In the summer of 2000 I was a young wildland firefighter in the Black Hills of South Dakota, home to the Lakota Sioux, who themselves had been dislocated from Wisconsin and Minnesota by white settlers.  The Sioux and other surrounding tribes saw the stunning granite at the core of the Black Hills as sacred. The otherworldly slabs and domes had a flammable backdrop of Ponderosa pine forest interspersed with non-flammable stone in places, but continuous enough for a crown fire in others. The understory bed of long-needled pine litter was very receptive to embers. Embers like those produced by fireworks.

The year before, in 1999, the fireworks display had been a big sensation for then Republican Governor, Bill Janklow, celebrating Mount Rushmore’s big makeover.  The original amphitheater, built to hold 850 people, was upgraded to accommodate today’s average nightly attendance of 2,500 replete with high tech security cameras to identify “terrorists” long before 9-11. Governor Janklow was dead set on having the gala again in 2000.  No friend of Native people, to say the least, Janklow’s jaded past made his presence in the Black Hills an affront to Indigenous people. His tragic downfall and demise could almost be said to seem cursed. That dynamic is set to play out again in just two days on July the 3rd, when President Donald J. Trump is set to visit the same spectacle of American Exceptionalism and white settler-colonialism as part of his repulsive re-election campaign. He’s hoping for up to 7,500 in attendance. An ex-Park Fire Management Officer, Bill Gabbert, and Ex-Superintendent for Mt. Rushmore, Cheryl Schreier, both have condemned the proposal.  Native Americans expect to protest Trump’s visit. This, all set in the midst of a pandemic that is hitting tribal communities and people of color especially hard along with a national reckoning over racial injustice.  Simple platitudes to patriotism will not suffice for the Trump surreality show. He will be bringing his hate wagon of wandering word-salad speeches, spewing small words and race-baiting klaxons, having long set the dog whistles aside. Why, just yesterday (July 1st), he proclaimed that Black Lives Matter is “a symbol of hate.” So, once again, the sacred Black Hills are set to be blasphemed with the lies of more old, white politicians.

Flash back to 2000 and I remember my hardhat being nearly blown off my head by the B-1 bomber from nearby Ellsworth Air Force Base passing low overhead at nearly treetop level.  Myself and a squad of firefighters were in positions all around the amphitheater at the base of the “heads”, as they were affectionately known.  We had spent at least a full day with the helicopter module from the Grand Canyon shuttling fireworks and the show technicians from our helibase up to the top of the blasted piece of granite. I remember talking to him about his dislike of a non-essential use of his essential rotor-wing resource.  It was now showtime. Speeches were made and flags had been flown. The skies were darkening, and the Governor was in place. The spectacular air bursts and multicolored pyrotechnics were deafening.  Finally, the show was over, and there were, literally, dozens of tiny spot fires growing slowly in the pine litter visible to many in the amphitheater.  At first, the crowd just thought this was part of the show, then they began to grow uneasy…

Janklow’s entourage was the first to get the hell out of Dodge.  His handlers wanted no part of the Governor having a sky box view of a wildfire debacle, after having been warned of the fire danger.  The rest of the audience followed the guidance of the public address system, “Remain calm, and please exit the auditorium…”  We fought fire all night long, with two firefighters being seriously injured on the steep, treacherous terrain surrounding Mt. Rushmore.  While we knew the fuels would be receptive to embers, the forecasted windspeed was below the criteria set, so spread was slow and we caught the fires. But was it worth the risk to the public and the firefighter injuries, just for a political spectacle?

A personal highlight was at dawn the next morning, smoke was seen “rising from atop Lincoln’s head.” I was flown to the top of the granite massive, along with another firefighter.  We circled a couple of times and saw that an ember had lit one of the old historic hoist housings that had held the cables supporting sculptors with jackhammers during the monument’s building.  We landed, put out the fire, and left.  The “Head” Fire became a part of history and a permanent part of the park’s fire history.  Aside from noise frightening wildlife, destruction of historical property, and unnecessary risk to firefighters, the final insult was the thousands of plastic and cardboard shards from the firework casings, with some plastic globes as big as a man’s fist, scattered about the area.  The world really needs more microplastics littering pristine places. Really?

So now, fast forward to 2020 and we’re going to do it all over again…the jet flyovers, the fireworks, the fire danger. But let’s say Trump is bad mojo to Native American people by at least a factor of 10 given the administration’s particularly bad treatment of Native Americans nested in an even worse overall pandemic response, and, well, you get the picture.  In terms of fire danger, only days ago a fire burning in Custer State Park just south of Mt. Rushmore, called the Mine Draw Fire, had over a hundred firefighters committed, before rain completed the work.  Likely that same rain will be cited as reason why this year’s fireworks will be ‘safe’ so the proto-fascist strongman can have his military parade.  Denied the parade he really wanted at the Capitol due to concerns of tanks damaging public infrastructure, the Don seeks even more of a rush parading about Mt. Rushmore.  

Trump’s wishes for a fireworks display on stolen ground amid the most overtly racialized presidential campaign in living memory and a global pandemic should be resisted by all means.  Wildland firefighters are part of the growing “essential, but not expendable” movement of frontline workers that are providing services that allow the privileged to isolate and “telework.”  We suspect that public money earmarked for fighting wildfires is being used to move suppression resources closer to the Black Hills, both to suppress the Mine Draw Fire, and be in place should the fireworks display go sideways.  They’ve received from a half to two inches of rain across most of the Black Hills over the past seven days.  Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should.

Wildland firefighters are already being asked to increase their risk exposure to put out all fires this summer, so none grow large and present the knock-on effects of running an evacuee center or creating a widespread smoke impact during a pandemic that is known to be more deadly to those living with respiratory distress.  Is it the job of wildland firefighters to take on additional risk of infection and death? At FUSEE we say, “No, it is not,” and we have pulled together COVID-19 policy adaptations being debated.  Large fires are inevitable, and the increased social distancing between agency administrators, incident management teams, and the firefighters on the line will be difficult for all involved.  Some fires will go unfought, particularly after a large lightning bust.  They always do, despite our best efforts.  It is not the job of the essential employee to bring the COVID-19 virus home to their friends and family. If that can be avoided it should be.  There are no acceptable losses and the economy serves the people, not vice versa.

Let's hope it rains in the Black Hills on the 4th of July.