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- [00:00]
Mike Corey
Wondery subscribers can listen to against the Odds early and ad free right now. Join Wondery in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. A Listener Note against the Odds uses dramatizations that are based on true events. Some elements, including dialogue, may be invented, but everything is based on research. This episode contains scenes that depict racist attitudes and language. Please be advised. Forest Ranger Bill Weigel tosses a saddle over his horse, then hoists himself up. He dabs his sweaty brow with a handkerchief, then snaps the reins and his horse begins a slow trot through the dirt streets of Wallace, Idaho. There's a strange crackling sensation in the hazy air today. It's almost electric, like something is about to reach out and shock him. Weigel doesn't like it. After a block, he spots a deputy ranger. Weigel pulls back on the reins to speak with him. Hey, I'm gonna get some eyes on that fire over the next ridge. We'll be back in a couple of hours. It's 5:30pm on August 20, 1910. Weigel is Forest supervisor at the Coeur d' Alene National Forest in the Idaho Panhandle. As far as Weigel is concerned, it's the most beautiful stretch of land in the country, rolling mountains of thick pine forest dotted with alpine lakes and lined with crystal streams. But the region is experiencing the worst drought ever recorded here. Hundreds of small fires have broken out in the forested mountains above Wallace, a mining and logging town of around 3,500 people. Weigel and his rangers have been scrambling to fight them all summer, and these past few days a brutal heat wave has swept in, with temperatures soaring past 100 degr degrees. Ominous reports are trickling in of larger fires breaking out. The sky, which has been eerie yellow for days, has now gone gray from billowing smoke. It's a bad sign. Weigel figures the fires are growing closer and Wallace will soon be in danger. Which is why he wants to put eyes on any fire in the surrounding mountains and determine whether people in town should prepare to evacuate. At the rate the fires have been moving, he figures they could reach Wallace within two or three days. At the edge of town, Weigel steers his horse up a bone dry creek bed, then onto a trail that snakes up the mountain. As they climb higher, they're slammed by ferocious gusts of wind. It must be blowing 40 miles an hour. His horse is getting skittish, so Weigel leans forward to give the animal's neck a reassuring pat. Hey, you're okay, buddy. You're ok. After half an hour, Weigel lets out a groan of frustration. A huge tree has fallen directly across the trail. Even astride his horse, Weigel can barely see over it. He looks for a way around, but the thickets flanking the trail are too dense to navigate on horseback. Weigel has to walk from here. He dismounts and hitches his horse to a tree. The trunk of the tree is too big to climb over, so Weigel drops to his knees, searching for a way under it. Sure enough, he spots a gap. Weigel's a big man, but there's enough space for him to crawl under the tree. He stands, dusts himself off, and starts trudging up the trail. It's a struggle in the heat. He wishes he'd brought his canteen. The hot gusts of wind only make him more thirsty, even after a rest. Halfway, Weigel is huffing and puffing. By the time he gets to the next lookout, his red suspenders cut painfully into his shoulders. He's climbed so high that he's above the smoke line, giving him a clear view across the valley, and what he sees steals every ounce of breath from his lungs. There, on the other side of the valley, a ribbon of fire stretches across the face of the mountains. It seems to go on for miles. It dawns on Weigel that several wildfires must have merged into one. Now, propelled by dry winds, this monster is marching toward Wallace at a ferocious speed. The fire is already much closer than he feared, maybe four miles away. Weigel stares dumbfounded, then rips his hat off his head and tears back down the trail. Forget three days to evacuate. They're looking at maybe three hours before everything in Wallace and every living soul in it gets devoured by flames. Foreign.
