Yes, Susan, I do believe the figure in the photo is my Grandpa Day. By 1925 he and Grandma had 4 of their 5 kids (my dad being #4) . . . which reminds me of a little anecdote about my dad's birth. Even after the first 3 kids, it seems my gram thought her contractions this time were the pangs of constipation . . . and she nearly dropped my dad into the commode. Family lore has it that he would surely have drowned!

Rosanna, I guess what you call a whistle at Gridley's Market is what I called the siren, so we are referrring to the same alarm. My dad was one of those firefighters, along with Weathers, Fletcher, Taylor, and others from our neighborhood. (Isn't it just cool that our very own Philly Gridley is now the fire chief?)

When the siren/whistle screamed out and it was NOT noon, then all the volunteers' home phones would "double" ring. At our house, whoever got to the phone first would repeat each phrase of the instructions clearly but at a yell, while Dad grabbed his firefighter's clothes out of the back closet at the head of the stairs. By the time we finished transmitting the phone message, he had his pants and suspenders pulled up over his skivvies, arms shoved through the jacket sleeves, and was pulling on his boots while Mom stood ready to hand him the helmet and car keys.

The firefighter's cars had special buttons installed that looked very much like the metal buttons we pushed to start our old cars, but these buttons were for car sirens. The longer you held the button in, the higher the pitch of the siren rose and if you eased off, the siren would wind down; then push again to increase the pitch, and release to let it slide down . . . so the effect was like ambulances used to sound.

When my parents' old Chevy stationwagon was replaced by a newer car, the wagon went to me so I could get to school early for drill team and drive to games, etc. Well - the "Green Monster" still had the siren, heh-heh. We had great fun sneaking up on some of the keggers in the boonies where kids were grouped around campfires to keep warm. We drove very slowly with our lights out - because they were staring into the fire they didn't see us - then blasted the siren! Man, did everyone scatter!

Yep, the Green Monster chauffered many of Berta's and my friends around town and the Base. One memory was driving my biology lab partner back to the Base. We had stayed late to monitor our "babies." (Remember in Mr. Tucker's class when we had removed frog sperm in order to fertilize frog eggs which eventually became pollywogs?) On the lonely ten-mile drive that afternoon, we realized suddenly that there was more chemistry between us than biology (well, at that time anyway ) . . . and we ended up being high school sweethearts for nearly three years! Another memory with The Beast - the wagon's other name - was playing hookey with Robin S. when we had serious girl stuff and guy problems to discuss. We would hide out in the one place the cops never seemed to check - the cemetery.
Go figure.

Didn't the noon siren also go off at 5:00 PM weekdays? I had summer jobs from when I was 12 yrs. old working outside and I remember looking forward to the siren because that meant that it was "quittin' time".

Hmm, that one I do not recall. Was it the siren on the other side of town, perhaps? (I think it was placed on top of the water tower.) Maybe someone in MH can ask Philly?

Richard....The old Sawtooth saw mill had a whistle that went off at quitting time probably at 5:00pm. There really were lots of unique sounds to remind everyone the time of day!

Yes, you're sure right, Jim. We lived close to Gridley's market so the noon siren was loud. But the 5:00 whistle came from the other side of town and was sometimes hard to hear if the wind was blowing (which was WAY too often in windy Mtn. Home). I do remember now it was the steady blast of a whistle, rather than the wail of a siren.

Do you remember the cuban crisis when JFK was president? Our whistle was 2 long 1 short, for practice drill, and 1 long 2 short ment the missles were coming, we were supposed to get out of town.

I remember the noon whistle, but I remember it going forever the day President Kennedy was shot. After they announced his assasination at the Jr. High as I scurried home I remember the whistle going forever and thinking that the missles were on their way. I remember it being so scary.