History of Firefighting in Alexandria
The Waterfront Fire of 1810
In 1810, the block between Prince and Duke, east of Union Street, was a row of busy wharves, warehouses, workshops, and stores. One of the workshops belonged to a cooper named Lawrence Hill. Shortly before ten o’clock on the night of September 24, 1810, a laborer working by candlelight in Hill’s shop stepped outside for a moment. That moment was all it took. When he returned he found the candle had fallen into a pile of shavings and the shop floor was ablaze. The workman shouted the alarm and the fire companies and some neighbors responded immediately, but, as the Alexandria Gazette reported, the “materials were of so combustible a nature it was found impossible to stop the progress of the fire.” The fire spread to all of the structures on the block. There was no wind at first, and several times the flames jumped to the houses on the west side of Union Street, but “by the great and imminently dangerous exertions of several inhabitants,” the Gazette noted, these homes were saved from more than minor damage.
After midnight, winds from the west picked up and the flames were pushed back in the direction of the river. The efforts of the firefighters and bystanders combined with the west wind saved an estimated one hundred homes from destruction and the fire was brought under control by two o’clock. When the morning light came the damage was clear: the City had lost ten houses, seven warehouses, two lumberyards, one store, one grocery, one chandlery, a bakery, and, of course, a cooper’s shop.
In the days that followed, there was both praise and protest of the effort to fight the fire.
The Common Council of the City recognized with cash awards and certificates of “good conduct” the essential assistance of “persons of colour” who “distinguished themselves by extraordinary exertions in the late fire.” The Sun Fire Company also appropriated twenty dollars “for rewarding the different persons of color who assisted in working the company’s engine on Monday last.”
But there was much finger-pointing of blame for the fire and how it was extinguished.
The commanders of four fire companies—Friendship, Sun, Star, and Relief—signed a joint letter of complaint to the Gazette. They complained about the presence of cooper’s shops “in certain parts of town” and stated that if such shops felt it necessary to work at night they should be required to use candlesticks of iron at least ten inches wide “for it is ascertained that a shaving was used as a candlestick in the cooper’s shop where the fire commenced.”
The officers of the fire companies also complained about the quality and availability of firefighting equipment. Some of the fire engines brought to the scene were “choaked (sic) in the pipes,” they said, “by the shameful neglect of the companies to work and inspect them sufficiently often.” Fire axes and a company of ‘AXE-MEN,’” they suggested, “might have completely arrested the progress of the flames,” but neither axe-men nor axes were on hand to fight the waterfront fire.
The quality and quantity of buckets were also questioned. The commanders criticized the city Council for allowing the law requiring each household to have a fire bucket, and to maintain it in good order, to expire. The ordinance had also required every housekeeper to “either throw (the buckets) into the street or carry them to the fire at the first fire alarm.” The result of this diminished appreciation for the importance of fire buckets was felt at the fire. They reported a shortage of available buckets, and of those that were available, many had missing or broken handles “and others leaked so much as to bring little water to the engine.”
An anonymous writer to the Gazette took the bucket issue a step farther, complaining about the spacing of people in the bucket brigade. He noted that the first order to volunteers is to form a line from the nearest water to the engine, buckets in hand. But “instead of crowding as close to each other as men can stand, there should be a space between each of four feet,” he instructed.
At this distance, they can hand water, not only more expeditiously, but more easily, and with less waste. Every person who stands in a less space than this is doing an injury; for the one who passes the bucket to him, could, with its natural swing, pass it with greater ease to the person beyond him, than to him: he, therefore, instead of accelerating, retards its progress; and he should go immediately where he can do most in the cause of suffering humanity.
The anonymous writer grumbled about “the tardiness of the citizens in assembling, and their confusion and bewilderment when assembled.” He wrote:
It is every man’s duty, at going to bed (besides saying his prayers) always to lay his apparel in such a manner, that he can in the dark, instantly put his hands on it. If the cry of fire alarm him in the night, he should first order light into the front windows, call his male servants (as for the female ones, curiosity will bring them soon enough), dress himself with all possible expedition--not regarding whether the neck-cloth be tied in the first taste, or the waistcoat be buttoned even or uneven–snatch his buckets, bags, &c. and repair to the scene of action.
