Fighting Fire in Auckland City

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 318, 31 March 1928, Page 17

Fighting Fire in Auckland City

Quarter of Century Sees Many Changes in Methods of Fire-Con-trol . . . Life at Station is Not All “Billiards and Brass-Polish”

(Written for THE SUX by

C. T. C. WATSON)

X recent years measure of public appreciation, but rather something akin to public indifference. This seemingly regardless attitude in the popular mind can readily be understood. It is axiomatic that after a period of long and faithful duty any service maintained for the public welfare comes to be taken more or less for granted. To this rule and order the fire brigade is no exception. Just as with the employment of more scientific methods of control, fires have become less of the brilliant spectacles once the rule rather than the exception, so have fire-engines become less picturesque as the consequence of their development along more efficient lines. Hence it comes about that fires and fire-fighting have lost much of their former appeal. One cannot think without a tinge of regret of the passing of those oldlime horse-drawn machines. Whirled through echoing streets by teams of splendid horses, how they used to thrill young Auckland! There is nothing like them now. Ah, those horses, fine brutes with fire in their eye. fire in their blood, fire in their pounding hoofs, how they seemed to enjoy the mad gallop to their blazing destination. There was a bravura about those old contemptibles the city never again will know. The brigade used to own one of those steam-pumps, all brass and sparks; fiery chariots, such as are seen in pictures of earlier English fire-fighting. This "steamer” was very rarely used, however, and was more of a, picturesque stand-by machine than an indispensable unit in the brigade’s bag of appliances. It was sent up country in 1917. Twenty-five years ago an outbreak in town attracted a great deal of attention. The deep-toned clang of a bell ringing out an alarm would be taken up by neighbouring bells, until not only the firemen but also half the townspeople were aware of a possible danger. In like manner as the Israelites of history were led by a pillar of cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night, so were Aucklanders directed to the locality of a burning building, for fires were their own indicationposts.

Recorded in the pages of Auckland’s short history are many disastrous fires. What can be termed the Great Fire of Auckland occurred in 1873, when 34 buildings, mostly shops and business houses, were wiped out, the damage being estimated at £70,000. So numerous were fire visitations to the wooden town of Auckland, that to describe, even briefly, the major outbreaks would involve more space than the telling of the story of the fire brigade. Since the beginning of the century large fires alone, those causing damage of £IO,OOO or more, have destroyed property valued at three-quarters of a million sterling. One of the biggest outbreaks the town has known occurred in 1911, when Mucky, Logan Caldwell’s warehouse was destroyed. The damage was assessed at £150,000.

Others were the Strand Arcade, 1909, £IOO,OOO, and T. and S. Morrill’s. 1904, £50,000. Days of tribulation are found round about the beginning of this century. In the “good old days’* the town erected some happy-go-lucky buildings—and, for that matter, still erects them—and while these piled up one against another with the rapid growth of the place, peril from fire became very real and very apparent. Not sporadically, but with disquieting frequency, the newspapers told of homes and business premises demolished or seriously damaged. Where *as the fire brigade? Of course, a corps of fire-fighters did exist, but the brigade was then a pathetic caricature of the well-equipped contingent the city knows to-day. The fault lay not altogether with the personnel, for flesh and spirit 'vere as brave and willing then as tow. It is true that the men were iot by any means so highly trained is are firemen of the present, but the Prevailing inefficiency was attributable to another factor. Soldiers illarmed and lacking the support of their

commanding officers cannot stem the advance of a powerful foe by courage alone. Poorly-equipped, stinted by the parsimony of a myopic City Council, the firemen could only labour on, asking for the engines, the ladders, the horses—the efficiency it seemed they were never to attain. Months passed and stirring in its sleep, the council began to talk of a new station. The Albert Street headquarters had been described by a visitor as more fitted for a. stable than a housing for men. But still nothing was done. Days of Disaster Then, in January, 1901, came prophesied disaster. Early one morning while the city slept there broke out In Commerce Street one of the most destructive conflagrations to visit the

