A Devil of a Hero : Tribute: Colleagues recall the feats of a fallen firefighter known for his gung-ho attitude.

His colleagues at the Engine 9 firehouse called him the “Tasmanian Devil” because when James Howe fought a fire, stand back.

“He would be completely covered with soot,” said Los Angeles County Assistant Fire Chief Jim Ryland. “He had the results of the fire on him--and at the end, there would always be a smile on his face.”

With 22 years in the department and three commendations for valor and public service, the 47-year-old Newhall resident had enough seniority to opt for one of the county’s slower fire stations. But that was not for the gung-ho “Tas.” Despite having to commute an hour in his beat-up Datsun pickup truck to his station in South-Central Los Angeles, Howe was proud to remain in the department’s busiest unit--Battalion 13.

Fire bells at Engine 9 and at other stations around the county sounded Wednesday night in a tribute to Howe, who died shortly after 8 p.m. of injuries he suffered while fighting a fire last week in Huntington Park.

Investigators have ruled the fire an arson and Howe’s death a homicide.

Howe, who drove his station’s engine, was one of six county firefighters injured Jan. 9 when an overhanging roof facade collapsed on them as they scrambled across a second-floor balcony of a burning mini-mall. He had been pinned under the collapsed roof for about 20 minutes, within a few feet of the flames.

The news of his death hit hard Thursday because Howe was not considered an ordinary firefighter.

“I couldn’t believe it,” said Assistant Chief Leon Provost of the Newhall station. “I just thought, ‘Why do things have to happen to people like this?’ I just went into another room and sat down.”

Howe’s firefighting career began in 1968 after he served two years as a military policeman in Vietnam. He became the kind of firefighter who would storm into a smoky bedroom in a burning apartment and carry out an unconscious 7-year-old boy. He received his first commendation for that rescue, carried out April 29, 1975.

He was the kind of firefighter who would spot a teen-age gang member taking a bike from an 11-year-old deaf-mute boy outside the firehouse, call the Sheriff’s Department and hold the gang member until deputies arrived. He received a second commendation for doing that April 13, 1982.

He was nicknamed the “Tasmanian Devil”-- after the fierce little marsupial native to the island south of Australia--because of the gritty initiative he displayed in the face of dangerous fires, Ryland said. “He was very aggressive, highly motivated,” county Fire Chief Mike Freeman said.

But he had another, gentler, side.

He was the kind of firefighter whom the neighborhood children knew. A five-year veteran on the Fire Department, who years ago was one of those children, called Howe’s grieving wife and two daughters to say that Howe had inspired him to fight fires years before.

When no county work crew was available to repair an area in front of the station, Howe hauled in his own cement mixer and tools and did the work himself. That won him his third commendation.

An active member of San Fernando Holiness Church, Howe had also helped build the church’s social hall several years ago.

He was the kind of firefighter who returned to work soon after having his thumb torn off when it became trapped in a bucking, high-pressure fire hose on May 23, 1989. “He was back,” Ryland said. “As we all expected, he considered not having a thumb a mere inconvenience.

“He was one of those people you can point to and say, ‘I hope my son turns out like that,’ ” said Ryland, one of Howe’s supervisors. “From the time he was a young pup on the department, everybody who’s been around him--young and old, firefighters and non-firefighters--have been influenced by this guy. His legacy will be carried on for many years.”

Although colleague John Hentsch of Engine 9 said the news of Howe’s death stung him, one thought gave him comfort: “I know he was doing what he loved at the time he died.”

Howe will have a simple burial service but no funeral. There’s a reason for that.

“My dad wouldn’t have wanted one,” said Howe’s 18-year-old daughter, Debbie. “He wasn’t the type to dwell on death.”