Mr. Anonymous pointed out that it is natural at moments of crisis such as the waterfront fire that the “great majority of those assembled are struck motionless in contemplation of the mighty element.” But they should come prepared with a knowledge of what must be done and follow instructions of those whose duty it is to lead them in doing it.
The commanders of the fire companies made a similar point. “The citizens were thrown into considerable confusion by persons belonging to no fire company giving orders at one time and counteracting those given by an officer at another.” The commanders cited an example of a moment in the struggle to suppress the flames when rumor of gunpowder stored in a building caused bystanders to balk at a command for assistance from a fire company officer. “(A)s the lives of the citizens will at all times be a primary object with the officers, (citizens) should rely on the assurance of an officer that there is no powder in the house...especially when he verifies the truth of the assertion by venturing (into the house) himself.” While praising the bystanders who stepped forward to assist, the fire company officers also expressed shock and disappointment that so many had stood back and done nothing to help extinguish the blaze. They found “it incredible that a man could see his neighbors’ property…enveloped in flames and remain an indifferent spectator at the scene.”
Alexandria had long had a law on its books that imposed a penalty of five dollars on any person at a fire who refused “to obey the order or directives of any officer” of one of the City’s fire companies. The newspaper was obligated to reprint the law each time one of the companies elected officers, along with the names of those elected, so that no one could claim ignorance as a defense for not assisting when directed. Had the law been enforced the night of the waterfront fire, the fines collected could have been considerable.
Cooperation among and between fire companies also a source of contention. Three days after the fire, the Sun Company convened a meeting of its members to address complaints made that its “members directed most of their force at the late fire to a particular building, in preference to other property equally involved.” In an announcement in the Gazette of September 29th, James Kennedy, a trustee of the Sun Company, defended the Company’s conduct, justifying the concentration of its efforts on one structure by citing Article Six of the compact ratified by all of the companies. It reads:
The members of the several companies pledge themselves to each other that they will assist a member of either of them whose property may be in danger from fire, in preference to persons who are members of neither.
One of the warehouses that burned was the property of Thomas Lawrason, a member of the Sun Company.
The waterfront fire of 1810 caused great damage to property but no loss of life.
Jim McClellan, Ed.D, PhD
After midnight, winds from the west picked up and the flames were pushed back in the direction of the river. The efforts of the firefighters and bystanders combined with the west wind saved an estimated one hundred homes from destruction and the fire was brought under control by two o’clock. When the morning light came the damage was clear: the City had lost ten houses, seven warehouses, two lumberyards, one store, one grocery, one chandlery, a bakery, and, of course, a cooper’s shop.
In the days that followed, there was both praise and protest of the effort to fight the fire.
The Common Council of the City recognized with cash awards and certificates of “good conduct” the essential assistance of “persons of colour” who “distinguished themselves by extraordinary exertions in the late fire.” The Sun Fire Company also appropriated twenty dollars “for rewarding the different persons of color who assisted in working the company’s engine on Monday last.”
But there was much finger-pointing of blame for the fire and how it was extinguished.
The commanders of four fire companies—Friendship, Sun, Star, and Relief—signed a joint letter of complaint to the Gazette. They complained about the presence of cooper’s shops “in certain parts of town” and stated that if such shops felt it necessary to work at night they should be required to use candlesticks of iron at least ten inches wide “for it is ascertained that a shaving was used as a candlestick in the cooper’s shop where the fire commenced.”
The officers of the fire companies also complained about the quality and availability of firefighting equipment. Some of the fire engines brought to the scene were “choaked (sic) in the pipes,” they said, “by the shameful neglect of the companies to work and inspect them sufficiently often.” Fire axes and a company of ‘AXE-MEN,’” they suggested, “might have completely arrested the progress of the flames,” but neither axe-men nor axes were on hand to fight the waterfront fire.
The quality and quantity of buckets were also questioned. The commanders criticized the city Council for allowing the law requiring each household to have a fire bucket, and to maintain it in good order, to expire. The ordinance had also required every housekeeper to “either throw (the buckets) into the street or carry them to the fire at the first fire alarm.” The result of this diminished appreciation for the importance of fire buckets was felt at the fire. They reported a shortage of available buckets, and of those that were available, many had missing or broken handles “and others leaked so much as to bring little water to the engine.”
