RETIREMENT
STATION COMMANDER
STEVE HOWRIHANE.
Totnes Rowing Club, Steamer Quay.
Steve, retiring from the Devon & Somerset Fire & Rescue Service after 36 years, joined the old Devon Fire Brigade in 1975 rising through the ranks to become Station Commander in 1988.
Married to Jacky and with two grown up children, Charlotte and James, he has recently become a grandad to baby Eloise.
Steve has attended most of the larger fires in the Totnes area, some of which include
The Cott Inn - East Gate Arch - Westward Shopping Complex - Littlehempston Train Fire - Bridgetown Church - Fore Street Discount Store - Pedlars Pack Bookshop - Kevicc School Classrooms - South Street
More than 100 people attended Totnes Rowing Club's Clubhouse, including members of the town and district councils, senior fire officers, fire control staff, present and retired firefighters from Totnes, Paignton, Buckfastliegh, Dartmouth and Newton Abbott all to wish Steve a happy retirement. After signing the retirement card, guests settled to a quiet evening of good refreshments, good company, speeches and a lot of " I remember when" fire stories.
Master of Ceremonies was Martin Billis and guest speakers were -
Deputy Chief Fire Officer - Neil Gibbins
Group Commander - Robbie Woods
Totnes Mayoress - Cllr Judy Westacott
Chairman - South Hams District Council - Cllr Rufus Gilbert
Married to Jacky and with two grown up children, Charlotte and James, he has recently become a grandad to baby Eloise.
Steve has attended most of the larger fires in the Totnes area, some of which include
The Cott Inn - East Gate Arch - Westward Shopping Complex - Littlehempston Train Fire - Bridgetown Church - Fore Street Discount Store - Pedlars Pack Bookshop - Kevicc School Classrooms - South Street
More than 100 people attended Totnes Rowing Club's Clubhouse, including members of the town and district councils, senior fire officers, fire control staff, present and retired firefighters from Totnes, Paignton, Buckfastliegh, Dartmouth and Newton Abbott all to wish Steve a happy retirement. After signing the retirement card, guests settled to a quiet evening of good refreshments, good company, speeches and a lot of " I remember when" fire stories.
Master of Ceremonies was Martin Billis and guest speakers were -
Deputy Chief Fire Officer - Neil Gibbins
Group Commander - Robbie Woods
Totnes Mayoress - Cllr Judy Westacott
Chairman - South Hams District Council - Cllr Rufus Gilbert
Steve with council dignitaries
L - R Cllr Rufus Gilbert - Steve - Mayoress Cllr Judy Westacott - Cllr Robert Vint ( Deputy Mayor )
Picture taken on the balcony of Totnes Rowing Club
Picture taken on the balcony of Totnes Rowing Club
Deputy Chief Fire Officer Neil Gibbins & Mrs Gibbins
The deputy chief led the fire service tributes and presentations.
A good crowd for the evening
Guests enjoying a relaxed evening with plenty of food and drink.
Steve with his wife Jacky and daughter Charlotte at the start of the party. His son James and his family arrived later.
MEET THE THE NEW STATION COMMANDER - 31 TOTNES
WATCH MANAGER ROGER WILLIAMS
Roger, who is also a wholetime Watch Manager at our nearest neighbour, Paignton Fire Station, went head to head in the promotion exams for Station Commander at Totnes with WM Martin Billis. After a very closely fought contest Roger won the day. Living in Totnes, Roger has two young children and is a keen sportsman.
Roger in the yard at Totnes
DANNY COULSTON
Dan served as a fire fighter at Totnes station in the mid eighties, after doing his basic training at Devon's training school in Plymouth. Dan attended several incidents during his time at Totnes, including the Westward Shopping Arcade fire on the plains.
After Dan saw the this website he has sent his own photos, poems and memories to me so I can share them here.
Dan sitting in the burnt out cab of a lorry on Brutus Bridge Totnes.
Hosereel in hand and looking like he's really enjoying himself.
The following text is in Dan's own words explaining the photos.
The picture above (Ladder Testing on Drill Night) was taken by the Dartington
Hall Student (do you remember him?) who came along regularly at least for one
Summer, and took loads of photos in black & white for a project he was
doing at the college.
