1939 blaze ravages landscape
Spirit Lake/Blanchard fire provides awe-inspiring views but disastrous results
Editor’s note: This is the 11th in a series of articles exploring the history of Spirit Lake and its environs as the community nears its centennial in August. Spirit Lake native Keith Spencer became interested in local history when he came across some old photographs while remodeling his home. He and his wife, Janette, researched the photos’ origins, began collecting old documents for posterity and now can’t seem to stop.
My father awakened me about 2 a.m. early on an August Sunday morning in 1939. He said, “Come out and look at this.” Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I followed him to the front porch of our home on the east shore of Spirit Lake.
The porch, near the edge of the water, provided an excellent view in a 180-degree arc; this 5-year-old boy immediately saw both an amazing and terrifying sight. Off to the right, behind the mountain ridge, I beheld a blood red glow, with tongues of yellow-orange fire occasionally leaping from behind the ridge. As we stood there transfixed, the fire reached the ridge and we watched the white-hot tongues of flame gradually move along the ridge, crowning through the huge pine trees as if they were exploding. Even though we were in no danger, I was shaken to the core and it took a long time for sleep to release me from my fright.
The next morning it was terribly smoky and one could not see the lake, even though it was less then 100 feet away. I walked down to the dock and discovered the water was completely covered with ash and burned needles. The lake looked like a large concrete driveway. Later, a Civilian Conservation Corps fire guard stopped by. He was watching for spot fires. We talked a little and then I walked a ways with him up the road, promising to tell him if I saw a fire. I stupidly walked up and down the road for the rest of the day looking for fires. This is rather absurd since there was neither a telephone nor a car.
However, let’s start from the beginning. It was very dry, your typical August weekend. Huckleberry pickers had camped about two miles northeast of Mount Spokane’s summit. About 3:30 a.m. Aug. 5, 1939, a strong breeze picked up and scattered embers from the nearly dead campfire into the tinder dry grass and brush. The 30-mph wind quickly turned the small blaze into a roaring inferno. The fire lookout immediately discovered the fire, but by then the battle had been lost.
The first phase
The fire raced northeast into the Blanchard and Brickel Creek drainages, devouring, in an ever-widening swath, everything in its path. By late afternoon it was nearing Blanchard with nothing between the town and fire but a small alfalfa field. The town appeared doomed, but then the first of a number of miracles occurred. The wind shifted, blowing the fire back over previously burned areas and new acreage toward the south and Spirit Lake. Blanchard was saved. There were losses at Blanchard, with several ranches savaged. Fielden and Louis Poirier both lost barns and livestock. John Sullivan, a resident since 1887, lost his newly built house. It is ironic that he had just moved in, replacing a house that had burned earlier.
A Spokane Daily Chronicle report describes the intensity of the situation at Blanchard: “After fighting desperately to save his logging crew, equipment and horses, F. L. Poierier of Blanchard saw four sections of his virgin yellow pine forest swept to ashes Saturday afternoon. ‘It was only by minutes that we saved our crew from the fire,’ he related … ‘It was the worst fire that I have ever seen. We were helpless to do anything about it … I saw the fire jump a mile and a half from one mountaintop to another.’ ”
As darkness fell, the fire fed by both the wind and heavy timber/slash became a raging cauldron of flames along a 10-mile front from Mount Spokane to state Highway 41 near Spirit Lake. At the Mount Spokane end, the flames briefly invaded the state park, but park crews were able to quickly suppress that end with little damage.
In Spokane, residents were awed by what is best described in the Aug. 7 Spokesman-Review: “Hundreds of Spokane persons viewed the spectacular picture Mount Spokane made against the reddened clouds early Sunday morning and last night again were viewing the glare. At 1 o’clock Sunday morning, when Spirit Lake summer colony residents were evacuated, as flames menaced the area with flying embers, the terrific fire’s light silhouetted the entire outline of Mount Spokane for Spokane observers. Some said that not since 1910 has a forest fire in this section created such a scene for Spokane. The fire was 40 miles from Spokane, giving an idea of its wide expanse …”
In Spirit Lake, Panhandle crews and 400 CCCs were expecting the worst and prepared for disaster. They trenched all night and placed as many pumps and as much hose as they could muster. Rathdrum provided additional hose and the company’s automatic sprinkler system in the lumberyard was activated. Spirit Lake would not go down without a fight. In addition, crews were pouring water on the plank-bridge connecting the north side of the lake and Panhandle holdings up Brickel Creek as flaming embers fell like giant snowflakes.
