CORNELL WOMEN'S VARISTY
ICE HOCKEY TEAM
FRESHMAN YEAR
1981-1982
Since I had attended such a prestigious high school, all of my friends and classmates were headed for MIT, Weslayan University, Harvard, Yale, and other big-time schools. I had applied to Harvard, Yale, University of Pennsylvania, and my back-up was San Diego State University. I was engaged to my high school sweet heart but he was going to be attending Weslayan. He went on to become an illustrator at Time and Life magazines, and now owns his own successful company, near Waldon Pond, while still creating his own beautiful artwork. He is now married to another artist and they share a beautiful daughter. What might have been...
Meanwhile, while attending high school, I played on boy's hockey travel teams. There was a women's team for awhile but it didn't last long. Years later, I ran into one of the women ice hockey teammates, but it didn't go well.
Every Friday night at 10:00 pm, I would drive my 1970 Volkswagen to Sharpstown Ice Rink and skate in the men's hockey drop-in. I loved my bug and would later drive it, by myself, from Texas to Cornell, several times, up and back. There were some famous Houston Aeros that would come out to skate and I remember, in particular Mark and Marty Howe, the sons of Gordie Howe. I was the only female at these drop-in sessions that started at 11:00 pm, Friday nights. Then at 12:30 am, I would get back in my bug, alone, and drive home.
At these drop-ins, I skated with a man named Wayne Stokes, who was from Cornell. He asked my where I was going to attend college and, then, the phone calls started coming from the Cornell Women's Ice Hockey coach, Bill Duthie. I applied to to the Arts and Humanities School at Cornell and was accepted. That was a Godsend because I was rejected from Harvard and Penn, and waitlisted at Yale. My plan was to major in English.
Before my freshman year started, I attended a Wilderness Reflections, one-week, canoeing trip through the Adirondack lakes and made several good friends, like Tim Sargeant. When we returned from the Wilderness, I reported to my dorm room in the freshman U-Halls on West Campus and met my roommate, Diane. She was from Long Island. She had hung puppy and kitty posters and her desk set matched. Her closet was filled with turtleneck sweaters. I had been bathing in lakes and plopped my hockey gear bag on my bed. We couldn't have been any more different.
Meanwhile, while attending high school, I played on boy's hockey travel teams. There was a women's team for awhile but it didn't last long. Years later, I ran into one of the women ice hockey teammates, but it didn't go well.
Every Friday night at 10:00 pm, I would drive my 1970 Volkswagen to Sharpstown Ice Rink and skate in the men's hockey drop-in. I loved my bug and would later drive it, by myself, from Texas to Cornell, several times, up and back. There were some famous Houston Aeros that would come out to skate and I remember, in particular Mark and Marty Howe, the sons of Gordie Howe. I was the only female at these drop-in sessions that started at 11:00 pm, Friday nights. Then at 12:30 am, I would get back in my bug, alone, and drive home.
At these drop-ins, I skated with a man named Wayne Stokes, who was from Cornell. He asked my where I was going to attend college and, then, the phone calls started coming from the Cornell Women's Ice Hockey coach, Bill Duthie. I applied to to the Arts and Humanities School at Cornell and was accepted. That was a Godsend because I was rejected from Harvard and Penn, and waitlisted at Yale. My plan was to major in English.
Before my freshman year started, I attended a Wilderness Reflections, one-week, canoeing trip through the Adirondack lakes and made several good friends, like Tim Sargeant. When we returned from the Wilderness, I reported to my dorm room in the freshman U-Halls on West Campus and met my roommate, Diane. She was from Long Island. She had hung puppy and kitty posters and her desk set matched. Her closet was filled with turtleneck sweaters. I had been bathing in lakes and plopped my hockey gear bag on my bed. We couldn't have been any more different.
Houston Fire Department
Station 14
Station 14's at 12th/Yale Street.
