Robertsdale Firemen: Stories of Old Stations and Big Tournaments

 John Hmurovic
October 2022

Nothing about this was easy, especially for the horses. It was their job to pull the wagon. That wagon was heavy, loaded with men and equipment. The distance they had to travel was five miles. Most of us know what it’s like to walk on a sandy beach. So, it’s easy to understand how tough this was for the horses, because the dirt road they had to travel had a generous layer of sand. Finally, add this to the picture: The men on the wagon were in a hurry, a big hurry. They had a job to do. They were firefighters, and there was a fire in Robertsdale. The fire was outside of Whiting, and Robertsdale did not have its own fire department. The only hope to save the structure was the Hammond Fire Department, and it was the job of their horses to get them there…and fast.   

That’s how it was in the early 1890s. The northern boundary of Hammond was Gostlin Street. Robertsdale was a sparsely populated community five miles to the north and much closer to Whiting than to Hammond. But Whiting wasn’t a city yet. It had no formal leadership. Hammond was a city, and its leaders were anxious to gobble up any land they could get. They especially wanted Robertsdale.

What Hammond really wanted was water. The young, growing city depended on wells for its water supply, but those were running dry. If it was going to serve its residents, and if it wanted to continue to grow, it needed a new water supply. Just five miles north was Lake Michigan. The solution was to annex Robertsdale, even if the people of Robertsdale didn’t want to become a part of Hammond. Some didn’t. In 1893, a long legal battle to annex Robertsdale began. To win over Robertsdale residents, Hammond city officials had to prove that they could provide two basic services: police and fire protection.       

Sheffield Avenue was the only road connecting Robertsdale with Hammond at that time. But it quickly became clear that even the strongest and fastest of horses could not be counted on to travel that far over such a difficult road in the time needed to put out a fire. If the city government of Hammond wanted to provide better fire protection in Robertsdale, they needed a fire station there.

The Robertsdale Fire Department was born in 1895. Eight charter members formed a volunteer fire department at a meeting in the basement of the Charles Stross home on Roberts Avenue. Hammond City Alderman Richard Schaaf took the lead from there. He asked the city council to buy a lot on the northwest corner of Indiana Boulevard (now called Indianapolis Boulevard) and Harrison Avenue (now Myrtle Avenue). It took some convincing. There was still an on-going legal battle to stop Hammond from annexing Robertsdale. Why take a chance, some aldermen asked, on buying property that may not end up being in Hammond? And, some added, why not buy a cheaper lot in a less desirable location?

Indianapolis Boulevard and Harrison Avenue was prime real estate at the time. Robertsdale had just a handful of people. Most of the land between Indiana Boulevard and the state line was undeveloped. Most of Robertsdale’s population was on Indiana Boulevard and on Roberts and Harrison Avenues. The corner of the Boulevard and Harrison was the heart of Robertsdale.

Schaaf won over a majority, and by 1896 a fire station went up at what is now 1730 Indianapolis Boulevard, currently the home of the Chinese restaurant, King Chop Suey. The volunteer fire department consisted of twenty men. The original building had a tower, which was common in fire stations of the late 19th century. Firemen sat in those towers and kept a watch for fires.

But even before the station was built, Robertsdale’s first firemen were on the job. Schaff managed to get them hoses, a wagon, and other equipment, as well as a shed where it could be stored. They were quickly put to work, fighting their first fire on October 25, 1895, after someone tossed hot ashes into grass and weeds behind a row of houses on Harrison. It was good practice for November 3, 1895, when a series of prairie fires threatened Robertsdale and Whiting. Since most of the land in the area was vacant, prairie fires were a concern, especially in dry weather. The fires of November 1895 came from the south and quickly threatened houses on Pearl Street. Whiting and Standard Oil fire crews helped the Robertsdale firemen, as did Robertsdale residents who arrived on the scene with buckets of water.

