-of-arms.

As late as 1824 fire buckets were the sole means of combating flames in
Dayton. The importance attached to their availability is indicated by an
old ordinance which required each citizen to keep two buckets in an
easily accessible place on his premises.

Many cities found, however, that their residents were not as dependable
in the maintenance of their fire buckets as was desirable. One New
Yorker, it is reported, used his fire bucket as a container for beans.
Rushing to a fire one night, he forgot about the beans and emptied the
contents of the bucket into the water reservoir of an old hand-pump fire
engine. The bean soup which resulted clogged up the pump and put the
apparatus out of commission for the rest of the night.

Although the largest cities, and many smaller ones also, had fire
engines in the 18th Century, it was not until 1826 that Dayton acquired
its first hand pumper. This followed a particularly disastrous fire
which destroyed two stores on Main Street. Meanwhile a volunteer fire
company had been organized to replace the old system in which every man
served as his own fire department—with whatever help he could get from
his neighbors.

The new Dayton fire engine was hardly a model of efficiency; yet
compared with bucket-brigade methods it represented a big step forward.
Typical of fire engines of that day, it contained a water reservoir and
a pump which operated by means of a crank, water being forced through a
leather hose at the fire or at least in its general direction. Fire
buckets were still essential, however, since they were used to fill the
pumper’s water reservoir.

    [Illustration: The Dayton hand pumper shown in an old photograph
    above, Niagara No. 1, once held the United States record for the
    highest “throw” of water. On August 5, 1858, at the canal at Library
    Park it sent a one-inch stream of water through 600 feet of hose and
    205 feet into the air. The engine, built in Rhode Island, was an
    “end-stroke” type. Its suction hose did away with the need to fill
    the reservoir with buckets, provided a water source was available.]

In 1830 another small engine was purchased by Dayton for $300 and a
second volunteer fire company of thirty-two men was organized. But the
often-singed Daytonians apparently were still not satisfied with the
protection offered. Acting on “a very large and respectable petition of
the citizens for a good engine for the use of the town,” the Council
authorized purchase of a bigger machine. Called the “Independent,” the
new pumper had two sets of handles, called brakes, and was manned by
twenty volunteers on each side. Pumping it was back-breaking work,
necessitating “spelling” of the volunteers from time to time, but
results were much improved. To house the Independent, the city erected a
building at Third and Main Streets, which became headquarters for the
new company of 100 volunteers which was formed to handle the engine.

It was about this time that reliance on nearby wells or the Miami-Erie
Canal as sources of water was abandoned. Cisterns were built at First
and Main, Third and Main and Fifth and Main for use of the
fire-fighters. The first successful fire hydrant had been developed
about 1820, but was not adopted in Dayton until many years later. From a
wooden plug inserted to stop up the opening in the early hydrants, the
term fireplug originated.

    [Illustration: Shown above is a famous New York hand pumper, the
    “Old Maid.” One of the most powerful and ornate engines of its day,
    this “musheen” even had a keg for spirituous liquors attached to the
    tongue. When their water supply was distant, firemen often pumped
    water from one engine to the next. Rival companies then tried to
    “wash” the engine ahead by overflowing its reservoir. A “washed”
    engine was said to be no longer a maiden. The “Old Maid” received
    its unusual name because for a long time no rival engine managed to
    “wash” it.]

    [Illustration: Called “Mankiller” because it was difficult to pump,
    this engine was one of the most powerful hand-operated machines ever
    built. It reportedly could throw a stream of water higher and
    farther than many steam fire engines built years later. This type of
    hand pumper was known as a “haywagon” because of its rack-like
    brakes.]

In 1835 the Dayton City Council agreed to pay “fifty cents to each of
the sextons of the several churches, as well as to the sheriff, for
ringing their respective bells at each fire to give the alarm more
generally to the citizens.” It was not until ten years later, in Boston,
that the first telegraphic fire alarm was developed. The new system
employed fire-alarm boxes, similar to those in use today, which sent the
alarm to a central point, from which alarm bells were struck
electrically, replacing the old church bell method.

    [Illustration: Old-time volunteer firemen often wore flamboyant
    uniforms, although their habitual attire at fires was the clothing
    they happened to be wearing when the alarm sounded. The “vamps”
    bought their own uniforms and took great pride in the appearance of
    their companies at such public events as parades.]

