By Jim Schlosser, Staff writer, News and Record, Mon Oct 20, 1986

 

Herman’s ears – one from a collie, the other from a Dalmatian- snapped to attention. Something was stirring in the firehouse. Herman though, was out of position in the backyard. 

 

“Watch him and see what happens” yelled a firefighter scurrying aboard the yellow engine

 

When driver Buddy Lamar sounded the siren Herman bolted toward the front of the building, barking wildly. But the 14 year old mutt couldn’t catch up.

 

The engine was already on Westover Terrace and hurrying away, lights flashing, siren screaming. The meal of salmon cakes, potatoes and peas that Capt R.F. Page had just cooked simmered uneaten in the kitchen.

 

Meet the only fire dog in the Greensboro Fire Department, an animal that goes bonkers every time his masters fire up the engine at Station 6.

 

Unlike fire dogs of yesteryear, Herman doesn’t ride to calls. But he gives firefighters a noisy sendoff by barking and running in circles as he chases the truck to the edge of Westover Terrace.

 

Never mind that the engine he loves so much has run over him twice in the confusion.

 

Appropriately, this senior-citizen canine is stationed at the city’s oldest fire station.

 

The fire department plans to vacate Station 6 in the next two to five years and build a new station that will consolidate No. 6 and No. 5 a 1960s era firehouse on Friendly Ave at Sunset Hills.

 

Station 6 is not exactly an antique, but its years are showing. It opened in 1948, the city’s first real suburban station. Back then, it was out in the sticks. Westover Terrace dead-ended a block north. Cows grazed in a field behind the dead end barricade.

 

The new station had a 1927 wire-wheeled chain driven truck that kids in Westover Terrace Apartments marveled at when it sped by. Even then, the engine seemed ancient compared to the big new models at Central Station downtown.

 

The old engine is now on display at Greensboro Country Park though there’s a move among firefighters to get it running again. 

 

The old engine was perfect for the narrow bays of No 6. Modern fire trucks barely can squeeze through the doors “You have about a 1-inch clearance,” Lamar says. Tire marks along the sides of the doors attest to previous close calls.

 

A round fire bell on the wall is a reminder of the old days. Today, a central dispatcher alerts the station over an intercom. The firefighters have rigged the old bell as a doorbell. The clang, clang, clang scares the daylights out of visitors, who think they have arrived at the moment of a fire call.

 

Life is cozy at Station 6, which has just one truck and four firefighters, who relax on a side porch and watch the traffic go by on Westover Terrace.

 

They have Herman, too. He isn’t a purebred firehouse Dalmatian, but his spotted right ear gives him legitimacy.

 

“Somebody brought him here about 11 or 12 years ago so the dogcatcher could pick him up,” Page says. “But the dogcatcher never showed up. So Herman just stayed.”