I don’t remember his name. But, shortly after I left, I happened to come back for one drill night, I think to give out copies of photos of the Westward Shopping Centre fire. This lad happened to be there also that night, and had a book full of hundreds of negatives, some of which he had chosen to print. He let me buy this print off him, and I was very pleased to have such an un-posed photo of myself, Stan Hannaford, Geoff Gell and Kevin Hoare. When he took it, we were so used to him being around that we didn’t even notice him, as we gazed up the ladder at Gary Throgmorton, who was sliding off the rungs and landing heavily on the next, to test that they were in good order.
I don’t remember his name. But, shortly after I left, I happened to come back for one drill night, I think to give out copies of photos of the Westward Shopping Centre fire. This lad happened to be there also that night, and had a book full of hundreds of negatives, some of which he had chosen to print. He let me buy this print off him, and I was very pleased to have such an un-posed photo of myself, Stan Hannaford, Geoff Gell and Kevin Hoare. When he took it, we were so used to him being around that we didn’t even notice him, as we gazed up the ladder at Gary Throgmorton, who was sliding off the rungs and landing heavily on the next, to test that they were in good order.
I do remember him, he was around the station for several months just taking photographs for his degree. I wish I had those photos now.
Ossy
Ossy
ABOVE
The British Legion Rememberance Parade passing Totnes Mayor and Town Councillors on the Plains with the Fire Station Guard of Honour at the front.
Guard of Honour L/R
Station Officer Tony Bowhay - Dan Coulston - Mark Rowe - Steve Mason - Steve Howrihane - Gary Throgmorton - Nigel Holmes.
ALL CUTTINGS COME FROM UNKNOWN LOCAL NEWSPAPERS
The British Legion Rememberance Parade passing Totnes Mayor and Town Councillors on the Plains with the Fire Station Guard of Honour at the front.
Guard of Honour L/R
Station Officer Tony Bowhay - Dan Coulston - Mark Rowe - Steve Mason - Steve Howrihane - Gary Throgmorton - Nigel Holmes.
ALL CUTTINGS COME FROM UNKNOWN LOCAL NEWSPAPERS
ABOVE
The article says it all.
The fire fighters L/R
Leading Fire fighter Mike Chew (Station 22 Buckfastleigh) - Sub Officer Dave Fisher - FF Niall Osman - FF Dan Coulston
The article says it all.
The fire fighters L/R
Leading Fire fighter Mike Chew (Station 22 Buckfastleigh) - Sub Officer Dave Fisher - FF Niall Osman - FF Dan Coulston
The one about Frankie McVitie (ABOVE) needs explanation. We went to a fire at a barn up on the moors,
I think it was Holne? We made a
reservoir out of ladders and a tarpaulin.
A hose-layer arrived from Torquay, and two guys ran out the hose to
fight the fire with.
One of the guys was McVitie, he was broad Irish! His mate was driving the hose-layer when they were getting ready to go back, having finished the job. McVitie was directing the van back and forth, as his mate tried to turn it in the narrow lane. To listen to him shouting increasingly agitated commands in excited Irish to his mate, as I did, was hilarious to behold! Sometime later, I saw this in the Daily Mail and am absolutely certain it is the same guy as I remembered his distinctive name, and face. From my records, I think the fire was “Barn Fire. 5000 bales. Statiscombe Farm, Holne.” And this was 22-23 July 1987.
Dan
They call him hero in the article, they are not wrong. Ossy
One of the guys was McVitie, he was broad Irish! His mate was driving the hose-layer when they were getting ready to go back, having finished the job. McVitie was directing the van back and forth, as his mate tried to turn it in the narrow lane. To listen to him shouting increasingly agitated commands in excited Irish to his mate, as I did, was hilarious to behold! Sometime later, I saw this in the Daily Mail and am absolutely certain it is the same guy as I remembered his distinctive name, and face. From my records, I think the fire was “Barn Fire. 5000 bales. Statiscombe Farm, Holne.” And this was 22-23 July 1987.