- [05:09]
Progressive Insurance Announcer
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- [06:03]
Mike Corey
From Wondery I'm Mike Corey, and this is against the Odds over the entire summer of 1910, less than a tenth of an inch of rain fell on the Idaho Panhandle. The drought turned the Coeur d' Alene National Forest into a tinderbox, and stuck in the mid were the small mining towns of Wallace and Avery. Then came the wildfires. Some were started by negligent silver miners and loggers. Others began when passing trains scattered embers from their smokestacks. Still other fires were sparked by lightning strikes. Initially, there were hundreds of small, separate spot fires. But when a massive windstorm swept through in August, many of those spot fires flared up and merged with each other. They eventually grew into the largest known blaze in American history, and the towns of Wallace and Avery lay right in its path. This is Episode one the Driest Summer. Ranger Ed Pulaski slows his horse as several baby raccoons dart across the forest trail ahead of him. Elasticross, the mother rises on her hind legs to stare at him. Pulaski tips his hat. Hey, morning, ma'. Am. The raccoon skitters off. Pulaski watches her go for a minute before snapping the reins on Cherry Belle, his favorite horse named by his daughter. It's a sunny morning in May 1910, and he's in no hurry, especially given the unpleasant task ahead of him. He's riding through the Coeur d' Alene National Forest south of Wallace, Idaho. Undulating ridges of white pine trees stretch for dozens of miles in every direction. Most of the trees are 60 to 70ft tall, while the largest climb past 100ft. They are truly majestic, and he loves this countryside. Pulaski is 6 foot 3, his body lean from years spent working for pretty much every mining and logging company in Idaho. He knows every ridge and gully out here. A couple of years ago, he joined the new U.S. forest Service as a ranger. He loves the work. No more toiling in dark mining tunnels or chopping down beautiful trees for some big boss's prophet. It's just him and his horse, ranging far and wide. He's 42, and he's finally found his favorite job. At least mostly. Every job has its headaches, and in this one it's checking for fraud among homesteaders. Under federal law, any person can claim 160 acres of national forest land as their own as long as they live there full time and take steps to improve the land. Farming, raising livestock, building a cabin. And certainly some of the homesteaders are decent, hard working people. But most aren't in it for the right reasons. They claim the land only to hold it for the required Five years. Get the deed and sell it to a timber company for big money. Pulaski figures probably 90% of homesteads are a scam. He hates playing cop and reporting people to the government. Other rangers have even had to arrest people. But however distasteful it is part of the job. As he rides along, Pulaski sees that it's shaping up to be another hot and sunny morning. Clear and warm. But that's not necessarily a good thing. It's hardly rained at all this year. As Pulaski passes a clearing, he's alarmed to see how brown the grass looks. Fields of buttercups, his wife's favorite flower, droop in the heat. The land is parched and it's become a fire hazard. But as soon as he draws near to the next homestead, he forgets about the weather. He looks around. What a dump. The land belongs to a German immigrant named Hans. The lean to that Hans sleeps in looks more fit to house pigs. A latrine trench sits right next door. Even here, from 100 yards away, Pulaski catches the odor on the breeze. He shakes his head as he urges Cherry Bell closer. Hans spends most nights in the saloons of Avery, a rail stop town 8 miles south of here. As he knocks on the tin sheet door, Pulaski prays that Hans isn't home. No such luck, Hans answers, wearing nothing but dingy long johns. What the hell do you want? Well, good morning to you, too, Hans. I'm here to check on the homestead. Last year you swore you were going to clear some of these trees and maybe dig a root cellar. What? I didn't say that. Yes, you did, Hans. And what about the house? You got a proper chimney yet? With those trees so close, you can't afford your house catching fire, can you? A chimney? Yeah, I built one. Look, right over there. Hans stabs a thumb over his shoulder and grins. Pulaski peers past Hans's head, confused. He can't see any chimney. Now he's irritated. It's always the same story with Hans. Lots of talk and nothing ever happens. Hans, I'm gonna have to report you. That's your third violation. You know what that means. This will likely go to court. Now. Are you threatening me? Nope. But I can't help what the court does. And if it comes down to it, I will testify against you. The two men stare at each