All of Robertsdale’s early firemen were volunteers. They did get paid 25-cents an hour for each fire they fought, but they had to raise money to pay for some supplies. They held dances and picnics which were well attended. They won over the public with their parades down Robertsdale streets, and by hosting bicycle races at a time when bicycles were hugely popular. They also had a baseball team which took on such opponents at the Wolf Lake ballfield as the corn processing plant’s team, known as the Glucose Boys.

But nothing won them more public support and helped raise more money, than the firemen’s tournaments in the 1900s. The tournaments were a big deal across the Midwest. Iowa and Illinois had statewide tournaments where firefighters from 150 towns competed.

The first one in Northwest Indiana was organized by the Northern Indiana Volunteer Firemen’s Association. It was the idea of Ed Simon of Hobart, so when the first tournament was held in 1905, it took place in Hobart. It did better than anyone dreamt, drawing a crowd of 4,000.

At the heart of the tournament were races between the volunteer firemen, but the day was more than that. This was a time when high school sports were not well organized yet and did not provide the kind of community pride that they later did. In the early 1900s, the volunteer firemen’s tournaments filled that need. Here were your boys, your athletes, facing off against those from other communities. So, when each annual tourney was held, people would flock to the site of the competition to root on their hometown heroes. Hundreds of residents from Robertsdale and Whiting attended each tournament.

In 1906, teams from Robertsdale, Whiting, East Chicago, Indiana Harbor, Crown Point, Lowell, Hobart, and Valparaiso attended the tourney in East Chicago, each accompanied by droves of fans. Each group was there to root on “our guys, versus their guys.” It was like the Olympics on a local level, and the atmosphere was like a big party. The hosting town would usually decorate, encouraging residents to drape their homes with bunting and to fly flags. Businesses would do the same. The streets were lined with people. In election years, people joked that politicians working the crowds outnumbered firemen.   

The first major event of the tournament was a parade, led by the top band in the host community. One by one, competing teams marched down the street behind the band. Just like in Olympic opening ceremonies, all eyes were on what they wore. The firemen spent a year raising money for their uniforms, and those uniforms were worn to impress, because there was prize money given to the team judged to have the best uniforms. During the day there were booths selling food for picnics, and events such as baseball games and hot air balloons to entertain the crowd. At night there was music and dancing, and fireworks. The fun lasted to midnight.

In between, after lunch, were the main events. These included the Hook and Ladder Race, “probably the most interesting of all the contests,” said a writer for the Lake County Times. Each team consisted of twenty men. A pistol shot signaled the start of the race against the clock. The men pulled a hook and ladder wagon 100 yards. They came to a stop, pulled out their ladder, lifted it in the air, and while four men held it, another man climbed to the top. The stopwatch ran until his hand touched the top rung.

There was also the Champion Dry Hose Run, where a team would pull the hose cart several hundred yards, unreel a certain amount of hose, couple it to a hydrant, screw on the nozzle, then take out a joint and reverse it. Once again, all of it was timed.

Robertsdale caught “tournament fever” that year, with second place finishes in both the Dry Hose Run and the Hook and Ladder Race, winning a total of 25-dollars in prize money for those achievements. They set a goal of doing better in 1907. The first step was to increase the number of firemen from 18 to 28. Why? It wasn’t primarily to protect Robertsdale from fires. As Fire Chief C.F. Elliott said, “We want more young men so we can make a better showing at the annual volunteer firemen’s association tournament, and at the same time be a great benefit to the town.”

The Robertsdale team was a common sight on local streets throughout the first half of 1907. The far north end of Lake Avenue, near the Hammond lakefront, was their primary training area. Almost every night they held practice runs. Beach-goers, on their way to the lake, stopped to watch the drills.

