Tres Robles: The Story of Firman and Helen Gray
CHAPTER ONE: Firman
Sambro
Firman was enjoying his favorite pastime. In was 1901 and at age 4 he was staggering home with a huge cooked lobster he had just gotten from a worker at his father’s and uncle’s nearby lobster factory. His mother greeted him at the door and gave him a hammer, and Firman went to work as he cracked and ate the delicacy.
As he sat on the porch that beautiful sunny morning he could hear the crashing of the waves at what is known today as Crystal Cresent Beach, a sound his ancestors heard as they fished for lobsters. His father and uncle had left fishing and had gone into the business of operating one of the first lobster canneries in the country. (See note 1)
Long-winged sea gulls filled the air, swooping down on fishing boats and inhabitants of the small town of Sambro, Nova Scotia. Even though he would spend his career working with aircraft, Firman saw no airplanes, only the sea gulls. It wasn’t until two years later, December 17, 1903, that Orville Wright became the first man to successfully fly an engine-driven, heavier-than-air machine. The first hop, in a plane called Flyer, covered a distance of 120 feet and lasted about 12 minutes. What a difference that flight would make in Firman’s future!
Firman was happy. He was able to eat lobsters whenever he wanted, and he went for rides with his father in a steam tug owned by the cannery. He remembered being in a rowboat with his dad on a nearby lake. His father’s fancy new straw hat blew out into the water, but they rescued it.
Tranquil Sambro, termed by many who live there as "God’s Country," was a small fishing village filled with fishermen including many Grays, who had been working the waters for over a century. Like his ancestors, the salty air and the smell of the ocean got into his blood. On a clear night he could see the stars in all their glory, unhampered by bright lights of nearby Halifax. He also saw the light of the Sambro Island Lighthouse swinging around the sky.
Halifax
Firman was born on September 29, 1897, the next to the youngest of seven children of Joseph and Ada Gray. His older brothers were Owen, Clement and Herbert. His sisters were Lillian and Olive, all born in Sambro. His younger sister Helen was born after the family moved to Halifax. (For a photo of the family taken in Halifax, go to the Joseph and Ada Gray site linked above. There is also a separate photo of Joseph and Ada.)
When Joseph and his brother sold the cannery, he moved his flock to Halifax. They settled on Rovey Street, near the Citadel where a gun was fired at noon every day. Joseph bought a few houses for investment.
It was while in Halifax Firman enjoyed rides with his dad downtown. One day, Joseph parked the horse and buggy and went shopping, leaving his young son in the carriage. Suddenly something scared the horse and it took off down the street at a mad gallop. Firman was delighted as he cheered the horse on. "I don’t know how they stopped it," Firman recalled. "There was quite a gang gathered around me and my father came up all flustered. I remember at the time I couldn’t understand what all the excitement was about. I thought it was wonderful! I had a hilarious time!" There were no injuries.
One Christmas morning Firman went into the dining room before most of the family was up. He saw the huge Christmas tree all filled with candy and all alight with candles. It was the first time he had ever seen a Christmas tree and he was astounded. "I just beat it out of there and never did tell anybody about it. Then, of course, when they brought me in, it was supposed to be a big surprise, but I had already previewed it." (See Note 2)
At six, Firman started school, and it wasn’t long afterward that the family moved to Vancouver, British Columbia. Imagine Joseph and Ada packing up for a family of seven children ranging from the infant Helen to 18-year-old Owen. They packed some food for the week-long train trip.
Firman recalled, "There was a colored porter in our car. He and I became great friends. We used to sit by the hour, look out the window and gab. I thought he was the greatest man in the world."
The family traveled by Pullman sleeper. On one of the days during dinner someone spilled sugar all over their chicken, but nobody seemed to mind.
Vancouver, British Columbia
Upon arriving at Vancouver, the family moved in with Firman’s Aunt Lissie, his father’s oldest sister, and her husband. Firman learned from his uncle how to chop branches for firewood with an ax. All his life he chopped branches the same way.
