In the wake of the 9/11 attacks, firefighters are finally receiving some much-deserved attention and admiration. So now more than ever it seems an appropriate time to recognize significant firefighters of the past, especially one groundbreaking high society female that cared more about saving lives than tea parties and whose name will forever be ensconced in the annals of San Francisco civic history. Enter the story of Lillie Hitchcock Coit, appropriately nicknamed “Firebelle.”

In 1851, Lillie Hitchcock’s well-to-do family moved to California and settled in San Francisco. Once she saw the red fire engines and was rescued by a fireman at an early age, Lillie’s deep and continual fascination and career with the San Francisco Fire Department began. Finally, walking home one day from school, fifteen-year-old Lillie witnessed Knickerbocker Engine Company No. 5 struggling to raise the engine -- in the days before motorized carriages, fire engines had to be pulled by hand -- the men lining up along a rope and pulling, like players in a tug-of-war. But on that day, too many men were out sick and the engine seemed like it would never reach its destination. So while several bystanders passively watched the struggling firemen, Lillie threw down her books, ran to an empty spot on the rope and began pulling with all her strength, yelling out to the others, “Come on, you men! Everybody pull and we’ll beat ‘em!” The eventually embarrassed bystanders soon joined young Lillie and Knickerbocker Engine No. 5 finally made it up the hill -- in fact, it was the first to get water to the fire.

That was another life-altering moment for Hitchcock and, from that day forward, whenever she heard the fire alarm sound, if possible, she would rush to the scene to help. This caused her father, a surgeon and graduate of West Point, some small measure of grief; he always had a difficult time subduing his willful daughter, because she loved the excitement of a blazing fire and with boundless energy and enthusiasm took part in the action at every opportunity. It is even rumored that she once left a wedding -- at which she was serving as a bridesmaid -- to join the fight.

Such determined behavior provided the Hitchcocks, who were esteemed members San Francisco high society, a dose of unwanted scandal and controversy. Several members of this exclusive sect of families often distressed over Lillie’s behavior, mostly because females of the time did not do such things as wear pants and fight fires. Except for Lillie. At every gala parade, they would find her atop Knickerbocker Engine No. 5, surrounded by flags and flowers. She identified with the firefighters so much that she attended every one of their social events wearing a big, red flannel shirt over her black dress. Regardless of her unorthodox behavior of the period, Lillie managed to always do as she pleased without giving any serious offense. The so-called gentlemen and ladies of high society either ignored or humored what they considered her foolish antics.

Though Lillie could never officially join the fire department, she was made an honorary member of the Knickerbocker Engine Company No. 5 on October 3, 1863, and given a gold badge inscribed with No. 5 that she wore religiously. It is said she considered it her most prized possession.

Between fighting fires, Lillie eventually married Howard Coit, a caller at the San Francisco Stock and Bond Exchange, in 1868. Considering Lillie’s aggressive nature, it did not surprise many that the marriage was brief -- but she never ceased her relationship with the Knickerbocker Engine Company. And although she stopped chasing fires as she grew older, Lillie always remained devoted to her first love. Whenever a firefighter fell ill, she would visit him and make certain that all of his needs were met; if one passed away, she would send a lavish flower tribute to publicly honor him. So the fire department always thought of her as their patroness while she in turn considered the Knickerbockers such an important part of her life that she had the number five embroidered onto her clothes. She even signed her name as “Lillie Hitchcock Coit 5.”

As if Lillie’s commitment to Knickerbocker Engine Company No. 5 weren’t eccentric enough behavior for a high society female, this memorable San Francisco personality also smoked cigars, shot guns and dressed as a man in order to gain better access to the more interesting corners of the city, specifically when she wanted to gamble, since women were not permitted to even think about doing that.

Then in 1904, adding an even more bizarre twist to her unconventional history, an attempt was made on her life. An unknown assassin broke into her house while she was entertaining one Major McClurg, who managed to fight off and subdue the assassin, although he died soon after. Even though the assassin was eventually proclaimed insane and locked away in an asylum, Lillie was so distraught by the entire incident that she journeyed overseas for twenty years and did not return until the assassin was pronounced dead.

And, true to form, Lillie left quite an impression wherever she went during her lengthy stay abroad. She was well known at the court of Napoleon III, the Maharaja of India, and associated herself with prominent art and literary figures, such as Robert Louis Stevenson of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde fame.

But although she spent a considerable time overseas, she still considered San Francisco her home and eventually returned and resettled there. She loved everything about the city, especially the view from Telegraph Hill where the famous cylindrical Coit Tower -- named after her -- now stands. When she died on July 22, 1929 at the age of 86, Lillie bequeathed one third of her fortune to her beloved San Francisco “to be expended in an appropriate manner for the purpose of adding to the beauty of the city which I have always loved.” Such funding resulted in the construction and maintenance of the Coit Tower, as well as a sculpture of three firemen, one with a woman in his arms, located in Washington Square. This colorful character, with her quick wit and dramatic flair, had become a timeless icon indicative of the independent spirit of the city of San Francisco.

In an ironic aside, Lillie Hitchcock Coit was appropriately cremated by fire at the mausoleum where her remains still lie. And if you look through the wrought iron door, you will see the items that she wanted you to remember her by: a coiled fire hose, a brass fire hose nozzle, a small toy hook n' ladder, and a khaki fire jacket.

© Melt Magazine 2001