hook-and-ladder
The other morning (Monday, September 18) the morning-man on the classical-music radio-station we listen to, WXXI, played a commentary by a story-teller.
Morning-man plays various commentaries throughout the week pertaining to local history, gardening, band-music, a movie-review, etc. The story-teller runs once or twice a week.
Story-teller’s consideration was about fire-departments, particularly the hook-and-ladder.
The old Immanual Baptist church was across from a fire-station. Heaven forbid the guys get called out during the sermon — you couldn’t hear it.
Often my parents dragged us all across the street after church to visit the fire-station. Free entertainment: my father loved it. The firemen loved it too. They’d take us upstairs, and we’d slide the firepole back down.
After we moved to Rochester, we discovered there was a city fire-station down the street. How could you miss it? They’d wake the dead when called out.
That fire-station served the whole east side of Rochester, so that even after we moved onto Winton Road, sometimes their hook-and-ladder would blast by out front.
You could hear it coming a mile away; siren at full-wail — and a real siren too; not one of those disgusting electronic sirens.
It also had a giant air-horn; and the boys would lay on it to clear the intersections.
It always got me out of the house. Stand back! Here it comes. 60 feet of hurtling racket; pedal-to-the-metal. Like watching a steam-locomotive.
The back end — the trailer — steered too. A guy was on top at the rear steering-wheel.
I loved seeing that thing take the 90° corner from Winton onto Humboldt. The rear end would swing wide around the corner nearly hitting the parked cars.
He never hit the parked cars, but I remember one time he went over the curb and almost sideswiped a tree.
Eventually the mighty hook-and-ladder was retired, replaced by a “Quint.” A Quint is huge, but doesn’t have a trailer. It’s also an electronic siren. It’s about 40 feet — the length of a city bus.
Thankfully someone bought that hook-and-ladder and restored it. It still runs, but not like it did.
Morning-man plays various commentaries throughout the week pertaining to local history, gardening, band-music, a movie-review, etc. The story-teller runs once or twice a week.
Story-teller’s consideration was about fire-departments, particularly the hook-and-ladder.
The old Immanual Baptist church was across from a fire-station. Heaven forbid the guys get called out during the sermon — you couldn’t hear it.
Often my parents dragged us all across the street after church to visit the fire-station. Free entertainment: my father loved it. The firemen loved it too. They’d take us upstairs, and we’d slide the firepole back down.
After we moved to Rochester, we discovered there was a city fire-station down the street. How could you miss it? They’d wake the dead when called out.
That fire-station served the whole east side of Rochester, so that even after we moved onto Winton Road, sometimes their hook-and-ladder would blast by out front.
You could hear it coming a mile away; siren at full-wail — and a real siren too; not one of those disgusting electronic sirens.
It also had a giant air-horn; and the boys would lay on it to clear the intersections.
It always got me out of the house. Stand back! Here it comes. 60 feet of hurtling racket; pedal-to-the-metal. Like watching a steam-locomotive.
The back end — the trailer — steered too. A guy was on top at the rear steering-wheel.
I loved seeing that thing take the 90° corner from Winton onto Humboldt. The rear end would swing wide around the corner nearly hitting the parked cars.
He never hit the parked cars, but I remember one time he went over the curb and almost sideswiped a tree.
Eventually the mighty hook-and-ladder was retired, replaced by a “Quint.” A Quint is huge, but doesn’t have a trailer. It’s also an electronic siren. It’s about 40 feet — the length of a city bus.
Thankfully someone bought that hook-and-ladder and restored it. It still runs, but not like it did.
posted by BobbaLew at 5:47 PM
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