Between 1830 and 1850, hand pumpers were being improved in many ways.
The old “tub” engines with water reservoirs which had to be filled with
buckets eventually gave way to suction pumpers. These machines still
employed a water reservoir but the tank was filled—provided a dependable
water source was available—through a heavy hose which drew water into
the engine. Unfortunately, a good water supply was not always close at
hand. When the water supply was distant, the engines would be formed in
line and water pumped from one engine to the reservoir of the next. At
one New York fire, more than thirty engines were lined up for a mile and
a half in order to produce a single small stream of water.

When operating in a line, the companies usually engaged in one of their
most popular contests—that of trying to “wash” the engine ahead of them.
An engine was said to be washed when its reservoir was filled to
overflowing by the superior pumping power of the engine behind. To allow
this to happen was considered a great disgrace. Handicapped by an
inefficient engine, men in danger of being washed would often speed up
their pumping to the rate of 120 strokes a minute, a pace that could be
maintained for only a few minutes even by the most rugged. When
thoroughly fatigued, a volunteer would drop off the pump handles and
another man would rush in to take his place. During high operating
speeds, this could be dangerous, with cuts, broken fingers and fractured
arms resulting.

An unfortunate counterpart of the technical gains achieved in
fire-fighting during the hand-pump period was the sharp increase in
rivalry among different volunteer companies. In many cases this spirit
of competition spilled over into acts of violence.

Not content to use fair means of reaching a fire first, some rival
volunteer companies put obstructions in front of their competitors’
engines, chopped hose to ribbons and broke into fisticuffs at every
opportunity; one famous battle in Manhattan lasted for several hours.
Many companies found the sidewalks smoother than the streets; whenever
possible they pulled their engines at full speed down the sidewalk,
scattering hapless pedestrians aside like ten pin’s. The spirit of the
day was “Go as you please” and “Hit a head wherever you see one.” If
fists wouldn’t do the job, wrenches and axes were called upon. If they
were insufficient, even firearms were sometimes employed.

Such behaviour was not confined only to the largest cities. Dayton
historian Charlotte Reeve Conover reported that “Sometime during the
fifties the [fire] companies changed in personnel. The solid citizens
took to lying abed and letting the boys about town fight fires, with the
result that demoralization set in which put an end to the volunteer
system. It was competition which ruined them.”

She adds, “It will not be found surprising that in time there came to be
something that Daytonians dreaded worse than a fire, and that was the
Fire Department.”

The extent of the inter-company rivalry was dramatized by a memorable
street battle which occurred in 1856 in Dayton. While fire was
destroying a carpentry shop, the “Vigilance” and the “Deluge” fire
companies began arguing over which should take the more advantageous
position for battling the flames. Eventually the fire was forgotten as
the volunteers engaged in a free-for-all. One fireman during the course
of the fight was mortally injured when hit on the head with a brick.
This incident was only one of several which led to the disbandment of
Dayton’s volunteer fire companies in 1863 and the setting up of a
regular paid fire department.

It was during the pre-Civil War period of strife, and only forty miles
southwest of Dayton, that an unknown mechanical genius named Moses Latta
was perfecting the steam fire engine. Although the Cincinnatian’s
development would one day make the old hand pumpers as obsolete as the
fire buckets which preceded them, it would still be some time yet before
the full significance of his work was realized.

    [Illustration: Intense rivalry among volunteer companies in the era
    of the hand pumpers frequently resulted in street fights. One battle
    began when two companies argued over use of a fire hydrant. The
    so-called hydrant later turned out to be only a half-buried cannon
    used as a hitching post.]




                        “Uncle Joe Ross” Arrives


Moses Latta was not the first man to harness steam as a replacement for
muscles in fire-fighting. The earliest steam fire engine had been
fashioned in 1829 in London by George Braithwaite, a noted engineer. His
assistant on the project was John Ericsson, who more than three decades
later was to win recognition in this country as the designer of the
ironclad “Monitor” of Civil War fame. Appropriately dubbed the
“Novelty,” Braithwaite’s steam fire engine never captured the public’s
fancy, although a few were sold on the Continent, one purchaser being
the King of Prussia. In 1833 Braithwaite gave up his project.

The idea would not die quite so easily, however. In 1840 another English
engineer, Paul Hodge, built a steam fire engine for several New York
insurance companies which were finding the fire-fighting inefficiency of
that day extremely costly.

