Trego's Mountain Ear

As fire season ends with Fall cooling, I think back to my last fire.  It was an amazing group of people who liked yellow shirts and had absolutely no experience working a fire line – it was Hollywood in Lincoln County, and kind of a fun experience.

Spielberg’s film ‘Always’ was more about aviation – more like a World War II flying movie – than it was about fire.  Still, the aspect of forest fire and borate bombers was a key part of the movie – and the parts filmed in Lincoln County were the fire scenes.  And I should mention, Libby’s airport did wind up with its own control tower.

They built a propane powered set in the midst of land burned in the Dry Fork fire, and the Forest Supervisor required the movie company to hire experienced firefighters to stand by when they lit the flames.  It was a weekend gig that paid $18 an hour (this back in 89) so was kind of irresistible.  I listened to the movie folks who thought that they had hired an elite crew – I was a year out of a broken back, Steve had no kneecap, Al had been working with a flexible brace in his Whites that made up for an Achilles tendon.  Spielberg had an experienced group of firefighters – but definitely not an elite group.

This is what the set forest fire looked like with the propane turned off – they did a nice job of using spots that were burned in the Dry Fork fire a year earlier:

The food served at Spielberg’s fire was better catered than the firecamps I had been at – as the guy dished me up with shrimp, salad and pie, he asked, “Are you one of the real smokejumpers?”  I explained that I had never been so anxious to get to a fire that I would jump out of a perfectly good airplane to get there.  Nobody feeds firefighters as well as Spielberg did.

They tried to use us in the film.  I was part of a group made up with fake sweat, and given a spot near the propane trees.  They made an attempt to get us in front of the camera . . . I recall Robin getting some sort of a tool that had no business on a fire, thinking it would make him recognizable.  For me, my chance at time on the silver screen vanished when they turned the propane on and heated the area where I was standing.  It was some sub-director that was cussing at me and telling me “I didn’t tell you to move!”  Problem he had was, nobody has ever had to tell me when to step back from a fire – they replaced me with a stuntman – muscles on muscles, sleeves cut off of his yellow shirt, jungle boots instead of Whites . . . but he would stay in the flames until told to move.  Later Al came to bum my gear – his had already been stained by the retardant they dropped on him, and they were doing a second take.  My gear may have made it onto the screen, but I blew my one opportunity for cinematic glory.

I recall another Pulaski motor – I only knew him by his nickname “The Bear.”  The Bear was operating with a lifetime crush on Audrey Hepburn.  When Miss Hepburn was faced by a large mud puddle to cross, The Bear took her in his arms and carried her across, depositing her dry and unstained with a big smile on his face.  Obviously, he got the greatest personal reward for his time.

A review of the film is available here .  Fair warning – he didn’t particularly like it, and, from the lack of mention of firefighters, we were probably only there because the Forest Supervisor insisted on it.  I can kind of understand – until I was on the set, I was accustomed to people in dirty yellow shirts knowing what they were doing.  On set, I realized that the majority there were wearing yellow because it was cool.  It was a locally filmed movie – you won’t see me in it – but it is available on line . . . and, like the Bear, I always did like Miss Hepburn.  Check it out.