1915-02-08sk

“Old ‘Jim’ has answered his last alarm. A fire horse for almost a century, Jim’s days of usefulness are over and now he is to be killed.”

Hamilton Spectator.     February 8, 1915.

The time had come for the Hamilton’s Fire Department’s oldest horse to be put down, after twenty-years of service, Jim’s health was deteriorating and a decision was made:

“Rather than have him end his days in ignoble servitude upon a farm or hauling a junk wagon, Jim is to be sent, via the poison route, to wherever it is all good fire horses go when they die.

“Sometime this week, Dr. W. E. Baker, a veterinary surgeon of the fire department, will inject strychnine into Jim’s jugular vein, thus paralyzing heart action and causing instant and painless death.”¹

¹  “Hamilton Spectator.         February 8, 1915.

Certainly, the Hamilton Fire Department had owned many fine horses over the years, and in 1915, still had some on duty, but Jim was a very special case:

“No ordinary fire horse, Jim. In his day, he was a thoroughbred, and his record is writ large in the annals of the fire department. He has been a member of the department for 22 years, and was the favorite horse of the late Fire Chief Aitchison.

“Chief Aitchison, it will be remembered, was killed at King and John streets by crashing into the monument of Sir John Macdonald. The monument was then in the middle of the street. It has since been removed to that part of the Gore which fronts the post office.

“On that particular occasion, the department had been called out to fight a grass fire, but nobody knew that. It would have made no difference if they did.

“There are many people in Hamilton who remember Jim and the days when Chief Aitchison drove him. Say Jim was quietly nibbling hay in the fire house when an alarm came in. As keen to answer an alarm as any fireman, he was in the right place at once, the harness was dropped on him, and a few seconds later, he was tearing down the street shattering all speed records.

“Holding the reins in one hand, Chief Aitchison would shout to Jim as they went dashing down the street : ‘Come on, boy, come on Jim.’ Not that Jim needed any urging. His heart was bent on getting to that fire and he pounded along with every nerve and muscle straining.”¹

After the fatal accident which occurred on April 5, 1905, another, younger, horse, was chosen by Chief Ten Eyck, Chief Aitchison’s successor. Jim was transferred to pulling an engine:

“Later – bitter moment! – Jim was assigned to the coal wagon.

“For the last month or so, he has hardly answered an alarm. He is at the Sanford  avenue fire station today, waiting patiently for his last call.

“In these days of automobile fire apparatus, Jim probably feels more or less out of place, and probably death would not be unwelcome to him.”¹

Although very old, in horse years, Jim’s health was not too bad, and the usual fire department policy would have meant that he would be sold to the highest bidder, who might get a few ears work out of him.

However, Jim would not suffer the ignominy of some menial job, perhaps suffering from some abusive owner :

“’ We will not sell him,’ said Chief Ten Eyck today, ‘you can bet on that. I’d buy him myself before it came to that that.’ ”¹

Soon, Dr. Baker and his strychnine would arrive at the Sanford Avenue station and Jim would pass away, quietly and with dignity.

 

Jim and Chief Aitchison en route to a fire