It Won’t Happen to us…Our Treasurer is Honest Harry

Treasurer arrested, fire company president accused, chief steals funds; the newspaper headlines scream and the citizens of multiple communities sadly shake their heads on a daily basis.  Why do these otherwise civic minded individuals do this?  The answer, unfortunately, is easy.  They’re dishonest; it’s as simple as that.  Maybe they had personal financial problems, gambling issues, or thought they could just get away with it.  Those rationalizations are excuses but don’t change the central fact that those who steal from fire departments are criminals.  Unfortunately, there’s no surefire method to keep them out, at least completely.   Think about the CIA and FBI agents who are vetted more carefully than any firefighter; go through regular polygraphs, and we still end up with the occasional bad apple which we hear about on the 6:30 PM national news.   

There are ways, though you can reduce the chances of your department being on the front page of the newspaper with a photo of your company president doing a perp walk in hand cuffs.  With some basic business controls, procedures, and processes, you can make it harder for these individuals, less tempting, and hopefully discover nefarious activities before they become bank account busting.   

This isn’t about trusting good old Harry who’s as honest as the day is long.  Honest Harry and others like him will welcome financial controls because it removes trust from the equation and the opportunity for questionable activities.  If the opportunity exists, somebody, eventually, will take it.  Maybe not Harry, but who knows about the gambling problem his brother-in-law, the company president has.   

The basics have a lot of common sense components.  You don’t need an MBA to put these in place. 

·         Establish rules.  They need to apply to everyone—no exceptions. 

·         If it involves cash, more than one person needs to be involved.  This can’t be repeated too often, and as the teacher said before the test, you will see this material again. 

·         Have a line item budget.  The treasurer should monitor receipts and revenue versus that projected.  Likewise, the expenditures for each line item should be noted.  A monthly report with this data provides a transparent picture to the organization and helps the leadership with their management responsibilities. 

·         Reconcile bank accounts on a monthly basis.  Another job for the treasurer, right?  Wrong.  Someone other than the treasurer or anyone else handling funds or writing checks should have this job.  This provides an independent verification and removes one obvious opportunity for someone to cook the books. 

·         Periodic audits.  Annual is best, but at least every couple of years, an audit should be completed.  When treasurers change is also another good time to ensure a clean bill of financial health.  Accountants are expensive, you say, and you’re right.  If the funds are hard to come by to pay for an audit, consider asking a local CPA who lives or works in your first due if they would consider doing it as a donation.  Wait until after tax season, though.  Ask if they see any opportunities to improve financial management, procedures or record keeping.  Use their expertise to your advantage. 

·         The two (or more) person rule.  Multiple signatures on checks, counting cash, opening mail, are all times to have more than one person involved.  Cash is not your friend when it comes to financial safeguards.  Minimize it where possible and always, always have more than one person involved. 

This isn’t a comprehensive list but just these few items will go a long way in limiting the opportunity for financial funny business.   

So it’s all about the money, right?  Wrong; the money is important but the main issue is trust.   Not Honest Harry, the long term treasurer.  The trust of the citizens we’ve sworn to protect is what we need to ensure.  It is easily damaged and difficult to repair.  We’re the stewards of that trust, measured by how we take care of their money—whether raised by taxes or chicken barbecues and pancake breakfasts.  These folks have the right to know that it’s being spent carefully and honestly. 

Dilbert and the Fire Department

The cartoon “Dilbert” wouldn’t be so funny if it weren’t so situationally accurate which long ago led me to develop one of “Ryman’s Rules” relating to the strip. This one is not a law of physics, but a sociological paradigm which states that: Morale of any organization is inversely proportional to the number of Dilbert cartoons hanging on the walls.  With that in mind, how many of these comic strip worthy situations have you seen or experienced?

Pulling into a fire scene with an assignment to lay a supply lie and finding the hose bed empty, the line having accidentally laid during the response.  Funny how that never happened when we rode the back step; oh well.

Watching a hose bed turn into silly string when the pump operator charges the wrong line—the one not pulled.

Getting ready to drain the drop tank and finding the drain placed on the uphill side. 

Extending the “blue line” with yellow hose and handing it to a new crew who then asks for the “yellow line” to be charged. The reason I hate color coded lines.

Scanning mobile and portable radios—the important information always gets cut off. Enough said.

Pump operators who think “100 pounds is good enough for everything.”

Did you ever notice the same five guys who always have to leave for work the minute it’s time to wash the rigs and hose after a run?

The company responding for RIT that calls out with five and shows up with a driver and four juniors. 

The officer, who when in charge of a training night, waits until everyone arrives and then says “so what do you guys want to do tonight?”

