FROM THE SCRAPBOOK by Dr. Bill Randall
Sept. ’97
Harvey is justifiably proud of its FIRE DEPARTMENT. One of the earliest organizers of the Fire Fighters was T. Kay Craig. “Kay” was an innovative man and devised and built much of the early fire fighting equipment. He also housed, stored and cared for this equipment, working long hours without financial reward to make sure everything needed would be ready in case of an emergency.
One of his very few lapses, caught the attention of a local poet, and with characteristic good humor, composed the following poem.
“A WILD RIDE”
Kay Craig he is a citizen Of credit and renown. He is the local fire chief In famous Harvey town.
He has a small repair shop, And earns what’ere he can, He looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
He goes on Sunday to the church And sits beside his wife, He is a loyal citizen And leads a quiet life.
One day he got a fire call From Charlie Littles Shore. He got the old truck rollin’ As he’d oft times done before.
He reached the summit of the hill
By Arthur Craig’s Farm,
And then he started to descend Not thinking then of harm.
He tried to find a lower gear But the lever it was stuck, And all at once the brakes let go And Kay was out of luck.
Old records then were broken And news was made that day, Ajax the flying horse
Would have lost the race to Kay.
He was doing straight one hundred As he passed Hillies road end,
And thought for sure that he would crash Before he reached the bend.
The road was steep and hilly, Which made the truck go faster, But it was Kay’s cool headedness That kept him from disaster.
He drove down by the lake turn off
Past Lee Little’s farm,
And steered it down Jim Wilson’s road Not doing any harm.
The Lord He rode with Kay that day And that’s without a doubt,
For it is a heavy traveled road
But not a soul was out.
He radioed his position And the hunt got into gear, Gene Moffitt who was far behind Had watched him disappear.
The fire truck came to a halt
Where the ground was soft and damp, Kay wondered what the fire had done To Charlie Little’s camp.
A wrecker manned by volunteers Then quickly found the place, Saw Kay emerging from the truck With a smile upon his face.
Continued on the next page
He felt the pangs of hunger
And some grub would be a treat,
He had plenty of water with him
But not a bite to eat.
My friends I thank you one and all
And the Lord has spared my life,
Now I would like a lift back home
To reassure my wife.
Now Kay is resting in his home
Enjoying bread and cake,
He talked to Marion awhile
Then went out to line the brakes.
Source: Rev. Bill Randall’s “From The Scrapbook Vol. One.”
