Life in a suburban fire station is less exciting compared to that of the men stationed in houses in the mercantile section. Men in residential areas have more time. In this outlying station it was the custom for one fireman to prepare the meals for one week, and then he was relieved by another. Two of the men were rather proud of their abilities as chefs. When it was Olsen’s turn, McCue who was relieved said:

“Mind you, Olsen, I’m not saying anything about your cooking, but the past few days there has been an unusual demand for crackers and cheese.”

“Oh, Lord,” prayed the miss, “I’m not asking a thing for myself but please send mother a son-in-law.”


In the spring arrive dandelions, scallions and love-sick maidens. Of course, the sight of a neat blue uniform is not the best cure for heart palpitations. A domestic had a crush on a new recruit at the fire station. She met him as he was leaving for home.

“I passed by your station yesterday,” she said.

He replied, “Thanks a lot. We appreciate it.”

“Don’t walk, Margie. He got you drunk—make him drag you.”


The I. A. F. C. holds its convention this year on board a boat which is the reason for telling the following story.

A passenger chancing to see the Captain of the boat asked:

“Is my wife forward?”

“Well—er—,” answered the confused officer, “a little.”

Her dress was cut so low, no one could look her in the face.


At the Tuesday night pinochle club, the men were discussing the gossip of the neighborhood.

“It’s nice to find some one happily married,” remarked one. “There’s young Mrs. Sammis—she certainly worships her husband.”

“Oh, yes. She places burnt offerings before him every day.”


He was caught by the second economy wave of the city, and was temporarily discharged from the department. So he determined to grow his own vegetables during the no-pay period. After half an hour’s work at digging his garden, he was surprised to find a fifty cent coin at his feet. He dug with renewed energy and found several more coins.

“This is certainly a money mine,” remarked the digger. “I wonder what I’ll find next.”

His arms and back ached from increased activity. He straightened up and a glistening coin fell at his feet. In a moment he knew the truth. There was a hole in his trousers pocket.


In a southern village, a shipment of hose was delivered to the station by a negro who directed a mule and cart. The man at the door was surprised to hear him call the animal Corporation.

“Why do you call him ‘Corporation’?” the negro was asked.

“It’s like this, Boss,” he answered. “I got de name from studyin de animal an’ readin’ de papahs. Dat mule get mo’ blame an’ abuse dan anyt’ing else in the township, an’ he goes ahead havin’ his own way jes’ de same.”

Any man who has ever tried to drive a mule through a gate must take his hat off to Noah. He got two of the creatures into the Ark.


To show her appreciation of the good work of the department in extinguishing a fire in her home, a wealthy woman invited the officers to dinner. Jones was one. He was shy and nervous, and was quiet because he could never think of anything appropriate to say. He was seated next to the hostess.

As a matter of conversation, she remarked:

“What a small appetite you have, Mr. Jones.”

Here was his opportunity. Here was his chance to say something clever. He answ’ered:

“To sit next to you would cause any man to lose his appetite.”


Two little youngsters stopped at the entrance to the apparatus room and started a conversation with the man at the desk.

“Mister, when I was sick my ma bought me a fire engine and now I’m going to make a fire house for it.” The fireman was amused and he asked the younger of the children: “Have you any hobbies?”

“No,” answered the child. “Once I had a bellyache, an’ last month I had a toothache, but I ain’t never had no hobbies.”

People who are so foolish as to allow themselves to become run down, wind up in a hospital.


Up at the fire house, the old timers seated in chairs tilted back against the wall, were discussing the present economic evils—low pay, the lack of business and kindred laboring class troubles.

Terrence, whose record of fire service began when apparatus was not motivated by gasoline, remarked:

“Sure, I have a way to bring back prosperity. It all depends on the horse. Bring back horses and the country will be stableized.”

Pity the fellow who found a recipe for home-made beer and who was worried because he had no home.

Observant One: Hey, fellers! When we git through in here, there's a couple of nice covers for the sittin' room!

Drawing by “Art” Espey

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