FAUX HISTORY of the Outer Banks: The Fire Brigade Battle that Separated Waves from Salvo
The Fire Brigade Battle that Separated Waves from Salvo
“He who speaks the truth had best keep a fast skiff nearby.”
. . . Old Outer Banks Proverb
One of the great mysteries of the Outer Banks of today is why there are three separate but neighboring communities divided only city limit signs: Rodanthe, Waves and Salvo. Even more perplexing, Rodanthe and Waves were once the same town known as Chicamacomico and Salvo was once Clarks.
Historically, community names on the Outer Banks have been as changeable as dirty shirts. Avon, the largest village south of Nags Head was once three communities: Little Kinnakeet, Big Kennakeet and Scarborotown. (Scarborotown was also known as “Scabbertown,” which will be discussed in the article on Archie Scarborough, the man most responsible for the epithet.) Buxton was known as The Cape and Frisco was originally Trent. Complicating the story, Ashby’s Harbor became Skyco, Whales Head became Corolla, Wash Woods to Deals, and Pennys Hill to Seagull. Only the village of Hatteras has kept its name since inception and the origin thereof is shrouded in mystery.
In spite of the fact that residents of Rodanthe, Waves and Salvo affirm that “nothing of importance every happens here,” this has not always been the case. In 1861, after Federal troops had successfully taken Fort Hatteras, a contingent of Union soldiers marched north to take Chicamacomico. This was as much to protect their northern flank as it was to deny the Confederates the strong hold. The Yankees were welcomed in the community as the Outer Banks were a holdout. North Carolina had joined the Confederacy but the residents of the Outer Banks were hard-core union supporters. This was not been a recent stand but had deep historical roots. It is speculated that people of the isthmus are the most American of Americans because residency was achieved by shipwreck. With each maritime disaster, the area’s population went up and its genealogical ethnic soup thickened. Weather was more of a factor in the population increase and, as many old timers say in jest of their mixed heritage, “my mother’s family was helped ashore by my father’s family.” Escaped slaves were welcomed in the Outer Banks and the intermingling of the family lines made everyone a close relative.
It should be no surprise that the citizens of Chicamacomico were pleased to see Union troops. Their enthusiasm may very well have been heightened because Federal troops had hard money as opposed to the Confederate paper bills which had no value even in the Confederacy. Sale of goods and services to the Union army had the backing of the United States Treasury. Confederate bills had no such guarantee.
The Union forces began building a fortress they named “Like Oak Camp” but before they could complete the breastworks they were attacked by the Confederates. Unable to hold their position they retreated south with a good portion of the residents of Chicamacomico before them. The retreat lasted less than 24 hours before Union forces appeared to bolster the Union line. The Union forces reversed direction and drove Confederates out so fast that the soldiers in gray were forced to take to boats and escape to Roanoke Island. History records this brief skirmish as “The Chicamacomico Races.”
Chicamacomico became a lifesaving station and post office in 1874. But the first postmaster did not like the name Chicamacomico so he changed it “Rodanthe,” a name that stuck because the post office wanted it that way. This did not sit well with the two other hamlets as it pumped federal money into someone else’s community. This animosity would continue well into the next century.
Though the facts are murky, it appears that the unhealed breach between the three communities came in about 1916. Up until that time there was consistent talk of forming one large community that was large enough to attract some manner of industry. This may have started as a pipedream but with the increasing importance of the isthmus because of its geographic location and the coming war, it looked as though this dream may come true. Rather than industry, residents were hopeful that the United States Navy would consider a number of ports along the coastline to protect American shipping into and out of South America.
This dream took a significant step forward when the United States Navy sent a team of surveyors down the isthmus looking for suitable harbor facilities. Pamlico, Albemarle, Core and Currituck sounds were ideal for sheltering ships with shallow drafts but they would need Navy escort if America was drawn into the war. This long-term plan suited the resident of the Outer Banks.