other hard. Suddenly, Hans darts to his left, grabbing for a shotgun propped by the door. In a flash, Pulaski's right hand drops to his hip and he whips out his revolver, pointing it at Hans. Hans freezes, shotgun in hand, his eyes wide with terror, and for a long moment, Pulaski is tempted to shoot him. He could say that Hans threatened his life, which technically, he has, and Pulaski would sure love to rid himself of the hassle of Hans as well, but he can't do it. Hey, put that down, Hans. I said put the damn gun down. Good. Good. Okay, I'm gonna back away now. Don't do anything stupid. Pulaski retreats, guns still drawn. Hans's eyes have narrowed into a murderous glare. Fine. I'll build the chimney. Hey. And a root cellar. I'll be back to check. Hans spits on the ground, then slams his tin sheet door closed, and Pulaski feels his shoulders relax. He holsters his gun, then swings up onto Cherry Bell. It's time to check on the next homestead. Domenico Bruno shovels a fork full of fried potatoes into his mouth as he scans the newspaper in front of him. He's sitting in the grub tent of a mining company smack in the middle of a bleak desert in Arizona territory. Dozens of other dirty, hungry men chow down around him. Him. It's beastly hot out. The grub tent is the only shade for miles. Domenico is reading the paper to improve his English. He's exhausted by the end of the day, so he always tries to read over lunch. Halfway down the page, he sees something interesting. He nudges his friend sitting next to him. Giacomo Viettoni. Whoa, whoa. Look at this. It says they're hiring men to fight for fires up north in Idaho. 25 cents an hour. We could make a fortune this month. July 1910, marks three years since Domenico, or Dom to his friends, left his village in the Italian Alps and came to the United States. His dream is to make enough money to one day return to Italy and buy a farm. Last year he sent $80 to his family, more than he could have ever made back home. And with this firefighting job, he could make $15 a week. He's lucky to make $12 now, and the work is backbreaking. But Giacomo grunts. He's three years older and considers himself wiser. Fighting fires? That sounds even worse than mining. How is it worse than mining? At least up there in the north there's trees. And look. It says it's in the mountains. Don't you miss the mountains? I miss the mountains back home. American mountains. They're ugly. Dom concedes this. Their first job in America involved digging coal in the mountains of Wyoming, and it wasn't exactly scenic. Still, the thought of higher pay captivates him. As he's finishing the article, a foreman for the mining company enters the tent. Shovel it in, boys. Back to work. Dom is confused. They're supposed to get half an hour for lunch, but it's only been 15 minutes. He points this out to the foreman, then feels Giacomo kick him under the table. But Dom insists we get 30 minutes. You talking back to me, spaghetti boy? Hey, I eat American food, not spaghetti. And we get our half hour. It's our right. Quick as a rattlesnake, the foreman swipes his hand across the table and sends Dom's bowl of potatoes flying. The crockery smashes on the ground. The foreman smiles. Oh, look at that. You broke your spaghetti bowl. That's coming out of your paycheck. Anybody else got a problem here? Giacomo grabs Dom and hisses at him in Italian to shut up. Still seething, Dom follows his friend out of the tent and into the blazing sun. But he keeps the newspaper tucked in his pocket. He's decided he's going to get that job. In the Idaho mountains, ranger Ed Pulaski spurs Cherry Bell up the ridge. In the forest, the smell of burning timber thick in the air. It's a sweltering afternoon in early August in the Coeur d' Alene National Forest, with spot fires dotting these woods. He's ridden up From Wallace with 10 men, mostly out of work. Loggers. He hired any man who had a horse. As the ground levels out, the men emerge into a broad clearing. Some years ago, loggers felled some trees here to make room for a small schoolhouse and a ranger station, basically a wooden bunkhouse. And now both structures are in danger of going up in flames. Along one edge of the clearing, five foot flames leap from the undergrowth, licking the trunks of the white pines above. Burning embers have settled onto the roof of the schoolhouse, and Pulaski can see that it's starting to catch fire. The school isn't much, just white clapboard beneath a tar paper roof. But he and his men need to save it. If they don't, it'll spread to the ranger station. As they dismount, a ranger from the station house points to some ladders and buckets lying nearby. Unlike in Wallace, where there are hoses and pumps, they don't have any real equipment here in the wilderness. Pulaski calls out instructions. Hey, Harrison. Jones. Wet