An anonymous writer to the Gazette took the bucket issue a step farther, complaining about the spacing of people in the bucket brigade. He noted that the first order to volunteers is to form a line from the nearest water to the engine, buckets in hand. But “instead of crowding as close to each other as men can stand, there should be a space between each of four feet,” he instructed.
At this distance, they can hand water, not only more expeditiously, but more easily, and with less waste. Every person who stands in a less space than this is doing an injury; for the one who passes the bucket to him, could, with its natural swing, pass it with greater ease to the person beyond him, than to him: he, therefore, instead of accelerating, retards its progress; and he should go immediately where he can do most in the cause of suffering humanity.
The anonymous writer grumbled about “the tardiness of the citizens in assembling, and their confusion and bewilderment when assembled.” He wrote:
It is every man’s duty, at going to bed (besides saying his prayers) always to lay his apparel in such a manner, that he can in the dark, instantly put his hands on it. If the cry of fire alarm him in the night, he should first order light into the front windows, call his male servants (as for the female ones, curiosity will bring them soon enough), dress himself with all possible expedition--not regarding whether the neck-cloth be tied in the first taste, or the waistcoat be buttoned even or uneven–snatch his buckets, bags, &c. and repair to the scene of action.
Mr. Anonymous pointed out that it is natural at moments of crisis such as the waterfront fire that the “great majority of those assembled are struck motionless in contemplation of the mighty element.” But they should come prepared with a knowledge of what must be done and follow instructions of those whose duty it is to lead them in doing it.
The commanders of the fire companies made a similar point. “The citizens were thrown into considerable confusion by persons belonging to no fire company giving orders at one time and counteracting those given by an officer at another.” The commanders cited an example of a moment in the struggle to suppress the flames when rumor of gunpowder stored in a building caused bystanders to balk at a command for assistance from a fire company officer. “(A)s the lives of the citizens will at all times be a primary object with the officers, (citizens) should rely on the assurance of an officer that there is no powder in the house...especially when he verifies the truth of the assertion by venturing (into the house) himself.” While praising the bystanders who stepped forward to assist, the fire company officers also expressed shock and disappointment that so many had stood back and done nothing to help extinguish the blaze. They found “it incredible that a man could see his neighbors’ property…enveloped in flames and remain an indifferent spectator at the scene.”
Alexandria had long had a law on its books that imposed a penalty of five dollars on any person at a fire who refused “to obey the order or directives of any officer” of one of the City’s fire companies. The newspaper was obligated to reprint the law each time one of the companies elected officers, along with the names of those elected, so that no one could claim ignorance as a defense for not assisting when directed. Had the law been enforced the night of the waterfront fire, the fines collected could have been considerable.
Cooperation among and between fire companies also a source of contention. Three days after the fire, the Sun Company convened a meeting of its members to address complaints made that its “members directed most of their force at the late fire to a particular building, in preference to other property equally involved.” In an announcement in the Gazette of September 29th, James Kennedy, a trustee of the Sun Company, defended the Company’s conduct, justifying the concentration of its efforts on one structure by citing Article Six of the compact ratified by all of the companies. It reads:
The members of the several companies pledge themselves to each other that they will assist a member of either of them whose property may be in danger from fire, in preference to persons who are members of neither.
One of the warehouses that burned was the property of Thomas Lawrason, a member of the Sun Company.
The waterfront fire of 1810 caused great damage to property but no loss of life.
Jim McClellan, Ed.D, PhD
Charles Glasscock, the First of Alexandria’s first responders to fall in the line of duty, 1852
Charles Glasscock, the First of Alexandria’s first responders to fall in the line of duty, 1852
When the fire bell sounded the alarm late on the evening of the 28th of June, 1852, the volunteer Firefighters of the Friendship Fire Company responded as usual by hastily assembling at the Firehouse and then, as they termed it, they “ran with the machine.” The fire engine they dragged to the scene of the fire was not pulled by horses or steam but by firefighters running in front, pulling the engine with ropes, while two firefighters used the shaft—or tongue--that protruded from the front of the engine to steer. The engine had no brakes. There was no real way to slow down except to slow their pace, and certainly no quick stops. This is why one of the most dangerous parts of being an antebellum firefighter was GOING to the fire. Trip and two tons of apparatus would run over you on the cobbles. The running with the machine was dangerous.
