Old West Durham Neighborhood Association


 



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|Tommy Hunt: Memories...|
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Interview Group #1

More interviews with
Erwin Mill workers

 

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    Fire! Fire!



    By John W. Olive, Wilmington, NC

    In the old days, fires were much more likely to occur than now. Back then, there were no smoke alarms or sprinkler systems. There was no 911 emergency telephone number. Many families who had modest incomes did not have a telephone.

    For this reason, red fire alarm boxes were mounted on light poles in almost every block. When the small lever on the front of the box was pulled down, it would send a signal to the Fire Department where a big board on the wall would light up, showing the location of the signal box, and the fire trucks would be on their way. Pranksters sometimes sent in false alarms. If they were caught, police took them to their parents to be dealt with rather than taking them to the local jail.

    The year was 1933 in West Durham, North Carolina. I was in the seventh grade at the E.K. Powe School. The school faculty and administrative officers took Fire Prevention Week as a serious matter. All students took home a Fire Prevention form for their parents to fill out. Those who forgot to bring them back to their teachers were sent home to get them.

    The Fire Department did its part. The firemen went around visiting the schools. They would pull their big red fire trucks onto the school grounds and give talks on what to do in case of fire and instruct the students in how to prevent fires. In addition, they demonstrated how they used their equipment. We were allowed to sit in the driver's seat, tap the siren and ring the bell.

    The grand finale of the firemen's visit was to show us how to jump into a fire rescue net if we were ever caught in an upper story of a burning building. They announced that they would be calling for students who wished to volunteer to jump. They brought out the large circular rope net. The firemen and several of the largest high school senior boys picked up the net by the hand grips around its edge. Then we looked up and saw a fireman standing in the large window opening on the second floor. He hollered down to us, explaining the exact procedure to follow in doing a jump. He did leap and landed perfectly in a sitting position. It looked easy. They asked for any students who wanted to jump to come forward.

    I was there like a bolt of lightning and went dashing up the side steps inside the building. I was the first in line, but I did have some second thoughts when I looked around and saw that there were only six or seven others. One boy got cold feet and went back downstairs. There were no two ways about it: he was going to be labeled a "scaredy cat" for the rest of the week.

    The fireman who had demonstrated the jump was standing by the large open window. He once again told us how to jump and how to hit the net. I was ready. Before I stepped up on the window ledge, I looked back at the ones behind me. I saw that my little sister, Betsy Ann, had come upstairs and was on the end of the line, behind the boys. I should explain that she was always following me around, trying to copy everything I did. Being her oldest brother, I had to look after her lots of times, like having to watch out for her walking back and forth to school each day. She just took this kind of sibling supervision to mean she could go wherever I went.

    But I was not worried about her jumping. She was in no danger since she was probably as good an acrobat as anyone in school. Back bends, walk on her hands, stand on her head, turn cartwheels, do the split-she could do all those athletic things even if she were just a chubby short girl.

    The fireman helped me up into the window opening. I looked down that second story height to the ring of men holding the net below, waiting to catch me. I felt as if I were looking down on Corcoran Street from the top of the Washington Duke Hotel downtown. This was the point of no return. I jumped. Everything went well and I was bursting with pride as they lowered the net and let me walk off. I moved away so that I could watch the ones who followed me, especially to see my little sister's jump.

    One tubby fellow must have thought that he was doing a "cannonball" leap into Crystal Lake. He held his nose when he jumped.

    I waited and waited for my sister. She did not come. Given her unusual athletic skill, surely she could not have cold feet? However, the well-bred, conventional fireman would not let her jump for a very traditional reason for that era. Betsy Ann was a girl. She was wearing a dress.