those blankets with water from the creek and drape them over the roof. Everybody else grab a bucket. His men snap to it, propping the ladders against the schoolhouse and carrying blankets and buckets to the creek. Once the blankets are down, they quickly form a bucket brigade, passing water up the ladders and empty buckets back down. But the blaze is moving, growing faster than his men. The fire is eating holes in the school's roof. Pulaski urges his men to hurry. Out of the corner of his eye, Pulaski notices the ranger from the station sidle up to him. He throws the man an impatient glance and yells an order. Hey, what are you doing? Don't just stand there. Grab a bucket and pitch in. I will, I will. But listen, there's something I gotta tell you first. The ranger explains that he's been stuck storing mining equipment in the station as a favor to the companies that had to withdraw from areas overrun with fire. Pulaski narrows his eyes. What sort of equipment? Well, a dozen crates of gunpowder to start. As Pulaski tries to process this, he hears a crashing sound. He turns to find his men running away from the school as its roof collapses, its iron bell clanging onto the ground. The collapse belches thick shower of sparks in every direction. Pulaski squeezes his eyes shut and shields his face with his arm. He opens them several seconds later to an awful sight. The roof of the ranger station is ablaze. If the fire reaches the gunpowder inside, the explosion will send flaming embers drifting for miles and blow him and his men to pieces.
- [19:40]
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- [19:42]
Mike Corey
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- [19:44]
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Mike Corey
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Mike Corey
For example, there's a spot just down the street where I like to stay.
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- [20:36]
Mike Corey
You'll be happy you did Square.
- [20:38]
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- [20:40]
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- [20:42]
Mike Corey
That's okay.
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- [20:54]
Progressive Insurance Announcer
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- [21:04]
Mike Corey
Ranger ed. Pulaski cups his hands and yells to his crew. Hey, don't just stand there. There's gunpowder in the station. We've got to stop that fire. Pulaski turns to give more orders. They need to transfer their ladders and wet blankets from what's left of the school. But before he can say anything, he hears Winnie. He's stunned to see half the crew is mounting their horses. Where are you going? Get back here. One of the men points and yells, look. We're gonna get trapped. He's pointing at the perimeter. At least two thirds of the clearing's edge is now on fire. Pulaski feels his heart hammering in his chest. They can't just leave the gunpowder. If it blows, the flaming debris will start an even bigger, more dangerous fire. Pulaski pleads with the men to come back, but they spur their horses and take off, intent on saving their own skin. Pulaski curses them, but there's nothing he can do. He turns to the four brave souls who stayed. We've only got a few minutes. Forget saving the ranger station. Let's just grab the crates of gunpowder inside and move them to the creek. Pulaski leads the way inside the station, already filled with smoke. The wooden crates are stacked near a wall, and each one is so heavy it takes two men just to lift it outside. They hurry the crates over to the creek, then splash them down. Unfortunately, the stream isn't deep. The tops of the crates are still exposed. Pulaski orders the men to keep hauling the gunpowder. He runs the cherry bell and throws open the pack saddle. He grabs a crowbar inside and hurries back to the creek. While the other men bring more crates. Pulaski pries open the tops and uses a bucket to pour water on the gunpowder. When that proves too slow, he kicks the crates with his boot heel until the sides break and the powder inside spills into the creek, turning the water bottle black. At last, all dozen crates are empty and wet. His men cheer. He orders them to mount up and ride out. He'll get them working on a firebreak now, chopping down trees to contain this fire before it threatens anything else. There's a bigger worry gnawing at him, too. That was a dangerously close call, and unless they get some rain soon and more reliable men, he he fears they'll be facing an even bigger threat as the summer heats up. Domenico Bruno hops off the train at the station in Wallace, Idaho, and grins. He grabs the arm of his friend Giacomo Viettoni. Look at the mountains, Giacomo. Look. Both men drink them in. Tall, steep, blanketed with pine trees. Just