Only female firefighter ever to have been assigned there in the station's history. I went there straight from the HFD fire academy, Class of 94-A.
Our bunker gear was housed in the old jail cell with metal bars, trap doors for hay drop to the fire horses and the fire pole remained, the narrow staircase (for the judge) next to wide staircase was still in use, and bank vault held our office supplies. When the station was a City Hall, before it was a fire station, there were two set of stairs, side by side, so the judge would not have to mingle with the citizenry.
We only had a pumper (E-14, a 1985 Seagrave's) and a Basic Life Support (BLS) Ambulance
(A-14).
My first Junior Captain, Alton Laskowski (Captain "Ski") and pumper chauffeur, Alvin White, made me feel welcome along with the other pipemen, such as Steven Wingate, Richard Royster, and Daryl (?). Since I was the rookie, I did all the grocery shopping at the nearby grocery store. Many a prank was played on me and I spent lots of time looking for food items that don't exist! I hated learning territory maps. No iPhones existed then with GPS maps... Those were good times!
Only female firefighter ever to have been assigned there in the station's history. I went there straight from the HFD fire academy, Class of 94-A.
Our bunker gear was housed in the old jail cell with metal bars, trap doors for hay drop to the fire horses and the fire pole remained, the narrow staircase (for the judge) next to wide staircase was still in use, and bank vault held our office supplies. When the station was a City Hall, before it was a fire station, there were two set of stairs, side by side, so the judge would not have to mingle with the citizenry.
We only had a pumper (E-14, a 1985 Seagrave's) and a Basic Life Support (BLS) Ambulance
(A-14).
My first Junior Captain, Alton Laskowski (Captain "Ski") and pumper chauffeur, Alvin White, made me feel welcome along with the other pipemen, such as Steven Wingate, Richard Royster, and Daryl (?). Since I was the rookie, I did all the grocery shopping at the nearby grocery store. Many a prank was played on me and I spent lots of time looking for food items that don't exist! I hated learning territory maps. No iPhones existed then with GPS maps... Those were good times!
1985 Seagraves
My first engine was a 1985 Seagraves.
I learned to drive this model and passed my Class C driver's test on this engine. Jay Jahnke took me to the fire academy to practice on every shift. He would set up cones and I would practice driving serpentine and then backing up between two cones.
Years later, Jay died in a 6 alarm, high-rise fire, in the Galleria area on October 13, 2001. Upon arrival, at 5:01 am, the fire was in the corner apartment on the the fifth floor of the west tower of the Four Leaf Towers. The windows had broken out from the fire and a windy cold front had blown into Houston. Staffing issues had reduced the ladder truck to three firemen, and most of the city's firetrucks were riding short. Because the chauffeur usually waited with the apparatus, Jay and one other fireman went up into the building. Their air bottles would last 20 minutes before trouble would begin. A couple of pipemen were sent for more air bottles and that left just the two captains on the fire floor battling the fire. The wind sucked the heat and fire back on Jay and one other captain. They could not follow the hopelessly tangled fire hose back to safety. Jay and the other captain were separated and Jay was able to make one radio call for help. They found him lifeless, and in the aftermath, the whole department mourned his loss. The Four Leaf Towers have been since demolished, the site redeveloped, and the investigation led to changes in required staffing on fire apparatus. This fire occurred one month after the September 11 attack in New York. It was a very sad time.
Jay was a good man, great family man, and a courageous fireman. I will always remember his smile and laugh. He was kind to me and I appreciate the help he gave to me as a rookie. Later, before he died, when filling in at other stations or riding for other people, we would have the opportunity to fight some structure fires together. I remember after we would get our bunker gear on, while both riding as pipemen, he would always check my hood (Reed Hood) to make sure I had a good seal. He treated me like a sister. I will always be saddened at how we lost Jay and perplexed at how needless that loss was.