From the Navy’s point of view there were a significant number of problems that had to be overcome. First, entrance and egress from the sounds for large ships could only be affected in three locations: Oregon Inlet, Hatteras Inlet and Ocracoke Inlet. There were already ports in these areas so adding another port at any of these locations was pointless. The Navy was more interested in protection of the cargo fleets after they left the sounds to a base was going to be needed on the Atlantic side of the isthmus. For the sake of logistics, the Navy decided on a location midway between Hatteras Inlet and Oregon Inlet, in the vicinity of the three villages: Rodanthe, Salvo and Waves.
The second problem was sand; there was too much of it under the waves and not enough of it on the beach. Ironically the advance of the Atlantic was achieving contradictory results. Deep ocean currents were grinding rocks, shells and other ocean debris to gravel and thereafter to sand and sweeping it up the submarine mountain side into shallow water which, over the years, made it even shallower. At the same time that the waves were rolling the sand onto the shore, wind and storm was moving the sand over the tops of the dunes, across the isthmus and into Pamlico Sound. Thus the Atlantic coastline was being pummeled by two contradictory forces: the bottom was coming up yet the beach area was diminishing.
This was of a concern to the Navy because it meant that any docking area had to be well out into the Atlantic. This was not a problem in itself because long docks in shallow waters were not difficult to build. What was a problem was facing the reality that any Naval installation would have be built a long way from the end of the dock. The Navy was not interested in constructing a major port facility only to abandon it five or ten years later. If it was going to be built, it had to last a minimum of 50 years and the historical advance of the ocean meant that whatever was built had to be located where the ocean would not submerge it in a decade or two.
The land in the vicinity of the soon-to-be-named Rodanthe, Waves and Salvo was prime for another reason. While there was plenty of water on both sides of the isthmus, it was salt. This was good for putting out fires but it did damage when used to wash vehicles and equipment. But it could not be used for drinking water or medical purposes. As drilling wells for water was time consuming and by 1916 it was clear that America would be in the First World War quickly, the Navy preferred to purchase water from the communities’ supply rather than drill for their own.
Though it is hard to believe, during the First World War the Navy was not as professional as it is today. In all fairness, it was not as well funded then as now either. Budgets were small and commanders were instructed to stretch every dollar under the eagle screamed. One way that naval stations on the American mainland — and in this case, the Outer Banks — stretched those dollars was to purchase as many local products and supplies. This eliminated transportation costs for the former and created an economic bonanza in the local communities when the latter was purchased in bulk.
In the case of the Outer Banks, the Navy looked to the local communities for fire protection. While the Navy could take care of its own when it came to most fires on the port, there was always the danger that a fire would be too large for the naval fire fighters to handle on their own. This was a significant consideration on the Outer Banks because the base was going to be so small but it was anticipated that the local fire brigades could be employed whenever there was a need. This was good for the Navy because it would need every available square foot for facilities and the fire brigade that was located in Rodanthe saw dollar signs in the arrangement.
It was a match made in economic heaven. But it was not to last. It rapidly became a matter of the tail wagging the dog. Because the three communities wanted the naval facilities at just about any cost, that was exactly what they were going to pay. Moving a large number of men onto the isthmus in one of the narrowest spots meant other problems. Erosion would be accelerated because of the construction, large supplies of diesel fuel meant a fouling of the air as well an increased danger of a large fire, supply truck traffic meant that the quiet country road connecting the three villages would rumble at all hours of the day and night, near shore fishing and clamming would be restricted as the Navy established a security perimeter, dumping of garbage would overwhelm the local land fill, single military personnel would be competing with the local men for the local women, drunkenness and crime would increase, gambling would be a problem, vehicle accidents would begin occurring at a greater rate, and schools would go from one-room to traditional. All of these changes meant increases in cost, frustration and inconvenience.
But the money was there so the communities continued to be interested.
Plans for the naval installation were going well. The land to be used was already federal so there were no land issues. Building materials were readily available albeit in Norfolk and the engineers poised to begin construction. The last sticking point was fire protection and thus began the fiasco that scuttled the naval station and divided the three communities forever.