On this night in the summer of 1852, tragedy struck. One of the Friendship Firefighters, Charles Glasscock, fell and was run over by the engine. When the Firefighters arrived at the scene of the supposed fire, it turned out to have been a false alarm. Glasscock died from his injuries on the morning of June 30th.
The year 2025 marks the one-hundred and seventy-third June 28th since Charles Glasscock lost his life in the line of duty. And yet, his remains lie in an unmarked grave at the old Methodist Protestant Cemetery on Wilkes Street.
One of the projects of Friendship is to obtain permission from the City to place a grave stone over Charles Glasscock’s burial site. The burial plot was purchased by the Friendship Fire Company on the day of Glasscock’s burial.
Jimmie McClellan and Tim Winkle
When the fire bell sounded the alarm late on the evening of the 28th of June, 1852, the volunteer Firefighters of the Friendship Fire Company responded as usual by hastily assembling at the Firehouse and then, as they termed it, they “ran with the machine.” The fire engine they dragged to the scene of the fire was not pulled by horses or steam but by firefighters running in front, pulling the engine with ropes, while two firefighters used the shaft—or tongue--that protruded from the front of the engine to steer. The engine had no brakes. There was no real way to slow down except to slow their pace, and certainly no quick stops. This is why one of the most dangerous parts of being an antebellum firefighter was GOING to the fire. Trip and two tons of apparatus would run over you on the cobbles. The running with the machine was dangerous.
On this night in the summer of 1852, tragedy struck. One of the Friendship Firefighters, Charles Glasscock, fell and was run over by the engine. When the Firefighters arrived at the scene of the supposed fire, it turned out to have been a false alarm. Glasscock died from his injuries on the morning of June 30th.
The year 2025 marks the one-hundred and seventy-third June 28th since Charles Glasscock lost his life in the line of duty. And yet, his remains lie in an unmarked grave at the old Methodist Protestant Cemetery on Wilkes Street.
One of the projects of Friendship is to obtain permission from the City to place a grave stone over Charles Glasscock’s burial site. The burial plot was purchased by the Friendship Fire Company on the day of Glasscock’s burial.
Jimmie McClellan and Tim Winkle
Alexandria Fire History Timeline 1669-1866
1669
English Captain Robert Howson transported 120 indentured servants to Virginia. He sold the servants for a handsome profit. On October 21st, the Governor of Virginia granted him 6000 acres of land for having transported the servants to a land in need of laborers. The tract he was granted included the waterfront of Alexandria and stretched from Hunting Creek to Little Falls just upstream from today’s Chain Bridge. One month later, Captain Howson sold this land to Scotsman John Alexander for 6000 pounds of tobacco.
1749
Surveyors laid out Market Square and the grid pattern of streets in what is now Old Town, and the City of Alexandria was founded at the farthest point up the Potomac where an ocean-going merchant ship could dock on the Virginia shore of the Potomac. The city was named after the family of John Alexander
1774
The threat of fire was a constant concern and the need to collectively confront this threat led citizens of the young City of Alexandria to form the Friendship Fire Company in 1774. Friendship was the first of six fire companies established in Alexandria. These companies were first and foremost volunteer firefighters--sometimes competitive and sometimes cooperative—but they played a larger role in Alexandria: They were interwoven into the civic, political, and social fabric of the city, respected and supported by townsfolk and Common Council alike.
In 1774, the Friendship engine house was a one story wooden structure set on a lot at the mouth of an alley off Royal Street at Market Square.
The Sun Fire Company was organized in 1775. The Relief Society followed in 1788, Star in 1799, Crescent in 1824, and Hydraulion in 1827. Each of the fire companies accepted responsibility for a part of the City but all joined together to fight fires when needed.
In 1774, the Friendship engine house was a one story wooden structure set on a lot at the mouth of an alley off Royal Street at Market Square.