town from that day to this. Raging for many hours the fire swept three warehouses and damaged two, causing loss totalling £IOO,OOO. At once there was a public outcry backed by the Press. Exhaustive inquiries revealed the alarm system to be hopelessly unreliable. From the time of the discovery of the fire over 20 minutes elapsed before the brigade received notification. Ponderous editorials churned out caustic comment on the primitive appliances of the fire brigade “which dragged the reels and equipment to the burning buildings in a style befitting a country hamlet, but strangely inconsistent with the wealth imperilled in large centres.” All this went to indicate that reform was imperative. Strangely enough, as yet no loss of life had occurred. Auckland lived in a fool’s paradise. But it was not until the very foundations of the city were rocked by a calamity that dazed the whole community did a panic-stricken council spring startled from its couch and initiate such reform. Hardly had the town recovered from the shock of the Commerce Street fire, when, four months later, it was horrified to learn of the death of five citizens in a fire which wrecked the Grand Hotel in Princes Street. Numbered among the victims were three little girls, daughters of the licensee. The others were a housemaid and a bank inspector. Again rose the cry: “Why were the firemen late?” Why, indeed! Breathless from the run from their homes to the station nine men had to heave and drag a 30cwt ladder-truck all the way—nearly a mile, and half of which was uphill—from headquarters to the blazing hotel. Meantime the building was alight from basement to root, and spectators could only look on aghast, unable to help, while the screams of the perishing children were heard above the crackle of the flames. Arrived blown and exhausted the men could do little to arrest the progress of the fire.

The inquest was responsible for startling revelations of inadequate and antiquated appliances. It brought home a realisation that Auckland was large enough to support a permanent body of men in place of the volunteer force. If only the brigade had been given a couple of horses! Spurred to action, the council set about reorganisation of the entire fire-fighting system. Plans for the present station in Pitt Street were prepared, and the services secured from Australia of a fire officer who was to give the ridiculed brigade the fillip that set it a long way on the road to attainment of the efficiency which to-day ranks it second to none among the city’s emergency services. His name was C. A. Woolley, second officer of the Adelaide Fire Brigade. Having originally received his training with the London Fire Brigade, Mr.

Woolley knew his work thoroughly, and also what plant was required for a town the size of Auckland. His appointment dated from October, 1901, and from the day he took command until his retirement in 1917, through ill-health, his record was that of a man whose every action was dictated by common sense and fortified by reason. By his tenacity of purpose he effected long overdue improvements, worked the brigade up to a high standard, and kept it abreast of the times. Mr. Woolley died not long after his retirement, a martyr to his life-work. He will be remembered as a great fire-fighter, courageous, just, loved and respected by his men, and honoured by the city he served with distinction for so long a term.

A quarter of a century of progress —and what now? Gone are the sinister bells that once had quickened the city’s pulse; gone the primitive appliances all too often mocked by mastering fires; gone much of the peril that hung over the place like a Damoclean sword. And in their stead—security born of swift efficiency.

Nevertheless, it were idle to pretend that the day of the conflagration (meaning a fire on a great scale; not as often loosely applied to a solitary burning building) will never recur. Provision must always be made against such a contingency. Were such a catastrophe to visit the city, ratepayers can be assured that blame would not be chargeable to their firemen, who have the daring and the “guns,” but either to act of God, or more probably, to that civic department which supplies the “ammunition." Life at the Station Ask the man on the kerb what he knows about the routine duties of a

fireman—that part- of , his - life not spent in subduing outbreaks. To the uninitiated, station life may appear inexpressibly dull. Likely as not the man about town will talk of an existence made endurable by billiards and brass-polish and spiced by not overfrequent alarms. Life at the station certainly has its periods of watching and waiting, unrelieved by calls, but in no wise is it to be imagined that, between alarms, firemen have little else to do than yawn with boredom, or strive at poker. Without provision of an adequate round of duties, the brigade could never hold its men for the long terms achieved by many. Then again, the ever-present air of expectancy pervading a fire-fighter’s life adds its own piquancy. He knows that perhaps

to-night, perhaps next week, but sooner or later, he will be called out to battle with a worth-while fire. Even the old hands will tell you that they still regard their work in something of the light of the adventure that first exercised its attraction in their younger days. It is popularly supposed that firemen work in short shifts, or watches, like policemen or seamen. The impression is erroneous. A fireman’s period of duty extends over 72 consecutive hours. The following 24 he is “off.” Therefore at any minute during the three days he may be called out. He goes to bed about 10 p.m., and gets up at 6.30 a.m. In fact, hours are as regular as a life of uncertainty will pe.mit.