Soon the family moved to Fairview near the bridge where Grandfather bought a grocery store. The family lived upstairs, and Owen, Firman’s oldest brother, worked at the store. He later went into the wholesale fruit business.
Other enterprises of Joseph during the Vancouver period were operating a boarding house and buying and selling houses. The family lived near the lumber yard with its fleet of 25 horses which were used to haul the lumber. The Gray boys frequently accompanied their father to the yard to pick up lumber. The father of a friend of Firman had a team and often took the two boys with him when he hauled lumber. One day, to the boys’ delight, a bakery truck spilled several loaves of bread. The hungry boys took advantage of that windfall, enjoying some of the bread.
At one time the family lived in Kitsalana. They eventually built a house at 10th and U in Vancouver across the street from the Bayview Telephone Exchange. It was one of twelve houses that Joseph had built for income.
Firman’s brother Clem who was very artistic, became a post painter. As a career he became a house painter in Seattle. Herbert, Firman’s third brother, went to work for his cousin who had a plumbing shop. He later became a plumber and owned his own business.
Firman graduated into high school, but quit school and went to work for a druggist, at times filling prescriptions when the druggist was out of the store. (Firman claimed he never found anyone who had any ill effects over any prescriptions he filled.)
When World War I started he went to work for a dairy to replace an employee who had quit. Firman, 17, went from udder washing to pasteurizing and finally took over full operation of the dairy until the owner was able to find someone to take his place. Then he was assigned a milk delivery route. He had his own horse and cart, starting out at night and delivering all night long. After going through Vancouver he would return home about 7 or 8 a.m., tally his delivery and then sleep until work the next night. He recalled, "I had a real nice horse and we used to get along well."
Joining the Military
In 1917 when Firman was 20, he and a friend Len Moody heard about some recruiters from England who had come to town representing the Royal Flying Corps. He said, "We hadn’t the faintest idea about what the heck they did, but the war was on and the first thing we knew, we found we had enlisted in the Royal Flying Corps."
Firman Gray of the R.F.C
"This was all news to us," Firman recalled, "but it was all right because one thing or another didn’t make a particular difference at that time." For him it was the age of youth and an adventure loomed. Little did he know that the decision to join the military would result in his life’s career in aviation.
After being sworn in at Vancouver on June 19, 1917, he and his friend along with others who had been recruited were loaded into a passenger train and transported to Toronto where they received their uniforms. Although Firman had wanted to join the military police before he signed up, he found there was no opening for an MP. He agreed to become an aircraft mechanic instead. He was assigned to the Eightieth Canadian Training There were three Flights in each squadron. Each had from 6 to 12 JN-4s (Jennies.) He was transferred to the Royal Air Force on January 4, 1918. (See Note 3)
Automobiles were a rarity at the time and none of the servicemen in Firman’s group knew how to drive. Firman soon learned, however, when his group was marching and came across a smashed-up Ford Model T truck blocking the road. The leaders asked if anyone knew how to drive. Firman stepped forward, "and being the smart aleck I was, I said I could." Somehow he safely drove the truck off the road. It was the first time he had ever driven any motorized vehicle.
In the winter of 1917 he went to Fort Worth, where he trained at Camp Everton. He was assigned to Flight C, each flight having one or two flying instructors for the cadets and 15 to 20 mechanics with one officer in charge. By this time he had advanced from Air Mechanic Third Class to Air Mechanic Second Class. By the time he was ready to return to Ontario he was Air Mechanic First Class. The pay increase was attractive to him. Third class mechanics got $1.10 a day and second class ones got $1.20 a day. But first class mechanics received $1.30 a day. He said, "I was in big money!"