Fire Police who drive like Jeff Gordon for some reason assuming it is critical they be the first on scene—in order to direct traffic. 

The citizen who on an annual basis, waits for the windiest day of the year to burn trash, resulting in a 5 acre brush fire, and then acts surprised when he gets yelled at. 

Looking at the personal vehicles parked during the inevitable call on the afternoon of the first day of buck season and marveling that there is more firepower present than that possessed by the entire local police department. Actually true most any day for rural departments.

The local cop who on an automatic fire alarm offers to shoot the lock off the door instead of waiting for the apparatus or key holder.  His offer was turned down.

The guy with more state class patches on his sleeve than a Sergeant Major has stripes—who won’t go inside. 

The guy with the two door subcompact car and a blue light bar so big it extends feet beyond the sides of the car. So big you wonder if the car will rotate when the lights are turned on.

The guy who carries three pagers and two portable radios—all on his belt at the same time. Note: The three above are often the same guy. 

The brush fire in a two acre field with only a single solitary tree located right in the center—which the brush truck driver hits while backing up.    

You know you’re really in trouble when three pieces of apparatus, all responding to the same call, reach the same intersection; and one turns left, one goes straight, and the third turns right.

Last, but certainly not least, (insert favorite personal activity here) with your significant other is invariably interrupted by the pager.

From Triumph to Tragedy: The Legendary Phelim O’Toole

An otherwise ordinary evening was followed by tragedy and heroism in the early morning hours of April 11, 1877.  The elegant Italianate style six story Southern Hotel, almost a football field in length faced Walnut St. in downtown St. Louis.  At about twenty minutes after one in the morning, a fire was discovered in the basement.  Notification of the fire department was delayed by upwards of ten minutes due to a lost key to the fire alarm box, allowing the fire to spread to the upper floors via vertical shafts. 

The first alarm brought six engine and two truck companies for the fire which ultimately would go to three alarms and requirel the response of every piece of apparatus in the city.  The first arriving ladder company, a “Skinner Escape Truck,” was led by Foreman Phelim O’Toole.  O’Toole was an Irish immigrant who was hired by the St. Louis Fire Department at the age of 18, about ten years before that night. 

Upon arrival, O’Toole noted fire on the upper floors and almost a dozen occupants yelling from windows.  Positioning the truck was difficult due to obstructions, but when in the best position possible, they extended the ladder and O’Toole began to climb.  Fully extended, Phelim found himself five feet short of the 6^th floor window sill. 

Accounts vary some, but by most, O’Toole had the occupants tie bed sheets together as a rope, securing their end to a bedframe, and then lower the other end from the window.  He swung out on a rope from the ladder tip to the dangling bed sheets, and climbed to the upper window sill, and began to lower the victims to firefighters on the waiting ladder.  Moving from window to window, he is credited with saving over a dozen people.  Conditions continued to deteriorate, but the last reachable victim was removed just before the building collapsed, taking twenty one remaining occupants with it. 

It was following the Southern Hotel fire that the Pompier Corps of the St. Louis Fire Department was developed. Pompier Corps

O’Toole received a $500 award from the city, which he donated to assist orphans. This was a sizable sum when compared to his monthly salary of $75.00. 

The Southern Hotel was not O’Toole’s last experience at the end of a rope.  A serious fire erupted in the dome of the County Courthouse.  Phelim climbed the dome with an axe, rope, and hoseline.  After chopping through the roof, he tied off the rope and entered through the hole.  Dangling from the rope, he attacked the fire with the handline. 

Shortly after, on July 6, 1880, O’Toole died in the line of duty.  It was not another dramatic scene, but a “routine” cellar fire in a vacant house.  He entered the building with a hand held extinguisher, and when he began to operate it, the casing exploded, pieces tearing into his chest, fatally injuring him at 32 years of age.

His funeral service was as big as his reputation with an estimated 20,000 people attending.  Gone but not forgotten, the St. Louis Fire Department continues to honor his memory, christening the marine unit fire boat the “Phelim O’Toole” in 1994. 

Dump the House: The Shoes

It’s a colorful expression for getting all the apparatus out the door.  It’s more and more difficult these days of limited manpower, both volunteer and career. 

Montgomery County Fire & Rescue Station 15--Burtonsville
 

What I like best about this picture, though, is the shoes. The empty leather shows the tenuous nature of the work.  It’s late evening, after ten.  One minute, everything is calm.  There is laughter someplace—inevitably in a fire house.  The television is on with a small audience.  Others have turned in for the night.  The bays are filled with the engine, ladder truck, and heavy rescue squad.  A minute later, all that remains is…..the shoes.

