Many of America’s noted landmarks would not be standing today had it not been for the valor of the oldtime fireman.

One of these landmarks, the old Patent Office building, which covers two blocks in downtown Washington and which has more recently housed the United States Civil Service Commission, is a case in point, asserts the Volunteer Firemen in its January issue.

It has become a habit when the subject of the fire companies of the sixties and seventies is brought up to recall the tales of their horseplay; to think of them only as men who had a lot of fun rushing madly to the scene of a fire and, when two rival companies arrived at the place simultaneously, turning their hose on each other while the fire burned merrily.

No doubt they did mix "pleasure" with business; in fact the story of the volunteers is rich in accounts of the furious scrimmages between the groups of fashionable and high-spirited youths who made up the fire companies of the early days. However, they did a vitally important work and too great credit cannot be given to them for their daring and skill; their work had to be done without benefit of the scientific fire-fighting and safety implements on which the modern firefighter relies.

To get back to the Patent Office building, whose erection was authorized by Congress in 1836, and which had been completed in 1867 at a cost of $3,000,000. It was on a crisp autumn forenoon in September 1877 that the outbreak of fire was discovered in the immense low-ceilinged attic of the 9th Street wing.

It was realized that the great structure was the, depository of thousands of models of inventions (in those days a model had to be supplied for each invention in addition to plans and specifications) as well as countless valuable records. It was realized too that to the danger to this vast accumulation of inflammable treasures was added the forest of dry pine rafters which supported the copper roof. Thus the district’s entire fire department, consisting of six steam engines and one ladder truck, had been augmented by men and equipment from the Navy Yard and from the Alexandria, Virginia, volunteer department when the struggle to fight the fire was begun. Within half an hour it was obvious that the fight was a losing one and an appeal was dispatched to Baltimore to send help.

The telegram from the capital reached the fire station located at the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad depot and no time was lost in getting two engines, with their hose carriages and an abundance of hose, loaded on board the railroad cars. The train got under way to the accompaniment of cheers. The firemen and their equipment were in Washington within an hour, hailed by cheer after cheer as they proceeded to the scene of the fire. Their assistance brought new hope for success but, to make assurance doubly sure, another appeal was sent to Baltimore and two more companies were dispatched on a train that made the run of forty miles in fifty-four minutes. The newly arrived reinforcements turned the tide and after hours of exhausting labor the building was saved.

The weary Baltimore firemen were getting ready to depart when they discovered that they had to await the arrival of a high dignitary to thank them formally in the name of the Federal government; following this ceremony they were required to drive through the principal streets of the capital in order that they might be rewarded by the cheers of the local citizens. It was a fitting climax to a fire that had created intense excitement.

The firefighters of America have a proud tradition going bath to George Washington, who was a member of a volunteer fire company in his youth. It is recorded that while he was in Philadelphia as a delegate to the Continental Congress in 1775, he took time away from the role he was playing in that momentous drama to buy what is believed to be the oldest fire engine in this country. He made the purchase as a gift to the Friendship Fire Company of Alexandria, Virginia, and the price he paid was eighty pounds, ten shillings.

A pair of the oldest engines in the far west are to be found in the historic mining town of Columbia, shortly to be restored to its "Days of Gold" condition and maintained as part of California’s park system. Columbia, the most famous of all the mining towns, had a population of 15,000 in 1856 and was among the liveliest communities on the Pacific Coast at the time it acquired its two engines.

One of these engines – "Papeete" – was manufactured by Hunneman & Company of Boston in 1852 for the city of Papeete in the Society Islands. By some mistake the engine was landed in San Francisco and a long-unpaid freight bill resulted in its being put up for sale. Columbia’s Tuolumne Engine Company No. 1 bought it. This celebrated company of volunteers was familiarly known as "The Yankees," due to the fact that none but New England men were admitted to its ranks. Columbia’s second engine, manufactured by William H. Torboss of New York, is a massive two-ton pumper that was originally made for use in San Francisco. Called the "Manhattan Engine," its great weight could only be hauled over San Francisco’s sand dunes with the greatest difficulty and so it was bought by a second group of Columbians who had set themselves up as Columbia Engine No. 2 to become the great rival of "The Yankees."

The membership of both companies was one hundred strong at all times and every holiday celebration was highlighted by a competitive drill between the two firefighting groups. One of these tests was to determine whether one company could pump water into the tank of the other faster than the other could pump it out. On one memorable occasion, which ended in a free-for-all fight, a joker soaped the hose of the engine into whose tank the water was to be pumped. When the test got under way the perspiring firemen discovered to their fury that they were blowing bubbles, and had lost the contest in a billowing cloud of soap suds! Another prank, which resulted in cracked heads and battered faces, was the placing of a spool in the nozzle of the hose of the "Manhattan" engine which prevented the pumper from throwing a satisfactory stream.

The social and economic prestige of the volunteers is perhaps most strikingly signalized by the fact that the Fireman’s Fund Insurance Company took its name from its short-lived early-day partnership with the San Francisco Fire Department. ‘When the company was founded in 1863 representative members of the local fire department were placed on its directorate. The influence and support of the volunteers were further assured by the company agreeing to pay ten per cent of its profits into the charitable fund of the fire department. To further heighten the fire-quenching zeal of the volunteers, distinguishing metal housemarks were nailed to every building insured in "The Fund." These markers were designed to inspire the firefighters to really get down to serious business whenever a fire was to be extinguished in a building insured in their company.

Although this profit-sharing plan was soon abandoned by mutual consent the company’s name was thus established, and in later years when a company trade mark was adopted it was natural that it should picture a bearded volunteer fireman of the early sixties rescuing a child from a burning building.

[Fireman’s Fund Archives: 4-1-3-4-57; 0411]