From every room of our house we knew it was 5:45 in the afternoon, when my father’s fire radio announced the time as part of its daily test. The radio was an exciting addition to our lives, because now we were not solely dependent on discerning the fire station’s loud siren to call my father to his duties as a volunteer fireman. Even better, we could listen in on some of the activity.
For most if not all of the years we lived in the district, my father was a member (and usually an officer) of the Beukendaal Volunteer Fire Department in Scotia, New York. It was a good time and place to be a fireman, as in our rural area there were few buildings more than two stories high, and most of the calls, while important, did not involve anything gruesome.
The whole family became involved, from making sure he heard the alarm (“Dad! Dad! The siren’s blowing!”), to pouring him hot coffee after an icy 3 a.m. call, to stuffing envelopes for the department newsletter he edited, to (my personal favorite) helping with the weekly fire engine inspections.
The officers of the Beukendaal Fire Department, sometime between 1961 and 1967. My father, Warren Langdon, is at the top left, with the mustache. Unfortunately, I can’t identify the other men, but perhaps someone will see this post and be able to help. Some possibilities (culled from old newspapers, alternate name forms in parentheses) are: James Christopher, Lee Darby, Armond Dorazio, Wayne Duval, Bernie Fertal, Ernest Hitchcock, Ken Hitchcock, Kenneth Holden, William Lewis, Stanley Marynowski, Joseph Morette (Morrette), Charles Mowers, Barney (Bernard, Barnard) Revelia, James Ortoleva, Robert Revelia, William Riddle, Douglas Rifenburg, Phillip Schell, Paul Shatley, Charles Silva, William Spencer, Donald Stavely, John Thomas, Jay Woods, Milton Flansburg, Floyd Lewis, Robert Remus, James MacCracken, Gordon Streeter, Allen Tyler, Jeffrey Noonan, Kenneth Hitchcock, Roderick Rowledge, Willard Bailey, John Brennan. If I had to guess, I’d say the person in the middle of the front row was Armond Dorazio, and the person to his left (right in the picture) Phillip Schell—but most of my readers know how face-and-name disabled I am.
It was a happy time. Dad enjoyed the company of his fellow firemen, although the department didn’t, as far as I can tell, have the social functions it does now. Or maybe Dad just preferred to do his duty and leave most of the socializing for family events.
In light of this, I am extraordinarily pleased and proud that our son-in-law has become a volunteer fireman.
Times have changed, of course. Fire calls come via a tiny pager-radio, and instead of gathering around a crackling speaker, his family can follow the action on the Internet. But the work is still important, and I’m thrilled to have a fireman in the family once again.