While in Fort Worth, he was almost killed twice. The first time was when he was spinning or cranking a prop to start the engine. This was done by standing up to the propeller and with one hand, spinning it over to get the engine ready to start. After spinning the prop, the mechanic would stand up on his toes and reach up with his hands, grabbing it and giving it a big swing. At this point, the engine was supposed to start. On the near-fatal day, Firman had swung the prop and had gotten up on his tip toes to reach for the propeller for the final swing. But, for some reason, the engine took off at full speed. "I was standing there on my tip toes with the prop brushing my knees and I just managed to teeter back out of the way. No harm done except that one of the mechanics on the wing tip fainted, and we had to pack him off the field."
The other close call was when Firman was set to go up with a pilot in a test run. While he had no desire to be a pilot, he was crazy about flying, taking every opportunity to go for a ride. As a mechanic he helped repair smashed up planes which the cadets who were learning to fly had wrecked. Accidents usually occurred when one of the cadets would solo for the first time. The mechanics put all new parts in the planes to get them back into flying shape. One of the planes Firman had helped repair was ready for a test flight. Firman recalled:
"I was pretty sure I could get a ride in it because the guy that was going to test it was a friend of mine and he would take me for a ride. I got the airplane all ready and all warmed up and the officer came along to fly it. About that time an old English corporal came along who outranked me and wanted to take the flight. I couldn’t argue with him, so I went about my business." About a half an hour later the plane crashed and both the pilot and the corporal were killed.
In the spring the men headed back to Canada and were stationed at Camp Borden in Ontario. Flying fields in those days were just leveled off fields. There were no runways. A favorite afternoon snack in the hangar consisted of bread and big lumps of cheese and marmalade which became a life long favorite for Firman.
Firman would sleep in the hangar so he could get up early, before daylight, move the planes out and gas and warm them up in preparation for the cadets. He liked this because he could always nab the first officer who came along to test the plane to see how flying conditions were for the day. He could usually persuade the officer to take him along. On a June morning in 1918, Lt. Broderick agreed to have Firman join him on the flight. What happened was the third of those near-death experiences. As Firman tells it:
"It was before the troops had come down from the barracks, just early daylight. We went up and did a couple of loops and a stall or so. About that time Broderick threw the plane over into a spin at about 3,000 feet. After we did a couple of turns, he discovered the plane was not pulling out of the spin. The only thing to do was to turn and go into a spin in the opposite direction [which didn’t work.] We both realized we weren’t getting out of this.
"The field was right next to a river and this river was down in the gully and heavily wooded on each side. I could look down and I could see the hole in the trees right where we were going to hit. I got interested in looking up towards the barracks and you could see the men all marching down in a full column coming down the road to the hangar. Every time we’d turn around we’d see them again, and I remember seeing them two or three times and then I got interested in looking down at this hole that we were going to fall in and I can’t remember being scared. I had no particular sensation of caring one way or the other. I have a hazy remembrance of going through the trees and the next thing I remembered was waking up sitting down, buried up to my knees in mud in a sitting up position. I was just one big mass of red in front of me."
FROM JENNY TO JET. Firman first started working on the Curtiss JN-4s
which were
developed in 1914. His career in aviation spanned from the Jennies to the Jets. It was
a Jenny in which he crashed. He was seated in the front cockpit. Photo is of a 1918
JN4-D, Place Open Land Bi-Plane, Curtiss OX5 engine, 8 cylinder, 90 horsepower.
This Jenny was restored and flown off a dirt landing strip north of Reno on November
21, 1966. Its performance compared favorably with original factory requirements.
Firman was unconscious for a time. Upon awakening he heard Lt. Broderick ask if his leg was broken. It was, above the knee. After partially standing up, Firman wished he had remained where he had been. The lieutenant was unhurt.
What had saved them? They had landed on swampy ground with the plane buried about eight feet in the mud. They hit fifty feet from hard ground. Not only had the swamp prevented almost certain death, but it prevented any fire from starting. Firman had to stop Broderick from lighting up a cigarette three times. The men and plane were saturated with gasoline which would have ignited upon the first strike of a match.