In the 1907 tournament, held in Valparaiso, Robertsdale was the talk of the town. “Probably no team surprised the crowds as did the little aggregation from Robertsdale,” the reporter from the Lake County Times wrote. “The men have been practicing faithfully and showed their steel yesterday by practically winning the meet, getting three firsts and two seconds.” They took home championship banners and the coveted aluminum fire hat, a traveling trophy held for a year by the team that won the Dry Hose Race.  “On the train coming back from Valparaiso,” the reporter wrote, “were about 150 Robertsdale people and the noise they made was never equaled by any aggregation of college football players.”

No one knew it then, but 1907 was the high point for the Northern Indiana Volunteer Firemen’s Association tournament. There were high hopes for the 1908 tournament, held in Crown Point, but once the day of the event ended, the main word used to describe it was “disaster.”

The weather was horrible. It was “terrifically hot and the people who stood around suffered considerably.” Even worse for the event organizers, many teams simply did not show up. At the start of the day there were just three teams marching in the opening parade: host team Crown Point, and visiting teams Whiting, and Robertsdale. Soon, there would be just two.

 Just before the parade, each team member had to answer a roll call. There was a reason for that. A prize was always awarded to the team that had the highest percentage of its members present. When the roll was called for the Whiting team, someone said present when the name “Garrett Eustace” was called, but Mr. Eustace was not present. The Whiting team may have gotten away with that if they were competing against anyone but Robertsdale. But every Robertsdale fireman knew every Whiting fireman, and vice versa. The Robertsdale team protested, because that one “present” response on the roll call meant the difference between Whiting or Robertsdale winning the attendance prize.

While the parade was in progress, the judges accepted the Robertsdale challenge. Furthermore, another set of judges chose Robertsdale the winner in the “Best Appearance” category. The twin loss infuriated the Whiting team. They packed up and went home. The Lake County Times mocked them, saying they were upset because “they went to considerable expense to purchase uniforms and expected to make a killing in the appearance contest. (Instead) Robertsdale won and had only paid something like three dollars for what they wore.” Whiting, the paper said, “packed up its doll rags and went home. They have been “the laughing stock of the entire county ever since.”

The Whiting Democrat newspaper came to the defense of its team, saying it was the Robertsdale protest that angered them, insisting that the person who answered to Eustace being present did it by mistake, and everyone knew it. The paper concluded that the Robertsdale men had been watching the Whiting team practice and knew that the only way they could beat them was to get them disqualified.

That left only Robertsdale and Crown Point to compete in the races. If the lack of teams competing wasn’t bad enough, what happened after the races and into the night sealed the disaster of a day. Robertsdale resident Ella Buehler was only 13 at the time, but she was there, and talked about it in 1932. She described what happened that day as “a riot.” The newspaper accounts at the time said the same. Much of the behavior was blamed on the gallons of liquor that were consumed. Ella Buehler remembers there being tension between the Robertsdale and Crown Point men. “An argument arose, fists flew, and when it was over the constable at Crown Point was nursing a black eye which had been administered by Henry Eggers in his team’s defense, and who had not recognized the constable in plain clothes.” Eggers had to pay a $9.99 fine. The firemen took up a collection to help him cover the penalty.

But that wasn’t the only fight. “Crown Point resembled a border town,” the Lake County Times said. “Police had to deal with unruly crowds during the day and averted several fights. The saloons reaped a harvest during the day. By night, some of the men under the influence started several fights.” The police tried to stop three separate fights taking place on the public square at once. “It is generally conceded,” the paper said, “that this will wind up all contests of this nature in the future.”

That prediction was partially true. There were firemen’s tournaments held in 1909, 1910, and 1911, but Crown Point, the top team in the competition and the host of the 1908 “disaster,” refused to participate again. They also refused to hand over the silver trumpet, the traveling trophy awarded to the winner of the Hook and Ladder Race.

Whiting hosted the event in 1909. The Whiting firemen came away with several wins, enough to declare themselves to be “World Champions,” saying they beat all the teams that they came up against. The last part was true, they were the best at the tournament. But the only teams they came up against in “the world” were Robertsdale, Valparaiso, Hobart, and Lowell.