Those same staff shortages contributed earlier to the death of my fellow fire academy classmate, Kim Smith. She died, along with her junior captain, on Valentine's Day, 2/14/2000, in the McDonald's fire after the roof-top air conditioning units collapsed on them. Both she and her captain were trapped in the building and died. I heard about her death while enjoying a boating weekend at my lake house with a group of fellow firemen. The county sheriff came to notify us as we were coming off of the lake. Apparently a former employee of the McDonald's had tried to steal from the safe and then set the building on fire. Staffing shortages were a cause in Kim's death and then again, later, in Jay's death.
Although Kim and I were not close friends, I did enjoy her company and the fact we were both from California. She was an avid exercise enthusiast and I had the opportunity to work out with her at her gym several times. One thing I will never forget was how much she loved her two dogs! I also remember how resistant she was to cutting her hair! All of the women were forced to have short hair, with none of it touching our ears or the back of our collars. She fought that to the end of the fire academy!!
Back to lighter topics:
This Seagraves firetruck had no air conditioning and the two pipeman rode in the open air on the back, where that second window is located in this picture. There was a little chain that would hook across the step-down. We would stand up and hold on with our hair in the wind and wave to other cars. Getting dressed in our bunker gear on the way to fire calls was a real challenge, especially leaning forward to get our air packs on. It's surprising we didn't fall off!
I learned to drive this model and passed my Class C driver's test on this engine. Jay Jahnke took me to the fire academy to practice on every shift. He would set up cones and I would practice driving serpentine and then backing up between two cones.
Years later, Jay died in a 6 alarm, high-rise fire, in the Galleria area on October 13, 2001. Upon arrival, at 5:01 am, the fire was in the corner apartment on the the fifth floor of the west tower of the Four Leaf Towers. The windows had broken out from the fire and a windy cold front had blown into Houston. Staffing issues had reduced the ladder truck to three firemen, and most of the city's firetrucks were riding short. Because the chauffeur usually waited with the apparatus, Jay and one other fireman went up into the building. Their air bottles would last 20 minutes before trouble would begin. A couple of pipemen were sent for more air bottles and that left just the two captains on the fire floor battling the fire. The wind sucked the heat and fire back on Jay and one other captain. They could not follow the hopelessly tangled fire hose back to safety. Jay and the other captain were separated and Jay was able to make one radio call for help. They found him lifeless, and in the aftermath, the whole department mourned his loss. The Four Leaf Towers have been since demolished, the site redeveloped, and the investigation led to changes in required staffing on fire apparatus. This fire occurred one month after the September 11 attack in New York. It was a very sad time.
Jay was a good man, great family man, and a courageous fireman. I will always remember his smile and laugh. He was kind to me and I appreciate the help he gave to me as a rookie. Later, before he died, when filling in at other stations or riding for other people, we would have the opportunity to fight some structure fires together. I remember after we would get our bunker gear on, while both riding as pipemen, he would always check my hood (Reed Hood) to make sure I had a good seal. He treated me like a sister. I will always be saddened at how we lost Jay and perplexed at how needless that loss was.
Those same staff shortages contributed earlier to the death of my fellow fire academy classmate, Kim Smith. She died, along with her junior captain, on Valentine's Day, 2/14/2000, in the McDonald's fire after the roof-top air conditioning units collapsed on them. Both she and her captain were trapped in the building and died. I heard about her death while enjoying a boating weekend at my lake house with a group of fellow firemen. The county sheriff came to notify us as we were coming off of the lake. Apparently a former employee of the McDonald's had tried to steal from the safe and then set the building on fire. Staffing shortages were a cause in Kim's death and then again, later, in Jay's death.
Although Kim and I were not close friends, I did enjoy her company and the fact we were both from California. She was an avid exercise enthusiast and I had the opportunity to work out with her at her gym several times. One thing I will never forget was how much she loved her two dogs! I also remember how resistant she was to cutting her hair! All of the women were forced to have short hair, with none of it touching our ears or the back of our collars. She fought that to the end of the fire academy!!
