Fact, Fiction, and Fire Hoses: The Great Forks Bicentennial Brawl

Published 1:30 am Thursday, July 16, 2026

Was it a riot? Was it a street fight? Was it a biker-versus-logger showdown worthy of a Hollywood movie?

Or was it just a couple of guys who couldn’t settle an argument without involving half the town?

Fifty years later, the answer depends entirely on who you ask.

The legendary 1976 Forks Old Fashioned Fourth of July Bicentennial Brawl has become one of those stories that lives somewhere between history, folklore and, well…fish tale. Every year it seems to get a little different. The bottles fly a little farther. The crowd gets a little larger. The heroes become a little more heroic. And somehow everyone who lived in Forks either saw it happen, almost saw it happen, or knows exactly who started it.

For those who weren’t around, let’s set the stage.

Across America, officials were nervously preparing for the nation’s Bicentennial celebration. There were fears of anti-war protests, civil rights demonstrations, bombings and riots. Philadelphia’s mayor even asked for 15,000 federal troops. Train stations closed luggage lockers. Cities braced for chaos.

And then…almost nothing happened.

Most celebrations across the country were peaceful.

Well …except, apparently, in Forks.

Leave it to our little logging town to make national news while the rest of America behaved itself.

My own experience wasn’t exactly front row. I had been married exactly one week and one day. We were behind the Vagabond Restaurant when we started hearing the commotion on Main Street. My brand-new husband announced, “Let’s go see what’s going on!”

I remember thinking, “This marriage isn’t going to last very long.”

Fortunately, he proved to be a smart husband and agreed that maybe we didn’t need to investigate breaking glass and flying beer bottles and a hose-down.

His decision was confirmed moments later when we saw a young man we knew completely soaked after encountering the Forks Fire Department. His mother had simply let him out of the car to go watch the fireworks, and instead he received an unexpected high-pressure shower.

The next edition of the Forks Forum didn’t mince words. It called the evening a “fiasco.”

The Forum reported that around 9:15 p.m., officers attempted to break up several fights. People on rooftops reportedly began throwing beer bottles at police. More officers arrived. The fire department rolled out the hoses. Volunteer loggers reportedly grabbed whatever they could find from a toolbox, including hand axes, to back up law enforcement.

Yes…hand axes.

It’s one of those details that makes one stop and say, “Wait…what?”

One reserve officer suffered a head injury; thankfully, it was reported he was okay. A police car lost a windshield. Firefighters were hit with bottles. Mayor Wes DePew ordered the bars closed, and suddenly one of the biggest weapons against the disturbance turned out to be closing the taverns.

Fourth of July Chairman Bruce Thomas summed it up: “It would be asinine to cancel future celebrations because of a small fight.”

There was actually talk of cancelling future 4th celebrations!

The Port Angeles newspaper described it as a battle between bikers and loggers. And reported that a five-minute warning was given before the fire hoses came on.

Yet somehow the Hangar Dance wasn’t canceled, and many people simply went there afterward as though nothing unusual had happened.

Many residents stated that they never even knew there was a fight because they were too busy watching the fireworks.

The personal stories may be even better than the newspaper accounts.

One man recalled driving into town from a wildfire crew from the Clearwater, only to be greeted by “someone” holding a metal pipe who suggested the long-haired visitors might want to leave town immediately. They wisely did.

Another had just finished his shift at the Texaco station, looked around, and decided, “Something big is going down. I think I’ll stay and watch.”

Another family insists they know the exact person who started everything with one beer bottle to the head of another individual, who then retaliated against the wrong person, and before long everyone was fighting everyone else.

That’s probably how half the world’s legendary feuds have started.

The week after the celebration/riot brought a flood of letters to the editor.

One writer praised Forks for bringing back “the good old days,” arguing the country had become too homogenized and pasteurized, but thankfully Forks still represented “authentic America.”

Another declared the Forks Fourth qualified as “the most authentic Bicentennial event in the country.”

Several residents took issue with Seattle newspapers, accusing them of turning a small-town disturbance into a national spectacle; calling the big-city articles a cesspool of sensationalism.

Even famed Seattle columnist Emmett Watson couldn’t resist writing about the famous Forks fight. But a Forks Forum correspondent attempted to set the record straight, writing to Watson and pointing out that the actual damage consisted mainly of one windshield, one car window, a couple of hospital visits, and a fight between two guys that simply got out of hand.

She added perhaps the best line of all:

“After Clarence sprayed the crowd, we all went to the Hangar Dance.” The fireworks continued. The dance continued.

The Forks correspondent also complimented the police for not using clubs, tear gas, or a heavy hand in the incident. “A few hours later when the cops showed up at the hangar dance, they got a huge round of applause.”

She also shared that the Bremerton Grenadiers, who had been in the parade earlier in the day, kept listening to music and celebrating in the Vagabond, oblivious of the fight outside. They even enjoyed a Conga Line through the Vagabond lounge as the fighting raged on the street.

Watson eventually concluded that crazy old Forks really turned out to be a “fuddy-duddy” and a fairly law-abiding place after all. Friends and neighbors may have argued, but nobody was about to let outsiders define their town.

So what really happened that July night?

Honestly, probably every version is at least a little true, and a little myth.

That’s what happens when a story survives for half a century in a small town.

The facts become history. The memories become legend. The legends become lore.

And somewhere in the middle is a fire hose, a beer bottle, a broken windshield, a Hangar Dance, and one unforgettable Fourth of July that proved if America was looking for Bicentennial excitement in 1976…they should have skipped Philadelphia and come to Forks. And ….50 years later, I am still married!

Christi Baron

Editor