A Christmas Excerpt...Touring with Santa

It was the Friday night before Christmas, a crisp starlit evening. We were cruising the township roadways with Santa Claus on the rescue. It was an annual event, much enjoyed by many of the smaller members of the community and, truth be told, by many of the bigger ones as well.

The lights were flashing, the siren screaming, the air horn blasting and regular sounds of “Ho Ho Ho” were echoing in the night air from behind me. I rode the officer’s seat in the cab, just enjoying the atmosphere and the smiling children we encountered on our slow tour. My fun was broken by a radio call.

 “Comm Center to Chief 36,” the radio query came. After I responded, the dispatcher asked, “You wouldn’t happen to be out with Santa Claus by chance, would you, Chief?”

“Affirmative,” I answered.

“Can you call in by phone?” the dispatcher asked. 

I didn’t have a good feeling as I reached for the cell phone mounted on the dash. Was some scrooge upset by the siren noise, I wondered. When I got the dispatcher on the line, it was nothing like that.

“Hey, Chief, we just had a call from a grandma on Greenfield Road. She was upset ‘cause she had been out when you went by and her grandchildren just missed Santa.”

"Please tell me she didn’t call in on 911?” I asked the dispatcher, almost dreading his response. The 911 emergency line is certainly not the proper method to obtain a visit by Santa Claus.

“Oh yeah, she did,” he said with a laugh.

“Sorry about that, we’ll take another run down that road.” We have to take care of a grandma like that, I thought to myself.

“Thanks, Chief, and Merry Christmas,” the dispatcher answered, as we both disconnected the line. 

 

 

Heredity Versus Envronment: Or Why Does Junior Like Fire Trucks?

Heredity versus environment; the debate has gone on for years.  Now why in the world would this be of interest to the fire service?  Primarily because there are so many multi-generational members in the “family” business.  It is an easier question to examine from the desk than from the jumpseat or chief’s car. 

The premise is based on the theory (I don’t think it’s a theory.  I think its damn well a fact) that only a limited number of people in the population possess the innate ability to go into burning buildings.  Accepting that, why then, are so many of them from the same families?

Exposure to the business through visits to the fire station as a kid can certainly enhance the interest level.  That alone doesn’t provide the ability necessary to make the push through the door. 

I’ve seen many second or third generation firefighters—at least they start out to be one—that were total disasters.  So it isn’t something that is automatically passed from generation to generation.  However, the number of times it does happen argues for more than statistical anomaly.

One of the messages from this is that we should look not just externally, but internally as well for recruiting.  Having my son become a firefighter kept me active many more years than I likely would have been otherwise, so it works for retention as well. 

So the answer to the original question of heredity versus environment is…..don’t know—but it is fun to think about.   

 

From the Archives: Ryman's Rules-A Chief's Philosophy

With "election" season fast approaching at many volunteer fire departments, I thought a revisit might be timely.

There are rules, and then there are rules. Here are some I've tried, not always successfully, to follow.

Ryman’s Rules: A Volunteer Chief’s Philosophy


1. You are responsible. You are responsible 365 days a year, 7 days a week, 24 hours a day. If you are there or 3,000 miles away. You are responsible. You can delegate authority, but not responsibility.

2. The chief is always right. Invite input, debate, etc. from the officers. However, once the decision is made, that’s it. In public, the officers must show solidarity.

3. The officers are always right. If an officer makes a decision you disagree with, in public or with the other firefighters, that decision was right. You talk about what you would have done differently in private.

4. Delegate, delegate, and delegate. You can’t be involved in every activity, nor should you be. Give the junior officers responsibilities and hold them accountable. If they follow through, give them more and more. If they don’t, let them know about it and don’t give them any additional work.

5. Try to develop a command presence. Your presence at an emergency should send a message to the firefighters that everything is going to be okay. Regardless of how badly something is going, try to maintain a calm exterior. Motivate your people. This is done differently for each individual. If you give an order or tell them to get into a building, they should totally believe that you believe they can do it. Never tell a firefighter to do something you wouldn’t or couldn’t do yourself. Chiefs give orders on incomplete information regularly. Even if you have doubts about it, give the order as if you are 100% confident about it. Your confidence is a force multiplier.

6. Let them have fun. Nobody is getting paid for this. The younger guys have to enjoy themselves. At the same time, know when to pull in the reins, and when you do, jerk them hard. They still have to be professionals. You can’t be their buddy anymore. You are the man, and they have to recognize it as such.

7. Pace of change. Keep them sullen but not mutinous. The pace of change has to be fast enough that the young guys see progress, but not so fast that the dinosaurs get riled up. As long as both groups are slightly unhappy, you’re doing fine.

