Fire

Well, it’s been quite a couple of days, so far.  On that first night, I was getting a lot of calls, emails and texts from relatives back in Chicago, watching news of the Los Angeles fires, and asking if I was all right and how close it was and if I was going to evacuate.
 
I much appreciated their concern – and completely understood:  the continual video on the news was horrific, and the fire came closer to me than any in all my time in Los Angeles.  Maybe 5-6 miles.  But although it was close, I wasn’t in any danger, which I would explain.  (The toughest question asked was “Do you have somewhere to evacuate to??!” – because I didn't want to frighten them further since most of my friends are on the Westside, and even closer to the fire zone than me.  I was offering my guest room to them.)
 
I did have my electricity go out for 15 hours, but compared to what else was going on in fire areas almost doesn’t qualify as much more than a temporary inconvenience.
 
But of course, what stood out most for me was not just what was sure to be massive devastation, but on a personal note were all of the people I knew in very real danger in the Palisades, or at nearby risk.  I was able to get in touch with one friend whose home was directly in the heart of Pacific Palisades, and his family was able to get out in the afternoon, thankfully.  Another friend lives in northwest Santa Monica (that borders the Palisades) right next to the evacuation zone.  He decided to evacuate and stayed in my guest room.  He safely went back home yesterday.  A third friend was packed and ready to leave as soon as he and his wife got an evacuation notice.  Happily, none came, though they did decide to evacuate to their son's home.  But so very sadly, my friend in Pacific Palisades lost his house.  I can't even imagine the feelings.  Fortunately, he has good coverage and a temporary place to live – but it’s not just the loss of a home and everything in it, but the major disruption to one’s life to have to regroup and start over.
 
Now, multiply that by thousands, and the devastation of all the fire zones – mainly for the Pacific Palisades and Pasadena/Altadena.  With one person, when such a loss happens, agonizing as it is you may have the option of rebuilding and eventually returning to the life and community you had before.  But in the Palisades and wide areas of Pasadena and elsewhere, there's no life to return to, no community, it's gone.  At some point, those villages and communities happily will be built up again. And may even (or likely) flourish with a new vibrance. Growth is the way of the world, a new start.  But it will be starting from scratch.
 
What also was so awful was another loss.  But first, some background.

In my earlier days after graduate school and before I seriously got involved in the film industry, I worked for 3-4 years for the California State Park Service at Will Rogers State Historic Park.  It was a great place – Will Rogers’ home, polo field, equestrian arena and barns, and grounds so wide that they were used as a three-hole golf course (which he put in when an actor friend, Lewis J. Stone, had badly injured his legs in an accident and recuperated there, for which Will Rogers converted the grounds to the golf course as an incentive for Stone to get walking in every day) and extensive forest land.  It was a wonderful job – I learned to twirl a rope and jump in it while spinning (really, honest!) and even considered applying for taking the California Park Ranger test.  Until my father basically said, “You didn’t go to film school and get a Masters degree in screenwriting to become a park ranger.”  He was right.  I loved the park service, but am glad I stuck with my goal.
 
The Rogers ranch house, up a winding road north of Sunset Blvd. in the Palisades, was tremendous.  It was two connected wings, full of historic mementos from his travels and life, cowboy artwork from his renowned friends (notably Charles Russell, who Rogers thought was far more authentic – being a former cowboy, like himself -- to the more famous Frederic Remington), a great library filled with books inscribed to him by his famous friends, letter and more.  I would periodically find hidden material as I wandered through the place, things that were never seen by the public and that probably even the staff didn’t know were there.  I surreptitiously made copies of some of it, and still have it – a book inscribed by Harry Houdini, a book with a magnificent thank you note carefully hand-printed by Helen Keller, a framed letter of thanks stuck in a drawer written by Theodore Roosevelt.  Things like that.
 
(By the way, if you ever see The Will Rogers Story on TCM, it’s not a bad telling of his life.  His son, Will Jr., played his father, with Jane Wyman – Ronald Reagan’s first wife – as Betty Rogers.  And they did a great job creating the house, though they moved some of the furniture around as better for the movie.)
 
And so it was with a rush of deep memories and heartache that learned it too was lost in the fire yesterday.  That was a fear of mine as I followed the news.  And it was awful to have it confirmed. I don’t know how much was destroyed, but it seems that all the buildings were.  I saw a photo of one small structure almost all ashes and a partial shell, and it awful.  If there’s a happy note, it’s this sentence – “State Parks was able to evacuate the horses and some of the cultural and historical artifacts, including artwork, at Will Rogers SHP ahead of the fire.”

I have no idea what the insurance is like on the estate.  While I suppose it's possible that the Park Service will rebuild a re-creation of at least the home and perhaps some of the horse facilities, it's not something I expect.  We'll see.

About 40 years ago, there was a big Palisades fire when I was working at the park -- I was off that day, but drove in to help.  I did what little I was allowed to, like watering the roofs of the home, and took a few photos of the fire.  And happily, the ranch house and buildings were saved, though the grounds and surrounding forest had been overwhelmed.  I went back the next day and took photos of the devastation, following a path I'd taken a year before, that I'd photographed. And then followed the same path six months later to photograph the regrowth.
 
I recall one of my fellow park aides – a girl named Lisa – got upset at me for taking the pictures after the fire, but later one of the Rangers said he was glad I did because it was important to have a record of such things.
 
I can’t touch on the devastation of the current fire that was so much more massive and destructive.  And the great loss to my friends and others.  And so I don’t want to even try – it would be too small and give the wrong impression.  Instead though, with the loss of Will Rogers State Historic Park, I thought I'd end this all by honoring it with some of those photos that I took.  Some before the fire, and those during, the day after and six months later.
 
None of these touch on what’s going on now.  These 28 pictures serve only as my way of honoring this one historic loss, and commemorating all the others.

It starts with photos I took of the ranch house, grounds and forest land of his property around a year before the fire about 40 years ago.

Then, there was that day when I got a call about the fire in the Palisades and foothills, asking if I could come in to the park to help. 

As I got in the car, I saw this looming to the west, where I was headed.  Adding to the impact of it all is that I lived across the street of the Veterans Cemetery in West Los Angeles, and you can see the headstones at the bottom.

The next day, I went back to the park and took photos of the burned-out grounds, and followed the hiking trip I'd taken previously to show the same parkland.  I would imagine that this is much like it so sadly looks today -- but with the ranch house and all the other building and barns gone.

Then, about six months later, I took the same hike yet again to document the regrowth, showing how remarkable nature can be so soon.  Along with the mudslides and work left to do.

Happily, nature can grow back.  So sadly, the same can't be said for man-made structures.  Here is the ranch house yesterday.  That is the fireplace in the living room from the third photo above.

Happily, as noted above, the Park Service saved some of the cultural and historical materials, and artwork.  Their prescience and efforts are honored for protecting at least some of a legacy.