By JERRY KNAPP
As my department pulled up to the aging auto repair shop, heavy dark brown smoke showed from the poor-fitting roll-up bay doors. The engine quickly stretched a 2½-inch line into operation and initially seemed to darken down the fire. However, the fire grew quickly from what we originally believed it to be: a burning car or truck in the garage. The place lit up, and the fire had a pretty good grip on the contents.
The building was a landmark, and its previous owners were an institution in the town for many years: reliable mechanics and tow truck operators who worked out of a building that had long ago showed its age and overuse.
 |
| Photo by Tom Bierds. |
Arriving on the first-due truck, I took the saw to the roof to open the gravel/asphalt shingle roof. The lieutenant, another firefighter, and I accessed the lower roof with a straight ladder. With the aid of our halligan tool, we made a hasty step and a small jump to the main roof.
The saw ran well, but smoke was pouring out from every first-floor horizontal vent, creating tough conditions as the smoke rolled around and onto the roof. Working as fast as the saw would cut, I cut a large vent hole and backed up to let the firefighter with the roof hook pull the hole. However, conditions instantly deteriorated; the smoke became so dense that we lost visibility and could feel radiant heat from three sides. I wanted so badly to stay and finish the ventilation job and maybe cut another hole to help the engine guys below, but fire was showing through each saw blade cut. Here we were doing the classic truck company job—above the fire, in significant danger, taking the roof, doing what we are trained to do. I wanted to finish cutting a second hole in the worst way. I thought, “I’m going to beat this fire, gut it out, and get the job done.” The other firefighters present were equally determined.
At about this time the lieutenant said in a very decisive voice, “Let’s get off this roof. This building is not worth dying for!” The smoke and heat were so intense that we were forced to crawl off the roof. It was a great call, one that I wish I had sense enough to make at the time. When we got on the ground, we made sure the team was all safe and accounted for, and then we cut and opened another roll-up door. Multiple exterior lines extinguished the fire.
About a year after the fire, I drove by the site, and a newer, bigger, and better building was built on the exact same site. We had risked our lives for the previous building, and for what? Imagine if any members were killed that night—for a building that was going to be torn down anyway.
From the outset, the operation appeared to present the classic firefighting strategy: create good vertical ventilation, open up the roof, push the lines in, and extinguish the fire—an aggressive interior attack supported by equally aggressive and equally dangerous vertical ventilation. Conditions may have been rough, but we persevered, taking the risk and putting the fire out so we could go home satisfied with a job well done. We all have that macho, risk taking, get-it-done mentality, and therein lies the strength of the fire service. How often do we consider the longer range consequence of “getting it done”?
Let’s take a look at this fire, strictly in terms of money, from a nonfirefighter’s point of view. How much was the building worth in dollars? I cannot put an accurate dollar value on it, but it was built around 1940. When the smoke cleared, we saw that it had a mix of handyman-type construction: trusses, unprotected steel, wood framing, masonry walls—certainly not the kind of roof we wanted to work on. But let’s return to the value of the building and, for the sake of argument, say it is worth $500,000.
How did the fire affect that value? We forced and cut all the roll-up and personnel doors, cut a hole in the roof, vented all the windows, and flooded all the contents with water while the fire had damaged or destroyed nearly everything inside, including the vehicles inside, which were total losses.
Put yourself in the insurance company’s shoes. How much was lost? Everything—which is the obvious answer. To insurance companies, this means there was nothing left to save. But there I was on the roof, risking it all, and for what? This is not a criticism of the fire department’s operation. We went to a defensive operation that was very successful; we all went home without a single injury. But how often do we risk our lives for a building that gets torn down and rebuilt better than it was before? Admittedly, hindsight is 20/20, and we often do not know the extent of damage or fire involvement to the building during suppression operations. However, how often do we consider what is left to save?
Now, let’s look at the next step in the financial process: rebuilding. Picture yourself as the contractor and building owner. What is cheaper and better to do—repair what was almost totally destroyed or build new, modern construction; new utilities; and new vehicle service equipment? Of course, build new is the most effective answer. So what happened to the building we risked our lives to save? It was torn down despite our good, classic truck and life-risking work.