8. Don’t be afraid to piss somebody off. If you’re not pissing somebody off once in a while, you’re not doing your job.

9. Encourage training certifications. Push the guys to get their Firefighter 1 and other certificates. The time is fast coming when what you are able to do, and what positions you can hold in a fire department virtually anywhere will be determined by these certificates. At the same time, work to keep things in perspective. Firefighter 1 or 2 does not equal “super firefighter”.

10. Develop junior officers. The greatest legacy a chief can have is by the officers he leaves behind.

Where Oh Where Should My Red Light Be...

Warning lights in the 1960s weren’t the high efficiency LED’s or strobes we see today.  A single bulb “Vitalite” was the norm.  Back then, West Corners had a whopping two traffic lights, both of which were relatively new.  Heavy traffic for emergency responders was not a major problem. 

Mom was not a fan of lights on the roof of cars.  She felt they detracted from the looks.  Further, she didn’t even like them on the front dash, arguing they obstructed her vision. 

None of this was much of an issue when Dad was a firefighter, lieutenant, or captain.  We lived less than a mile from the station; one stop sign and two turns away.  When he made Assistant Chief and had to start responding to the scene, things changed. 

A mobile radio—with tubes—was installed in the car.  A miniature manual siren was bolted under the hood.  Neither of these was a problem; it was the red light that was in dispute.   Locating it on the roof was out of the question and her objections regarding the front dash were continued.  The l ight ended up on the rear deck in the back window of the old Dodge. 

This location was one step above useless.  When parked at a scene, it could be useful, but did little to expedite actually getting there. 

All this changed one fortuitous day when Mom and I happened to be in the car with Dad when a fire call was received.  Dad called out as responding and activated the light on the rear deck and the dinky siren, and attempted to weave his way through what passed as traffic in our little town.   In the front seat, Mom was astounded at the difficulty he experienced. 

“Why won’t these people pull over?” She asked, incredulous over this lack of cooperation, her hands braced o the dash board against the bobbing and weaving of the car.

“Because nobody can see the damn light,” Dad said.  Mom knew better than to continue the conversation while we were enroute to the call.  Meanwhile, I was having a blast in the back seat; seeing the flashes of red bounce in and out of the car and looking for smoke in the sky in front of us. 

Mom and I watched from the car while the incident, nothing serious if memory serves, was handled.  When the fire apparatus was repacked and returning to the station, Dad got back in the car.  Mom had apparently been giving some thought to the ride we took to the scene and her previous position on the location of the red light in the car.  Before Dad had barely settled in to start the ignition, she revealed her decision.

“Rich, put the damn light wherever you want it.” 

Dad didn’t say anything, but before the day was out, the center of the roof was graced with the old single bulb red light. 

Busy Few Days

It's been a busy end of the week for Generation 3.  Mike has run four workers in less than four days.......so far.

Inside

The engine company pulls up in front of the single story house, the siren winding down.  Grey black smoke oozes from previously unknown cracks and windows, doors, and the building eaves.  The firefighter in the rear dismounts and reaches for the nozzle and hose stacked in the horizontal bed or cross lay and pulls it onto his shoulder.  The officer, axe and halligan bar, the “irons” in his hand, pulls the hose from the second stack as the firefighter advances toward the front door.  The driver comes around the engine and relieves the officer at this so he can follow the firefighter. 

At the front door, the officer wrenches open the screen, disabling it so it won’t close on them while the firefighter flakes out the remaining hose from his shoulder to ensure smooth entry to the building without kinks or catches.  Dropping the nozzle, he takes the axe from the officer who jams the pry end of the halligan into the wood frame by the lock in the door.  With one good whack, the door pops open and smoke pours from around it.

Pulling the door shut again, the officer and firefighter drop to their knees and drop their helmets to the ground, putting on breathing apparatus face pieces and protective hoods in a well-practiced motion.  Hood, helmet, and gloves in place, the firefighter picks up the nozzle, the hose now hard with water, and pushes the fractured front door open again.  With a well-trained crew, the process takes place without the exchange of a word; poetry in motion.

The firefighter and officer enter the blackness of the house, their eyes widening to the physical limits, attempting to see the fire.  Their senses go into overdrive, adrenaline having a romp through their bodies.  Both listen for the crackling of flames and feeling heat through their protective clothing, trying to discern the direction from which it emanates.  Windows shatter as fellow arriving firefighters begin to ventilate the building, hoping to allow heat and smoke to escape; making conditions better for the attack crew—and any victims who might remain. 