Dan
They call him hero in the article, they are not wrong. Ossy
ABOVE
All these photos are of the same Lorry Fire that happened on Brutus Bridge one morning. As you will see, they were all taken by my dad, who happened to be around with his camera!
I am certain that at least one of the photos (of Tony Bowhay stood near the cab) went into the Totnes Times.
Dan
All these photos are of the same Lorry Fire that happened on Brutus Bridge one morning. As you will see, they were all taken by my dad, who happened to be around with his camera!
I am certain that at least one of the photos (of Tony Bowhay stood near the cab) went into the Totnes Times.
Dan
ABOVE (2)
Basic Training at Brigade Training School Plympton.
L/R
Dan Coulston - Kevin Hoare - Goodchild? - Gary Throgmorton
Have you ever seen such a line-up of ‘types’, as this photo shows of us at Plympton?!!! Why should England tremble! To think, we were all that was stood between the continuance of normal life for millions of people in the South West, and disaster! – it makes me sweat, even now! (But it was good fun!).
I don’t think I have ever been thrown into such a time of adventure, as was the norm in the Fire Service, and it was done quite amateurishly. We were doing very serious work, but in a very human way, and I think today, despite all the ‘advances’ and sophistication, there is something missing now that we had. Will future generations have so many lovely memories of character and things that went wrong, or will they all be sat in their perfect houses, remembering how perfect everything always was? Surely, we thrive on fun, and if things are too regulated and perfect, we are only robots performing tasks with outcomes based on fore-gone conclusions. Health & Safety, equality, tolerance, diversity, etc., - so perfect, but so un-English, frustratingly sensible, un-manly, initiative-killing, boring, unsatisfying, empty and dead…!
Dan
Basic Training at Brigade Training School Plympton.
L/R
Dan Coulston - Kevin Hoare - Goodchild? - Gary Throgmorton
Have you ever seen such a line-up of ‘types’, as this photo shows of us at Plympton?!!! Why should England tremble! To think, we were all that was stood between the continuance of normal life for millions of people in the South West, and disaster! – it makes me sweat, even now! (But it was good fun!).
I don’t think I have ever been thrown into such a time of adventure, as was the norm in the Fire Service, and it was done quite amateurishly. We were doing very serious work, but in a very human way, and I think today, despite all the ‘advances’ and sophistication, there is something missing now that we had. Will future generations have so many lovely memories of character and things that went wrong, or will they all be sat in their perfect houses, remembering how perfect everything always was? Surely, we thrive on fun, and if things are too regulated and perfect, we are only robots performing tasks with outcomes based on fore-gone conclusions. Health & Safety, equality, tolerance, diversity, etc., - so perfect, but so un-English, frustratingly sensible, un-manly, initiative-killing, boring, unsatisfying, empty and dead…!
Dan
ABOVE (2)
These are the other photos (besides the ones you have already used on the website) of the Westward Shopping Centre fire of 1989, which I took after running down to the plains from the Sorting Office on that April day (my birthday, actually!).
Dan
These are the other photos (besides the ones you have already used on the website) of the Westward Shopping Centre fire of 1989, which I took after running down to the plains from the Sorting Office on that April day (my birthday, actually!).
Dan
POEMS WRITTEN BY A TOTNES FIREMAN
My name is Daniel Coulston and I was a fire-fighter based at Totnes Fire Station from mid-1985 to mid-1988.
These four poems all came about as a result of direct experience during the first year on the job. I was 20 years old.
1. DRILL NIGHT.
Every Thursday evening, from 6 p.m. till 8 p.m. was drill night at the station. I walked down from where I lived nearby, in full uniform, and spent these evenings with my fellow firemen. It was relaxed and busy – there were drills to do (learning how to work as a team), and checks to make of all the equipment on both fire engines. To this day, it is the radio check that I remember the most, phoning in to Control at Exeter, to check that the radios on the engines were working correctly. The sense of responsibility, tinged with fear of making a mistake, gave this procedure an edge that used to thrill me, infact it still does!
Right next to the drill yard was an end-of-terrace house, and I used to feel a great sense of mutual interaction between us and the people living there. I imagined this and on many a Spring and Summer evening, I could feel it in the air. . .
