A few months ago, two firemen asked me to try to remember a few things about the Mt. Storm Volunteer Fire Company and reminisce some of the experiences of its growth beginning with an idea only, no great bequest, just an idea. In the year 1961, some of our community citizens became concerned about the fact that we didn’t have any fire protection and this made us feel a little uncomfortable. We began to realize that our stores and homes could burn and we could only watch. I guess we would have had to borrow a fiddle. We went to bed at night with our families hoping that the old pot-bellied stove didn’t throw a spark and set the house on fire. Hope is good if that is all you have but a dozen or so of the men in our community decided to give our hope a boost by forming a fire company. Ronnie Mills was the person that asked me to attend a meeting to test out the idea. My first response was to explain to Ronnie that I wouldn’t be able to be a fireman because of back surgery and would be very limited since I couldn’t do hard labor anymore. I had just started a career of selling life insurance and would be very busy. Well, Ronnie wasn’t easy to put off. He told me that everyone could do something in the new company. This left me with no excuse so I asked when the meeting is going to be held and where. That commitment to attend the meeting was my first step in becoming a charter member of the Mt. Storm Vol. Fire Co. this commitment lasted for decades. I was able to contribute something with a bad back and I worked 25+ years as a life insurance man and retired from it. However, I kept on contributing something for several more years. Ronnie was right. I still have my honorary membership card and I am very proud to still be a member of a company that I saw born from an idea, “let’s protect the people” It took great resolve and commitment to birth a company and then nourish and grow it. That’s exactly what we had and what we did. We charter members have placed the company in your hands and it is gratifying to see what you have accomplished. I would like to say to you men and women that you are made of the same metal of good will and brotherly love that we charter members were blessed with, and you make it possible that I can go to bed at night and sleep good knowing that if I need help you will be here before the siren stops wailing (Juanita sleeps well too). I wish that you all could’ve been charter members, but since that isn’t possible I would like to say that you are doing the work of a charter member at every meeting, class, and callout. Thanks for carrying our burden and keeping well our brain child.

We had no running water in most of our homes and getting water for a fire truck would be a challenge, but that was all we needed, a challenge. We were still a back woods community, but keep in mind we began in early 1961 and this is only 100 years after the Civil War began on April 4, 1861 at Fort Sumter, SC. That same year cadet George Custer, who later became “general” while fighting for the north graduated from West Point Academy. Time really does go fast. Think of it, we were only 100 years from the beginning of the civil war. There is a civil war veteran buried on the Bud Hanlin farm. His last name was Neville and he was a high ranking officer. Some of you are in 30 years service and some of you are fairly new recruits but in time you will all catch up with me and they will call you an old timer, it isn’t all too bad. You can always say “been there, done that”

We soon realized that we would need the help of our spouses and other ladies for fund raising. We had our own welders, pipe fitters, mechanics, ticket salesmen, truck drivers, businessmen, preachers, electricians, and backhoe owner, everything including “strong” support from the community. Our greatest support came from the ladies auxiliary, they were very energized, always working on a dinner or serving food and drinks at carnival time. We were able to keep our bills paid and still improve the building and equipment. Morale was usually a “9” on a 1 to 10 scale. Some members didn’t stay long, only a year or two, some five, but they all gave something to the company. It was well known among us that from time to time members would drop out but we planned to never lose a friend when we lost a member. We saw this plan bear good fruit when after a couple years they were welcomed back, fully rested, trained, and ready to serve again. Sometimes, their bunker gear was still hanging in the same place.

We stayed pretty busy year after year. In the beginning, it was very interesting, to illustrate we had three great obstacles: 1.) We had no money, not a nickel. 2.) We had no fire truck. 3.) We had no place to put a truck if we had one. Then one day we borrowed money, maybe $500, and then we rented the community building and bought the Seagrave truck from Romney. That took care of all three. We thought we would have a chance to catch our breath now, but don’t you know things don’t always work that way. Then along came #4: When the truck showed up, it was too high to fit into the bay or the bay was too low to accommodate the truck, we never did figure out which it was. We measured it 40 times, thought about axel grease or flattening the tires but nothing worked. You would have thought someone would have said “let’s take our marbles and go home, the games over.” Nobody was really down that bad so we decided to cut the doorway wider and taller and that would settle it. A great sigh of relief was expelled and just as we were taking in our next breath some alert person yelled out “it won’t work”. We all leaned over with our hands on our knees and asked what was wrong now and old kill joy said that the ceiling was too low. This brings up 5.) The ceiling would have to be raised. The Seagrave just positively had to go inside. She was too old to stay outside and Romney wouldn’t want her back. So the ceiling went up and she slipped in like a greased pig.

