The story behind the Great Fire of 1910 has its fair share of heroes and cowards, of tragic fatalities and miraculous escapes. But one character that arguably stands out above the rest is that of Ed Pulaski. 

At the age of sixteen, Pulaski dropped out of school and journeyed westward. For Pulaski, there was something almost magical about the West. In his pocket he carried letters from an uncle who had shared Pulaski’s interest in adventure and new opportunities. Reading his uncle’s descriptions put an extra skip in his step as he set off on his own. 

It wasn’t until many years later, when Pulaski was in his forties, that he was hired by the Forest Services. Even from the start of his ranger career, there were noticeable differences between him and the rest of the rangers. The others were mostly college-aged and single. Pulaski, on the other hand, was no longer the youthful boy who had ventured west several decades before – he was a middle-aged man who had now been married for a second time. 

Despite the differences, Pulaski was an excellent ranger. He had never been formally trained in forestry, but had been in the area long enough to be well-versed in the practical knowledge of the woods. His expertise became crucial in the summer of 1910. 

On July 26, 1910, the thunderclouds cracked their lightning whips across the sky. The mountains across the Pacific Northwest echoed the rumble of thunder, groaning deeply like one struck by an unforgiving slave master. By the next day, hundreds of fires in the Coeur d’Alene area had been reported, and hundreds upon hundreds more in the rest of the twenty-one national forests. 

The protection of Wallace, Idaho was Pulaski’s responsibility. By August 19, the situation became dire. As Pulaski returned to the town for supplies, many of the residents were evacuating the town. Throughout that day, several large embers had set fire to different parts of Wallace, and although they had been put out relatively quickly, the people of Wallace were beginning to realize the seriousness of their situation. Pulaski had his own wife and daughter escape to the mine tailings at the reservoir – he believed this would be safer than trying to make the exodus by train. 

Pulaski was a blunt man, and made it clear to his wife that this could be their last goodbye. But although blunt, he was far from hard-hearted. As he returned to his men, his every thought was on his family, wanting to stay and protect them but knowing his duty was to lead the rest of the firefighters. 

By the time Pulaski reached his men, the winds had picked up drastically. They would have to find their way back to Wallace. But as they headed that direction, they were cornered by another blaze of fire. They needed to find refuge – and they needed to find it fast. Pulaski ushered his men into a nearby mine. 

Packed in like sardines, the men hoped they had not escaped the flames only to die of suffocation. It was almost too much to bear for one man, but as he attempted an escape Pulaski blocked the entrance and drew his gun. Nobody would leave under his watch. The fugitive settled back in with the rest of the men – no one dared make another attempt. 

Five hours passed. Pulaski and a few others lay motionless at the foot of the entrance. But as the remaining men began to file out into the barren landscape, Pulaski awoke and struggled to his feet. He could barely walk and could only see out of one eye, and barely at that, but he was alive. Five other men were not so fortunate.

On August 21, Pulaski was reunited with his wife and daughter. His next few weeks were spent in the hospital, but his condition hardly improved. And yet, it was time for Pulaski to return to work – he had a family to provide for. 

Although Pulaski “lived to tell the tale,” it was a tale he immediately tired of telling. Over the next two years, the government often questioned him about his men and the events of that weekend. He and many of the others sought money for their medical care, but Pulaski was denied since he had returned to work immediately after leaving the hospital. Although Pulaski never received the honor due to him during his lifetime (not even a medal for all his sacrifices) there is now a hike where Pulaski and his men fought fires, including signs throughout that describe the story of that fateful day, honoring the memory of Ed Pulaski. 

*Information taken from The Big Burn by Timothy Egan

-KAYTE CASEBOLT

image courtesy of the Latah County Historical Society