Hodge’s engine never had a fair chance. For a long time not a single
volunteer company in New York would undertake to man the cumbersome
machine, fearing it would replace the volunteers’ beloved hand-pump
engines and spoil what had become their favorite pastime—fighting fires
in the rough and tumble old-fashioned way. After a little pressure,
however, one fire company agreed to operate the machine, and a trial
period of several months followed. Almost immediately, the firemen began
grumbling about the engine’s awkwardness. They also claimed it didn’t
produce enough steam. The constant derision that had greeted their
innovation finally discouraged the sponsoring insurance companies.
Concluding that the loss in the volunteers’ morale more than outweighed
any advantages offered by steam, they dropped their short-lived crusade,
and sold Hodge’s engine to a manufacturing firm. There it served the
remainder of its days in the unglamorous role of a stationary engine.

The same John Ericsson who in 1829 worked with George Braithwaite on the
world’s first steam fire engine, designed one of his own in 1841. But
even though the engine looked good on paper, it was never actually
built. The old aversion to progress by firemen of the day was
responsible.

Not only New York but other cities as well were guilty of similar
heel-dragging. In 1851, a Philadelphian named William Lay came up with
another engine design. But again, antipathy, on the part of firemen
prevented the engine from ever emerging beyond the drawing board.
Fearful—and rightly so—that the advent of steam would spoil their
“sport” and excitement, the firemen would not budge.

Such was the setting when, in 1852, Moses Latta of Cincinnati developed
his first steam fire engine. This earliest Latta engine was only an
experimental model, but it was good enough to prompt the Cincinnati city
fathers in 1853 to loosen their municipal purse strings to the extent of
$5,000 for construction of the world’s first successful steam fire
engine, the “Uncle Joe Ross.”

A colorful account of Latta and his engine appears in William T. King’s
“The American Steam Fire Engine.” Describing Latta in his workshop, King
wrote:

“It was a long, high room, the walls on the east side being hung with
drawings of the engine. Beneath the drawings ran a long workbench, and
at this stood a man; a very diminutive specimen of humanity, short and
spare, stoop-shouldered, even to deformity.

“He had a square, white-paper hat on his head, and was busy measuring
something. While looking at him, the stranger saw that his head redeemed
his poor body; for it was massive, and the eyes had in them the light of
genius....”

    [Illustration: One of the most noted of the early steamers was
    “Manhattan No. 8.” In 1863 it was shipped from New York to London
    with a crew of men to compete in an international water-throwing
    contest.]

After explaining the wonders of his invention, Latta is said to have
told a visitor: “The trouble is that there is no certainty that this, or
any other steam fire engine, will ever be allowed to work at a fire. You
are probably not aware how bitter is the feeling of the volunteer
firemen against this engine. They say it shall never throw a stream of
water on a fire in this city; and I sometimes fear that I shall never
live to see this grand idea brought into the service of the world. The
recent riots here show what a mob can do in our city. My steps are
dogged. Spies are continually on my track ... threatening me with all
sorts of ills and evils unless I drop work on this engine and pronounce
it a failure.

“I’ll never give up! I’ll build it, and there are enough men in this
city to see that it has a fair trial; and it shall have it. When it is
finished, it will be heard from at the first fire, and woe to those who
stand in its way.”

As the date of the trial approached, the Cincinnati firemen were in
ferment. It would never do to destroy the engine before the trial, they
reasoned. On the other hand, if the trial proved successful, it would be
equally risky to destroy the engine then. Consequently, a plan was
formulated: make no demonstration of any kind at the trial, but—if the
engine was a success—wait for its first appearance at the scene of a
real blaze. Then wreck the engine and render equally useless anyone who
contributed to its operation.

    [Illustration: In this photograph taken in 1909, a steamer is pulled
    past old Steele High School. The occasion was a parade which honored
    the Wright brothers.]

The trial was a great success, exceeding even Latta’s highest hopes, and
now the whole city waited for the first fire on which the “Uncle Joe
Ross” would be used. They did not have to wait long. A few nights after
the trial, a large warehouse broke into flames in the middle of the
night. Historian King describes what followed:

“Down came the great steam fire engine, four mammoth gray horses in
front of it at a gallop; the smoke streaming from its stack, the fire
flashing from its grates. Its ponderous wheels ground the cobblestones
into powder as they struck them; and as the great monster went down the
hill, people woke as out of a trance and started after it ... the time
had come.”

