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Firefighters stand in front of the original Fire Station 5. The building existed from about 1895 until 1932, when it was replaced with the station that stands there today. Are these men checking up on the station from beyond the grave?

By Paul Beckman

he room’s darkness swallowed everything but ghost huntress Cathi Bunn’s face, which glowed behind her camera’s night vision screen.

“One just flew past!” Bunn said suddenly. “And there’s another one …You’ve got some activity here, that’s for sure.”

“Here” is the old Fire Station 5 building at 910 Hardy Street. And the activity Bunn seeks comes from beyond the grave.

In a two-hour visit to the 71-year-old building, Bunn said her camera captured 22 instances of orbs darting across the downstairs living room (To see video clips, go to www.ghastlyghosthunter.com/haunted_firehouse.html.)
She defined the spheres, invisible to the naked eye, as the way the video camera sees spiritual energy that isn’t appearing as a physical manifestation.

“I wouldn’t say (the fire station) is haunted in the negative sense,” Bunn said. “But it is visited regularly by those who care about it.”

The mention of eerie visitors comes as no surprise to some firefighters who lived there.

“They said doors would go whap whap, dishes would shake, and they heard steps on the stairwell,” said Jay Evans, HPD public information officer. “And there wouldn’t be anyone there.”

When John Allison was 12, he enjoyed hanging around Fire Station 5 where his brother-in-law worked. Firefighters told him the place was haunted.

Allison said that while they watched TV, one door of a cabinet eased open by itself.

“After 45 minutes, it slammed shut,” recalled Allison, now a senior captain at Fire Station 96. “They were all smiling, so I thought they were messing with me.”

But one night, the men were called out to a fire, leaving Allison alone.

“So I slid down the pole and put Linda Ronstadt’s ‘Blue Bayou’ on the jukebox,” Allison said. “I kept running up the stairs and sliding down the pole. As I passed by the cabinet, I noticed the doors were closed. But once when I passed by, one was open about 18 inches … When it slammed shut, it sounded like a gunshot.”

Allison fled across the street, sat on the curb and waited for the firefighters to return.

“To this day I’m not sure what the heck happened there,” said Allison. “When I hear that song now, it still kind of gives me the creeps.”

Cathi Bunn uses her camera’s night vision to look for ghosts. Her camera picked up 22 instances of spiritual activity in the old fire station.

History of changes, sense of permanence
For more than a century, Hardy Street has sported a fire station. Department records date the original two-story brick station back to 1895. In 1932, it was replaced with the building that stands there today.

As Houston’s population shifted away from downtown, the Hardy location was abandoned in 1977 for a new Fire Station 5 across town, Evans said.

After it was sold about five years ago, the new owners converted it into a quaint, modern residence that still captures the fire station’s ambiance.

One dramatic change is the addition of a wall that bisects the engine bay. One half houses Buddy, a 130-pound black Labrador.

The other half became a modish living room with lamps that once hung in the Sam Houston Coliseum and a wooden floor that served as a Coliseum basketball court.

But perhaps what remains is even more impressive than what has changed.

“We tried to preserve as much of the fire station as we could,” owner Margie Skeele said.

Two fire poles stand ready for quick getaways. The front hall features an original cabinet and a window that looks into the engine bay. Two rows of small pillars, where firefighters stretched out hoses to dry them, line the back courtyard.

Although seldom used, the fire poles are still ready for quick getaways.

And some say a few of the deceased inhabitants haven’t gone away either.

“Firefighters would remain there for the love and camaraderie they felt as a team,” Bunn said. “I don’t think or feel anyone in that space is trapped. The atmosphere was much too positive.”

Spirited visiting team
Station 5 doesn’t have a particularly gruesome past. From 1895 – 1977, two firefighters died in the line of duty.

In 1899, Emil “Ed” Thompson became the first paid firefighter killed in the line of duty. The city converted volunteer squads into a professional department in 1895.

As a hose wagon carried Thompson and other firefighters across some train tracks, a train suddenly rumbled into view. The two-horse wagon rushed across as the men leapt from it. But Thompson, the last to jump, fell backwards onto the tracks after hitting the ground. The train killed him instantly.

The next fatal incident occurred half a century later. Rufus “Bullet” Templet suffered a heart attack while battling a downtown fire. He died after a couple of months in the hospital.

Are they coming back to haunt the old station? Bunn said both would have felt their deaths were extremely honorable and would have no need to bring negative energy into the station now. The entities that come there, she said, act more as caretakers.

Some are not convinced that the station has any spiritual activity.

“I’ve spent many hours there – day and night,” said HPD Capt. Kenneth Lowdermilk, who served at Station 5 in the early 1950s. “If there was a ghost there, I would have seen him.”

Neither John O’Hara, who has lived alone in the station since last January, nor Skeele mentioned any creepy incidents.

In any case, the charm and spirit emitted by the old station is hard to dispute.

Despite his harrowing experience, Allison said he was disappointed that the station was closed before he got a chance to work there as a firefighter.

“Those (older) stations had a warm feeling in them,” Allison said. “You felt safe inside there.”

Allison may not be the only one who finds Fire House 5 alluring. Perhaps its appeal even stretches beyond the grave.

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