The Sun Fire Company was organized in 1775. The Relief Society followed in 1788, Star in 1799, Crescent in 1824, and Hydraulion in 1827. Each of the fire companies accepted responsibility for a part of the City but all joined together to fight fires when needed.
1791
Alexandria, Alexandria County, Georgetown, and Washington were incorporated into the boundaries of the District of Columbia. Alexandria, Virginia, became Alexandria, D.C.
1799
The Friendship Fire Company purchased a hand-drawn fire engine named “Blue Dick.”
A “Philadelphia Style” engine in 1880, similar to Blue Dick.
September 24, 1810
A fire destroyed ten houses, seven warehouses, two lumberyards, one store, one grocery, one chandlery, a bakery, and a cooper’s shop in the block bounded by Prince, Union, Duke streets, and the river. The fire was started at ten at night when an assistant in the cooper’s workshop left a candle standing on a wood shaving and was not brought under control until two o-clock the following morning. The city Council recognized and rewarded the essential assistance of “persons of colour” who “distinguished themselves by extraordinary exertions in the late fire.”
August 24, 1814
The War of 1812 saw British troops move across Maryland toward the Nation’s Capital in the summer of 1814. A local American militia attempted a stand against the British just outside of Washington at Bladensburg. The British routed the Americans and marched into an unguarded Washington, D.C., as President Madison fled the White House and the city along with other senior government officials. The British burned all public buildings, except the patent office. They spared the latter to show they were not barbarians. A tornado struck Washington later that day adding more destruction to a city already in flames. A thunderstorm that accompanied the tornado helped to dampen the flames and prevent even greater devastation.
Alexandria, D.C., was left untouched by the British troops who burned Washington. The Long Bridge which connected the two sides of the District of Columbia was set afire prevent British crossing.
The British soldiers left Washington to lay siege to Baltimore, but three days later, a British fleet sailed up the Potomac to capture the port at Alexandria. The British bombarded Fort Warburton, the last line of defense before the nation’s capital, only to discover that the American commander had already abandoned the fort. The warships continued uncontested toward Alexandria. On August 29th, the British vessels laid anchor in a line a hundred yards from the wharves of Alexandria, broadside to the City, and positioned their cannon to demolish the warehouses and homes along the entire waterfront. Being defenseless, Alexandria surrendered to the Royal Navy, saving the City from the kind of destruction that left by the British on the other side of the Potomac.
Alexandria, D.C., was left untouched by the British troops who burned Washington. The Long Bridge which connected the two sides of the District of Columbia was set afire prevent British crossing.
The British soldiers left Washington to lay siege to Baltimore, but three days later, a British fleet sailed up the Potomac to capture the port at Alexandria. The British bombarded Fort Warburton, the last line of defense before the nation’s capital, only to discover that the American commander had already abandoned the fort. The warships continued uncontested toward Alexandria. On August 29th, the British vessels laid anchor in a line a hundred yards from the wharves of Alexandria, broadside to the City, and positioned their cannon to demolish the warehouses and homes along the entire waterfront. Being defenseless, Alexandria surrendered to the Royal Navy, saving the City from the kind of destruction that left by the British on the other side of the Potomac.
January 18, 1827
The Great Fire of 1827.
“It would be a vain attempt in me to give a description of the grief and misery of the scene. I will not, cannot do it. Sketch, then, the distressing scene yourself. Paint a town in flames on a cold, wintry, windy day, when even the water froze in the air on its way from the engines—view the distracted affrighted mothers…with their still more distracted children, running, they knew not wither, with looks of wretched despair, wildly screaming, “save me—save my child—o save something for us!” and then behold the fathers, the sons, and the brothers endeavoring to avert the flames, losing their own little property, all that many of them had, in endeavoring to save other’s, and then think, after you have gone thus far, think what a scene the smoky ruins presented, after the devouring element had ceased to rage; I saw them all, and it was a sad, a sickening, a melancholy sight.”—Observations of a visitor to Alexandria
Fire was an ever-present danger in early Alexandria as in other cities across the nation. Homes were often built close together, made of wood, and without regard to fire safety. Kitchens had open flames, winter warmth came from open fireplaces, lighting came from candles and lanterns fueled by whale oil. Soot collecting in chimneys burned to the ground many a home. Indentured servants and enslaved persons frequently resorted to arson as an expression of anger over their condition. Arson was also a tool of those seeking revenge or perpetrating insurance fraud. Once ignited, fires spread quickly across neighborhoods.
