The Steamer No. 10 Firehouse by Akum Norder

Undated postcard image of Steamer No. 10 firehouse, postmarked 1912.

The Steamer No. 10 firehouse is an anchor of the Pine Hills and a landmark of my kids' childhoods. A little rough around the edges, sure, but quirky and creative, good-hearted, and its roots run deep – on every count, the old place is just like the city it stands in.

A 1954 photo from the firehouse’s “Engine 10” days. From The History of the Paid Albany Fire Department: A Story of Fires and Firemen From 1867-1967. Warren Abriel, editor, and Joseph Winchell, photographer. Albany: Argus Greenwood, 1967

In 1892, when the fire station opened, residential development was booming up here in what they used to call Albany's West End, as the city's expanding trolley network gave people new options on where they could live and still commute downtown. A bit of history, just because it's so cool: The Steamer 10 crew fought blazes with the help of a steam-powered pumping engine pulled by horses. The firefighters took pride in being quick to the call: They'd get out a stopwatch and demonstrate for visitors how the firemen could slide down the pole, drop the harness on the horses and climb into their places on the engine and hose cart in — get this — seven seconds. In 1897, during a citywide firehouse inspection, they hitched up in 5.25 seconds — the fastest time of any fire crew in the city. The steam engine had to be ready, too, and the building had several boilers in the basement to keep the pump primed at all times.

Albany switched to motorized trucks in the late teens, and Steamer 10 became Engine 10 – less poetic, maybe, but more practical. For most of the twentieth century, firefighters answered the call from their Pine Hills station house. But the West End of Albany kept on moving west, and in 1988 the Engine 10 company moved that way, too, out to Brevator Street.

“The reuse of old buildings marries a city's past to its future. Notable buildings ground us – they remind us we are here, in this place, not in some generic Anywhere USA”

And then came the question that comes, in time, to all oversized, outdated buildings: What do we do with the firehouse now? City officials toyed with converting it into a neighborhood library, but engineers determined the structure couldn't handle the weight of the books. Next the city offered it to The College of Saint Rose for use as an arts center, but they didn't bite.

Enter Ric Chesser.

Laughs at curtain call, Steamer 10 Theatre, 2017

Chesser was executive director of Washington Park Theatre Inc., a drama group that had played in spaces around Albany since the mid-1970s. He had seen first-hand what a great tool live performances could be for reaching young audiences, and he persuaded the city to lease the firehouse for use as a children's theatre. In 1991, the building took back its old name, the one carved above the double doors, becoming Steamer 10 Theatre.

“We liked that it was collaborative, not competitive. It gave kids responsibility, but also room to be silly”

It was the mid-aughts when my husband and I started taking our kids there, first as audience members and then as participants in their theatre camps and youth productions. To start, it was as much about convenience as anything else – why drive the kids all over creation for after-school activities when this place is two blocks from our house? But what we discovered is that a theatre is a pretty darn good place to raise your kids. Ours is not a very sportsy family, so theatre is where our children learned teamwork and the ability to think on their feet. We liked that it was collaborative, not competitive. It gave kids responsibility, but also room to be silly. It was a place where kids like ours – with big emotions and heads full of stories – could find each other, and thrive.

Steamer 10 has the feel of a place run by a man who's doing more than anyone should do on his own: never quite tidy, always some half-finished repair that was supposed to be done the year before, or the year before that. A big project to build a lobby was snarled by, among other things, the discovery of multiple underground fuel tanks – remember all those boilers? – and dealing with those blew a hole in the budget.

In one sense, how the place looks isn't the important part – it's what goes on inside, etc., etc. But in another sense, a building like the Steamer 10 firehouse matters very much – both for the people who use it and those who just pass by. The reuse of old buildings marries a city's past to its future. Notable buildings ground us – they remind us we are here, in this place, not in some generic Anywhere USA. Schools, seats of government, and churches are built with a sense of grandeur, or used to be, not only to inspire or awe us but also to remind us there's something larger than ourselves. They're a tug on our community conscience.

For a city like Albany and a neighborhood like Pine Hills, the firehouse is a symbol: of resilience, adaptability, and also fragility. Its future is by no means assured; it hinges on whether we decide old places like these are worth keeping, and do what's necessary to keep them. Which makes the firehouse also a symbol of hope. And Albany needs more of that.

by Akum Norder

For more information about Steamer 10 Theatre and to support them visit their website or follow them on Facebook

steamer 10 curtain call 2014