Fire Was Too Hot for Many, but Some Maintained Their Cool

The sight of flames licking up and over dry, brushy ridges sent some Sierra Madre residents packing Wednesday night--beating it out of town in overloaded cars that brought to mind images of “The Grapes of Wrath.”

But for others, it was a time to break out the humor, the drinks and a hang-in-there spirit that characterizes this quaint little city at the foot of the San Gabriel Mountains.

With wildfires common enough in the Angeles National Forest above to steel their souls, many residents have learned to keep calm when they spot flames.

So on Wednesday, even as firefighters cruised by advising folks to pack their cars, park them down the hill and be ready to flee, some residents beat back panic with repartee.

“You all loaded?” asked one resident at the end of Grove Street as he and some neighbors watched the inferno spreading in Bailey Canyon above them.

“Almost,” came a sassy reply. “I’m working on my second glass of wine!”

Nearby stood Mayor Clem Bartoli, clad in shorts and T-shirt, who had watched Bailey Canyon burn for three hours from sunset to the eerie, flame-lit darkness. He betrayed no hint of fear when the gusty Santa Ana winds sparked a rush of flames and a dangerous shower of embers.

“It (the fire) takes on a completely different aspect at night, doesn’t it?” he calmly remarked, almost to himself.

Meanwhile, a man sitting in the bed of his pickup truck started up a chain saw and then shut it off. He kept it up periodically throughout the evening as a precaution, just in case flames came near enough to threaten the lush vegetation surrounding his house.

“Just checking,” the man said with a smile. “Want me to start it again?”

Meanwhile, on a steep, winding street in Little Santa Anita Canyon, a woman ventured alone out of her home to peer at the dark hillside above her. Although flames could be seen rising on the other side of the ridge, there in the tiny, sheltered, box-like section of the canyon, there was no sign of smoke or flames.

“I keep coming out to see what’s happening,” she said. “They told us to leave, so I guess (we) should pack up (our) things and go.”

Instead, she stood in the street, clad in slippers and casual wear, hands on hips, still musing.

Nearby on Churchill Street, residents clustered, studiously ignoring commands by firefighters to evacuate even as flames threatened to top a ridge and come plunging down on them.

“The firefighters came by at 8 p.m. and told us we had 10 minutes to leave,” sniffed Susan McNeish, 47, a 15-year resident. “That was two hours ago.”

McNeish and her neighbors stayed behind, monitoring the flames and returning inside their homes to answer phone calls from friends inquiring about their welfare. They scoffed at efforts by some residents to wet down roofs and lawns.

“When the fire gets close, it doesn’t do any good,” one veteran fire survivor said. “They ought to cut that out.”

“I was here in the 1961 fire,” said Sherry Schroder, who grew up in Sierra Madre. “It just comes on so fast. It went right by our front door that time.

“Uh oh!” she suddenly exclaimed. “It’s coming over the hill!”

Then, as the flames bent low, she regained her composure with, “Oh, it’s just a flare-up.”

Down at City Hall, acting City Administrator Sean Joyce was philosophical about the residents in his city of 11,000, saying:

“We aren’t going to force people from their homes if they don’t want to go.”

And that night, at least, those residents and their homes were spared.