MUTUAL ACQUAINTANCES
Mr Seaford tends his garden in the rain,
Up above, the firemen fight an absent flame,
Mrs Seaford’s making fairy cakes again,
Feeling somehow safe as part of something sane.
Mr Bowhay leaves the wall he leaned upon,
Makes his way across the yard to teach someone,
Someone listens, knowing he knew all along,
Wishing that his mind could make his shoulders strong.
Mr Fisher plays a pun and someone smiles;
From the tower the fields go clearly on for miles,
Someone swallows hard, for all that scenery
Relies on him and trusts in his ability.
On the road the world is ever charging by,
Mrs Seaford slows her hands and gives a sigh –
Mutually they all agree to stop and stare,
Looking round and wond’ring if they’re really there.
Mr Seaford turns his back-door key and stops,
Something good was in today, he wonders what.
Giving up his thoughts, the tea pours from the pot,
- Jolted to reality: it’s piping-hot!
Drills have ceased and in the yard a lone leaf falls,
Somewhere in the distant dusk a starling calls,
All his hopeful melodies resound the walls
Of house and station, waiting in a mutual pause.
20 June 1981
2. FIRE-CALL.
I saw the fire service as a sort of national service, and it didn’t let me down. Being a young man, it was the sense of adventure that made it so exciting, and to be one of only six crew on an engine pulling out of the yard with the two-tones going, and at full revs was fantastic!
Being on a retainer fee (about £700 a year) meant dropping everything you were doing when the ‘bleeper’ went off, and running for your life, often in the middle of the night, getting dressed as you ran down the street! We knew fire-calls as ‘shouts’, and it is amazing how fast you can move with adrenaline, because you want to make first pump! To miss it with no guarantee that the second would be needed, was to fail, miserably!
THE FIREMAN’S DREAM
Here the scene opens, when off through the night,
I run down the street and I turn out of sight;
No time now to endlessly, senselessly sleep,
It’s mind over matter and fast-moving feet.
A deep, profound sadness flows round in my head,
I feel that I’m still at home, tucked-up in bed,
There’s no one to hear me or help me tonight,
My trust goes beyond them – I know I’m all right.
A lean at the corner, an empty main road,
A leap at the fence which I’ll miss when I’m old,
And then to the dimness and peace at the door,
Which lets in the moonlight to shine on the floor.
What is it – a kitchen, a chimney, a barn?
Or is it Home Meadow – a sure false alarm!
There’s rumour in those brief first seconds that lead
To the truth: there’s a field, there’s a fire, there’s a need.
A hush in each voice as the boots fill with feet,
And fire-tunics close round the hearts as they beat,
The bright yellow helmets break into a run,
“Come On!” cries the engine, “Come On Everyone!”
Late is the cold night the engine invades,
And soundless the beacons that blink through the haze.
So eerie the hedgerows that strobe as we pass,
Hypnotically showing their blue leaves, a-flash.
So dread and so awesome the fast, urgent flight,
Through darkness hard-fighting with life-bringing light,
While inside the engine are six waking men,
Not sure they aren’t home in bed – dreaming again.
28 August 1985
I saw the fire service as a sort of national service, and it didn’t let me down. Being a young man, it was the sense of adventure that made it so exciting, and to be one of only six crew on an engine pulling out of the yard with the two-tones going, and at full revs was fantastic!
Being on a retainer fee (about £700 a year) meant dropping everything you were doing when the ‘bleeper’ went off, and running for your life, often in the middle of the night, getting dressed as you ran down the street! We knew fire-calls as ‘shouts’, and it is amazing how fast you can move with adrenaline, because you want to make first pump! To miss it with no guarantee that the second would be needed, was to fail, miserably!
THE FIREMAN’S DREAM
Here the scene opens, when off through the night,
I run down the street and I turn out of sight;
No time now to endlessly, senselessly sleep,
It’s mind over matter and fast-moving feet.
A deep, profound sadness flows round in my head,
I feel that I’m still at home, tucked-up in bed,
There’s no one to hear me or help me tonight,
My trust goes beyond them – I know I’m all right.
