It is 60 years today that my little community was nearly wiped out by a huge forest fire.
This is my account of that near tragedy.

The Great Fire of 1947

I was born and raised in a place where nothing exciting ever happens, the Kennebec district of Machias, Maine.

I was 13 at the time and it seemed that the whole world was on fire. Of course, the whole world consisted of Washington County and a bit west of Ellsworth. It was October 23, 1947. The old folks were in a panic because the fires were advancing east on a strong breeze. Being a typical numb 13 year old I thought it was exciting, having no concept of what it would be like to be burned out and homeless. Our house was over 100 years old and it would always be there.

The only transportation available to us was an old Buick that my older brother had left there while he was off somewhere. It was fall and the radiator had been drained. We didn't know that so we all piled into it and headed for town to the home of one of Mother's relatives. I'm surprised that the car made it as far as it did with an empty radiator but, about 2 miles from home, she overheated and quit.

There we were, stranded, with a forest fire coming right at us. I can't speak for anyone else but, about that time my excitement turned to concern and, just as it turned into a panic, a neighbor, also fleeing the flames, stopped and gave us a ride into Machias.

Sometime in the night the wind changed and, although the fire took a neighbor's house a quarter of a mile away, our old house was spared without mark. In later years, after we had moved on, the old house burned down. One careless smoker and a cigarette did what the forest fire failed to do.

Another neighbor, an uncle, claimed he diverted the fire by holding up a picture of his wife but I'm more inclined to think that it was the result of my Mother's praying that turned the fire. surely she must have had the ear of the almighty to be able to raise a gang of kids such as hers without any of us being imprisoned or hanged.