like the Alps. Back home in Italy, Dom's heart swells. It's August 4, 1910. After reading about Idaho a few weeks ago, Dom finally convinced Giacomo to try their luck here. They waited until they received their next paycheck, then skipped town and caught a train north from Arizona. A minute after disembarking, they hear a booming voice. You fellas here to fight the fires? A tall red headed man is approaching. His suspenders are straining over his big belly. He shakes Dom's hand. I'm Bill Weigel, forest supervisor. You ever fought a wildfire before? Dom can answer. Giacomo pipes up. No, never. Not many fires in Italy. Dom is furious. He's going to cost them a job. Sure enough. Weigel frowns. Huh. Alright. Well, better see what you can do then. Follow me. Dom shoots Giacomo an angry look. They follow the ranger across the street to a hardware store while the Italians wait outside. Weigel goes in, then emerges a minute later with an axe. He hands it to Dom. Well, boys, half of fighting wildfires is clearing out trees and brush to make firebreaks. Breaks that deprives the fire of fuel and it kills it. So let's see if you can handle an axe. Yeah, go split that firewood there on the stump. Dom shrugs. He chopped plenty of wood as a child. He sets up a short log on the stump, rears back and splits it cleanly. Then he splits a second and a third. The big ranger turns to Giacomo and asks him if he can handle an axe too. Giacomo says, of course. Weigel slaps him on the back. Well then, you're already better than half the men here. Come with me. You're hired. We start this afternoon. We've probably got a few hundred wildfires out there now. It's a bit dangerous in places. Dom follows behind, barely listening. He's too excited. Between the mountains and the good pay, he has a feeling he's going to love Idaho. Emma Pulaski hurries around a corner in downtown Wallace, an empty basket on her arm. She got a late start this morning and worries that the grocery store might already be low on food. Normally, Emma, who's 43, enjoys her stroll through town. Wallace is nestled into a mountain valley and the buildings are handsome brick. Most towns out west are slapdash, full of cheap wooden structures. Wallace is different, though. There's money here from all the silver mines, and the population is booming, nearly 3,500 people. She and her husband, Forest Ranger Ed Pulaski, could never imagine living anywhere else. The only eyesore is the newspaper office. Buckets filled with grease and cans of gasoline are stacked out front for operating the printing press. She wishes they'd move them, they're so unsightly, and her husband Ed, says that they're a fire hazard. But today she barely notices the mess there. Ever since the hotel awning caught fire yesterday, the tension in town has been thick. Even the past few sunsets have looked menacing in eerie blood red. Townspeople hurry by her, chewing their lips in worry. She notices several with armfuls of groceries and wonders again if the shelves will already be bare. She's been hoping to stock herself up in case the fire cuts off the supply trains. Today every building seems to have two or three people out front using hoses to wet down the roof and awnings. And all that water is running into the street, turning it into a muddy mess. Emma notices notices that one building has several dozen people in front. She realizes it's the local insurance office. Even stranger, there's a desk set up outside, staffed by a clerk taking people's information. She spots her neighbor, Mary Henderson, at the front of the line and walks up to her. Hey, Mary, what's going on? I'm getting fire insurance. Don't you have it already? Yes, we do, but I'm getting extra coverage. The clerk butts in and points his pen at Emma. And what about you, ma'? Am? You want to top off your coverage? We have gold, silver, platinum plans available. I'm surprised you're filling any policies at all. My husband tells me that it's the worst fire season on record. We know. It's been our best day ever. Okay, but what if a big fire comes? You'll be completely wiped out. The clerk waves her off. He says that a few homesteads might burn, but Wallace is safe. He points to the train station. Look. Men are pouring in to fight the blaze. I heard the army's coming, too. Wallace has never been safer. Emma isn't so sure, and after Mary wraps up, she admits her worry, too. As they walk toward the grocery store, she tells Emma that when she went for a walk in the woods the other day, it felt like she was walking on crackers, every step crunched underfoot with dried needles and leaves. The conversation leaves Emma even more uneasy. She glances up at the thick forest overlooking town. Ed has been out there for two weeks now, right in the middle of the danger he promised her he'd be fine. But how can he know that?
