The Southland Firestorm: A Special Report : The Firefighters : On The Fire Line : THE VOLUNTEERS : ‘In Their White Engines, They Were Our White Knights’

For three days, neighbors in one Sierra Madre canyon sat in the center of a storm. After surviving the first onslaught of last week’s Altadena fire, they hoped the winds that died out, sparing their homes, would not return.

Luckily, what ended up engulfing this rustic neighborhood were not flames but quick camaraderie as residents adopted the fire crews sent to wait out the winds with them. Many neighbors had weathered earlier blazes and said they took advantage of this rare chance to help men and women usually seen as shadowy figures on television or fleeting images at fire sites.

“Living with them for a few days was incredible,” one resident said. “We got to see their human side, to see how tired they get, and scared, and yet how tough they are, why they go out and risk their necks.

“More important, it made all of us--homeowners and firefighters--feel like humanity wouldn’t be defeated by all the sadness and fear around us.”

That opportunity came, firefighters said, because officials had decided to make a stand against the Altadena blaze on its eastern flank, near Sierra Madre’s Upper Canyon. They feared that new Santa Anas might send flames down through hillside homes.

So, a dozen engines from Merced, Madera and Mariposa, joined by several Long Beach units, were sent to the canyon on Oct. 28, the day after the Altadena fire broke out.

The few residents who had stayed, ignoring an evacuation order, cheered the Merced teams as they rumbled up in special white trucks small enough to maneuver narrow streets. The crews, picked because of wildfire expertise, had driven seven hours straight.

“In their white engines, they were our white knights. So, of course we were going to take care of them,” said Jane Ripley, a free-lance writer who has lived in the canyon for 27 years.

Residents brought out food and chairs and let weary firefighters use the bathrooms.

Neighbors opened their hearts, and their larders. Teacher Jane Garner was dubbed “the Coffee Lady” because she was up at dawn dispensing steaming cups, plus aspirin to relieve fatigue or remedy backaches caused by sleeping atop firetrucks.

Residents and firefighters alike relished the chance to gather at a nightly “campfire” (without the fire) in front of Ripley’s home. Ripley said the crews loved to talk about their lives up north.

Some were volunteers: craftsmen, farmers, a couple of students and one fire extinguisher salesman. The fire professionals included Capt. Daniel Law, a steel-voiced strike team leader.

G. T. Miller, a lanky, gray-haired English teacher, said his students, if not his family, were used to him making long trips on short notice. Others in the crews said their children were upset that their fathers would miss Halloween.

Some shared their fears about the fires they had been in, but they also tried to calm residents’ nerves. “They also assured us that if it were ever time to go, they would take us with them,” said Darlene Mathieson, a longtime canyon resident.

When the crews were cleared to leave early Saturday, they slipped away, hoping not to wake anyone. They thought at the time that they were going home, said Joe Condon, a friend of Ripley’s. But he noticed the Merced crews while watching TV coverage of the Calabasas/Malibu fire.

Although the engines went quietly, they left several gifts behind, including a note from the Mariposa strike team stuck in each mailbox, thanking residents for “hospitality, generosity and good humor.”

The crews did wake one household. They asked the Mathieson family to tell everyone they would be back next summer to treat the neighborhood to a barbecue--before the Santa Ana season, of course.