A few feet further in, the nozzleman spies a glow in front of him through the viscous smoke; just a fleeting glance, but it gives him a direction to head.

“It’s straight ahead,” he yells, his voice muffled by the face piece along with the hissing of the inhalation and exhalation from his and the officer’s mask.  Their conversations are now short, but more frequent, punctuated by expletives.  They drag and pull the hose another yard or so to the kitchen doorway where the fire is now more visible, starting to roll over their heads into the living room.  This is not the made for television fire with the perfect visibility of gas jets (sorry Chicago Fire).  Here the flames remain muted by the smoke, the heat pushing the attack team into the floor. 

The firefighter opens the nozzle, directing the fist thick straight stream of water at the ceiling, whipping it in circles.  The water makes a staccato thumping bass drum against the plaster, but without rhythm. .  The firefighter and officer push into the room and the angle of the hose stream drops as the nozzleman hits flames at cabinet level throughout the room.  Visibility, if anything, is worse as the water converts the fire to steam and the heat and smoke and ceiling level drop, the plume inverted by the water application.  Other firefighters spread into the house, searching for victims or the spread of the fire beyond the kitchen. 

The bulk of the fire now out in the kitchen, another firefighter with a pike pole, a long stick with a hook at the end, pushes past the nozzleman and thrusts the pike into the ceiling.  Pulling down the plaster, the space above, and any remaining fire, is visible for the nozzleman to hit with his stream.  The smoke and heat begin to lift, exiting through the broken kitchen windows, leaving a smother wet jungle in the room.  A few more minutes of work and it becomes clear the bulk of the fire is out. 

The firefighter and officer are relieved by others and head outside for a break.  Kneeling again on the front lawn, they remove their helmets and face pieces and open their bunker coats.  In the cool fall air, steam rises from their uncovered heads and bodies, condensing from the sweat. 

They smile and converse about this easy fire as the adrenaline surging through their systems begins to recede.  A satisfaction is left having completed what they regularly trained for, going against the beast or the “Red Devil” as it is sometimes described.  It’s an untenable environment after just a few minutes without the right equipment and one that few want to visit much less work in.  That increases the satisfaction; doing something only a small percentage of people can do, going “inside.” 

 

The Demise of the "Hearse" Ambulance and Other Good Things

Anyone who ever watched Emergency when originally on network television or later in syndication understands how far EMS, among other things, has come in the fire service.  With few exceptions, medical responses have long ago taken the lead over fire calls.  Some contend the name fire department is no longer accurate.  While I understand these arguments, I’m not prepared to go that far—yet. However, if you’re a firefighter today, particularly a young one, you better learn to “like” EMS, or consider another profession, because it isn’t going away. 

The development of ALS while the most prominent and recognized improvement is far from the only change.  Ambulance services run by funeral directors with a red light tossed onto the roof of a hearse have, thankfully, gone the way of the horses.    Overall availability has improved as well. 

How much?  A lot.  When I was six or seven years old, some buddies and I were playing in the woods, jumping in piles of leaves and generally doing the things young boys did back then when no one had to be worried about us being kidnapped if we went ten minutes from the house.  One boy jumped into a pile over a bank and hit something hidden beneath the leaves, breaking his femur.  His screams of pain frightened the living hell out of the rest of us.  There was no thought of moving him, not because we knew not to, but because of fear.  Practically as one, we all started running for our respective homes for one thing; to get our mothers—it was the 60s, they were home. 

The group of mothers followed us back, and mine, being a nurse, promptly recognized the fracture for what it was.  An ambulance was called, but it wasn’t quite as simple as today.  The first due fire department where Dad was a member had no ambulance or any medical capabilities at all.  No help there.  The neighboring department had an ambulance, but they only responded outside of their first due area on nights and weekends.  Monday through Friday, eight to four, they didn’t leave the district.  In the next village over, the police department ran the ambulance.  They didn’t leave their town at all, regardless of time or day.  The only unit available was operated by the county Sheriff’s department.  The road patrol deputy had to respond to get the ambulance from wherever he happened to be, and then across half the county to where we were waiting.    This wasn’t a rural area either; the suburban town had a population in the tens of thousands. 

Almost an hour later, it arrived to transport the boy.  Luckily the break hadn’t hit the artery or he’d have been dead long before the unit arrived.  After an extended convalescence; most of a school year, he recovered. 

Good?  No, but normal back then, so yes, things other than just ALS have changed a lot.  As much as almost no one wants to be on the ambulance every shift,  I think everyone would agree things are better now.   

A Challenging Mantra

Former quarterback Jon Kitna isn’t living the life of leisure in his retirement.  He’s teaching high school algebra and coaching football, and most importantly teaching life lessons.  The acronym he uses for the values he tries to impart is REAL.  