- [29:41]
Denise Chan
Hi, I'm Denise Chan, host of Scam Factory. You might remember hearing about our investigative series that exposed what's really happening behind those suspicious texts you get inside heavily guarded compounds across Asia. Thousands are trapped and forced to scam others or risk torture. One of our most powerful stories was Jelas, a young woman who thought she'd found her dream job only to end up imprisoned in a scam compound. Her escape story caught the attention of Criminal's Phoebe Judge, and I'm honored to share more details of Jella's journey with their audience. But Jella's story is just one piece of this investigation. In Scam Factory, we reveal how a billion dollar criminal empire turns job seekers into prisoners and how the only way out is to scam your way out. Ready to uncover the full story? Binge all episodes of Scam Factory. Now listen to Scam Factory on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts.
- [30:41]
Nick Cannon
It's your man, Nick Cannon and I'm here to bring you my new podcast, Nick Cannon at Night. I've heard y' all been needing some advice in the love department, so who better to help than yours truly? Nah, I'm serious. Every week I'm bringing out some of my celebrity friends and the best experts in the business to answer your most intimate relationship questions. Having problems with your man? We got you catching feelings for your sneaky link. Let's make sure it's the real deal first. Ready to bring toys into the bedroom? Let's talk about it. Consider this a non judgment zone to ask your questions when it comes to sex and modern dating. In relationships, friendships, situationships and everything in between, it's gon be sexy, freaky, messy. And you know what? You'll just have to watch the show. So don't be shy, join the conversation and head over to YouTube to watch Nick Cannon at night. Or subscribe on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcast. Want to watch episodes early and ad free? Join Wondery right now.
- [31:44]
Mike Corey
Left, right, left, right and halt. Sergeant John James wheels around to inspect his soldiers. It's August 17th and his company of 53 men have finally arrived in Avery. After hiking through the woods from the town of Wallace, James weaves among them, checking to ensure their boots are squared up and their chins are high. He glances over their rifles and bayonets and inspects their uniforms. Dark blue coats, polished brass buttons, high boots. Despite a 15 mile trek over some steep, punishing trails they still look sharp. He nods, satisfied. At ease, men. Let's pitch our tents. James and his men belong to Company g of the US Army's 25th infantry, an all black group of soldiers. They're known as the Buffalo Soldiers, a nickname given to them by the Plains Indians. Company G arrived in Wallace two days ago after a train ride from their home fort in Washington State. Then today, half the troops remained in Wallace, and James half marched south to Avery. As his men work, James casts a glance at their surroundings. He's not impressed. Wallace was a handsome city, well put together. Avery is full of shacks and flimsy storefronts, several alarmingly off kilter. Nothing rises higher than two stories, probably because it would collapse. He's heard that Avery can be pretty rough, full of brawlers, card sharps and pickpockets. The chief Ranger in Wallace instructed James Company to camp in a clearing just above the river. It's on a steep slope covered in tree stumps. Not exactly great terrain for pitching tents, but it'll have to do. James wants to track down his commanding officer, Lieutenant Edson Lewis, the company's lone white man. Lewis rode ahead today to rendezvous with the local ranger in charge of Avery. But before James can go anywhere, he notices that onlookers have started to gather. The first are a group of Asian people. James heard there's a contingent of Japanese railroad workers here. He supposes they've never seen a black person before and are curious. James is used to that. He served in the Philippines after the Spanish American War, and most Filipinos hadn't seen someone like him either. Being stared at gets irritating, but he knows that they mean no harm. He finally catches one man's eyes. The man bows his head and James nods back. But another group of men doesn't look so polite. They're bearded, sunburned white miners wearing filthy plaid shirts. A few nudge each other and snicker. Most just cross their arms and stare. One finally marches up to James, who offers his hand. I'm Sergeant James of the 25th Infantry. How can I help you? The