Sundance Fire: 50-Year Public Event

Longtime Schweitzer Ski patrolman John Pucci had just come home from basic training. He was on his way to go have a beer when some men approached him and told him he was going to go fight fire. 

Ray Haworth, who had already fighting forest fires, was supposed to get married Sept. 1, 1967.  It must have worked out because he and his wife celebrated 50 years of marriage on Friday in Glacier Park before returning to Sandpoint to don their T-shirts and attend the Sundance Fire 50-Year Commemoration.  

His wife Carol recalled seeing the huge smoke plume from her childhood and present home on Forest Siding Road. It was like an atomic bomb, she recalled.

Jim Wood, a longtime area rancher, drove dozer in the Pack River area and saw the devastating inferno firsthand. Providing poignant anecdotes, he pointed to mountain sides along Pack River, now rich with foliage and trees, and recalled devastating and horrific scenes he had witnessed while doing his job in the fire aftermath. 

A story was shared about how Forest Service radio man Gene Napier calmly explained to Roman Nose Lookout Randy Langston how to survive by finding a way to wet down his clothes.  Langston found a patch of snow near the lookout.  Later, Napier's calm and reassuring radio voice helped direct him to safety in the darkness. 

The near-death experience for then 18-year-old Langston (who died in the mid-2000s from cancer), profoundly changed his outlook toward his purpose in life.  He became a missionary and traveled throughout the world with his wife and children. 

A moment of silence during the ceremony and the unveiling of an interpretive sign honored the memories of dozer operators Lee Collins and Luther Rodarte who died in the fire. 

Professionals from various agencies discussed weather patterns and other fires, leading up to the Sundance blaze which burned 55,000-plus acres almost overnight.  Others explained immediate efforts to regenerate the area with grass seed and baby trees. 

In one case, former Forest Service engineer Dick Creed recalled some farmers complaining to the Forest Service when a pattern matching a flight path over rich farmland, which airplanes took from Sandpoint Airport to the burn area turned up a whole lot of rye grass mixed in with the wheat. 

For three hours, in hot sun and, later, in the shade along a dusty Pack River Road----as recreationalists occasionally drove through the middle of the gathering on their way to hike, fish or to go 4-wheeling--folks remembered and people listened intently to the stories of Sundance. 

One professional from Priest Lake Idaho Department of Lands office told the audience of 100-plus that he had studied the Sundance Fire his whole career and that the fire is often used as an example in forest fire studies nationally. 

At the outset, officials reminded the audience just how dry conditions are right now and how fortunate we in Idaho have been so far as fire rages in the states around us. 

Yesterday's event was a well organized, informative and fascinating program, even if I, the wife of the emcee and one of the many passionate organizers, do say so myself. 

The gathering also provided another venue for people who had worked together for various agencies over the decades to reconnect.  Bill even told me about one gentleman in the crowd who had once been his boss.

"He's a really nice man," Bill said, "and when he knew Annie was interested in stamp collecting, he brought a big supply for me to give her . . . and said if she needs any more to let him know."  

In another case, I met a dog.  Her name was Roxy.  She was a red and white Border Collie. I asked her owner if she came from George Frazier's Journey's End Border College at Wrencoe.

He said, "No, she came from Hunters, Wash."  I was astounded and immediately began an interrogation.  

"Was it a farm with a big gateway?  Did they have a lot of kids?"

Virtually everything I asked him matched.  At the end of the interrogation, it was determined, rather unscientifically, of course, that Roxy is more than likely related to Liam, maybe even his sister.

So, it wasn't just a fire story that ignited some new friendships.  

Roxy's human mom shared with me that she had spent her childhood spending weekends at Pack River.  She had gotten to know one of the residents very well, and she recalls his sitting out in the road with a rifle during Sundance, flashing it at governmental types. 

He was angry that the agencies would not fight fire on the private land. 

Stories abounded as did the intense appreciation for all who sacrificed and who worked tirelessly the summer of 1967 and for all who worked so hard to coordinate this year's remembrances. 

The best part of the whole day:  a gorgeous, pristine setting along Upper Pack River where all that work to make life rise from the ashes has paid off. 

Thanks to the organizers, and you too, Bill, for a phenomenal series of events to mark this anniversary of one of the most significant catastrophic happenings in modern times to affect the environment, the animals and the people of this area. 

Haworths:  married 50 years, Sept. 1, 2017.