By 1912, the tournament faded away. Besides lagging interest, the volunteer fire departments were gradually fading away in Northwest Indiana. As early as 1904, the first paid firefighter was hired in Robertsdale. By 1907, the number was up to two, which matched the number of horses. By 1909 there were four full-time firemen.

The growth in the department led to an expansion of the firehouse on Indiana Boulevard in 1909. It doubled in size. Part of the building was given to the police department. The fire department got an extra door from the expansion, so that two fire wagons could leave the building at the same time.

Over time, the station at Indianapolis Boulevard and Myrtle Avenue got old and became expensive to maintain. By 1959, in cold weather, the heating system burned 100 gallons of fuel oil a day. At least $15,000 was needed to remodel the building. The best solution was to build a new station.

There was talk of building it in Roby, but the best option appeared to be Forsythe Square, on the corner of 119th and Warwick Avenue. The National Board of Fire Underwriters, however, recommended a different location, at the corner of 122nd Street and Calumet Avenue, because it was easier for firetrucks to access. The land was owned by the School City of Hammond. They donated it to the city.

In 1960, a contract to build a new station was awarded to a Hammond company for $112,950. It would include a dormitory with 24 beds, and an office for the Hammond police, as well as two jail cells. They called the new firehouse “the most modern in the state.” It opened on September 21, 1961.

The old firehouse at Indianapolis and Myrtle stayed around for a while. No one had plans for it, so in 1962 it was given to the Hammond Parks Department. The plan was to sell it and use the money on recreational facilities in Robertsdale. No one, however, showed any interest in the property.

The $40,000 appraised price dropped to $38,000 in 1963. Still, there was no interest. A banker told the city that he might have a buyer if the appraised price was more reasonable. In 1964, it was dropped to $14,000. The expected offer to buy never came. By 1966, there were concerns that the old, abandoned building had become dangerous. The board heard that someone was interested in buying it for $10,000, but for that to happen the appraised value of $18,000 would first have to be changed. The appraisal was changed to $9,350, but the buyer never materialized.

In 1967, Sam Condes offered to buy it for $7,500. The board accommodated him by dropping the appraised price. He wanted the building as storage for his family’s catering business. But the deal fell through when the Board got greedy. They were told that the land was worth $20,000, if the old building was gone. They turned down the Condes offer and spent $3,300 in late 1967 to tear down the building.

Even with the building gone, there was no interest in the land. There was talk about building a mini-park there for little children, but the Park Board said the site was too small, and had concerns about the 90,000 vehicles a day passing the proposed play area. Late in 1968, Wanda Dudzik bid $7,500 for the property, the same amount Condes offered a year earlier. He was no longer interested because he wanted the building. Her bid was the only one received. It was accepted.

Even then the debate dragged on. City Councilman Paul Duncanson said the Parks Department sold it too cheap. He said he would have paid $22,000 for the land if he knew it was available. He criticized the board for not properly advertising its sale. Within a short time, a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant was built on the site. Their building still stands and is being used by King Chop Suey for their restaurant.

Meanwhile, controversy has also been a part of the new fire station at 122nd and Calumet, just across from Wolf Lake. Less than a year after it opened, strong winds off the lake blew away a third of the tar paper covering the roof. Ten years after it opened, Fire Chief Ben Micaw called the place a “muck hole.” He said it was built on soft ground and was sinking. The floor in the room where the fire trucks were kept had sunk three or four inches, which in turn damaged plumbing and electrical wiring. Windows also needed to be replaced, the air conditioning needed to be fixed, and the jail cells needed refurbishing. In 1982, during a bitter January, temperatures inside the station dropped to twenty degrees. The firehouse doors could not keep out the snow, which piled up inside the building by the fire trucks.

In 2022, the city is trying to build a new station. If the plans materialize, the current station will be demolished. A new one would be built a short distance south, at 2405 Calumet Avenue, at the spot where the recently demolished Environmental Education Center stood.