By Karen Emig (Volunteer), September 5, 2018 — I try to remember how it felt when I was young, growing up in Brooklyn. We never had air conditioning in my house as a kid. As a matter of fact, most stores did not have air conditioning either. The few that did always had some sort of sign in their window that said something like, “Come in. Air Conditioned inside.” They would have a picture of a penguin or a polar bear and ice. Now, I don’t think there are any stores that don’t have air conditioning because people wouldn’t shop there.
One of the things we did to cool off when I was younger was to turn on the fire hydrant (we called it a Johnny Pump). You needed a special wrench to turn it on, but someone would usually have one of those wrenches and get the water flowing. If you have ever seen the water come full force out of a fire hydrant, you know the flow is decidedly not mild, weak nor feeble. It is rather a violent powerhouse that steamrolls over anything in it’s path. Oh, and believe me that water was like ice. Brrrrrrrrrr.
Some cars, when they would approach the running water, would stop—roll their windows up (cars didn’t usually have air conditioning either)—and the driver would let the water run over the car to wash off all the dirt. Now in order to get the water high enough to flow over a car, there is a trick you have to do. I’ll tell it to you if you promise to NEVER try it yourself. Promise????
Well, you have to take both the top and bottom off a tin can. This leaves a tin cylinder that you hold at the very top of the water—almost just skimming it. You must have a lot of strength in your arms and fingers to hold the cylinder in place without the force of the water ripping it from your hands. Once you are strong enough and have the cylinder in just the right spot, it creates a shower of water that projects way up into the air. Then the water cascades back down to earth in a torrential waterfall-like avalanche. This forceful deluge is what would clean off the cars—almost stripping the paint off.
When the cars passed, the kids from the block would all stand under the waterfall. Often times the water was so powerful that it would knock you off your feet and clear to the opposite side of the street. Maybe that’s where the expression, “go with the flow” originated. :-) Lots of skinned knees and hurt elbows, but we loved it. That was just a small price (we thought) to pay in order to get cooled off on a hot and sticky day in the city.
However, more threatening than the force of the water was the risk of that tin can becoming a projectile and hitting you in the head or other part of your body. You see, like I said, it took a lot of strength to hold that tin can in place against the raging force of the water profusely flowing from the hydrant. So, if the “holder” lost his grip—well, I’m sure you can imagine how that little tin can could shoot out (like a bullet) and find a mark in one of the cluster of kids vying for a spot under the cooling water. Usually, it found it’s mark somewhere on MY body—ouch, ouch, and ouch.
I can remember mothers yelling at their children not to go into the water when someone appeared with a tin can in their hand. We certainly were risking serious injury, and I realize that now—in my (boring) age of wisdom.
Of course, the “fun” of an open hydrant was usually short lived as a police cruiser, or a cop on horseback, would come up the street and turn it off. The cruisers usually carried a wrench in the trunk; if not, they had to call the fire department to come out and turn the water off.
Now I also realize how irresponsible we children were to waste all that water and also to have to have either the police or firemen spend their time turning hydrants off in neighborhood after neighborhood all through the course of the summer. The fire department did offer special sprinklers that would fit over the front of the hydrants. These sprinklers would limit the amount of water coming out and its potent impact, thus turning it into a safe “shower” of water for the children. But we were impatient and impulsive, so we rarely waited for a hydrant to be turned on legally. If the police saw you with the wrench, they confiscated it. If an adult was ever caught turning a hydrant on, it meant a hefty fine.
So, though it was fun and memorable, and I chuckle at the thought of running through a fire hydrant’s water, I now know the risks and foolish folly of some of the things we did growing up in the city back in 1950’s and 1960’s. Still, I have to say, “no regrets, and I’d do it again.” Where is that wrench?