Oma McCuistion: A fire tower observer stationed a few miles southeast of Locust Grove, she collaborated from her high perch with forest service units on the ground, among them her son and late husband. Communicating by radio, her job was to "pinpoint the fires and tell us right where to go," said her son, James McCuistion, a ranger crew chief.
LOCUST GROVE - Situated atop the tallest hill in the area and rising 60 feet off the ground, Oma McCuistion's lookout post could be reached only by a zig-zagging set of stairs.
But she knew that people were depending on her. Day or night for 25 years, whenever the call might come during the season, she was ready to go up.
A fire tower observer stationed a few miles southeast of Locust Grove, McCuistion collaborated from her high perch with forest service units on the ground, among them her son and late husband.
Communicating by radio, her job was to "pinpoint the fires and tell us right where to go," said her son, James McCuistion, a ranger crew chief.
"It could be like finding a needle in a haystack," he said. "But she was good at guiding us and enjoyed being able to help us in that way."
Oma Lou McCuistion died Saturday in Tulsa. She was 79.
A service was held Tuesday at the Rose Community Church in Rose under the direction of Locust Grove Funeral Home.
James McCuistion, whose late father, J.E. McCuistion, was a crew chief before him, said people don't realize how many fires occur in rural eastern Oklahoma, but there are plenty.
Over the years his mother saw a lot of them, he added.
The job was seasonal but - depending on how dry conditions were, making fire a bigger danger - could often be several months a year.
Oma McCuistion's work mostly involved "a lot of waiting and watching" from atop the 60-foot fire tower, "looking for smoke to pop up somewhere," her son said.
The role of the tower observer has almost become a thing of the past. Once critical to reporting forest fires, it has largely given way to airplane flyovers.
According to Oklahoma Forestry Services, at one time there were 23 fire towers in eastern Oklahoma, many of them built during the 1920s and '30s.
Only three are still staffed. The others are used to house radio repeaters.
When McCuistion was on duty, if the situation called for it, she might spend all day in the tower. And there were many nights that she stayed in the observer's quarters, waiting to be called on to climb the tower in the middle of the night.
Often, if not spending the night, she would come home after a day's work and make sandwiches for the crews still out working, her son said.
McCuistion, who retired about 15 years ago, wasn't worried about seeing the observer's role phased out.
"She was all for the planes," her son said. "They have a big advantage in judging distances."
A native of Hochatown in far southeastern Oklahoma, McCuistion graduated from high school in Eagletown. She had lived in Locust Grove since 1952.
From her home there, she kept her eyes peeled even after she retired from the tower, family members say.
But at that point it was more about watching birds and looking at flowers, two of McCuistion's favorite things.
McCuistion's survivors include her husband, Bob Compton; a son, James McCuistion; four daughters, Kathy Tomblin, Teresa Hollaway, Marilyn Schoonover and Freda Odle; 10 grandchildren; and 11 great-grandchildren.
Tim Stanley 918-581-8385
tim.stanley@tulsaworld.com
Original Print Headline: Woman's dedication to fire prevention burned day, night
Our Lives
Situated atop the tallest hill in the area and rising 60 feet off the ground, Oma McCuistion's lookout post could be reached only by a zig-zagging set of stairs.
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