Daybreak on the 18th of January cast its first light over a city struggling to get on with its normal routine in the depths of winter. Shortly before nine o’clock, an alarm was sounded. A fire had broken out in the interior of a city block bounded by King, Fairfax, Prince, and Royal Streets. There, removed from direct access to these streets was a workshop operated by cabinetmaker James Green, whose apprentices sought help for a fire on the shop floor.
Given the concentration of flammable materials—wood, glue, sawdust, paint, fabric—the fire spread rapidly up the workshop walls to the roof and then jumped to the roofs of neighboring homes and shops. The strong northwest winds spread the fire quickly through buildings constructed with materials of kindling quality.
The fire consumed the entire block—with the exception of the three-story Stabler & Sons Apothecary whose construction had incorporated some fire resistant measures. The strong winds carried embers blocks away. Soon, a second fire was raging along Lee and Prince Streets. Bucket brigades of men, women, and children stretched from the river to keep the water in the tank of Blue Dick. Hoses sprayed water that turned to sleet before reaching the flames. The uniforms of firefighters were covered with a coating of ice. By mid-day, fire companies from Washington, Georgetown, and the Navy Yard on the Anacostia were racing across Long Bridge to join the citizenry of Alexandria in a fight for the life of the City. As sunset approached, the fire was finally contained.
The Great Fire of 1827 completely destroyed at least fifty-three dwellings, shops, and warehouses, not including outbuildings and stables.
“It would be a vain attempt in me to give a description of the grief and misery of the scene. I will not, cannot do it. Sketch, then, the distressing scene yourself. Paint a town in flames on a cold, wintry, windy day, when even the water froze in the air on its way from the engines—view the distracted affrighted mothers…with their still more distracted children, running, they knew not wither, with looks of wretched despair, wildly screaming, “save me—save my child—o save something for us!” and then behold the fathers, the sons, and the brothers endeavoring to avert the flames, losing their own little property, all that many of them had, in endeavoring to save other’s, and then think, after you have gone thus far, think what a scene the smoky ruins presented, after the devouring element had ceased to rage; I saw them all, and it was a sad, a sickening, a melancholy sight.”—Observations of a visitor to Alexandria
Fire was an ever-present danger in early Alexandria as in other cities across the nation. Homes were often built close together, made of wood, and without regard to fire safety. Kitchens had open flames, winter warmth came from open fireplaces, lighting came from candles and lanterns fueled by whale oil. Soot collecting in chimneys burned to the ground many a home. Indentured servants and enslaved persons frequently resorted to arson as an expression of anger over their condition. Arson was also a tool of those seeking revenge or perpetrating insurance fraud. Once ignited, fires spread quickly across neighborhoods.
Daybreak on the 18th of January cast its first light over a city struggling to get on with its normal routine in the depths of winter. Shortly before nine o’clock, an alarm was sounded. A fire had broken out in the interior of a city block bounded by King, Fairfax, Prince, and Royal Streets. There, removed from direct access to these streets was a workshop operated by cabinetmaker James Green, whose apprentices sought help for a fire on the shop floor.
Given the concentration of flammable materials—wood, glue, sawdust, paint, fabric—the fire spread rapidly up the workshop walls to the roof and then jumped to the roofs of neighboring homes and shops. The strong northwest winds spread the fire quickly through buildings constructed with materials of kindling quality.
The fire consumed the entire block—with the exception of the three-story Stabler & Sons Apothecary whose construction had incorporated some fire resistant measures. The strong winds carried embers blocks away. Soon, a second fire was raging along Lee and Prince Streets. Bucket brigades of men, women, and children stretched from the river to keep the water in the tank of Blue Dick. Hoses sprayed water that turned to sleet before reaching the flames. The uniforms of firefighters were covered with a coating of ice. By mid-day, fire companies from Washington, Georgetown, and the Navy Yard on the Anacostia were racing across Long Bridge to join the citizenry of Alexandria in a fight for the life of the City. As sunset approached, the fire was finally contained.
