Fire
Growing up as a child in the 60's was an exciting time and it seemed that nearly every day we would see a fire truck with lights and bells (yes, in those days they were bells, not sirens) racing down the street. In fact Lalor Station Officer Lynch lived up the road, just near a street fire alarm. I hope he didn't suspect the neighbourhood kids were responsible for the many "break glass" alarm calls.
I very quickly learned that each station in the Metropolitan Fire Brigade had a number and given the amount of fire calls in the area I soon became aware that always two trucks attended, each from a different station. This is a practice that is continued today for initial fire calls.
In our case trucks usually attended from Preston (12 station) and Lalor (11 station). It was rare to see Northcote (13 station) or even Rosanna (14 station).
It was fun to hop on the bike and chase a fire truck down the street, particularly in summer. The creek beds around Kingsbury were tinder dry in summer and from our place in Reservoir you could often see the haze of smoke wafting in the air, then smell the grass burning.
My grandparents lived in Preston, only two streets away from the Preston 12 Station in Roseberry Avenue. Jock Grogan, my grandfather, knew most people in Preston (or so it seemed!) and often he would take me down to Preston Fire Station to see the shiny, red trucks and rows of fire gear sitting neatly on wooden pegs. The brass fire helmet seemed too large for firefighters heads and I often wondered how they could balance the helmet while trying to fight fires.
When I was older I became interested in radio and modified a normal AM receiver to tune higher than normal in frequency. Why would I do such a thing? Someone had told me that the Metropolitan Fire Brigade transmitted messages just above the broadcast band and sure enough, after a little tweeking, I heard a tone. In fact, every 30 seconds you could hear a tone. It was marvellous to be able to sit at home with a cheap, broadcast radio, a small telescopic whip and hear the fire trucks turning out to jobs.
The
Darebin Historical Society has some interesting photographs and information on the old Preston Fire Station
The 1980s - volunteering
In 1982 my fiance and I purchased a house in Whittlesea and we prepared to move from the "big smoke" to this semi-rural township. I had made up my mind to become a part of the community, as my fiance was already working at Whittlesea Technical College.
As we drove through the township on our first visit to our home to be, I noticed the quaint Whittlesea Courthouse, then next to it the fire station. My path of volunteering was set - why not join the fire brigade.
Any doubts about my ability to do the job were dispelled on the first night, or so it seemed! A quick 20 minute overview of the International Tanker and I was an instant expert, or so I thought! Having not had much exposure to pumps, water, trucks and in particular, fires, the next few months proved extremely interesting!
Created on 04/12/2007 08:36 PM by mesadm
Updated on 02/07/2009 11:58 AM by mesadm
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