"I knew the chances of us surviving if we went down that hall were slim … but I just couldn’t walk away,” says Jacob. Photo by Doug Baines.

It was a typical hot and sweltering Chicago day in August 1972 when the emergency call came over the radio for Jacob’s firefighting crew to handle a small fire that had broken out in a downtown apartment building. They hustled as always to make it in record time. But even in the few minutes it took them to weave through the afternoon traffic, the small fire had grown to engulf the entire building. “It was already looking pretty hopeless when we got there,” says Jacob. By the time the 24-year-old fireman arrived on the scene most of the hundred or so residents had already made it out of the blazing seven-story inferno.

But the firefighters had to be sure everyone was safe. So Jacob and his partners hurriedly entered the building clad in their fire-retardant gear, busting down doors and checking for any remaining trapped tenants. “It was a real old building in pretty bad shape,” recalls Jacob. “Whole floors were crumbling faster than we could even get to them.”

The roaring fire had started on the fifth floor before spreading throughout the rest of the building. Ladders enabled the firefighters to rescue residents on the top floors, but the fifth floor was too far gone to risk entering. They heard no screams or sounds, but they had no way of knowing without a physical check if there was anyone left on the fifth floor clinging to life. “It was unreasonable for any firefighters to enter the fifth floor at that point,” says Jacob. “But I had a nagging feeling that there was still someone left inside.” Finally ground personnel, who were busy taking names and trying to account for everyone in the building, radioed the order to evacuate. “It was way past the point of recklessness to be in there,” recalls Jacob. “And they assured us everyone was out.”

But suddenly, as Jacob and his colleagues came out of the front of the building, a young, frantic woman came running up to them yelling at the top of her lungs, “My baby, where is my Kris?”

Jacob’s instincts had been correct. The woman who lived in Apartment 529 explained that she had left her 7-year-old son, Kris, alone for just a few minutes while she went down the street for some groceries. And ground personnel could not account for Kris anywhere. “I knew he was still in there,” says Jacob “I could just feel it. And the fact that I hadn’t heard him screaming or calling out signaled to me he was either in shock or had passed out from smoke inhalation. Either way I knew we didn’t have time to waste.”

Jacob and another firefighter made their way back up to the fifth floor while firefighters outside used ladders to look for any signs of life. Thick black smoke poured out of the windows and through the hallways. The heat inside had become so intense that it was about to overwhelm the firefighters’ protective clothing.
By the time Jacob and his partner made it up to the fifth floor the fire had grown so fierce, neither could see more than a few feet in front of them. Apartment 529 was engulfed in flames at the other end of the hall, and most of the floor was already impassable. “My partner looked at me and gave me the thumbs-down,” says Jacob. “As a fireman I knew he was right. The chances of us surviving if we went down that hall were slim, let alone anyone finding that boy. I had been in situations like that before where I had to accept the loss, and I dealt with it. But I just kept seeing that mother’s face in my head. I just couldn’t walk away from this one.”

Inspiration: The Gift of Life The Saturday Evening Post

Dalmatian and Pups

Dalmation and Pups
by Stevan Dohanos
from January 13, 1945

Illustrator Stevan Dohanos visited his local firehouse in Westport, Connecticut, to get a permit for burning brush. There he met Patch the dalmatian and got an idea for a Post cover. Patch is only on the cover in spirit, however. Being a guy, he would have no ambivalence about staying with the kids; he would have just gone to the fire. The dog pictured in this cover was a pretty female at a Long Island kennel, complete with pups.

As to why dalmatians are associated with firefighters, there are many theories, most of which involve the dogs guiding the horses pulling the firewagons. Some say dalmatians in particular had a calming effect on horses, and others say their spotted coats were easy to see as the fire horses went thundering through the streets en route to the blaze (as in the cover below).

Racing to the Fire

Racing to the Fire
by Maurice Bower
from January 12, 1935

Maurice Bower illustrated numerous subjects for ads, books, and at least a dozen magazines, but he had a way of conveying the raw power and energy of horses. Even when this cover was published in 1935, it was a glimpse of firefighting efforts in a bygone era. Motorized fire trucks were becoming common by 1910.

To the Rescue

To the Rescue
by Norman Rockwell
from March 28, 1931

From time to time, Norman Rockwell experimented with technique. This particular one was called “dynamic symmetry” and was supposed to be scientific, or some such newfangled notion to that effect. After this one, he did one more attempt using the same method and was disappointed with the results. He gave that painting to a cousin and reverted to his time-tested formulas, vowing never to stray again. Nonetheless, the cover does convey excitement and urgency.

Chasing the Fire Truck

Chasing the Fire Truck
by John Falter
from June 30, 1956

This was a scene from little Johnny Falter’s Nebraska childhood, recreated in 1956 by grown-up artist John Falter—albeit with a more modern fire engine sure to save the barn.

As much as we love our illustrators, we sometimes find ourselves wondering what they were thinking when painting a cover. According to Post editors, three young “volunteer firefighters,” two on bike, and one on horseback, repeatedly careened downhill in their efforts to assist the artist, much to the astonishment of onlookers. All turned out well, and they made it to the imaginary fire in time.

Boy on Fire Truck

Boy on Fire Truck
by Stevan Dohanos
from November 14, 1953

Behind the wheel of a bright red firetruck—a boy’s dream in 1953. During the ’40s and ’50s, Stevan Dohanos illustrated about 125 Post covers. Dohanos and Rockwell both depicted Americana; however, Dohanos was a ‘realist,’ unlike his friend, who tended to romanticize and idealize. Rockwell painted life as he would like it to be, whereas Dohanos “always gloried in finding the beauty in the ordinary things of life.”

It looks as if Dad wouldn’t mind a turn at the wheel himself.

Post cover reprints are available at Art.com.

Classic Covers: Firefighters The Saturday Evening Post