The Great Fire of 1827 completely destroyed at least fifty-three dwellings, shops, and warehouses, not including outbuildings and stables.
March 3, 1827
An act of the Common Council of Alexandria provided for a permanent subsidization of the fire companies. The Council concluded that firefighting equipment owned by the companies “procured at a great expense of private contribution are insufficient for the protection of the property of the citizens, and cannot be supported in effective and useful condition without some municipal aid.” Henceforth, the City would make an annual appropriation of one hundred dollars “to such Fire Engine and Hose Companies as are now formed, or may hereafter be formed.”
The Common Council, appropriated $650 to purchase a new fire engine boasting the latest in firefighting technology—a hydraulion. The equipment in use in Alexandria up to that time pumped water onto the fire directly from the chamber located within the engine. Bucket brigades were continuously in motion refilling the chamber. A hydraulion utilized a suction pump to draw water from a river, lake, or municipal water supply, through a leather hose, directly into the fire engine. The Council placed the new engine under the “care and management” of the newly formed Hydraulion Fire Company and further allocated an additional $250 to build a garage to house the hydraulion and its hose on Market Square. In 1839, the Council purchased 300 feet of hose for Friendship, 300 feet for the Sun Fire Company, and 100 feet of hose for Relief, the first hose owned by those companies.
The Common Council, appropriated $650 to purchase a new fire engine boasting the latest in firefighting technology—a hydraulion. The equipment in use in Alexandria up to that time pumped water onto the fire directly from the chamber located within the engine. Bucket brigades were continuously in motion refilling the chamber. A hydraulion utilized a suction pump to draw water from a river, lake, or municipal water supply, through a leather hose, directly into the fire engine. The Council placed the new engine under the “care and management” of the newly formed Hydraulion Fire Company and further allocated an additional $250 to build a garage to house the hydraulion and its hose on Market Square. In 1839, the Council purchased 300 feet of hose for Friendship, 300 feet for the Sun Fire Company, and 100 feet of hose for Relief, the first hose owned by those companies.
February 22, 1839
The fire companies of Alexandria conduct the first George Washington Birthday Parade through the City streets. The Parade became an annual rite that continues to this day.
1847
Alexandria and Alexandria County—now Arlington—were retroceded to Virginia. Alexandria, D.C., was again Alexandria, Virginia.
November 24, 1851
The Friendship Fire Company accepted delivery of a new suction pumper, manufactured by John Rogers of Baltimore. The pumper boosted the latest in firefighting technology, required twenty men to operate, and its nozzle could shoot a stream of water 160 feet. The pumper is on display in the Friendship Museum.
June 28, 1852
Friendship firefighters raced to the scene of fires carrying axes, buckets, ladders. They would “run with the machine and man the brakes,” as it was called when a team of Friendship firefighters pulled Blue Dick, pumpers, and hose reels to a fire with manpower rather than horsepower. A team of firefighters towing a heavy piece of equipment was not without risk.
Friendship firefighter Charles Glasscock was crushed under the wheels of the Fire engine when he slipped while pulling the vehicle to a fire. He died two days later from his injuries and is buried in a plot purchased by Friendship at the Methodist Protestant Cemetery on Wilkes Street.
Friendship firefighter Charles Glasscock was crushed under the wheels of the Fire engine when he slipped while pulling the vehicle to a fire. He died two days later from his injuries and is buried in a plot purchased by Friendship at the Methodist Protestant Cemetery on Wilkes Street.
July 23, 1855
The cornerstone of the Friendship Firehouse was set. It included a time capsule.