Back to lighter topics:
This Seagraves firetruck had no air conditioning and the two pipeman rode in the open air on the back, where that second window is located in this picture. There was a little chain that would hook across the step-down. We would stand up and hold on with our hair in the wind and wave to other cars. Getting dressed in our bunker gear on the way to fire calls was a real challenge, especially leaning forward to get our air packs on. It's surprising we didn't fall off!
JAY PAUL JAHNKE
Kimberly A. Smith
THIS WEBSITE IS DEDICATED TO BOTH JAY AND KIM SO THAT THEY WILL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN.
STATION 26 DIXIE DAWGS
Most favorite fire station was Station 26 at Dixie and Chaffin. It was a District house
(D-26) and Chief Jack Walley was the Chief when I arrived. Senior Captain David Dowdy, Junior Captain Dave Hamm, Chauffeur Norman Hicks, and the pipeman Johnny Watson, Jim Kaiser (Big Jim), and Steve Malone (T-Bone).
We worked 24 hours on, 24 hours off, and 24 hours on again. Then there was a debit day (pay back day) of 24 hours every month or so, and you would come in on a different shift and fill in somewhere else in the city. Where you filled in depended on where the staffing shortages were. Shift change was at 6:30 am every morning. You could pick up extra work by riding for other fireman that needed off and you would get paid cash. I did that a lot and, by working for others on my days off, got to work in most of the fire stations in the city with other crews. When you came on, if the crew you were relieving was at a fire, you loaded up and relieved them at the location.
First thing in the morning, every morning, you checked and washed all of the apparatus. Then you swept, mopped, cleaned the bathrooms, and basically cleaned the whole station. You went to the store for groceries and helped make breakfast. Later you would go again and get groceries for dinner. In the old days, one person would go to the store in their personal vehicle and the rest stayed to respond to calls. We rode 3 man crews a lot then. If you were at a station with an ambulance, the ambulance crew ate first, always. You fed the Chief first, also, out of respect. The ambulance crew were fed quickly because you never knew when an ambulance call would come in.
Fire stations always fly the American flag and you made sure they were taken down in the rain and at night. Flags were handled with utmost respect and I remember a lot of patriotism and pride in the fire department.
When the Chief would get a call to respond out of district and the rest of us stayed behind, we always ran out to get the Keymap and help the Chief find the address on the map. We would start his engine and hit the button on the Mast unit that showed he had received the call.
The pipemen would take turns taking watch. That meant that one of you slept in the watch room that is situated on the apparatus floor or at the front of the fire station. The watchman's job was to answer the station phone during the night, respond to the front door when a citizen ("a walk-in") came to the station for help. The dispatch radio and other communications were in the watch room. There was always a bed and you were allowed to sleep but you had to be alert enough to handle the station business during the night. Also, there was always a television in there. Sometimes, during the night, a run would not come out over the station speakers and dispatch would call the station with the run information. You had to write it down and alert the crew about the run. Then you had to make sure they got up to take the run.
When a run came in, there was always a "click" first. That click was when dispatch would open the speakers to your station. Click first, then all of the light would automatically come on in the station. Then a man's voice would recite the run information.
It would go something like this:
"Ambulance 26, Engine 26...man down...7111 Dixie Drive...Key Map 534V..."Victor". Then he would repeat it again. HFD used the same men to dispatch the runs, day after day, year after year, that I can still hear their voices dispatching calls such as "Assist the Citizen", "A Sick Call", "A Shooting", "An MVA", "House on Fire", "Building Fire", "Unknown Problem", "911 Hang-up", "Officer Down", "Smoke in the Residence", "Auto-pedestrian Accident", "Grass Fire", "A Fall", "A Drowning",...I hear the click of the speakers opening, and then a familiar voice dispatching the call. Now, it is all automated and I found the computer voice was hard to understand with unfamiliar pronunciations of street names. We were forever calling dispatch to ask about the location data so we could hear it from a decipherable human. If it was an assault call, or anything else that was dangerous, the dispatcher always said, "Be advised, HPD is enroute." That meant that they were not on location and that the scene was NOT secure. If it was a sick call, and the person has apneic and pulseless, they would add "CPR in progress", if the bystanders had intervened.