Our next loan was right sizeable for the time, considering that we had almost 0 assets. The bank required us charter members to sign a promissory note to guarantee repayment. One member decided that he wouldn’t sign and he became our first casualty. However, he and his spouse were very generous with support for their lifetime. Another member (not a charter) had a saying that everything he touched turned out well. As it turned out in a couple of years or so nothing that he touched turned out well, our second casualty of note. A couple things come to mind regarding fund raising. We used to go from home to home and leave a coin card for the people to fill up with quarters, and then we would go back in a month or two and pick them up. Some people would give us a cash donation on the spot and not keep a card. One day I took a young boy with me to drop off cards, he was about 12. I drove and he ran the cards. At one stop my helper came running back with his card and said he didn’t know how to handle this case. The woman wouldn’t take the card but she said she couldn’t put any money in it because all she had was a $50 bill. I sent him back to tell her that I had change for the $50. The nice lady sent him back empty handed. She told my helper that she had changed her mind. Well, after decades I still wonder what happened there. Did she have 50¢ or $50? or did she have a mind to change? Keep in mind that my helper was only about the age of 12. Another time I stopped a man’s house with my card and he met me in the yard. He was too poor to donate and wouldn’t accept the card, but he did reach in his pocket and offered me some change. I explained to him that I couldn’t take his last dime. I had no trouble with this kind of mind. A few people are just happy to let “George do it”. Our coin card was one of our most successful fund raisers. There was no expense to the company, the bank donated the cards and the firemen covered the cost of delivery and pickup. I would say that our success rate was 99.99% participation, just a couple funny ones.

In our early years prior to the rescue squad and EMTs we ran our own ambulance. The firemen were also the ambulance men. We served Mt. Storm, Bismarck, Cherry Ridge, and rt. 50. We were good Samaritans but I knew that we had a guardian angel and the real Good Samaritan looking over us. I feel sure that all of us were fully trained up to and including first-aid. One day we received a phone call (we had no siren yet) a lady was in labor and needed our ambulance to go to the hospital and for some reason or another, I was the only fireman available. My first run, I suppose. Well I tried hard and did my best, but when I got there the baby had already had his butt spanked and his lifeline severed and was in the kitchen with dad and grandma. They pointed to an open door and said she is in there and would need the transport. I stepped into her room and noticed that she has hemorrhaging so I went back out and told her husband that he had better get in there and help pack her to stop the hemorrhaging. He looked at me and said “you’ll have to do it because I’m as sick as a dog.” My sympathy was divided but leaned mostly to her so I packed her tightly with towels and we loaded her onto the ambulance, laid the baby on her and off the four of us went to Parsons Hospital (which was their choice). When I took them into the emergency room I received the worst scolding that I had ever experienced. The nurse thought that I had cut the umbilical cord and she was so busy scolding me that she wouldn’t even listen to me explain that her husband had severed the cord. I left her and the baby at Parsons and brought dad back home. He seemed to be settling down. I never saw nor heard from them since. My next trip was also working with the stork during a big snowstorm of about 10 inches. Jim Boy’s wife was expecting, but she was easier on me and waited until we got to Keyser. We talked about it later. I was on a couple of other calls, but never again by myself. Many years later, we had a rescue squad operated by the county and they rented a bay from us. This squad went far beyond our training level, they were EMTs.

One day I was at the fire house outside when a car came roaring in to the lot and out jumped a young woman who threw me her car keys and told me to watch her babies until her mother comes. She never stopped and immediately another EMT showed up and off they went on the call. I looked in the back seat of her car and there sat the twin girls calmly waiting for grandma to come for them. This seems weird but this EMT never lost one minute in answering the call and the babies were never for one second left alone.

A piece of history:
Our first fire chief died in office but not in the line of duty and has been continually represented by an heir every day since his death through a daughter in the ladies auxiliary, a grandson, a great-grandson, and looks very promising, a great-great-grandson. In the year 1924 a group of citizens built the community building in Mt. Storm, while in the same year my mother gave birth to me at Kempton approximately 20 miles away. Destiny had its way and I was involved with the charter members in purchasing their building and land 37 years later for either $1 or maybe $10. The purchase price was small, however the paperwork and the leg work rather large. The last heir to the property was in a nursing home and incapacitated. Our lawyer had his work cut out for him but he didn’t take his marbles and go home.

I think one of our greatest times in history was during the great flood of 1985 in the South Branch Valley. We ran our tanker loaded with fresh water for about 60 continuous hours for the people in the valley, even some in Moorefield. We used our engine room as a collection and distribution point for donated food, clothing, and other supplies. Donations came from as far away as Pittsburg PA. We have received a lot of letters and personal contacts showing thanks and gratitude for our help in times of need. I believe my favorite letter followed our response and ability to suppress the fire at the Clyde Kuhn home. Clyde concluded his thank you letter by saying “if it wasn’t for you guys up there, I wouldn’t have a house to live in.

When I look down the barrel of time 48 years, it’s been a long time and a good ride. I am glad I was on board. My thanks goes out to all those who worked with me, firemen, spouses, ladies auxiliary, rescue squad members, several very special (at the time) children, and the faithful donors since charter day on August 30, 1961. They say you have come a long way baby, well so have we, from Petticoat Junction to a multi-bay million dollar company in less than 50 years. I wish you good luck in all your endeavors to serve and protect your fellow man. I heartily recommend that you never pick up your marbles and go home, just stay and get the job done. It has been fun talking to and visiting with such an august group of volunteers. My fireman, hat is off to you.
On a very personal note about myself, I didn’t pick up my marbles and go home, but in the time frame of 1940 it was said of me that I took up my marbles and went home after winning the playoff game in shooting marbles out of the Big Ring at Elk High.