My point is to make you think about what we risk our lives for. In this case, we risked our lives to do what we thought we should: conduct the classic, aggressive fire attack operation. But for what? For a building that will be torn down anyway. Sure, the decision to go defensive was appropriate, but was it made at an appropriate time? In this case, no firefighters were injured or killed at this fire. Should we go defensive sooner at many of our fires? This is not easy to answer, but it is something to consider based on good judgment and experience and the building’s future prognosis.
Firefighter Jeff Shupe from the Cleveland (OH) Fire Department had asked me about this fire, “How far are you from Hackensack?” He was referring to the fatal 1988 Hackensack, New Jersey, Ford fire 20 years ago that killed several firefighters. His point was that the fire service may need to look at fire buildings in a more historical perspective as part of risk analysis. Here we were at a similar occupancy and initial fire scenario.
Could this fire have had a similar outcome (several killed firefighters)? Again, from an historical perspective, the big picture, what will the insurance companies, building owners, and occupants do with their fire-damaged building and contents? Will the building be repaired (was it worth the risk we took?), or will it be torn down and rebuilt (our risk was not justified; we added loss potential to the incident)? Shupe’s point was that the burning auto repair shop is viewed by some as a disposable building.
Recently, I observed a fire department in-service inspection of a vacant furniture store. Similar to the auto repair shop, it was an older building; the business occupants had abandoned it after years of profitability. The building’s construction was actually quite sound. We walked through the interior and then to the roof, which was also in good, solid condition.
Although unspoken, our thought was that an aggressive attack was possible on this building for limited amounts of fire. But for what? What is this building’s future? Likely, it will be torn down and another disposable building put in its place. We need to think about buildings as disposable. Why? Because building owners, occupants, and insurance companies do. Why should we risk ourselves and our fellow firefighters for something that others consider disposable? It’s a radical thought and certainly not applicable to all situations, but surely it is applicable to some fire situations. We all think aggressively, but we must consider the cost of firefighters’ aggressiveness at every building.
We all conduct a risk analysis of almost everything we do on the fireground these days, and it has been a huge help in reducing firefighter injuries and deaths. Perhaps we should factor in a “financial cost analysis” and “future building use” in our risk analysis.
From day one as a probie, you are taught that firefighters save lives and property, in that order. Our mantra is, “Risk a lot to save a lot, risk nothing to save nothing.” There was no life hazard in the building that night, and if anyone was trapped inside, they were clearly not salvageable and worth risking a firefighter’s life in a rescue attempt. There was no life hazard until the occupants in black coats and self-contained breathing apparatus arrived on-scene. The risk analysis for this fire was that there was no life hazard until we arrived on-scene and advanced to the roof. In sheer monetary evaluation, did we add value to the scene or just add the possibility of increased losses if a member got hurt or killed?
The auto repair shop fire, resulting in a new and improved building, has played out repeatedly over the years in my town. Think back to a few “good fires” in your area, and you will come up with the same result.
Also consider the new lightweight construction of homes and other occupancies. There is no need to discuss the dangers of trusses, micro-laminated beams and their complete lack of fire resistance. We all have read the reports of firefighters killed by this type of disposable construction. We must consider when our basic aggressive interior fire attack mentalities are and are not appropriate, which will increase fireground safety. Standard aggressive interior fire attack operations are the heart and soul of what we do as firefighters.
There are times when it is inappropriate to risk firefighters. Making that decision—essentially to write off the building early in the operation—is difficult, but always keep it as an option.
JERRY KNAPP is a 34-year veteran firefighter/EMT with the West Haverstraw (NY) Fire Department and assistant chief with the Rockland (NY) Haz Mat Team. He has a degree in fire science and is a nationally registered paramedic. He is also a training officer at the Rockland County (NY) Fire Training Center in Pomona, New York, and an FDIC HOT Engine Company instructor and seminar presenter. He recently retired from the Directorate of Emergency Services at West Point.
