Skip to main content
News

R.I. Fire Lieutenant Dies Fighting Blaze

D. Naylor

The Providence Journal, R.I.

Feb. 19—BURRILLVILLE, R.I.—About 250 firefighters paid their respects to fallen Pascoag Fire Lt. Richard Jenks, 72, who died Wednesday while fighting a log house chimney fire deep in the woods near the Massachusetts line.

Hundreds of people passed through the Boucher Funeral Home on Sayles Avenue between 2 and 5 p.m. to clear the way for firefighters only between 5 and 6 p.m. They came in dress uniforms, with black bands across their badges, from departments around the state, including South County and Newport, and from Connecticut, Massachusetts and New York.

A 1939 Ahrens-Fox ladder truck waited outside the funeral home, its front and sides draped in black cloth.

As darkness fell, townspeople gathered at corners along Sayles Avenue and on Bridge Way in front of the fire station where Lieutenant Jenks responded with Pascoag Hose #1. He served 33 years in the volunteer department.

Outside the Pascoag Post Office, Raymond Walker, 64, said he and Jenks had worked together on electric projects at Echo Lake Campground. Walker said he last saw Jenks at Wright's Farm about a year ago. Jenks was often posted there on fire safety detail.

One group of women waited at the corner of Sayles Avenue and Bridge Way, just before the giant American flag held over the road by Pascoag Ladder 4 and a Pascoag Electric bucket truck. They described themselves as "fire family."

Alexys Jalette, 21, of Mapleville, another Burrillville village, said her father worked beside Jenks and had ordered him out of the log cabin after he fell. Jenks argued that he was fine. "He was a great guy with the biggest heart," Jalette said.

Amanda Young, 40, a former firefighter/EMT in a different Burrillville fire district, said, "I knew Mr. Jenks well. We used to work together on mutual calls. When one doesn't make it out, it affects everybody."

Until Wednesday, Pascoag had never had a line-of-duty death.

"The town's going to feel this for a while," Young said.

Jalette observed that Jenks had "died doing what he loved."

The temperature dropped to about 34 degrees. Out-of-town firefighters formed rows in the street behind a temporary staircase leading to the rear of the antique truck. A color guard swung into position. Five Cranston and Providence police motorcycles stood in a line, ready to escort the procession.

Gordon Sparadeo, in his late 60s, had arrived too late to attend the calling hours, but he stood outside the funeral home remembering how he and Richard Jenks had coached Little League together when their kids were small. Later they organized an annual summerfest to raise money for all the teams.

Pascoag firefighters formed a lane from the funeral home steps to the truck. Finally, a lone bagpiper began his plaintive strains and the casket began to move slowly onto the truck.

Led by about 30 rows of firefighters, marching eight across, the vintage truck carrying the casket and Jenks' colleagues hanging onto its sides rolled slowly toward last call.

"It goes to show you that volunteerism in this country isn't dead," Sparadeo observed as the procession passed.

At the station, its name hidden under black bunting, the procession stopped. Firefighters were three deep on both sides of the bridge, townspeople behind them. The tones, which call firefighters to the station, were sounded at 7:25 p.m., followed by three blasts from the firehouse horn, then a gun salute signifying Jenks's status as a military veteran.