man doesn't take James hand. He flashes a smile full of gold teeth and spits tobacco juice, almost hitting James's boot. Who said you can camp here? That would be Bill Weigel, supervisor for the Coeur d' Alene National Forest. We're here to help fight the fires. I don't think we need help from the likes of you. And I know who Weigel is. His word don't carry much weight in Avery. James senses that behind him. His soldiers have stopped working. The air suddenly feels charged. But James grew up in Alabama. He's alert but not afraid. I'm sorry for the imposition, but President Taft himself ordered us here. And if Avery has a suitable hotel, we're happy to lodge there instead. Nah, there's no hotels in Avery. Then I guess we'll have to sleep here if we allow it. And let me tell you, you better march straight to work and straight back each day. No ducking into any shops. And if you even look at any women in town, trust me, there's not a single woman in Avery we'd even consider looking at. James hears his soldiers laugh behind him. The miner steps so close that James smells the whiskey on his breath. James stares back evenly. His men went toe to toe last year with the Sioux Indians in South Dakota. They're not afraid of some redneck miners. The miner spits again and this time it hits the toe of James Boot. The man turns and trudges back to his friends who greet him like a heavyweight boxing champion. James rubs his boot toe on the grass and turns to his men. One of them, a private named Roy Greene, strides up. I say we march back to Wallace. It's clear that they don't want our help here. James shakes his head. We can't do that, Private. We're under orders and we'll do our duty. But given our welcoming committee, it's probably a good idea to keep a night watch. Yeah. Then he winks at Green and I think you just volunteered for the first shift. Green's shoulders sag as he realizes he walked right into this one, but he nods yes. James laughs and pats him on the back. Then he heads off to find Lieutenant Lewis. They've got a lot of work to do. Ranger Ed Pulaski turns his horse sharply and stares back down the hill. He snorts in frustration. The two packers and their mules have fallen behind again. He can't believe it. Hurry the hell up. We've already wasted most of the day. Pulaski's wife, Emma rides up beside him with their 8 year old daughter Elsie sitting in front of her. They came to see him off. Emma scowls. Ed, what kind of example are you setting for Elsie swearing like that? Pulaski sighs. He knows his wife is right. He shouldn't curse in front of their daughter. But it has been a frustrating day. He glances up at the sun, or where the sun appears to be in the yellow smoke haze of the sky. He figures it's probably about 3pm the date is August 20th. They're on a trailhead eight miles south of Wallace, heading toward where Pulaski's crew is fighting a fire in the Coeur d' Alene National Forest. Pulaski yells down the trail again without swearing. This time. His packers yank the mules, weigh down with supplies, and grumble a few four letter words of their own. After three straight weeks of fighting fires, Pulaski managed to slip home late last night. Everything, his skin, his clothes, his boots was streaked in soot and his hair was greasy and standing on end. Emma threw her arms around him anyway. But one night at home was all Ed could afford. He was up at dawn this morning to buy food and shovels and axes for his men to replace the broken ones. Unfortunately, the stores were still low on supplies. He spent all morning running from shop to shop. Then Emma suggested that she and Elsie accompany him part way on his trek to get as much time with him as possible. Pulaski resisted. He didn't want his family heading toward the fire, even if it's still several miles away. He didn't want them slowing him down either, but Emma insisted anyway. It turns out that Emma and Elsie aren't the problem. The two packers are. They've been complaining about the heat, the pace, about everything. At last, the mules catch up. Pulaski tells the packer he's docking their pay if they lag behind again, then spurs on his horse, Cherry Bell. A few miles later, they reach the end of the trail. It's nothing but dense forest from here on out, so it's time for Emma and Elsie to turn around. He notices that the wind has really picked up. That's bad news for fighting fires. The more wind, the faster the fire will spread. Pulaski dismounts, then picks Elsie up from horse, playfully tickling her as he does. After Emma dismounts, he pulls her aside for a private talk. They retreat