Prologue
Arson was the only explanation. How else could a sprawling brick building be transformed into a massive barbecue pit so instantly?
The fire station received the call an hour after midnight. Two of Oil City’s three pumpers responded within ten minutes. The third was down for maintenance, but would have made little difference. Hoses had all the impact of spit on a bonfire. The landmark high school never had a chance.
Despite the early hour, half the city’s population gathered to gape at the inferno, many still in pajamas. Even at a safe distance from the leaping flames, sullen faces glistened with sweat. And tears. No place aroused more lasting memories, for more townsfolk, than the old high school. At least three generations had walked the long hallways, shared the same lockers, stood in line at the cafeteria, whispered in the library, and dozed off in the classrooms. They were seeing and feeling the tragic end of a lifelong friend.
The first question to circulate was born of anger. Who could do such a thing? What monster would destroy such a beloved institution, the heart of the city?
A more pragmatic question soon took precedent. Where were six hundred high school students going to attend classes in the morning? The new school year started only a week ago.
Newspapers around the nation would report the disaster as the first of its kind in Pennsylvania history. The last comparable incident took place in Worden, Montana, over a decade ago. Four Huntley Project High School students broke into the building to vandalize vending machines. They wound up starting a fire that completely consumed the Home of the Red Devils.
Oil City High School had housed the Samaritans.
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