(D-26) and Chief Jack Walley was the Chief when I arrived. Senior Captain David Dowdy, Junior Captain Dave Hamm, Chauffeur Norman Hicks, and the pipeman Johnny Watson, Jim Kaiser (Big Jim), and Steve Malone (T-Bone).
We worked 24 hours on, 24 hours off, and 24 hours on again. Then there was a debit day (pay back day) of 24 hours every month or so, and you would come in on a different shift and fill in somewhere else in the city. Where you filled in depended on where the staffing shortages were. Shift change was at 6:30 am every morning. You could pick up extra work by riding for other fireman that needed off and you would get paid cash. I did that a lot and, by working for others on my days off, got to work in most of the fire stations in the city with other crews. When you came on, if the crew you were relieving was at a fire, you loaded up and relieved them at the location.
First thing in the morning, every morning, you checked and washed all of the apparatus. Then you swept, mopped, cleaned the bathrooms, and basically cleaned the whole station. You went to the store for groceries and helped make breakfast. Later you would go again and get groceries for dinner. In the old days, one person would go to the store in their personal vehicle and the rest stayed to respond to calls. We rode 3 man crews a lot then. If you were at a station with an ambulance, the ambulance crew ate first, always. You fed the Chief first, also, out of respect. The ambulance crew were fed quickly because you never knew when an ambulance call would come in.
Fire stations always fly the American flag and you made sure they were taken down in the rain and at night. Flags were handled with utmost respect and I remember a lot of patriotism and pride in the fire department.
When the Chief would get a call to respond out of district and the rest of us stayed behind, we always ran out to get the Keymap and help the Chief find the address on the map. We would start his engine and hit the button on the Mast unit that showed he had received the call.
The pipemen would take turns taking watch. That meant that one of you slept in the watch room that is situated on the apparatus floor or at the front of the fire station. The watchman's job was to answer the station phone during the night, respond to the front door when a citizen ("a walk-in") came to the station for help. The dispatch radio and other communications were in the watch room. There was always a bed and you were allowed to sleep but you had to be alert enough to handle the station business during the night. Also, there was always a television in there. Sometimes, during the night, a run would not come out over the station speakers and dispatch would call the station with the run information. You had to write it down and alert the crew about the run. Then you had to make sure they got up to take the run.
When a run came in, there was always a "click" first. That click was when dispatch would open the speakers to your station. Click first, then all of the light would automatically come on in the station. Then a man's voice would recite the run information.
It would go something like this:
"Ambulance 26, Engine 26...man down...7111 Dixie Drive...Key Map 534V..."Victor". Then he would repeat it again. HFD used the same men to dispatch the runs, day after day, year after year, that I can still hear their voices dispatching calls such as "Assist the Citizen", "A Sick Call", "A Shooting", "An MVA", "House on Fire", "Building Fire", "Unknown Problem", "911 Hang-up", "Officer Down", "Smoke in the Residence", "Auto-pedestrian Accident", "Grass Fire", "A Fall", "A Drowning",...I hear the click of the speakers opening, and then a familiar voice dispatching the call. Now, it is all automated and I found the computer voice was hard to understand with unfamiliar pronunciations of street names. We were forever calling dispatch to ask about the location data so we could hear it from a decipherable human. If it was an assault call, or anything else that was dangerous, the dispatcher always said, "Be advised, HPD is enroute." That meant that they were not on location and that the scene was NOT secure. If it was a sick call, and the person has apneic and pulseless, they would add "CPR in progress", if the bystanders had intervened.