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My name is James Joseph Hill, a life-long resident of Humboldt County. My background: born in 1933, attended Jefferson Elementary during the War, then Eureka Junior and Senior High (skipped the 4th grade). Served in the US Army, 1956-58.

James Hill graduation photo.

My grandfather arrived in Eureka in 1886 and was an accomplished carpenter and mason, which is a story in and of itself. My father Kenneth M. Hill, was a traffic cop, later to become chief. Joined the force in 1939. He also had many tales to tell.

This story begins on Halloween night 1947. It was a time for a young boy who had loved the adventure of going door to door in the evenings and receiving free candy with his friends. But now I had to realize that, at age twelve (almost thirteen), I was far too old for that kind of kid stuff.

Not wanting to miss any of the action, I got together with two of my friends, Grant and Clyde. We were about the same age, and decided to just ride our bikes downtown that evening and see some of the celebration.

It was almost dark outside when we mounted our bikes and headed for town. Kids were out in force and it looked like all were having a great time. We headed up 5th Street in the business district. Some stores already had writing on their display windows. That was a “trick” because there was no “treat.” Hopefully they used soap and not wax. Soap would wipe off with a wet rag, but wax was terrible to remove.

We were almost through the business district when I turned right onto H Street with the others following. The plan was to continue on up H Street until we came to Wabash Ave, turn right, and go home, which was near Broadway.

I was maybe fifty feet ahead of Grant and Clyde when we spotted a cop car in the distance coming down H Street at high speed with red light and siren going, coming toward downtown. I was pedaling up H Street almost to the intersection of 7th and H, so I ducked into the service station on the corner just off the street. The other two guys followed me.

I couldn’t believe what happened next! It was like a huge explosion in the intersection! A terrible crash with big clouds of dust and bright sparks.

Two cop cars were responding to an urgent call downtown, but from different directions, both with sirens blasting. They crashed at near full speed. Debris seemed to fly in all directions. My friends and I were lucky we didn’t get hurt.

As the dust settled, it turned quiet and I was able to see the mess. In those days, the intersection at 7th and H was a four-way stop. Both responding cop cars shot through their respective stop signs and collided. The car coming down H Street was a police Pontiac sedan, and the one coming up 7th Street was a police Ford sedan. The Pontiac hit the Ford broadside with great force. After the Pontiac hit the Ford, the Pontiac spun to the left and stopped just before it would have gone through the huge plate glass window in the auto show room on the northwest side of the intersection. (It may have been Bernie Anderson’s?)

There was a Chevrolet pickup stopped at the stop sign on 7th Street heading west. It had some debris on the hood but otherwise was fine. I ran over and looked inside. There was a woman passenger with a baby on her lap and a man in the driver seat. They were just sitting there almost like they were stunned. I’m sure they were all okay.

The police Ford was in the center of the intersection with the driver’s door open, and a cop in the front seat was trying to move. One cop was lying out on the pavement and not moving, probably the driver. There was one cop in the back seat not moving, covered with glass, etc. I learned later that it was Officer Pete Carroll, who had just lost his life. Sadly, he was very close to his retirement and was said to be making plans. He was the first Eureka police officer to die in action.

Next, I went to the police Pontiac with two occupants. I was coming up on the passenger side and saw the passenger window was rolled down. In the dim light, I looked in and saw a familiar face— my dad, Officer Kenneth Hill. He looked at me and weakly asked, “What are you doing here?” I asked him if he was hurt and he said he didn’t know. He was in a state of shock but said his hands hurt badly because they went into the windshield when they crashed. I explained that I was on my bike and just happened to be there.

The driver, Officer Jim Sargent, had some problems because he had mashed into the steering wheel on impact. He was slumped over and not saying anything. Remember, no seat belts in those days.

Dad said, “Go home and tell your mother that I’m okay because this thing will be on the radio soon, and I don’t want her to worry.”

Help was beginning to arrive then, so I got on my bike and headed down 7th Street to home with the news of the horrible accident and that Dad wasn’t badly hurt.

That was about 75 years ago and it seems like just yesterday. Looking back now, I remember how helpless I felt in this chaos. I had met Pete before and couldn’t believe he was gone. At the time I didn’t know the first thing about first aid or even how to help or comfort the injured. I know a lot more now and will help if needed.

The odds of me being at that exact spot were astronomical! How could I be there of all the places in the sprawling city celebrating Halloween at that exact time?

When going back through the details of this disaster, I thought what if? What if the police Ford had entered the intersection a fraction of a second later?

That would have had the Pontiac colliding near the right front of the speeding Ford with great speed and force, instead of the rear passenger door, maybe saving Pete’s life. This likely would have caused the two cars to fold together and with their combined momentum, continue side by side over the corner and into the service station lot or into the pickup parked at the stop sign with the woman, baby and man inside.

Remember, my friends and I were on that corner at that exact time!

As we all know, in history, what a slight difference in timing, less than a tick on a clock, could make to an outcome such as this!

This thing could have been a lot worse.

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James Hill passed away at the age of 92 earlier this year.

The story above was printed in the Autumn 2023 issue of the Humboldt Historian, a journal of the Humboldt County Historical Society. It is reprinted here with permission. The Humboldt County Historical Society is a nonprofit organization devoted to archiving, preserving and sharing Humboldt County’s rich history. You can become a member and receive a year’s worth of new issues of The Humboldt Historian at this link.