Because the naval station was going to be constructed south of Salvo, it was most reasonable for the fire station to be located in Salvo. The naval facility’s buildings would far outnumber the civilian homes and businesses structures so logic would indicate it should be as close as possible to the greatest source of need. But politically this was out of the question. The fire brigade had been established in Rodanthe when it was Chicamacomico and the land had been purchased for a dollar from a claming company, defunct by World War I, so the fire brigade would be close to the claming company’s warehouse and dock. Moving the firehouse meant purchasing property and erecting a firehouse. Money being what it was, and is, the cash was not available.
Even if it were, the bulk of the volunteer firemen lived in Rodanthe and owned homes there. Transportation was not then what it is now so it was not reasonable for firemen from Rodanthe to drive to Salvo to respond in an emergency. Even if it was possible, it was more reasonable for residents of Salvo to become firemen because they were closest to the new station. They already had homes in the vicinity. Since the new fire station would require full time firemen rather than volunteers, it meant good jobs for Salvo residents and while those jobs were Salvo’s gains, they were Rodanthe’s loss.
Even if these factors could be overcome there was the matter of hoses in length, diameter and constituency. The length of hoses that the Navy would require was longer than the station currently had. The diameter had to be increased as well. Finally there was the question of hose constituency. Unlike today when hoses are made of plastic, hoses in those days were made of hemp. This made them susceptible to fire. For most fire brigade keeping the hoses from burning was just a matter of keeping the hoses wet. But a fire that involved diesel or gasoline, the exact kind of fire that was anticipated on a naval base, meant the hoses were at risk.
To say that the discussion regarding the fire station location were civilized would be like saying that Tyrannosaurus Rex was a vegetarian. Every meeting started with wild ranting and went downhill from there. Even pleading from naval officials that the establishing of the base was a matter of national security did not ameliorate the animosity. Just when it was possible that things could not get worse, they did. The Rodanthe volunteers refused to cross the village boundary — which did not then exist — to put out any fire in Salvo, another community that did not then exist. Salvo responded by establishing a village limit and stated it would raise its own money to build the fire station and service the naval facility. The name “Salvo” was chosen because the residents thereof felt they had fired the first salvo in the battle. The use of the term “fired” was a pun used by the self-proclaimed mayor when the boundary was announced.
Chicamacomico then split as well, the northern most reaches with the fire department being in Rodanthe. What was left, the un-incorporated areas between the southern-most boundary of Rodanthe and the northern-most limits of Salvo was un-named so it was called “waves” because, in the words of the newly announced Mayor of Rodanthe, “when there’s a fire in Salvo, that’s all the help you’ll get.”
This left the Navy is a predicament. Without the fire brigade it would have to fund its own fire-fighting services, an expense it could not incur until the next year — if ever. But it needed the port and, with a world-wide war looming, the Pentagon instructed the commander of the not-yet-built port to “effect a resolution.” So the Navy gave it a try.
At a special meeting in late 1916 the Navy made an offer. If it were possible for the fire station to remain in Rodanthe and still service the naval facilities in a safe and timely fashion, they would proceed with the building of the port. A select number of Rodanthe and Salvo residents would be employed full-time as fire fighters and, to keep the as-yet un-named un-incorporated area known as Waves happy, a naval building would be constructed on a miniscule plot of federal land within Waves and several full-time civilian employees would be employed.
But this arrangement would only occur if — and it was a big if — the Rodanthe Fire Brigade could respond to a deliberately-set fire on the proposed site of the naval facility. A dilapidated warehouse was chosen as the fire-to-be. As to when the emergency was to occur, all the commander would say was “soon.” So the three communities held their collective breath, hopeful that the battling of the test fire would be successful.
“Life would be perfect,” says Alaskan humorist Warren Sitka, “if it were not for sentences that being with But and However.” But life is not perfect and the best plans are subject to highway robbery. And that is exactly what happened. At two o’clock in the morning the commander doused the ramshackle building with diesel and contacted the Rodanthe Fire Brigade. [Author’s note: From an historical perspective it is not clear how that contact was made. This author does not know if telephone service existed or was established by the Navy for this test. Radio is a more likely candidate but there is no documentary evidence. There is also no documentary evidence as to how the volunteer firemen knew that a fire had been reported. It is assumed that a fire bell was used in both Rodanthe and Salvo. Again, there is no historical documentation to support this supposition. ]
This was the test the Rodanthe Fire Brigade had been waiting for and their future depended upon it so they were ready. The volunteers made it to fire engine, an ancient engine it should be added, in record time and headed south.
