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| Image has been altered wtih photoshop. Not an actual ghost photo. |
| Image has been altered wtih photoshop. Not an actual ghost photo. |
| Chapter Excerpt From More Ghosts in the 'Ville: Continued Tales of the Unexplained in Riegelsville, PA by Jeffrey A. Wargo. Text and Photos are Copyright 2007 by Jeffrey A. Wargo All Rights Reserved. Used With Permission. It is illegal to reproduce, republish or copy this text without the permission of the author. |
CHAPTER 4: Eternal Brotherhood The brotherhood began in 1735, when Benjamin Franklin founded the first volunteer fire department in the American colonies in nearby Philadelphia. Old Benjamin realized that fires started too easily and spread too rapidly and there was a need for companies of volunteers to be at the ready in order to put out the damaging flames. For over fifty years, there had already been bucket brigades at work in the colonies, having started out near Boston, Massachusetts, in 1680. Now an organized fire service was being established. Two and a half centuries later, in 1929, the small borough of Riegelsville chartered its volunteer Community Fire Company #1, christened as Station 42. Since that time, the brotherhood has worked hard in the borough and surrounding areas to protect both citizens and their property. Many a man has worn the turnout gear of Station 42 and put himself in harm’ s way. Training for long hours, rushing at the sound of a late night alarm, or sharing in camaraderie and fellowship, the fire volunteers are always on call and diligent in their service. One must wonder what happens when this mortal life ends and the soul of a fireman is set free from its physical constraints. Does it still jump and feel the rush of adrenalin that often accompanies the sound of the fire siren? One former fireman, now retired, shared a bit of insight on this question. He said, “When I was active in the company, every time that alarm would ring, I would find myself putting on my turnout gear and thinking about all the other firemen who had gone before me in this life—whose spirits now surrounded me.” If one spends some time listening to the ghostly stories of Riegelsville’s Fighting Forty Second, they will find that sentiment is eerily too true. Simply ask the firemen about Howie. Howie Pursell served the Fighting Forty Second for almost twenty years before his death in the early 1990s. Those who knew him describe him as a “gentle giant of a man,” with dark hair, a moustache, and a beard. Others remember him as a guy with a great sense of humor who was kind of a prankster around the engine house. Many think his spirit is still there, watching over his brothers and continuing his jokes from a ghostly realm. When Howie’s untimely death occurred, the Coroner was summoned but, before he could arrive, the rescue squad was already on scene. They had to force open the door of the room where Howie’s body lay because he had fallen against the door. As they were removing his remains from the house, the Coroner arrived and, in what is perhaps a morbid fact around this unfortunate firefighter’s death, he told the squad to take the dead man’s body back inside the house and place it where they found it so that he could do his investigation. Maybe this didn’t sit too well with Howie’s spirit. Maybe it was just one more joke he got to play. Sometime after the death of their brother in service, the Fighting 42nd were called out to a fire on a hot summer night, but, unfortunately for him, one of its members arrived just after the trucks had left. As they blazed out of sight with the sirens roaring, a silence settled over the empty firehouse and this lone firefighter went into the communications area that sits off the engine room to wait for their return. There, in the mostly dark building, he was startled to suddenly hear the sound of the overhead doors closing and someone walking across the metal drainage grates at the front of the truck bay. Looking out, he saw the door still standing open and no one there. A few moments later he heard the scraping sounds made when cardboard is placed under the trucks at the end of a run. Again, no one could be seen. Meanwhile, a few miles or so away from the station, the trucks hadn’t gotten very far before they were recalled and began the drive back to the engine house. They weren’t gone very long. Yet, upon returning, they found their late arrival sitting in a chair and leaning up against the outside of the building. When asked why he was there, he reportedly commented, “I’m not going back in there alone.” Could it be that this lone fireman experienced what many have reportedly seen and heard? Indeed, other firemen and auxiliary women have also been startled by sounds that rip through the fabric of silence in the building. The most common disturbance is that reported by the solitary firefighter left behind in the dark of night--the noise of someone walking over the metal grates that line the front of the engine room. Several folks recollect having heard this sound when they were alone. One of them reportedly ran out into the engine house thinking that another fireman had arrived and was chilled to discover that no one was there. He had brushed against the unexplainable ghost of Station 42. Not surprisingly, ghostly footsteps have also been heard in other parts of the firehouse. In fact, several firemen tell tales of being in the bathroom and hearing disembodied footsteps walk about the stalls while they were the only living souls in the space. Others allege hearing those same heavy steps coming down the staircase from the second floor. The fire chief tells one such story. He recalls an occasion when, after a late night fire call, all the men were gathered in the communications room talking and debriefing. He was standing in the doorway with his son when, in the midst of the conversations, footsteps began to echo in the stairway on the east side of the building. Continuing in a very regular pattern, the sounds then turned and came up the hallway as if someone was walking toward the room in which everyone was gathered. Leaning back, and looking down the hall toward where the noises seemed to originate, the fire chief and his son both saw nothing. “It must be Howie,” the chief thought aloud. If indeed it is Howie Pursell’s ghost who continues to answer the call of duty at the firehouse, he still engages in many of the routine procedures with which he was familiar in life. Several firemen report having heard the sounds of cardboard being shifted around under the trucks, which sit in readiness for their next call. The cardboard is used to catch the oil that drips from the undercarriage of the vehicles and the scraping noise of the cardboard is distinct and cannot be mistaken. Many have heard the sound and come into the engine house only to find that they were the only ones there. Even more disturbing, some firemen reportedly have heard this scraping noise coming from under the very truck in which they were sitting when clearly no one was about and the cardboard hadn’t moved! It is possible that Howie still performs truck inspections too. At least it would seem that way to those who have heard the sound of hatches opening and closing on the fire engine and rescue vehicle while no one else was in the engine house. And then there are the doors… Similar to the stories told by many people living with ghosts, the fire company shares the experience of having doors open and close on their own—except on a larger scale. The bay doors on the engine house have been known to go up and down without anyone apparently pushing the buttons to move them. Perhaps even more startling, however, are the personal stories of close encounters with Howie’s spirit. One man, who knew Howie very well, remembers a day when he was at the firehouse sometime after the death of his brother in service. He was in the engine room with another guy and they were working at changing a light bulb near the fax machine at the front of the room. Suddenly, Howie’s voice came over the plectron speaker saying, “Get Out!” Though Howie was always known as a jokester in life, this guy definitely was not laughing. On another occasion, two women from the auxiliary were in the station’s kitchen preparing vegetables for one of its many dinners. As they stood talking and chopping, they were startled to hear footsteps coming from the front hallway at the east end of the building, moving toward the kitchen door, and entering the room. Looking up, they suddenly became aware that they were staring at the ghostly apparition of Howie walking right toward them. As they stood transfixed, it was almost as if he realized that he wasn’ t alone and he backed up quickly, moving away and out into the front hallway again. To this day, some firemen refuse to be in the engine house alone at night. Some townspeople even question how anyone could be in there alone. But one fireman expressed the sentiment of many of his brothers in this way, “It doesn’t feel like [Howie] is here to hurt us. It feels like he is still one of our brothers; like he’s watchin’ our backs.” Such is the eternal bond among brothers in service. |
| The first fire engine in Riegelsville... Photo taken from the 1976 Riegelsville Calendar |