A lean at the corner, an empty main road,
A leap at the fence which I’ll miss when I’m old,
And then to the dimness and peace at the door,
Which lets in the moonlight to shine on the floor.
What is it – a kitchen, a chimney, a barn?
Or is it Home Meadow – a sure false alarm!
There’s rumour in those brief first seconds that lead
To the truth: there’s a field, there’s a fire, there’s a need.
A hush in each voice as the boots fill with feet,
And fire-tunics close round the hearts as they beat,
The bright yellow helmets break into a run,
“Come On!” cries the engine, “Come On Everyone!”
Late is the cold night the engine invades,
And soundless the beacons that blink through the haze.
So eerie the hedgerows that strobe as we pass,
Hypnotically showing their blue leaves, a-flash.
So dread and so awesome the fast, urgent flight,
Through darkness hard-fighting with life-bringing light,
While inside the engine are six waking men,
Not sure they aren’t home in bed – dreaming again.
28 August 1985
3. ROAD TRAFFIC ACCIDENT.
That first year, I was plunged one night into the worst experience of an accident I would ever see. I was in my bedroom when the bleeper went off, and just five minutes later I was jumping down from the engine into a scene of desolation. A car with four young people in had lost control and crossed over onto the opposite side of the road, colliding with a coach full of old people. The result was catastrophic. Two young lives lost, another one very nearly, but the fourth one got away, running from the scene, to raise the alarm at a nearby pub where people were enjoying an evening meal.
It seemed an unreality to me; I had never experienced anything like this before, and I hope I will never experience anything like it again. The following morning I woke up imagining it had all been a dream. I wish it had been. However, one young man became a Christian as a result of what happened to him that night, and he is today the minister of a church in Totnes, with a ministry to people in Africa as well. Something good has come out of tragedy, and sometimes it takes a tragedy to wake us up to reality.
ACCIDENT
I woke up in my bed as from a dream,
And pondered all the things that I had seen,
When out there on that road those people died,
And never knew how much their families cried.
A car alive with youth, so full of life,
Comes hurtling through the beam of its own light,
And meets, head on, the hardest draw of breath:
The end of everything outside of death.
Two seconds for the sign to brightly show,
Then impact, and nobody else to know,
The car goes down the road as it collides
With everything it meets along its sides,
Then, smashed and crumpled, torn on every tree,
It lies amid the windy sigh of leaves.
And then a few small moments to respond,
But nothing moves, nor can it live again;
The distance bears the coming of a sound,
Drawn on to where they’re waiting to be found.
24 November 1985
That first year, I was plunged one night into the worst experience of an accident I would ever see. I was in my bedroom when the bleeper went off, and just five minutes later I was jumping down from the engine into a scene of desolation. A car with four young people in had lost control and crossed over onto the opposite side of the road, colliding with a coach full of old people. The result was catastrophic. Two young lives lost, another one very nearly, but the fourth one got away, running from the scene, to raise the alarm at a nearby pub where people were enjoying an evening meal.
It seemed an unreality to me; I had never experienced anything like this before, and I hope I will never experience anything like it again. The following morning I woke up imagining it had all been a dream. I wish it had been. However, one young man became a Christian as a result of what happened to him that night, and he is today the minister of a church in Totnes, with a ministry to people in Africa as well. Something good has come out of tragedy, and sometimes it takes a tragedy to wake us up to reality.
ACCIDENT
I woke up in my bed as from a dream,
And pondered all the things that I had seen,
When out there on that road those people died,
And never knew how much their families cried.
A car alive with youth, so full of life,
Comes hurtling through the beam of its own light,
And meets, head on, the hardest draw of breath:
The end of everything outside of death.
Two seconds for the sign to brightly show,
Then impact, and nobody else to know,
The car goes down the road as it collides
With everything it meets along its sides,
Then, smashed and crumpled, torn on every tree,
It lies amid the windy sigh of leaves.
And then a few small moments to respond,
But nothing moves, nor can it live again;
The distance bears the coming of a sound,
Drawn on to where they’re waiting to be found.