The search crew consisted of airplanes overhead and men on the field who joined in long lines to locate them. The rescuers had to cut the plane away to get at Firman. When a medic started dabbing Firman’s face he got mad, saying, "Never mind my face." He didn’t realize what a serious facial injury he had. Cutting struts from the plane, the medics put splints on Firman’s leg, carried him in a stretcher to the ambulance and transported him to the field hospital where the doctors took over 50 stitches. (The nurses stopped counting after 50.) His face was completely smashed in and his nose was absolutely flat. He had pushed the windshield completely up and off the plane. At the field hospital he was offered milk, but when he learned that the nurse had put whiskey in it, he refused the drink. "I had never drunk anything like that."
The field hospital was inadequate to treat him any further, so the next morning he was moved by ambulance to the railroad station, loaded into the baggage car and taken to Toronto, about fifty miles away. He was put to bed in Toronto General Hospital. The next day the doctors operated on his leg and this was the first time he experienced any pain. That occurred when they removed the splints applied in the field hospital. The pain came when the nurses tore off the four-inch adhesive tape from his leg.
No other pain was experienced until a few weeks later, in bed with his leg hoisted up in the air, he was told he had to be in that position for about 90 days. "I was a young buck used to being outside running around and I couldn’t see how I could possibly stay in bed for 90 days. I couldn’t eat and I couldn’t sleep. All I could do was to lay there. I was just numb."
With plugs in his nose and splints and bandages all over his nose he had a hard time eating. At times he didn’t eat. Later, when asked how he ate, he said, "I didn’t eat. Didn’t do anything for two weeks. In those days if you couldn’t eat, why to hell with you. You just starved." It didn’t help when some "do-gooders" came in to offer him ice cream and cake. On his 21st birthday, September 29, 1918, he received a pair of silk pink pajamas sent by his sister Lillian. A red-haired nurse decided it was her job to get those pajamas on Firman. After a brief struggle, the nurse came back with two more nurses and they completed the job.
After 90 days the nurses announced it was time for him to get up into a wheel chair, leave the semi-private room with four men in it and be transferred into a big ward. Firman refused to get up, but again reinforcements from other nurses accomplished the job. He was welcomed into the ward with shouts from 50 men.
It became time for wheel chair races. Joining in with a one-legged man and another man in a wheel chair they went tearing down the main ward. The one-legged man ran out of steam and let go of Firman who sailed in front of his own ward where his doctor and a few other men were standing. Grabbing the wheel of his chair to stop it, Firman tipped over . He sailed out on the floor at the foot of his doctor, and just about passed out. The doctor ordered him back to bed for three or four days.
While still in a wheel chair he and a friend decided to go down town. They took the hospital elevator to the main floor and were half way to town before being caught. He was taken back and given crutches. Eventually he was transferred to a convalescent home on the outskirts of Toronto. He was the only commoner there, "just a mechanic," surrounded by injured flying cadets. He was sent to the annex with other enlisted men where they bummed around waiting for recovery. Operations continued on his nose by re-breaking bones and shaping the nose. Because of the pain, he finally refused any more treatment.
On November 11, 1918, Firman and some friends were downtown when the armistice was announced. "There was a big hullabaloo down there and we really had a time that day." Soon he was discharged and went to Seattle where his parents were living. He had graduated to a cane as well as crutches and could hobble around quite well.
He was discharged March 20, 1919, "being no longer physically fit for war service."
A Civilian Again
As a civilian he had an opportunity to continue working with aircraft. Boeing Company located in Seattle was finishing up on a war contract and he spent about four months as a cable splicer and rigger before being laid off. He returned to Vancouver where his parents were residing again and went to school for about 13 months learning mechanical drawing which he also referred to as "architectural work and engineering." He soon found out that the instructor knew less about airplanes than he did. ("I knew four times more about airplanes than he did, so what could he teach me? Being a smarty pants I decided he could teach me nothing. So I didn’t get anywhere.") During his spare time in Vancouver he serviced and took care of various aircraft. He serviced and maintained the aircraft that flew the first airmail between Vancouver and Calgary. After completing his schooling he joined the Canadian Air Board and worked for them for twelve months at Camp Borden in Ontario. There were six hangars of planes consisting of Spads, SE-5s, Avros, DH-4s, DH-6s and miscellaneous equipment. The Royal Canadian Air Force was formed and requested him to enlist. He declined and returned to his parents’ home in Vancouver.
