From the Hoods to the Woods

How an O.G. gangbanger turned himself into a hardcore firefighter

Comments (0) By Léon Bing Wednesday, Sep 20 2006

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“See that? That’s a Sikorsky Type One. It just pulled up about 2,500 pounds of water from a canal, and it’s about to drop it on that sleeper. We get maybe eight to a dozen of those a day when cumulus clouds create lightning.” He grins suddenly. “You know, there’s this urban legend that after a fire in the foothills outside San Francisco, the body of a scuba diver was found trapped in a tree — supposed to have been sucked up from the bay by a Forest Service helicopter.”

The Valyermo station could be mistaken for a collection of large, freshly painted tourist cabins if it were not for the U.S. Forest Service flag and the mint-green fire engines parked around the property. These engines are smaller than those used in urban areas, and each one, called a “10-person module,” is outfitted with rows of bucket seats in back. Side panels are tightly packed with all the equipment and supplies (including specialized tools for digging fire lines and clearing out dirt) vital to a face-off with a blaze that can go on for days. There are five men, including Red McIntyre, on the engine crew at Valyermo; they drive the engines to the fires, and then they help to fight them. One man, the water tender, supplies water to the engines from nearby aqueducts and streams.

(Illustrations by Tra Selhtrow)

Code Red: ''I would become the best firefighter they had ever seen.'' (Photos by Gareth Seigel)

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The others at the station are the Valyermo Crew 4, known as the Hot Shots, an elite squad of 20 men, all of them in their early to late 20s. Even their everyday uniforms are different: Instead of green and yellow, the Hot Shots wear black T-shirts and work pants, and there are as many ’hawks as conventional haircuts. Matthew Bailey is in his third season here. “We’re the ones punching in the line, working sometimes for 32 hours straight. By the end of the season, I’m in the best shape ever. We do about three hours of full-gear physical training every day, but beyond everything, we go fight fires. That’s our priority.”

“That’s our love,” adds Matthew Snyder, who has spent three years on the Hot Shots. “Next to our families, this is the thing.”

It is early afternoon. Red has gone out with other engine crew members in response to a smoke check in the area, and some of the guys are kicking back in the rec room. There is an atmosphere of easy camaraderie in here, and when I mention it, Bailey is quick to reply: “That cohesion runs pretty deep with us — we’re more than co-workers. We’re family.”

There are a few ex–gang members up at the Valyermo station, and two of them are in the rec room this afternoon. They have both asked for anonymity, and each of them bears the scars of bullet wounds from drive-by shootings. If there was animosity between them on the streets, it has been replaced by a deeper sense of loyalty to the common goals of every man on the squad: become the best firefighters they can be, suppress wildland fires and support risk management on both fire and nonfire emergency incidents. Whatever colors they pledged their lives to in the past have been replaced by their allegiance to those of the U.S. Forest Service.

Minnie McIntyre is in her mid-70s now, but she has the voice of a much younger woman. She chuckles when I mention that when Red tells his story, he sounds as if he was a handful to raise. “Oh, yeah. That’s the truth, for sure. There were so many times I just couldn’t reach him at all. It was like he was made of stone — nothing got through to him when he was running with the gang.” She pauses for a moment. “But he’s doing fine now.” When I ask how she feels about all those homeboys who used to gather at her house, she replies quickly, “You know what? They was pretty good guys. Most of them just couldn’t get it together. A few did good, though.” She mentions a couple of Eight-Tray Gangstas whom I have known through the years as hard-working family men. Minnie-Mac goes quiet again. Then she makes a final comment about her grandson Red:

“He made a U-turn in his street. A U-turn in his life. I’m thankful for him and proud of him.”

Red and Leomie McIntyre have been married for five years. They have a 3½-year-old son, LeShion, and two of Red’s children from a previous relationship live with them: 8-year-old TreShion and DeShion Jr., 9. Leomie has four kids from her first marriage. They range in age from 16 to 22, and the eldest is married with a son of his own. The two youngest live with the McIntyres; as of last year, the 19-year-old is with Leomie’s mother. Leomie, a gently pretty, soft-spoken woman who looks too young to be a grandmother, works for the county. For the past three years, she has provided in-home services to senior citizens. It’s work she enjoys. When I ask how she feels about Red’s past, her voice lifts slightly: “I know he’s been through a lot in his life. But he’s come through it a different person. He’s a wonderful husband and a great father. I’m very proud of the man I married.”