ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Thursday, May 9, 1996 TAG: 9605090072
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: A-1 EDITION: METRO
DATELINE: GLADEHILL
SOURCE: TODD JACKSON STAFF WRITER NOTE: Below
RICHARD LAW, Franklin County's chief forest warden, has to be dead on his feet before he'll give up on an emergency.
Richard Law's wife returned home one day last spring to find her husband with one boot on, one boot off, asleep on the concrete floor of the garage.
His body had finally demanded rest - to the chagrin of his iron will.
Law, Franklin County's chief forest warden, had spent the previous 28 hours on his feet, leading a fight against a massive wildfire in the Doe Run community of the county.
With the fire under control, he still refused to go home.
His supervisor ordered him to get some sleep.
Law drove to his house, got out of his truck and lay down on the garage floor so he could keep an ear on the truck's scanner.
He didn't want to miss anything.
The day before, 75 homes had been threatened by the fire, which was torching an acre a minute at its height and would burn about 200 acres before dying out.
Not a home was lost, though, mainly because of Law's quick thinking.
Initially, he'd wanted to set a back fire to rush into the oncoming monster wildfire and satisfy its appetite by leaving it nothing to burn, but the wind was blowing in the wrong direction.
So Law, with the fire bearing down on many of the homes, huddled with firefighters and devised a plan of attack: A fire truck would be parked at every third house or so, and lines of water and flame-retardant foam would be sprayed over them.
It worked.
The dousing kept sparks from igniting the houses, and a few hours later the winds ceased, allowing Law to set the back fire that eliminated any further threat.
"When I first got the call on that fire, a feeling came over me. I knew it wasn't going to be ordinary," he said. "You just have to know fire."
Little Adam Dowdy was trying to walk down the steps to the basement.
His father, Billy, was putting logs in the wood stove. Outside was 26 inches of snow left by the January snow this year that buried the region.
Billy Dowdy and his wife Ramona each thought the other was watching their son.
Halfway down the steps, Adam, then 21 months old, reached for the handrail and missed. He tumbled down the steps and hit head-first on the concrete floor.
A few minutes later, a groggy Adam started throwing up. "I was so scared that I was shaking," Billy Dowdy remembers.
He tried to get the family car out of the driveway and got stuck.
The Dowdys called 911. But, because of the snow, four-wheel-drive rescue vehicles couldn't reach the Dowdy home located on a hill in a remote section of the county near Penhook.
The situation appeared hopeless.
Richard Law doesn't know hopeless.
He had been contacted about the Dowdys' situation because Law has something that can't be stopped by snow: a 10,000-pound Humvee all-terrain vehicle given to the county by the state for use during emergency situations.
Law and a friend jumped into the vehicle and Law drove to the Dowdy house, maneuvering through a gantlet of vehicles that couldn't make it to Adam.
When he got to the home, Law found Ramona Dowdy cradling Adam in her arms. He helped them into the vehicle, and, in the middle of the crisis, found out mother was eight months pregnant.
Law said he looked at Ramona Dowdy and said: ``I'll make you a deal. I'll get you out of here if you don't have that baby.''
Law drove Adam and his mother to an ambulance a couple of miles away. Adam, who recovered from the concussion he suffered that day, and his family - including a new little sister - are doing fine.
Billy Dowdy said he didn't know Law before his son's accident, ``but I know him now.''
The Virginia Governmental Employees Association knows Richard Law now, too.
Last month, Law became the first person from Franklin County and the first Virginia Forest Department worker to be named the state's outstanding employee of the year.
The employees association sponsors the award, which was first given in 1979. State workers who are members of the association - and are nominated by someone else for outstanding and distinguished service - are eligible for the honor.
Law, 37, beat out five other nominees for the 1995 award.
Law, who doesn't know who nominated him for the award, was cited for helping the Dowdys and for his efforts in the Doe Run fire.
"Any time you win something like this, there's a lot more people involved than just you," he said.
Several of those other people say Law more than deserves the recognition.
Betsy Haynes, a park ranger at the Booker T. Washington National Monument, is a member of a special fire strike team that Law organized in Franklin County.
"There are certain people you can trust," she says. "And Richard is one of those people."
And then there's 87-year-old George English, a neighbor, who pulled into Law's driveway earlier this week.
"You goin' to come up and start my furnace for me," English barked.
"Yeah, I'll be up there a little later," Law replied.
Of Law, English said: "He's all right. I been knowin' this boy for a long time."
Many in Franklin County know Law because he grew up here, on a farm in Gladehill, in the community where he still lives.
The Laws are a resourceful family.
Richard Law was 6 years old when he started learning to drive. He couldn't reach the pedals on the old pickup truck, so his blind grandfather pushed the gas and worked the clutch while grandson sat on his lap and steered.
As a boy, Law said he was always intrigued by fires. "I know this is what I'm supposed to be doing," he says of his job. There's strong evidence to prove that he's right.
Law is claustrophobic. He can't even wear a seat belt while driving. But he can enclose his body in fire-fighting gear and a gas mask and walk through a house engulfed by flames.
Law's eyes are so sensitive to light that they begin to water if he takes off his prescription sunglasses. But Law can stand in the middle of a forest fire and is unaffected by the smoke. "Don't bother me a bit," he says. "Weird, huh?"
Broken bones don't stop Law from doing his job, either. Last week, he reached into a large wooden tool box on the back of his truck and its heavy metal lid - which he'd propped up - fell and snapped his right arm just below the elbow. Law went to the hospital and was fitted with a cast.
The same day, a brush fire broke out in Ferrum. Law didn't think twice. He went to work. "Heck, it was going to hurt just as much if I went home."
LENGTH: Long : 130 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: CINDY PINKSTON/Staff. Betsy Haynes, a park ranger atby CNBBooker T. Washington National Monument, talks with Richard Law about
a fire management plan there. color. KEYWORDS: PROFILE