The engine had just started to “play” water on the flames when a cry
rang out: “The hose is cut.” The volunteer firemen had taken the first
step in carrying out their plan.

Then occurred one of the most critical of all the melees that
characterized fire-fighting of that time—a pitched battle between
ordinary citizens and the irate volunteer firemen. Fortunately for the
engine, for Latta and for the public in general, the citizens proved the
stronger. Thoroughly whipped, the firemen gave up the struggle and the
big steamer soon had drowned out the fire.

The next day Latta found himself the hero of Cincinnati. Although few
were aware of it at the time, the era of the steam fire engine had
finally arrived.




                     “We Do Save” ... Through Steam


    [Illustration: This view of the Dayton firehouse at Main and
    Monument shows a steamer and a ladder wagon, with their crews. The
    year is 1910.]

The advent of steam in the age-old field of fire-fighting soon swept
aside most of the old hand-operated engines. It also cleared away many
of the impediments to fire-fighting efficiency inherent in the old
volunteer system. Operating a steam fire engine required something more
than sheer brute power and the ability to “knock in” sundry heads.

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.

    [Illustration: Fire marks, which were usually metal plaques, first
    appeared in the 17th Century. They were issued by insurance
    companies which maintained their own fire brigades. If a burning
    house bore the fire mark of a company, that company’s fire-fighters
    would lend assistance. If not, they customarily refused to help.
    After fire-fighting became a community effort, however, fire marks
    were simply a form of advertising. Shown above are the fire marks of
    three Dayton insurance companies. The Cooper mark was issued in
    1867.]

    [Illustration: The Columbia mark’s issuance date is unknown.]

    [Illustration: The Dayton Insurance Company mark was issued in
    1851.]

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.

    [Illustration: The fire mark of Dayton’s Teutonia Insurance Company,
    shown above, first appeared about 1870.]

    [Illustration: The mark of the Farmers & Merchants Insurance Company
    of Dayton was taken from a building on First Street. It was issued
    about 1865.]

    [Illustration: This unusual action picture shows a typical
    three-horse team used for pulling heavier steamers. Firehorses were
    carefully trained.]

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.

    [Illustration: Like the caretakers of the old hand pumpers, firemen
    who operated “bulljines” usually kept their equipment in immaculate
    condition. The steamer shown below has been fitted with a tarpaulin
    behind the front wheels to keep mud off the engine.]

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.

    [Illustration: Residents of Detroit lined downtown streets on April
    10, 1922, to witness the last run of this steam fire engine. Matched
    horses of high quality were not unusual during the heyday of the
    steamers.]

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


    [Illustration: The above diagram shows how the Carillon Park engine
    operates. Heat from the firebox (A) converts the water in the boiler
    (B) to steam. The steam enters the cylinder (C), causing the piston
    to move up and down. This motion is transmitted to the piston of the
    water pump (D), which draws water up through the suction hose and
    pumps it in the direction of the arrows. The air chamber (E)
    maintains constant pressure on the water, causing it to be fed to
    the nozzle smoothly instead of in spurts.]

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.

    [Illustration: Combination steam-gasoline fire engines bridged the
    gap between old-time steamers and present-day equipment. This Dayton
    engine depended upon an internal combustion engine for motive power,
    but used steam to drive its pumps.]

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.

    [Illustration: The Carillon Park engine is shown above during its
    period of active service. Sidney firemen pose in the foreground.]

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.

    [Illustration: The earliest aerial ladders were made of wood and
    mounted on horse-drawn trucks, with ladders being raised or lowered
    by hand-operated cranks. Today’s aerial ladder truck, as shown
    above, embodies tremendous improvements in safety and efficiency.]

    [Illustration: The modern pumper pictured above has an output of
    1,500 gallons of water per minute, more than four times the pumping
    capacity of the Carillon Park steam fire engine. In addition, it
    carries 1,600 feet of hose.

    A 275-horsepower motor provides instant and dependable power.]

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


    [Illustration: The fire bell is shown when it served as a decoration
    at the Main and Monument firehouse.]

    [Illustration: The tower of the old firehouse at Fifth and Brown
    where the bell was first used.]

    [Illustration: The bell as it appears today.]

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_.