November 17, 1855
Alexandria Gazette
ALEXANDRIA: MONDAY MORNING NOVEMBER 19, 1855
Incendiary, Fire—Awful Calamity— Destruction of Human Life
Saturday was a sad day in Alexandria. A great calamity had happened, and the sternest wept at the spectacle they were forced to behold. We have never known our whole community to be more deeply affected. In the dead of night on Friday night—about 12 o’clock—the city was alarmed by the cry of fire. It was found that smoke and flames were issuing from the third story of the large brick warehouse occupied as a china store on the north side of King street. Upon entering the house it was seen that it had been deliberately fired in several places—candles, wick saturated with camphene, and trains of gunpowder leading to the crates, being found. The firemen and citizens soon assembled in large numbers, and worked with the greatest energy and perseverance, to arrest, if possible, the progress of the flames. They succeeded to a great extent. And, now, we have to record the most melancholy part of this sad affair. About four o’clock, on Saturday morning, while the fire was raging in the upper part of Mr. Dowell’s store, a large number of citizens, several of them members of the Star Fire Company, were at work in the interior, assisting in attempting to extinguish the flames. At this moment the west gable wall of the warehouse fell in with a tremendous crash, bursting through the second and first floors, KILLING SEVEN of our valued and respected citizens, and wounding several others. A cry of horror rose at this catastrophe. As the bodies were successively brought from the mass of burning materials, the most intense grief was exhibited by the hundreds assisting in the melancholy duties of the occasion. The remains were carried to the homes of the deceased, followed by weeping crowds. And ah! who can paint the desolation of these homes! Who can tell the grief of the bereaved widows, the fatherless children—the affectionate fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers. When their epithet is written, let it be “They died at the post of danger and of duty.”
The fire of 1855 took the lives of seven firefighters. Six were members of the Star Fire Company. One was a member of Friendship.
ALEXANDRIA: MONDAY MORNING NOVEMBER 19, 1855
Incendiary, Fire—Awful Calamity— Destruction of Human Life
Saturday was a sad day in Alexandria. A great calamity had happened, and the sternest wept at the spectacle they were forced to behold. We have never known our whole community to be more deeply affected. In the dead of night on Friday night—about 12 o’clock—the city was alarmed by the cry of fire. It was found that smoke and flames were issuing from the third story of the large brick warehouse occupied as a china store on the north side of King street. Upon entering the house it was seen that it had been deliberately fired in several places—candles, wick saturated with camphene, and trains of gunpowder leading to the crates, being found. The firemen and citizens soon assembled in large numbers, and worked with the greatest energy and perseverance, to arrest, if possible, the progress of the flames. They succeeded to a great extent. And, now, we have to record the most melancholy part of this sad affair. About four o’clock, on Saturday morning, while the fire was raging in the upper part of Mr. Dowell’s store, a large number of citizens, several of them members of the Star Fire Company, were at work in the interior, assisting in attempting to extinguish the flames. At this moment the west gable wall of the warehouse fell in with a tremendous crash, bursting through the second and first floors, KILLING SEVEN of our valued and respected citizens, and wounding several others. A cry of horror rose at this catastrophe. As the bodies were successively brought from the mass of burning materials, the most intense grief was exhibited by the hundreds assisting in the melancholy duties of the occasion. The remains were carried to the homes of the deceased, followed by weeping crowds. And ah! who can paint the desolation of these homes! Who can tell the grief of the bereaved widows, the fatherless children—the affectionate fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers. When their epithet is written, let it be “They died at the post of danger and of duty.”
The fire of 1855 took the lives of seven firefighters. Six were members of the Star Fire Company. One was a member of Friendship.
1858
Friendship acquired a new hose reel. It was designed and built by local carriage and coach maker, Robert Prettyman, who also served as the President of Friendship in 1858.
By 1858, the need for bucket brigades had been obviated by the placement of water mains and fire plugs along the City’s streets. Hoses were needed to carry the water from the plugs to the suction pumper.
May 1861
The Union army occupied Alexandria at the beginning of the Civil War. The stations and equipment of the five fire companies was taken by the Army and soldiers assumed the responsibility for firefighting. The fire companies were sidelined during the War and barely survived the four years of Union occupation. The Alexandria Gazette noted, “The condition of the Fire Department of this city at present is by no means flourishing.”
1866
The City of Alexandria invited the independent fire companies to unite into a paid f ire department. Friendship remained independent but the rest were absorbed into a professional force. The Relief Society became Engine One when Friendship opted out of the new organization and is now called Engine 201. Star reorganized as Columbia is now 204 and Reliance— which came from Hydraulion—is Engine 205.
Friendship Firehouse Museum
107 South Alfred Street, Alexandria, Virginia 22314
107 South Alfred Street, Alexandria, Virginia 22314