·         Reject passivity

·         Empathize with others

·         Accept responsibility

·         Lead courageously

The parallels are clear.  If underprivileged high school students can absorb this cultural challenge and change, hopefully so can our young firefighters—if we teach it. 

Pizza Pie and Electrocution: The Strange Things That Bring Back Memories

Leaving a great pizza place in Endicott (Consols—originally Duffs—the same recipe for well over fifty years, but that’s another story) where Mike and I had stuffed ourselves with Dad, we drove by the old IBM plant and I pointed out a utility substation where I had one of my first serious calls as a youngster.

It was a summer day shift, and we got hit for an injured male.  This wasn’t our usual first due area but the ALS rig that normally covered it was on another call.  That the dispatcher or caller left out a little bit of information became rather evident when we pulled up on scene. 

There was a black male standing by the open gate of the substation with his arms extended out from his side.  Getting out of the front seat of the ambulance, I noted my observation had been wrong.  He wasn’t black—he was burned.  We got him onto a sheet on the stretcher and began carefully removing clothing where we could, and pouring sterile water onto his burns, trying to keep him talking to us. 

“They told us it was okay to dig there,” he kept repeating.  He and his partner had struck a high voltage underground line and it had blown them from the hole they’d been working in.  His buddy appeared to be less seriously injured than him but it’s sometimes hard to tell with electrical shock.  I called for another rig, and the cop that arrived along with some first responders from the plant helped with the second victim until a couple of our other members arrived on scene.  With victim two stable, and the second rig on the way, I decided to load and go with our patient.  I was worried about his airway, cardiac status; pretty much everything.  The ALS rig wasn’t available, and by the time we could get a medic to the scene POV, if one was even around, we could be at the emergency room. 

It was a wild and wooly ride as the far expanses of Chevrolet horsepower were explored by the driver.  We kept the victim talking all the way, the best tool we had available to keep him out of deepening shock, using every drop of distilled water in the cabinets on him as well.  I was ready to see it pour out the rear door when we backed into the ER ramp. 

Both made a full recovery and then, a few months afterward, filed a lawsuit against the utility that had let them dig there.  Yours truly received his first, but certainly not last, subpoena for deposition.  I was seventeen years old……

Recent interview by author Pat Bertram

Gary Ryman, Author of “Fire Men: Stories From Three Generations of a Firefighting Family”

August 28, 2012 — Pat Bertram

What is your book about?
Fire Men: Stories From Three Generations of a Firefighting Family relates the experiences as firefighters of my father, myself, and my son. As both the son and father of firefighters, I bring a different perspective. Having the opportunity to fire fires, with both my father and my son as well as respond to auto accidents, and the myriad other emergencies that fire departments handle was marvelous.

How long had the idea of your book been developing before you began to write the story?
I can’t say it really started in my mind as a book. I began writing out the stories of individual emergency calls with the thought that perhaps sometime in the future the vignettes might be of interest to my son or daughter or perhaps a future generation. After I had a hundred plus pages of this material, it dawned on me that perhaps this was a book trying to get out.

How long did it take you to write your book?
About four years from pen touching paper to holding the first printed copy. The first draft took just over a year. It wasn’t remotely ready, but I didn’t know that at the time, and with the encouragement of some friends, I began the querying process. One of the agents I wrote had represented an author I liked a great deal. A few weeks after sending my letter, I received an email from another agent at that firm indicating that the first agent was not interested; but that my query had intrigued her and she wanted to read the manuscript. After reading it, she agreed to work with me and provided incredibly valuable feedback and suggestions which I incorporated in a second draft. A few more rounds of revisions followed and just before she was ready to start sending the manuscript out, I was orphaned—she left to take a job as an editor at one of the big six houses. Not surprisingly, the agent she passed the manuscript who decided it wasn’t for him, and so I was back to square one, albeit with a much improved book. This time, along with agents, I looked at small publishers as well, and was lucky enough to hook up with a wonderful publisher, Tribute Books http://www.tribute-books.com/ They have since transitioned to YA books, but continue to strongly support their entire list, and have been just fantastic to work with.

What is your goal for the book, ie: what do you want people to take with them after they finish reading the story?
For many, whom the closest they have ever been to a fire truck is when it passes them on the roadway, I hope they get an understanding of what firefighting is really like. The mental and physical challenges, along with the emotional aspects of the job are not usually apparent to the general public. In addition to those, the family facets lend an important component. While I worked with my father and son, I also had many brothers; fellow firefighters who you trust with your life. For those in the fire service, the greatest compliments I receive are those that read it and say “yeah, that’s exactly how it is.”