Mrs. J. F. Carlton, wife of the pioneer operator of Silver Beach Resort on the north side of Spirit Lake, which for a time appeared directly in the path of the flames, said they were told to evacuate about 1 a.m. Sunday. They and their neighbors left in a hurry. Meanwhile, the W. H. McBrooms, of Spokane, were at their cabin on the south side of Spirit Lake. They reported that they felt no real danger, but viewed an awesome spectacle. The entire mountainside on the north side of the lake was on fire. Flaming embers and pieces of bark were raining down on Spirit Lake. It was better then the Fourth of July.
By morning flames were licking down the mountainside directly toward the Panhandle mill, the only barrier between the fire and the city of Spirit Lake. The fire burned down to trenching at the west edge of the mill complex and, as documented in the Aug. 7 Spokane Daily Chronicle, a second miracle occurred: “A switch in the wind Sunday afternoon was unquestionably the only reason for the town of Spirit Lake being in existence today. The fire swept down a mountainside toward the millpond of the Panhandle Lumber Co., which seemed destined for ruination. Like magic the wind swung from a NW direction to SW wind, turning the fire back over the smoking course. However, for a considerable time great flames shot skyward as the heavens were filled with burning embers, some of which reached as far as Coeur d’Alene and Hayden Lake.” The weary firefighters breathed a sigh of relief as nothing at either the mill complex or in Spirit Lake had burned.
By Sunday night more than 1,000 firefighters were on the lines struggling to achieve control on the fire’s southern border, especially up Brickel Creek on the eastern reaches of Mount Spokane. In some places, the fire burned down to and along the north shore of the lake itself, a most helpful situation. Most of the firefighters were CCCs, rapidly deployed from Montana, Idaho and Eastern Washington. Two hundred CCCs arrived from the Puget Sound area. The balance of the firefighters was mill employees, volunteers and forest employees. The governor of Idaho authorized Franklin Gerard, the Idaho state forester, to take full charge of the fire area in Idaho and he quickly set up fire camps. Melvin Van Dyke, fire warden for the Pend Orielle Fire Protective Association, was placed in charge of the firefighters. Suddenly, the wind died.
An interlude
On Monday morning the situation looked a lot better. Crews were doggedly digging fire lines around the 40-mile perimeter of the fire. However, within the perimeter, a seething cauldron continued to burn. Major Walter Peck, of the 41st aviation division, attempted to define the boundaries of the blaze, but was thwarted by the smoke. Upon approaching the fire area, the plane was engulfed in smoke and he was forced to fly on instruments at 7,500 feet. Attempts to penetrate for investigation of the fire boundaries were thwarted by the ever-increasing smoke at lower elevations.
By Tuesday, both smoke and fire had eased, allowing measurement of the fire area both by ground and air. Also, crews were now able to penetrate toward the center of the fire, cutting snags and anything else that might spread fire should the wind rise. Other crews were digging and widening 40 miles of fire line. Fortunately, winds remained calm. The fire had cut a swath approximately 10 miles by 20 miles. Nearly 20,000 acres of mostly forest had been lost.
Word spread quickly and there were many interesting stories. In one case, fire burned around all sides of one house and spared it while torching the nearby icehouse. In another instance the fire took the house, but spared a rather large garden. Walter Mires and Edward Strange had a very narrow escape from the fire. They were asleep in Strange’s logging camp up Blanchard Creek when the flames roared in. According to Strange, they survived only by running, leaving their clothes behind them. Amazingly, other than numerous cases of heat exhaustion, there had been neither death nor major injury. According to an exuberant Panhandle official, their danger had passed. Forest officials were also optimistic, but warned that if the wind stiffened, the situation would quickly become very dangerous, including the possibility of a major blowup. The battle had been won, or so they thought.