Tom Baughman was a retired Galesburg firefighter. We lost Galesburg lost him a couple of weeks or so ago. Suddenly and sadly. “Baughie” was a friend to all he knew. If you knew him you know what a great guy he was.
Through my work for the Galesburg Register-Mail I got to know many firefighters and police officers. I remember Tom for as long as I’ve been in this area, 28 years. A fond memory is of Tom and his son Brandon, standing at the Hy-Vee grocery store on National Blvd, ringing the bell for the Salvation Army at Christmas time. Tom in his Turnout gear, Brandon, a little boy at the time, in his own, “junior sized” outfit, a mirror of his dad.
At the news of his passing, I thought of the times I might have interacted with him at fire scenes. There were many, but one in particular came to mind. “I think Tom was the lead photo in that double-fatal duplex fire I covered,” I thought to myself. My “photographic” memory was spot on. That fire was 17 years ago today, December 16th, 2008. A father and son perished that day, it was tragic.
We probably learned of the fire from the police scanner in the newsroom. Available, I bolted out the door to the address. Susan Kaufman, a reporter, close behind. It was snowing and cold, and the structure, a duplex, was fully involved when we arrived. Firefighters hadn’t been there long, and it wasn’t too long before we heard reports there may be people inside.
Allowed to do my thing, with full access, I made photos and kept moving while maintaining a safe distance and keeping out of the way of the guys. Susan worked by observing and talking to officials who were on the scene but not actively battling the fire. There was a flurry of activity and urgency. Susan and I maintained contact with the newsroom and I recall someone, I think it was editor Rob Buck, coming to the scene to pick up some camera cards to take back to the office so we could get an early jump on the coverage.
The people who lived in the adjoining side of the building were on site, or came home to find the scene. As time passed, a relative or friend of those inside, arrived and had to be restrained by a police officer. I saw concern and frustration in the faces of the firefighters through the camera. It became clear there would be no rescue that day. The circumstances were about as terrible as they could be. Firefighters are a brotherhood, they take it personally when someone is lost.
Eventually, the fire was knocked down and put out. The “10-79 call” had been put in to notify the coroner, they arrived. The fury of action subsided, it was all but quiet except for radio transmissions from the trucks.
When it came time to remove the victims, I could sense I wasn’t as welcome at the scene as earlier. Not by any firefighters, but by a Galesburg police detective. Keeping a good distance, I made the photo I needed to help tell the story from the porch of a house next door. When the victims were gone, I was invited by, and escorted to, the side of the burned house by a firefighter. (it was not Tom Baughman.) We stood and talked, then he wandered off. Very quickly, I was approached by an Illinois State Police fire investigator who was not happy to see me that close to the house. “Hey! This is MY scene. Get away from there!” I believe the instructions came with a threat. Moving fast and immediately I did, but without explaining I’d been invited. No way was I gonna sell out the firefighter. The investigator didn’t know me that well. If he did, he would have known I would never have been so brazen and aggressive to walk right up to the window of that house. I was already “gun shy” from the exchange with the police detective. There was no need to push it, I knew I had what I needed. I know the investigator, he’s a nice guy. It has been my intention for years to tell him what happened that day, without naming the firefighter.
I hadn’t viewed these photos in years. It was Tom’s passing that made me think to dig them out and check my memory. I was especially struck by the terrible irony of the child’s “fire rescue” helmet. I think the photos tell the story of the day, but there was/is no reward in making them. I doubt there’s a photojournalist alive who “enjoys” covering stories like this. I’d much rather have photographed cute kids running through water sprinklers. But life isn’t always unicorns, jumping over rainbows. Sometimes it’s really harsh. The job of a photojournalist is to document.
Galesburg firefighter Tom Baughman.
A Galesburg firefighter works a structure fire on December 16th, 2008.
Galesburg police officer Steffanie Cromien with the occupants of the adjoining side of the duplex.
Galesburg firefighter Dan Foley yells at a structure fire.
I’m pretty sure this is firefighter Tom Simkins.
Work gloves at the scene.
Galesburg firefighter Stephen Labbe.
Galesburg police officer Steffanie Cromien restrains a woman who arrived at the scene.
A Galesburg firefighter attaches a fresh air tank to Mike Whitson.
Mike Whitson, left, and Dan Foley.
Burned items near the duplex.
Firefighter Mike Whitson, left, and Galesburg police detective Damon Shea.
Galesburg firefighter Scott Benson.
One of two victims removed from the structure.
Dewey Brackett, left, and Justin Moffitt.