What are you working on right now?
I just submitted my thesis for my Masters in American History. That has been consuming me for most of the past nine months. Now I hope to return to the novel I began shortly after publication of “Fire Men” which is an action adventure genre work, naturally set in a fire department. A Lieutenant dies while battling a fire which was deliberately set in an insurance fraud scheme and his best friend and brother-in-law who leads a ladder company in the same department searches for the arsonist.

What do you like to read?
I read mainly history or action/adventure.

Where do you get the names for your characters?
When I wrote the book, I used real names to allow me to keep track of people and try to ensure I captured their personalities. In the revision process, though, the majority of the names had to be changed. I stole an idea from a writer’s seminar I attended, and bought a baby name book, and reworked the names from that.

If your book was made into a TV series or Movie, what actors would you like to see playing your characters?
While I can’t say for everyone in the book, I would certainly be willing to settle for being played by Brad Pitt. The resemblance (not) is so close!

Who designed your cover?
The publisher took care of the cover, and I think did an incredible job. I was stunned the first time I saw it, and could not have been happier.

Where can people learn more about your books?
Folks can visit my website for more information. The book is also available in paperback on Amazon.com as well as Barnes & Noble and in virtually all e-book formats.
http://fire-men-book.blogspot.com/
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0982256590/ref=s9_simh_gw_p14_d0_i1?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=0CM4CBCA5H4DWQXT1Y38&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=1389517282&pf_rd_i=507846
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/fire-men-gary-r-ryman/1100719030?ean=9780982256596

http://patbertram.wordpress.com/2012/08/28/gary-ryman-author-of-fire-men-stories-from-three-generations-of-a-firefighting-family/#comment-2906
 

The Continuum of Change: Residential Sprinklers vs the “Good” Fire

One sentence from a recent conversation continues to stick in my mind.  “If it weren’t for that sprinkler in the townhouse, we would’ve had a good fire.”  It was stated only partly in jest, the young firefighter, like many, always wanting more of the challenge of a “good” fire.  No one, save the psychotic, wants to see someone else’s property destroyed much less anyone injured; but this is juxtaposed with the firefighter’s inherent desire to perform their craft and test themselves in that environmental nightmare we call “inside.” 

We need a partial shift in balance to begin better educating the younger firefighters as to the desirability of residential sprinklers.  For the most part, their response to commercial sprinkler alarms and fires is something they accept as common and normal.  The expansion of residential sprinklers, however, is newer and something which reduces the size and number of their bread and butter—the house fire.  Understanding is one thing, but acceptance is another.  Sliding the scale so these aggressive young men and women buy into the importance and value of these systems is a critical leadership task. 

It is difficult to see, accept, and support technology which if (or hopefully when) it becomes widespread, can eliminate much of the reason many of us came into this business to begin with.  It’s like the people version of steam replacing the sail or the car replacing the horse; not gone, but much reduced.  Just the same, pushing for these systems over the construction industry lobbyists and their pocket politicians should be continued.  That, and educating the younger generation of firefighters— so they can succeed where we haven’t. 

My Wish List for the Next Generation of Firefighters

Communications integrated into the helmet and face piece.  The tinny speakers in masks never worked right and it’s ridiculous to try to talk through face pieces.  Extension microphones are actually getting bigger, not smaller, unlike every other piece of technology in the world.

An infrared heads up display in the face piece.  There are no reasons that every firefighter shouldn’t have a camera, and no reason you should have to carry the thing. 

Apparatus designs in which hose and equipment can be reached from the ground.  This isn’t so much reengineering as it is going retro.  When I started, you could reach the pre-connects in the rear from the ground, and standing on the tailboard, you could see the driver.  There is no reason we need ladders on apparatus to reach our own equipment.  You shouldn’t have to practically set up scaffolding to reload the hose bed. 

C’mon folks; we had guys walking around on the moon in 1969; there is no reason we can’t have these simple items on a cost effective, and importantly, firefighter proof configuration. 

The Times Have Changed…Maybe Not

I recently came across a fascinating historical document.  The rules and regulations for the Los Angeles Fire Department from 1901 are, in many respects, not much different than those in place in many departments today, a century removed.  One major difference was apparatus propulsion, the turn of the century still being what we view as the romantic era of the horses.  Contrary to the opinion of the third generation, his father (me) and grandfather had no actual experience in the horse drawn days.  After reading the policies relating to the care for the diesel engines of the day, one wonders if the brothers then viewed them with the fond nostalgia we do.  The rules show the importance of the animals was paramount

RULE 13.
CARE OF HORSES, APPARATUS, HOSE, ETC.