24 November 1985
4. FIRE
“What have we got?” was asked, as we left the station on first pump, “Oh, I heard it’s a chip-pan on fire”. Oh, right. Nothing too much to worry about then! Arriving at Steamer Quay, a considerable number of people were lining the route, and looking very serious at something around the next corner. And then we saw it – half a large cornfield well alight, flames lifting into the hot Summer afternoon air, and threatening nearby houses. It took us by surprise, and I had just been sitting down to dinner, and had not had time to eat anything, so I was already without energy as we ran up the steep field. I have never been so exhausted in my life! At one point I admit I hid in a corner, pretending to tighten a coupling, just to get my breath back! It was close, but the guys were brilliant as usual, and dealt with this potentially catastrophic inferno with the skill of experience, which I lacked.
It reminded me of something, like a world out of control, with a doubt as to whether it could be saved. I think of the future as the Bible reveals it – and I wish for everyone it will have a happy ending.
THE CORNFIELD
People watched the cornfield – well alight,
Burning from the middle to the distant Summer hedgerow,
Flames up fifteen, twenty feet in height,
“Oh,” we thought, “thank God the wind is slow.”
Like the world, it spiralled up in flames,
Out of all control before we came to stop its journey;
It was like a test to see if fire could play its games
And not go out. The people came to see.
In amongst the cornfield fires we fought,
People stood and watched us with their faces full of thought,
Right and Wrong was what the people saw
And they waited, every person with his law
In doubt. He who wins has bought them all.
What a heavy price we had to pay,
In sweat and desperation in the hay,
To show those people what was right today,
Knowing, when they knew, they’d turn away.
As the world ensures its sickening end,
There’s one fire in a cornfield, one in ten,
That they will not be able to put out,
And all those flames will freely rage about.
And all those tragic people will be swayed
To break the gates and happily invade
The blazing cornfield, as they scorn
The goodness being driven from the corn.
The vision faded as the struggle ceased,
I watched some dying embers die away…
The cornfield had its acres filled with peace,
I heard it sigh, and whispered, “Not today…”
And then, with great relief, I walked away.
Copyright: Daniel Coulston
14 September 1985
“What have we got?” was asked, as we left the station on first pump, “Oh, I heard it’s a chip-pan on fire”. Oh, right. Nothing too much to worry about then! Arriving at Steamer Quay, a considerable number of people were lining the route, and looking very serious at something around the next corner. And then we saw it – half a large cornfield well alight, flames lifting into the hot Summer afternoon air, and threatening nearby houses. It took us by surprise, and I had just been sitting down to dinner, and had not had time to eat anything, so I was already without energy as we ran up the steep field. I have never been so exhausted in my life! At one point I admit I hid in a corner, pretending to tighten a coupling, just to get my breath back! It was close, but the guys were brilliant as usual, and dealt with this potentially catastrophic inferno with the skill of experience, which I lacked.
It reminded me of something, like a world out of control, with a doubt as to whether it could be saved. I think of the future as the Bible reveals it – and I wish for everyone it will have a happy ending.
THE CORNFIELD
People watched the cornfield – well alight,
Burning from the middle to the distant Summer hedgerow,
Flames up fifteen, twenty feet in height,
“Oh,” we thought, “thank God the wind is slow.”
Like the world, it spiralled up in flames,
Out of all control before we came to stop its journey;
It was like a test to see if fire could play its games
And not go out. The people came to see.
In amongst the cornfield fires we fought,
People stood and watched us with their faces full of thought,
Right and Wrong was what the people saw
And they waited, every person with his law
In doubt. He who wins has bought them all.
What a heavy price we had to pay,
In sweat and desperation in the hay,
To show those people what was right today,
Knowing, when they knew, they’d turn away.
As the world ensures its sickening end,
There’s one fire in a cornfield, one in ten,
That they will not be able to put out,
And all those flames will freely rage about.
And all those tragic people will be swayed
To break the gates and happily invade
The blazing cornfield, as they scorn
The goodness being driven from the corn.
The vision faded as the struggle ceased,
I watched some dying embers die away…
The cornfield had its acres filled with peace,
I heard it sigh, and whispered, “Not today…”
And then, with great relief, I walked away.
Copyright: Daniel Coulston
14 September 1985