Our Firehall Heroes

This writer’s story of the West Moira Street Fire Hall spans seven decades and many memories. It begins in the top half of a rented duplex right beside Spafford Texaco Gas Station and directly across the road from the Fire Hall. But first, allow me to share some of our city’s Fire Hall history with you.

As far back as 1836, when Belleville was incorporated as a police village, every able-bodied man from 15 to 60 was responsible for putting out fires. Each dwelling had a leather bucket on hand, and the good citizens of our town formed a bucket brigade to heroically fight the blaze. It’s not hard to imagine the raging fire’s advantage over our pint-sized police village, of just 1,700 inhabitants at the time.

In 1840, an official volunteer fire brigade was formed by the town council to help control fires. In 1867, the original stone and brick Fire Hall (also housing a Police Station and holding cells) was built at 394 Front Street, where Chilangos Mexican Restaurant stands today.

In 1878, the Belleville Fire Department was created, employing paid, on-call employees with other jobs who responded to fire calls. A second Fire Hall was built in 1890 at 112 Front Street near the entrance to Victoria Park and closed after it was damaged by fire.

In 1918, the volunteer system ended and a permanent force was formed. The horse-drawn wagon was replaced with a steam-powered engine.

In 1949, a new hall opened on Moira St. West, and in 1953 a second new hall was built on Dundas St. just east of the hospital. In 2015, the latest Fire Hall and Fire Museum was constructed at 62 Bettes Street in Belleville.

The last two horses to pull the old hose wagon were named Harry and Larry by the fire crew. Larry was a relatively new and much younger horse and had only been with the department a few years. Harry, on the other hand, was a 20-year veteran fire horse and showing his age.

Harry and Larry were sold at Market Square to a horse dealer who planned to resell them and make some quick cash. Because of his advanced age, Harry was sold for $17.50. The firefighters knew Larry would be okay but worried about faithful old Harry being used as a plow horse, so they chipped in to repurchase him from the new owner.

Harry was taken to a country setting to retire and relax in the pastures, but sadly he passed away a few months later. Some say that Harry missed being around the Fire Hall and the firefighters and died of loneliness. Harry was buried with an honour guard ceremony in Coleman Flats attended by the entire department members.

In 1949 when the West Moira Street Fire Hall was brand new, the firefighting crew often looked out for my brother and me after school for an hour until mom got off work. She worked the day shift as a waitress at the Diana Grill and Cosy Grill on Front Street and, as a divorced mom of two, she was raising us on her own.   

Inside the hall there was a lounge, recreation room, kitchen, and one of the first TVs in the area. We had the run of the place and Rex, the giant German Shepherd Fire Dog mascot, was our constant companion. Big Rex, Chief Vance, and the rest of the crew kept us out of trouble as we watched the Howdy Doody Show.

There was a modern, supervised playground and field where they built a ball diamond for the whole neighbourhood. We skated until dark on the rink they flooded every winter and caught tadpoles in the creek every spring. The attached building was used for drying the hoses after a fire, and that’s where we tied our skates and warmed up.

They taught us how to slide down the fire pole and the shiny red 5¢ Vendo 44 Coke Machine was the best treat ever, and one of the crew magically appeared with a nickel to feed it for us kids. There was a limitless supply of candy treats, laughter and good cheer from the whole department.

My mom did not make much money as a waitress, and the firefighters gave us an overflowing basket of food and gifts at Christmas time. One year, a week or two before Christmas, they dropped off a big box of goodies for our little family. It contained fruit, vegetables, nuts, and candies plus lots of wrapped presents just for the three of us.

I discovered a really cool wrapped gift tucked in the bottom of the box with my name on it. It was rectangular and rattled provocatively every time I shook it… which was a lot!

I went home for lunch every day, shook my present, and dreamed of the fabulous treasure that awaited inside my magical gift on Christmas morning. Maybe a diamond necklace or a gold watch or even a string of pearls? I was definitely a precocious 8-year-old with a vivid imagination and even bigger dreams.

On the day before Christmas, I couldn’t take it anymore. It was ALL I could think about! I left school early, went home, and shook the box a few more times while trying to guess what could possibly be in it. After carefully examining the wrapping paper and knowing I would be alone in the apartment for at least another hour, I decided to take a quick peek and then re-wrap the gift. No one would even know, right?

My anticipation knew no bounds as I boiled the kettle and steamed off the tape (as I had seen it done on the little black and white firefighters TV just the week before).

Much to my chagrin, I discovered my beautiful surprise gift was just a plain old boring wooden pencil case! I hastily re-taped the gift and tucked it back under the tree.

When I opened the rest of my presents on Christmas morning, I discovered a beautiful pair of white figure skates. They were a surprise gift from the firemen slid under the tree AFTER I went to bed on Christmas Eve.

The Fire Hall on West Moira Street is still operating after 72 years of heroic service to our city and remains one of my fondest childhood memories.

Our Firefighters are compassionate and kind role models who take community service and protection to the next level. Life lessons learned from them will always be cherished and never forgotten. Thank you for your service!

Photo credit to Firefighter Mark Shannon, the Vance and Helm families and Amanda Hill, Community Archives