SECTION 1. Horses shall be fed not more than four quarts of grain and about twenty pounds of hay daily, and twice a week shall be fed a bran mash.

SEC. 2. Hours for feeding horses shall be 6.30 A.M. and 4.00 P.M., and must be watered at least thirty minutes before feeding time.

SEC. 3. Horses shall be thoroughly groomed every morning, their hoofs picked out and cleaned, their manes and tails washed with soap and water once every week and thoroughly dried after washing; the sheath shall be washed every two weeks. Grey or white horses may have stains sponged off with warm water and soap, but must be thoroughly dried immediately. White legs may be washed in the same manner, otherwise the legs must never be washed. Washing horses is strictly forbidden, unless by permission of the Chief Engineer, and then only with bucket and sponge.

SEC. 4. On returning from an alarm, horses' mouths and nostrils must be sponged out, and may be given a few swallows of water, and, if warm, must be scraped, rubbed dry, and blanketed. Sweat should be removed from around the eyes and under the tail with a damp sponge. Horses must never be given grain while hot after a run or exercise.

SEC. 5. Teasing or annoying horses, or teaching them tricks is strictly forbidden.

SEC. 6. Horses shall be exercised daily within three blocks of the house, for a period of not less than one-half-hour, hitched to the apparatus (Sundays excepted). In wet weather the horses shall be exercised without the apparatus.

SEC. 7. A bucket must not be used to catch the horse's urine in, nor shall they be taught any like peculiarities. If a horse is staining to urinate, straw should be shaken under him. The stall should be washed out immediately and all manure must be removed immediately.

SEC. 8. If a horse is injured or shows signs of sickness the commanding officer of the company must be notified at once.

SEC. 9. Horses must be treated kindly, taught by kindness to come promptly to their place and perform their part of the service without the unnecessary use of the whip. The unnecessary use of a whip by any member will subject the offender to suspension or dismissal.

Morning check-out, washing rigs, changing fluids, filters, adding fuel, waxing (grooming); reporting mechanical problems or accidents—maybe things haven’t changed much after all. 

1901 LAFD Rules & Regulations

Upcoming TV Appearance

I will be appearing on PA Live on WBRE Channel 28 on Friday, July 27th with Dave Kuharchik and Monica Madeja to talk about "Fire Men:  Stories From Three Generations of a Firefighting Family." Tune in at 4:00 PM to watch!

Fire Men: Stories From Three Generations of a Firefighting Family

Cats, Bats, and Stubbed Toes

We’ve all heard the stories of people visiting Emergency Rooms for stubbed toes—this is real—I have personally responded on an ambulance call for a person with a stubbed toe.  The fire department equivalent, again real, is the stereotypical cat stuck in the tree.  My father had the best response I’ve ever heard when the dispatcher would call with a report from a citizen of a feline atop a sapling.  “Tell the caller we’ve never seen a cat skeleton in a tree yet.  When the kitty gets hungry enough, it’ll come down.”  End of discussion.  Other animal control calls for squirrels or bats in houses get filed in this miscellaneous category. 

Less amusing was a recent incident I heard about where a citizen broke a fire truck windshield; literally beat a spider web of cracks in it with his bare hands, because the fire department couldn’t make his power come back on after a storm. 

What some members of the public fail to remember at times is that it costs money every time a fire truck turns a wheel.  Fuel, wear and tear, and indirect costs like insurance are all part of the equation every time a piece of apparatus moves.  That’s the mechanical side; more importantly there is wear and tear on people too.  Ill maintained and malfunctioning alarm systems are the bane of our existence.  No fine or penalty seems sufficient after the third straight night of a false alarm at the same place at 3:00 AM. 

The unnecessary, abusive, and downright strange calls continue to make up more than their fair share of any department’s call volume.  You have to go, though, ‘cause that’s what we do. 

The Final Count: 48 Hours From the Inland Hurricaine

The Maryland, DC, and Virginia area was pummelled by what some have decribed as an inland hurricaine.  Wind gusts to 90 miles an hour, and heavy rain fall combined to cause wide spread damage, power disruptions which may not be resolved for a week, and countless emegency runs.  The station where my son Michael lives in Montgomery County was in the midst of this, and in 48 hours, ran 52 calls.  Many were wires and trees down, automatic fire alarms, etc., but others were more serious.  These included

4 box alarms for structure fires
1 fatal wreck with one down the embankment and ejected
3 collapse calls for the squad
2 transfers to Howard county for the tower

All the above was in temperatures exceeding 100 degrees at times, and regularly in the high 90s.  Not exactly a "fun" weekend.