several yards into the woods and stop under the shade of a pine. Hey, darling. Listen, you and Elsie need to be prepared to evacuate town. Things are really that bad? I've never seen it so dry. Pack a bag and have it ready. Where should we go? Pulaski tells her that leaving by train would be best. If that isn't an option, she and Elsie should run for the mining dump on the outskirts of Wallace. It's a huge expanse of bare rock and it won't burn. Emma nods. But how will we know when it's time to leave? Bill Weigel will give the order. Or if you see fire from anywhere in town. You gotta run for it, okay? Emma nods. Pulaski has one more thing to say, but he's reluctant to hey, Emma, this could be goodbye. And I mean. I mean for a long time. Well, we did do three weeks before, and it was tough, but I can stand that again. No, Emma, that's not what I mean. Things could get really bad out there then. Good Lord, Ed, don't talk like that. You're scaring me. Just take care of yourself, okay? She pulls him in for a hug. When he tries to speak, she just shushes him. It's one of the longest minutes of his life. Then it's time for farewells. Ed gives his daughter one last squeeze and his wife one more quick kiss. As they turn back towards Wallace, Pulaski hops onto Cherry Bell and whistles at the packers to get moving. They've got to find his crew and stop this fire. Forest supervisor Bill Weigel wheezes as he sprints down the rugged trail toward where he tied his horse. He's not used to running for long stretches, and the smoke clogged air isn't helping. He can feel his chest tighten, but after seeing the the size of the fire from the lookout point, he knows that he can't spare a second. He has to warn the town. It's now 6:30pm on Aug. 20, before sunset, but the sky is as black as night. In the 30 minutes Weigl's been running back to his horse, gusts of wind have pushed more and more of the smoke in his direction. As he runs, Weigel tries to recall how much farther his he has to go before he reaches the fallen tree that forced him off his horse. He cranes his neck to look around a bend, but catches his foot on a root and falls and ends up with a mouthful of dirt. He gets up, wincing. His knee hit a rock when he fell, but after he starts running again, he freezes, startled to see someone coming up the trail toward him. It's a buddy of his, Speedy Swift, who lives on a homestead nearby. People call him Speedy as a joke. He is a husky fellow and makes a tortoise look hasty. But Speedy's running now, or straining to. His face looks alarmingly red. Speedy, where you going? My. My wife. My wife. Between gulping breaths, Speedy explains that he was in Wallace visiting the doctor. He'd started back on his horse when he got blocked by the same tree. While he pondered what to do, the sky grew dark with smoke. He panicked and took off running for his homestead, where his wife and child are. Speedy grabs Weigel's sleeve. You've got to get there, Bill. They're all alone. You've got to save them. I'm begging you. Weigel knows his duty lies with Wallace, but Speedy begs him so desperately that he finally agrees he can't let down his friend. He tells Speedy to sit tight, takes a deep breath, and sprints off back the way he came. He hopes that once he's rescued Speedy's wife and child, he won't be too late to warn the people of Wallace at their town isn't about to burn.
- [44:26]
Wondery Narrator/Producer
If you like, against the odds, you can binge all episodes early and ad free right now by joining Wondery in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad free on Amazon Music. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey@wondery.com survey.
- [44:47]
Mike Corey
This is the first episode of our four part series the Big Burn. A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about this event, we recommend the books the Big Burn by Timothy Egan, Year of the Fires by Stephen Pine and When the Mountain Mountains roared by the U.S. forest Service. I'm your host Mike Corey. Sam Keane wrote this episode. Our editor is Steve Fennosyn. Sound design by Joe Richardson. Audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Original theme music Scott Velasquez and 2K for Freeze N Sync Fact checking by Alyssa Jung Perry Produced by Emily Frost Managing Producer is Desi Blaylock Senior Managing Producer is Callum Plews Senior producer is Andy Herman. Executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman, Stephanie, Jens marshalloui and Aaron o' Flaherty for wondering.
- [45:53]
AT&T Business Announcer
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