This column originally appeared in The News (a renamed version of The News Messenger for a brief period in the early 1990s).
Blacksburg — As you may have heard, the circus was recently in town, the Clyde Beatty-Cole Brothers Circus, to be exact, “The World’s Largest Circus Under the Big Top.”
You may have also heard they were looking for an honorary ringmaster for our newspaper’s “family night.” When my editor was tapped for the job a few years ago, she did it with some trepidation. There was no trouble getting a sucker this time.
I think I may have vaulted a desk, flinging our photographer to the side, when I volunteered.
You see, the honorary ringmaster gets to ride an elephant in the opening parade. I don’t know what your goals in life are, but riding in a circus parade certainly fits in with my life ambitions. (Isn’t it amazing that some young woman hasn’t snapped me up yet?)
The honorary ringmaster also welcomes the audience and blows a whistle. Ho-hum. I majored in Broadcasting in college — humiliating me in public is nearly impossible. As the day of the elephant ride approached, I cared about one thing: just point me at that pachyderm!
I considered going for the full Tarzan effect, but couldn’t find my leopard skin g-string. I also suspect my boss would be less than pleased with me representing the paper that way.
The big day arrived at last and I found myself sitting in the bleachers hoping to see a geek bite the head off a chicken or a tattooed woman. No such luck. The wierdest thing they had at the show were two women hanging 20 feet above the ground by their hair.
Exactly how does one discover that talent in life? Perhaps I’m boring, but I don’t recall ever being suspended two-and-a-half stories in the air by a body part.
The big moment was here. I mumbled out a welcome and blew the whistle. Then I, along with the publisher’s daughter, who also rode an elephant, jogged back to where the beasts were waiting.
Wow, big animals. Yes, I know you’ve seen elephants before. But until you are about to fling yourself atop one, you don’t realize they probably could eat your Honda for a snack.
“How do I get on?” I asked one of the handlers.
“The same way you get on your elephant at home,” he said.
“Ha ha,” I said.
To my credit, I did it on the first try, stepping up on the elephant’s knee and flinging my leg over the back of his neck. I may have done it a bit too well, as the elephant stood up as my leg was half-way over. I tugged my way up and tried to maintain my cool.
My friends and co-workers were waiting in the audience. I was not going to blow this: the abuse that I would receive if I did would likely kill a weaker man.
So, my gargantuan friend and I lumbered into the tent.
“This is pretty easy,” I thought. I held onto the harness with one hand, waving to the children in the audience and the occasional surprised story source. I even got cocky enough to check my hair as I saw some friends with a camera.
Then my buddy, my pal, my peanut-snorting amigo saw that the parade was nearly over — and he bagan to hustle for the exit.
When an elephant hustles, believe you me, you HOLD ON.
After the parade, I lingered backstage for a moment, hoping to see a disgruntled clown go on a shooting spree or perhaps a tiger break free and maul a worker.
Now, I sit back and remember the presence that a lumbering elephant commands. Riding one was pretty easy; maybe I should consider getting one for the commute to work.
This is it. This is the Ur story. When I wrote this, back at the News Messenger, it felt significant, that I had finally gotten something. Those first few months working at the paper were a heady period of literally daily improvement, and with this story, I finally had written the sort of feature story I wanted to write. In retrospect, it’s not a particularly amazing piece — I certainly hope my writing has improved since then — but it’s the template for so many of my stories that followed, down to ending my story with a quote, which was the first time I consciously punctuated a story this way. Now, I’m a bit of a dork about listening for that capper quote when I’m interviewing someone, and mark it in my notebook with a star beside it when I hear it. Anyway, this is interesting to me, as a historical reference point, if nothing else.
CHRISTIANSBURG — When Andrew Hawkins was a boy, the whistle at the fire station at Virginia Polytechnic Institute would shriek, and he would run to the station to watch firemen race to the fire. His father was among them.
Many boys hope to be a fireman when they grow up. Hawkins did it.
He began his firefighting career by following in his father’s footsteps. He began working at VPI’s fire department in 1935. Two years later, he joined Christiansburg’s Volunteer Fire Department, and has been with them ever since. He has served as lieutenant and assistant chief of the fire station.
Now, at age 80, he is one of only three members to have served 50 or more continuous years at the fire department and has the longest record of continuous service of any, at 53 years.
The life has agreed with him. He stands over six feet tall and has a handshake men a quarter of his age would envy.
In 1940, he quit VPI and began working as a firefighter for Hercules at the Radford Arsenal, where he worked until his retirement in 1977. He eventually rose to the position of assistant chief there.
What makes a man spend 57 years risking his life for others?
He says all firefighters “want to do something for the community, and to be of service.” He also stuck with it because of the “fellowship” between firefighters..
Christiansburg and the fire department have undergone dramatic changes in those 53 years.
The department originally consisted of one pumper truck operating out of the town’s municipal building. The current building, built in 1976, holds more than 11 vehicles of various descriptions. While the siren on the outside of the fire department still wails to alert volunters of a fire, many of them already know from their scanners or their beepers.
Hawkins admits his life has been a dangerous one.
“Everytime you go out [on a call], there’s danger,” he says. From last December to the end of this November, the department answered about 700 calls, including first aid calls on Interstate 81. All the fire departments in the area also have a mutual aid agreement, so Christiansburg fire trucks can be seen in Riner and Blacksburg as well.
The town of Radford’s fire department is the only one in the area with a paid staff, although Christiansburg does pay its chief. Hawkins expects the entire staff to be paid in a few years, if the town keeps growing at the rate it has.
Hawkins is proud of the fire department he helped build. He stands, looking around the empty station, and smiles. If there were a fire right now, he says, “we’d be ready and out of here just like that.”
The dates of major fires seem to mean less to him than who the fires affected. hawkins can rattle off the major fires of the past five decades without missing a beat.
According to Christiansburg Fire Chief Jim Epperly, “there’s not much he hasn’t seen” and says he uses Hawkins as a source of information on firefighting, noting Hawkins has been fighting fires longer than Epperly has been alive.
Hawkins now serves on the Executive Committee of the Virginia State Firemens’ Association and on the board of trustees for the association’s insurance committee.
The Christiansburg Town Council on December 15 unanimously passed a resolution expressing the town’s appreciation to Hawkins. Mayor Harold Linkous says he wanted to honor Hawkins’ “outstanding” record of service.
After 57 years, Hawkins has spent his entire life fighting fires. If he had to do it over, would he do it all again?
WIthout a moment’s hesitation, he answers.
“Yeah, I sure would.”
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