At about the same time as the ordinary citizen is sitting down to his breakfast the fireman is also beginning his meal. But there is this difference. Whereas the layman has just begun to think over his day’s work the man at the station has already been hard at his drill, and on top of it, quite likely, he has been called out in the small hours to suppress some difficult outbreak.

Having spent an undisturbed night - . . he turns out before the city is properly awake and commences a rigorous hour of drill. One morning it may take the form of strenuous phy- . sical exercise, for the nature of his occupation demands absolute bodily, and mental, fitness. Next day, for variety, he will be drilled in the . , . „ , „ manipulation of, say, the Si-foot ex- j tension ladder, or some other of the several appliances.

Saving of life ranks first and foremost in a fireman’s duties. With this ever in view, he is trained in the use of every device likely to be of value in emergency. Besides the work entailed in keeping the station

spick and span, there is the ceaseless labour of outside repairs and maintenance. Alarm boxes are regularly tested, fire-plugs cleaned, and whitewashed squares marked round them, so that they may he quickly fouud at night. And these are only some of the duties incidental to the reliable working of so comprehensive a system for the protection of the city. After a fire there is inevitably much to be done—preparing for the next. Hoses have to be repaired, scrubbed and cleaned, uniforms mended and made again fit for service. All repairs to the machines are effected by the station staff. The room housing the alarm apparatus is an interesting department. This section can be termed the nerve-

centre of the whole system. It is here that a remarkable set of instruments informs the man on watch of the precise locality to which the brigade is called, at the same time prints ing on a running tape the hour, minute and second of the alarm. It is known as the Duplex system, the invention of a New Zealander, and is claimed to be one of the most reliable yet evolved. The Mount Eden Borough Council is now having the system installed in the area under its supervision.

On an alarm being communicated to the station, the duty man at ouce shuts down a switch that sets bells ringing in every quarter of the building, even in the bathrooms. The effect is electrical. Hardly have ten seconds elapsed before the men are running from all sides to the engineroom, dressing as they run. Each man to his peg for his coat, axebelt and helmet. All done in a trice and in an orderly manner. Engine motors start in a flash. A word of direction to the drivers, and they are away. Perhaps 20 seconds have gone from the moment the alarm first rang through the station. Firemen think in seconds. Minutes are foreign to men on whose promptitude depends sometimes th‘e safety of life, and always the saving of property. How a fireman can get his clothes on in a few seconds, when the operation takes the ordinary citizen minutes, is a source of wonder to those not “in the know.” When the fireman turns in at night he does not fling his trousers across the room, or press them under the mattress. Consequently when a call rings out in the small hours, he does not have to set up a frantic search for the missing garments. Nor does he hang them up, as some people do. Everyone has seen the top boots firemen wear. These are placed side by side, and the trouser legs fitted outside them. An alarm comes. Awake in a second, the fireman swings himself out of bed. Feet automatically find boots, trousers are whisked up—all done in a moment. There was a time when firemen were recruited mainly from the sea. The reason for this was found chiefly in their readiness to accept the discipline that is just as much a sine qua non of efficient fire-fighting as of handling a ship. In the early days of the brigade the men worked for eight days of continuous duty. On

f he ninth they were allowed 11 hours leave. Hence it was that landsmen, unaccustomed to confinement, could not stick to so rigorous a life. Today any likely young man who apP lies is a trial when there is a vacancy. But it is not everybody who can become a successful fireman, So much depends on temperament, And he must be prepared to look pers°Dal ganger .^ uarel >' ‘ he £ace ' it goes without saying, P hazardous business. But just what the work entails the onlooker has more than the most super-

ficial knowledge. Unless he has taken his rtand n firemen in a welter of scorching het. unless he has followed j them through smoke-charged labyrinthine intricacies, veritable rabbitj warrens that are the basements of

many city buildings, unless he has descended with them into choking ships' holds, he cannot appreciate the hardships and handicaps under which they are often called upon to work. Without labouring the “heroes-of-the-peace” aspect of the business, which is so nauseating to the men themselves, It must be said that they give immeasurably more to the people than the people could ever return. From Council to Board Control of the fire brigade by the City Council passed to the management of the Auckland Fire Board in 1907. It consists of three members of the City Council, three representatives of the Underwriters'