The first problem they encountered was a large bonfire alongside the road just south of the Rodanthe border. This had been started by the residents of the un-incorporated Waves to make sure that if the fire station was left at Rodanthe, there would still be firefighting capacity for two fires. This was their test. They stopped the Rodanthe Fire Brigade and demanded it put out the Waves fire.
The road was blocked so the volunteers had to do something. So they dropped off several men with a length of hose to ‘fight’ the Waves fire. (The water for fighting fires in those days was salt water. It was available through a hydrant but the pumping action was done by hand. One man handled the hose nozzle while everyone else pumped in shifts.) The delay was not substantial but it did give the Salvo firefighters the opportunity to stand around idly at the warehouse while it burned, every moment which they directly, indirectly, by insinuation and allusion stated, hinted and expressed the reasonableness of having the fire station in Salvo close to the naval facility the proof of which was their standing around the burning building instead of fighting the blaze.
Things went from bad to worse when the Rodanthe Fire Brigade finally reached the blaze. The structure had almost burned to the ground when the engine pulled up. It had a flat tire and had been running on a rim long enough to have flattened it and was undermanned because of the bonfire in Waves. The hoses were immediately uncoiled and attached to the engine. Another length of hose was extended into the Atlantic. This completed the connection and salt water became flowing down the hose. But because of the unexpected stop in Waves, the hose that remained was not lengthy enough to reach all the way to the fire. It had to blast water from further back.
Since all of the fire fighters on the island were volunteers, none of them had much real-world experience with fires. The fires they had handled in the past were primarily homes and small buildings and the conflagrations started by a hot stove or a kerosene lantern. A diesel fire was another matter altogether. Using water, salt or fresh, on a diesel fire has a tendency to spread the fire rather than put it out. This the fire fighters did not know so, before the naval commander could stop them, they sprayed the building with water.
The force of the water collapsed part of the building and in the process caused a blowback of burning diesel oil. None of the men were wearing firefighting protective clothing because none had ever before been needed. Because there were not wearing the protective gear, their clothes were pelted with embers some of which caused small fires that had to be extinguished.
The next problem was the burning diesel. Droplets splashed back on the hose and set it ablaze. Now the fire fighters had a choice: put out the fire on the hose and let the building burn or hose the building in the hope that the fire would extinguished before the hoses burned. They took too long to make the decision. With a mighty grunt the building collapsed and, at the same time, the hose spray went from jet to trickle as the fire burned through the hemp and opened holes that let the water out. Within moments the fire hose looked more like a lawn soaker than a piece of firefighting equipment.
That finished the prospect of the naval base. Though it was officially stated that the Navy had decided against Salvo as a suitable location, the general feeling was that the failure of the Rodanthe Fire Brigade was the reason. The Rodanthe Fire Brigade blamed Waves for slowing them down and taking a hose that could have been used to put out the fires on the other hoses. The residents of Waves blamed the Rodanthe Fire Department for not leaving them sufficient firemen to fight their phony blaze and, furthermore, they had been left with a hose that was too short to put out the phony fire anyway. And what would have happened if the fire had been for real? The residents of Salvo blamed both Waves and Rodanthe for ruining their prospects for a firehouse in Salvo. Had the firehouse been Salvo, the fire would have been put out quickly, the Navy would have a port and every community would be getting an economic boost.
The upshot was that Waves incorporated and established its own fire brigade because it could not trust the Rodanthe Fire Brigade. It also said it would charge the Rodanthe Fire Brigade a toll every time it crossed into Waves. The Rodanthe Fire Brigade was outraged and stated it would rather see a building burn then pay a toll. Since Waves had a fire brigade and the Rodanthe Fire Brigade was refusing to cross into Waves, Salvo had to come up with its own Fire Brigade.
Thus came into existence the three villages only divided by city limit signs.
[This short story is from Steven Levi’s faux history of the Outer Banks HOW NAGS HEAD LOST ITS APROSTROPHE available on Kindle.]