In the fall of 1921, he and his parents decided to move to the United States permanently. They took a boat from Vancouver to Seattle where they got on board "the good ship Queen," as Firman referred to it, and headed for California. It was on board this ship that Firman and Helen met.
What’s in a Name?
The name Firman has often caused questions as to its origin. In the family the name has continued beyond Firman C. Gray. His son Wallace’s middle name is Firman and his first son Larry’s middle name is also Firman. Larry and Marie named their first son David Lawrence Firman Gray. It will probably persist for generations to come.
But where did it come from? Firman said that his parents had read the name in a book. John Graves, a genealogist-friend of the author, found a copy of a page from a book dated 1850 called Physicians of Ipswich with the following entry:
"Giles Firmin, Fyrmin, or Firman, son of Giles, who was chosen deacon of the Church in Boston, October 20, 1633, and was, according to Gov. Winthrop, ‘a godly man, an apothecary of Sudbury in England’ probably came with his brother in 1630."
The name Firman as a surname appears 76 times in the Social Security Death Index, 1937-1996.It was not possible to determine how many times it appears as a given name except the two listings Firman Gray. One was the subject of this chapter and the other was a Firman Gray (1923-1986) from Missouri.
A search in the Internet under "baby names" turns up the following:
"Firmin. This boy’s name is used in French. Its source is firmus, a Latin word meaning "Resolute." The name Firmin did not rank among the roughly 6,000 names reported in the 1990 Census Data."
"Fermin. This boy’s name is used in Spanish. Its source is firmus, a Latin word meaning "Constant."
"Firman of Sultan Murad I." The word Firman here means document or decree: "Sultan Murad I declares that he recognises the contents of the decree." Many listings appear on the Internet using the term as a decree.
The online Britannica turns up five items, all decrees.
Conclusion: The name Firman (and its spelling variations) is not common. It means "constant" or "resolute." It also means "decree."
Notes
1. The 1865 Sambro Business Directory advertised the Hamblan, Baker & Co. Cannery as, "Dealers in Hermetically Sealed Oysters, Lobsters, Beef, Poultry, Preserves, &c; also Fish of various kinds." Perhaps Joseph and his brother bought this cannery.
2. The author had a similar experience. One Christmas morning at an early age, I got up early to take a sneak preview of what I was going to get for Christmas. It was probably one of the first Christmases after the start of the Depression of 1929 when my parents had enough money to spend on special Christmas gifts. The room was full of goodies including a world globe, and I was dumbfound. Like my dad, I made a quick getaway and feigned surprise when I returned with my parents later.
3. The Curtiss JN-4 was developed in 1916. Following the unsuccessful attempt to use the planes to capture Pancho Villa, a Mexcian rebel, the Jenneys were demoted to trainers or to carry messages or observe. Jenny became the only American mass-produced aircraft to haave played a major role during World War I.
Most of the material in this chapter comes from autobiographical and biographical articles. The description of Sambro is provided by Leslie Harnish, a resident of the "tranquil city" of Sambro, Halifax, Nova Scotia.
Works consulted:
Gray, Frances, "Firman C. Gray Taped Interview. March 28, 1981, Fallbrook, California.
Gray, Wallace F., "Sketch of Firman C. Gray," based upon interview made January 1, 1971.
Gray, Firman C., "Autobiography," about 1953.
Harnish, Leslie, e-mail letter to Wallace F. Gray sent April 10, 1998.
Other sources include Lockheed Aircraft Employment Record and a Royal Air Force Certificate. His birth was recorded in the family Bible kept by his parents and on a Los Angeles City and County Birth Statement certified by his parents.