Association, and one Government nominee. Not unwieldy, the board has proved itself a sound working combination. It manages the finances, leaves reasonable control to the brigade superintendent, does not meddle and pursues the progressive policy of giving effect to his recommendations.

William Laird Wilson, superintendent of the City Fire Brigade, as successor to Mr. Woolley, has been Auckland’s fire chief for 10 years. An Aucklander, he joined the brigade 24 years ago, and has worked his way through its hard school L o occupy a position of great responsibility. He is popular with his men, and has earned their respect by his example.

Second in command is Deputy-Sup-erintendent G. Avenell, also a fireman of long experience and proved ability. Forty-six permanent men, supplemented at night by 38 auxiliaries and 18 “picture” firemen, is the complement of the brigade.

Under Mr. Wilson’s surveillance was an area of 8,300 acres, comprising the whole of the district under the jurisdiction of the City Council. When Avondale recently joined forces with the city an additional 5,000 acres were placed under his care. At the end of the month a similar area will be added to his wide territory in the fusion of Tamaki and Orakei with the city proper. This extensive tract cannot be wholly covered by engines from the Central Station, but is watched by sub-stations at Ponsonby, or Western District, as the area is termed. Point Chevalier, Parnell, Remuera, and latterly at Avondale. Each station is in charge of a foreman, who has associated with him several welltrained firemen. The number of men allocated to each depends on the population of its district, and its distance from the Central Station.

Direct telephonic communication with headquarters ensures that the superintendent is advised at once of an outbreak requiring the attendance of a central engine in outlying parts. In the event of a call being received at headquarters when all its engines are engaged at a fire down town, the watchman forthwith telephones the alarm through to one of the substations. An instance of this cooperation occurred in January, when the Auckland Bowling Club’s pavilion was found to be ablaze. It so happened that when the Central Station received the alarm its engines were working on a fire at Casey’s timber mill, in Freeman’s Bay. Accordingly the call was sent on to the Western District station, with only a few seconds’ delay. Turning out with remarkable promptitude, the Western men were able to save the greater portion of the building. No more eloquent testimony to the consummate efficiency of the modern brigade could be found than in the disappearance of the old salvage corps. Until the day of the fast motor-tender the salvage men were an integral part of the brigade—almost as indispensable as hoses or water.

In reports of fires of 25 years ago one reads that the fire-fighters arrived at length, with the salvage corps in close attendance. With the system of alarm by bells then the order of the day, on reaching the scene of an outbreak, the brigade often found that the first house was burning Itself out, and beginning to fire the second of the row. It was here that the salvage corps got busy in the removal of furniture from this house and the next, and the next, while the firemen endeavoured to extinguish the blaze.

What an immense difference in 1928! So reliable are the alarms, and so swift the response of the motors, that more often than not it is only a room or two damaged, instead of a house or two consumed. They say familiarity breeds contempt. An adage often true, but in its application to fires and firemen, utterly false. Search where you will you cannot find the seasoned firefighter who proclaims his contempt for cruel fire, humanity's untrusted' servant, treacherous ally, uneomprom-1 ising foe.

In the compass of one brief article ,t must be counted futile to attempt •_o treat of the science of tire-preven- ! tion and control in all its aspects. As with the other sciences this study has made rapid strides with the passing of the years. But so long as there are buildings there will be the necessity for efficient means for their protection. The ; completely fire-proof structure has not yet been evolved, and, it seems, will never be built. Auckland will never realise the debt she owes to her firemen—the measure of their work Is beyond computation. Gentlemen, here's to the City Fire Brigade!