I am delighted to have a story in the March/April issue of AHMM. In “Shanks’s Role Model” my mystery writer protagonist goes to a college reunion and is reminded of some strange events from his undergrad days.
It’s all fiction, of course, but I thought you might enjoy hearing about the true events which inspired my tale.
I went to a tiny college in Pennsylvania, a state where the settlers of each new town seemed to build a church, a college, and a grocery store in that order. One Saturday night when I was a freshman there was a small fire in the dorm next to mine. Everyone got out safely and no serious damage was done, but it was obviously a case of arson. Cops investigated but nothing came of it.
A few weeks later I was on the top floor of Founders Hall, waiting for an appointment with my advisor, when things got exciting. Founders Hall, the first edifice built on campus, was four stories, largely made of wood. Nearly hundred-year-old, very dry wood, if you want to get technical. Tinder might be the word I’m reaching for.
The fourth floor had been student bedrooms a century ago and now they were tiny, cramped, faculty offices. I was sitting on the floor in the hall near my advisor’s office when I heard fire sirens outside. The little windows at the end of the hall didn’t provide much of a view so I couldn’t tell where the fire engines were going.
Then someone came running up the stairs, a guy who lived in my dorm. “Hey, Dan,” I said. “Where’s the fire?”
Dan looked at me, wild-eyed, and said something I will never forget: “Hwaaugghhhh!” Then he grabbed the fire extinguisher and ran down the stairs with it.
Hmm, I thought, shrewdly. This might be a problem.
I knocked on my advisor’s door.
He replied, irritably: “I’m with a student!”
“Dr. Bruce,” I said. “I think the building’s on fire.”
“Oh. You better knock on all the doors.”
So I did. Quickly. First I crossed the hall to Professor Berry and gave her the word. As I proceeded down the hall professors and students formed a tide behind me, heading toward the wooden stairs.
When I got back to Bruce’s end I saw Professor Berry standing in his doorway, frowning. “What are you doing?” she asked.
Bruce was standing in front of his bookshelves, a hand on his chin, looking thoughtful. “I’m trying to decide which books to take.”
“The building’s on fire. Grab anything.”
He did. Then we ran for it.
Fortunately the blaze turned out to be a small fire in a basement storeroom, and we all survived to tell the tale. They arrested the arsonist who was a student and (is anyone surprised?) a volunteer fireman.
But I will always remember Dr. Bruce at that moment of truth, trying to decide which books to take.
I imagine my character Shanks would have just as much trouble. I hope you enjoy his story.
Trace Evidence 
Strangely, I often think about that. What would I grab if my house caught fire. 1. My laptop (so many stories on it) – 2. My tablet (so many books on it) – 3. Scan the bookshelves (so many bookshelves!). It’s an impossible decision of course… But yes, my first edition of “The Songlines” (Bruce Chatwin). I’d be sad about the Borges and the Buzzati… but they could be replaced.
I’ve got to start making a list of books so that I can grab them quickly in case of fire…
Sometimes I try to think about keeping a shelf of “run for it” books (my friend calls them desert-island books) but as M.E. Proctor says, an impossible decision. For one thing, the shelf would have to be constantly revised. How many books that we once never wanted to live without are now forgotten footnotes in our lives? Even though I hate to read “digitally”, preferring the kind of book I grew up with, i.e. REAL books, in a panic I’d probably grab the old Kindle — if I can remember to keep it up to date.
But you’ve got me eyeing that shelf.