*editors note: I enjoy searching for unique historical stories from our old newspapers. I’ll post the ones I like the best and include them in the category, “Interesting Historic Erie News”, under my header link, “Erie.”

JEFF MAKES LAST SLIDE

With all the brave firefighters that have died in the line of duty I can’t really justify this story of Jeff, the cat. But the picture of him sliding down the pole that I saw at the Erie Firefighter’s Museum made me want to post his story.

This is from a framed newspaper page of the Erie Dispatch-Herald dated Tuesday, July 26, 1927, located at the museum and from the microfilm at our local library.

Oh, look how cute he was!

THE CAPTION READS: Jeff, the pole-sliding kitten at No. 4 engine house, Fifth and Chestnut streets, whose fame has spread throughout the country, met a tragic death last night when he dashed into the street and under the wheels of a passing automobile. Today the firemen at No. 4 mourn his death.

The full article tells how he learned to slide down the pole and how he met his death. It reads:

(There was no author credit with this story.)

JEFF, POLE SLIDING KITTEN, CRUSHED TO DEATH UNDER AUTO

Jeff, the pole sliding kitty that has been with firemen at No. 4 Engine House, Fifth and Chestnut streets, since last Thanksgiving, has slid his last pole.

Mutt and Jeff came to the firemen as wee bits of catdom on Thanksgiving Day. Since then the brothers have been fixtures at the engine house, running the establishment to their own tastes as their every whim was respected by Capt. Dailey and his crew.

Early in his life Jeff was attracted by his likeness in the shiny brass pole on which firemen drop from the dormitories to the apparatus floor on night hitches. Jeff leaped at his shadow more than once and with each leap, he met nothing but solid pole.

Jeff leaped with more frequency and each leap carried him higher and higher on the pole. Finally, he went to the second floor, leaped on the pole and slid to the apparatus floor. He was the only cat in captivity that had gained a reputation as a pole slider and his fame traveled far and wide.

Mutt stood idly by, fearfully watching his brother as Jeff made the slides down the pole. But Mutt would not even approach the shiny pole.

It was early last night that Jeff showed his stuff to wondering strangers.

A newly married couple from Virginia, who were honeymooning in this city, came to the engine house. Captain Dailey and his men were sitting on the Fifth street side while Mutt and Jeff dozed lazily at their feet.

“We heard a lot about the cat that slides the pole.” said the bashful bride. “I have longed for months to see him come down. Will you let me watch him?”

Now the firemen at No. 4 never hesitated in showing Jeff and his famous slide, but this time they all scampered to their feet and rushed for Jeff as the sweet bride of a few days cast smiles in their directions.

Jeff was carried to the second floor. The trap door was sprung and through the aperture came Jeff, clinging tightly to the pole. Halfway down he clamped on the brakes, stopped momentarily, then finished the slide, hitting the floor with his usual bang.

The applause was customary and Jeff, wagging his sleek tail in an “I thank you” sort of way, scampered through the Fifth street door.

His speed was unusual. He failed to stop at the sidewalk and the curb appeared to be no barrier. He was flushed with his victory, for it was probably the prettiest slide he had ever made and the applause was well earned.

Out into the middle of Fifth street dashed Jeff. It was strange territory and Jeff failed to notice an east bound auto. As Jeff struck the center of the street the car arrived at the same time.

Jeff was under the wheels as Sam Landis, the driver, applied the brakes. He halted his car in a short space but not soon enough to save Jeff. Jeff, fresh from victory, a moment before, lay crumpled and dead on the street.

Capt. Dailey picked up the lifeless form. Jeff was carried into the engine house, but there was no aid for him. He was gone.

And Mutt, sulking alone in a corner all night, reflected the sad spirit that pervaded the engine house with the death of Jeff.