Pulaski leads men to safety in mine tunnel

A half-dozen or more accounts were written by crew members of ranger Ed Pulaski’s crew’s experience in the Great 1910 Fire, some written soon after the fire, some later on, and some even many years later.

U.S. Forest Service archeologist and “Big Blowup” historian Carl Ritchie collated these accounts into an approximate sequence of the events for Pulaski and his firefighting crew in the lead article of a document titled “Pulaski, Two Days in August 1910.” The document was privately published by the Forest Service in 1984 on the occasion of the dedication of a monument to Pulaski and his crew.

The monument is located in the parking area across from the trailhead of the Pulaski Tunnel Trail, about a half-mile south of Wallace on Moon Pass Road.

“It should be understood,” said Ritchie in a telephone interview, “that there is a lot of confusion surrounding accounts of these events.

“Above and beyond the inaccuracies created by the smoke and circumstances of the fire itself, many men were wholly unfamiliar with the area, some were illiterate or unable to read maps or unable to connect their current location to a point on a map. Some may even have confused the experiences of other crews with that of Pulaski’s crew.”

“Incidentally,” Ritchie adds, “all the sources of confusion and panic make it all the more important that the crew could rely on a knowledgeable and levelheaded leader like Ed Pulaski.”

By the middle of August, 1910, firefighting crews were scattered along the ridge tops of the Coeur d’Alene River/St. Joe River divide, fighting a multiplicity of fires on several fire lines. On Aug. 19 and 20, winds began to enliven these fires, causing them to jump fire lines and pose an increased risk to firefighters.

Pulaski’s crew was working the fire in the Stripped Peak area. According to C.W. Stockton’s account, Pulaski was not present when the men began retreating to their camp because of the increasingly dangerous situation.

The oldest member of Pulaski’s crew, 60-year-old Stockton, told the men of a nearby clearing at McPhee’s homestead. The men fled to this location and took refuge in a small stream that flowed through the homestead.

“Stockton was definitely a member of Pulaski’s crew,” adds Ritchie, “but his account may have confused the experience of John Bell’s crew, which was also on Stripped Peak and took refuge in a creek.”

On the night of Aug. 19, Pulaski rode to Wallace to secure food and first-aid supplies. He returned on the morning of the 20th. His trip covered approximately 17 miles to Wallace and back.

The cook at the base camp, a man named Folz, offered a different account of the crew’s departure from the Stripped Peak area. It was written in 1951. Folz said men retreated from the base camp to the north side of the Coeur d’Alene/ St. Joe River divide in the late morning of Aug. 20.

There, thinking they were out of danger, a temporary field kitchen was established. Worsening smoke and fires, however, soon sowed confusion and fear.

According to Folz, “An unknown number of men had reached the camp when Pulaski rode into the camp and took charge.”

Pulaski told his men that they had to try to make it to Wallace. By late afternoon the crew became trapped in the West Fork’s canyon.

“Their route of escape to a safe refuge may have been blocked by backfire from Wallace,” explained Ritchie.

Pulaski changed plans and told the men they would try to make it to the War Eagle mine, the mine closest to Wallace on the West Fork.

“Illuminating their path was the orange hue of a crown fire,” Ritchie said.

Upon reaching a small dwelling known as the J.I.C. cabin, Pulaski realized there was no hope of reaching the War Eagle, which was approximately three-quarters of a mile farther down.

Pulaski procured a cross-cut saw from the cabin and gave it to a crew member in order to clear timber that might block the horses. The saw was the only tool they had, everything else having been left behind in their hasty retreat from the temporary camp.

At first, Pulaski had his men take refuge in the J.I.C. tunnel. But he soon recognized that the J.I.C. was not deep enough to offer safe refuge.

Pulaski began a desperate search back up the trail, in the direction away from Wallace, for the Nicholson mine. Once Pulaski located the mine, he returned and stationed Folz and another man along the route from the J.I.C. to the Nicholson in order to guide the crew through the smoke and confusion.

“It showed considerable presence of mind,” commented Ritchie, “for Pulaski to post guides under these difficult circumstances.”

All but one man reached the Nicholson mine.

“The next day,” said Ritchie, “his body was so charred that it was initially mistaken for a burned tree stump.”

It had taken the men fully five panicked hours to travel to, find, and secure themselves in the Nicholson tunnel.

“Inside, the tunnel was a madhouse,” wrote William Chance. “Some men went berserk, clamoring over the prostrate bodies, choking, gasping. Others praying. Others laughing. I’ll never forget one man lustily singing, ‘The Pride of the House is Mama’s Baby.’ ”

It was in this context that Pulaski drew his pistol to keep one man from trying to escape the mine.

Pulaski and two other men tried to extinguish burning mine timbers.

Men buried their faces in the wet dirt on the mine’s floor and in wetted clothing and hats. Suffocation brought one man into convulsions, and he attempted to strangle another man “but freed his grip in the final throes of death.”

Two unconscious men drowned in a pool of water that collected behind the body of a horse lying on the mine’s floor.

In all, five men perished in the tunnel, and 39 or 40 survived.

They spent approximately three hours in the tunnel (though another source says five hours). One man said “it seemed like only 15 minutes had passed.”

As reported in Pulaski’s own account, written in 1923, at some point in the awakening process the famous exchange occurred in which one crew member said, “Come outside, boys, the boss is dead.”

Pulaski replied, “Like hell he is!”

After the men started regaining consciousness, one or another emerged from the tunnel. Accounts differ as to the order of their emergence. The men apparently crawled a short distance to a small pool in the creek created by fallen trees.

Two men – possibly W. Smith and L. Couter – walked to Wallace to get help, arriving there at approximately 1 a.m. on Aug. 21. At 4 a.m., the remaining crew members began leaving for Wallace.

A rescue party from Wallace met the men as they were making their way down the creek. The men were offered whiskey and coffee, but so dire was their condition that they accepted only water.

When the group reached Wallace, according to William Chance’s account, “Those who were hungry, Pulaski took to the one restaurant not destroyed by the fire. The rest, he took to the hospital. Then he went home, to his wife and 7-year-old daughter.”

“I have my doubts about the restaurant detail,” said Ritchie. “The men would have been in pretty poor shape for a restaurant but perhaps one or two crew members would have been in good enough shape to do so.”

Ritchie’s account of Pulaski’s route taking him and his crew down the West Fork of Placer Creek, past the Nicholson mine, and then doubling back in a desperate search for the same mine is lent support in a hand-drawn illustration that accompanied Pulaski’s 1923 article. The illustration shows two men hastening uphill and up the canyon, or in other words in the direction away from Wallace, as Ritchie’s article described.