The Board of Civil Service Commissioners of the City of Los Angeles - January 20, 1931

Orange County Fire Authority

Mike Moore Promoted to Division Chief

White Smoke

CPF “Breaking News”

CFFJAC Alum Named Berkeley’s First Female Chief

Debra Pryor Says JAC Recruitment Led to Her Career as Firefighter

After a four-month, nationwide search, the City of Berkeley announced the hiring of its first female fire chief, Debra Pryor.   Proving once again that apprenticeship works, Chief Pryor’s appointment has become one of the most landmark success stories in the history of the California Fire Fighter Joint Apprenticeship (CFFJAC) program. 

Elaine Brown keynote speaker at the Los Angeles African American Firefighter Museum (click to download article)

Struggle of Black Firefighters Told in Crawford's Book
BILL DRIES

Robert J. Crawford didn't grow up wanting to be a firefighter as some other children might have.

It wasn't something black children in Memphis dreamed of while growing up during the Great Depression.

Being a firefighter was against the law for one thing. There had been three black firefighters hired by the city of Memphis in 1874 in a brief era when blacks held several prominent elected positions in local government. They lasted eight days on the city payroll as the city mayor at the time and the city's General Council feuded over who had the authority to hire firefighters.

The three never fought a fire and were never paid even for the brief time they served.

When Crawford decided to join the Memphis Fire Department in 1955, he found time had done little to diminish the hard road black citizens faced in trying to serve the city.

Before his death last month at age 76, Crawford, with his wife Delores, wrote a book about his experience.

"Black Fire: Portrait of a Black Memphis Firefighter" is more than a book about the struggles of Crawford and other black firefighters in the city. It is also a portrait of a city and neighborhoods that have long since vanished. It's also a political memoir of sorts about the drive starting in the 1970s to move from integrating firehouses to moving up in the ranks of the fire service.
 

Blazing a trail

Crawford wrote of growing up in segregated Depression-era Memphis and leaving to serve in the Korean War with the idea that he would never return once he had seen possibilities in an Army that was more racially integrated than American society at large. He did return, though, and in 1955, along with 11 other black citizens, applied for, was accepted and completed training for the first positions on the Memphis Fire Department open to blacks.

"I felt more welcomed in Korea than I felt in the Memphis Fire Department," Crawford wrote. "However, I think all of the black firefighters felt strength from the black community. ... Cheers rang out as I drove the fire truck through black neighborhoods with black firefighters on the tailboard of the pumper. ... I observed little boys watching black firefighters, dreams of becoming firefighters in their eyes. I never had these dreams because I never saw firefighters that looked like me."

White fires, black fires

Inside burning buildings, Crawford said racial differences disappeared. Once the fire was out, those differences returned along with rules that today might seem bizarre.

"When we responded to a fire that the captain suspected was a white person's home, the captain instructed us to remain outside until he ordered us to enter the residence," Crawford wrote. "He made certain white women were appropriately dressed before we entered the house.

"On the other hand, when we made a fire call to a black family's home, we entered and investigated the situation with the white officer. Because the same situations were handled differently, I labeled fires in black homes 'black fire.'"

Getting on the fire department is just the beginning of the story revealed in the book. It chronicles Crawford's hard-fought moves to the rank of deputy fire director in 1985. At the time, he was the highest-ranking black citizen ever in the Memphis Fire Department.

By then, Crawford was a familiar sight at most of the city's major fires. He was a hands on, no nonsense presence with a boundless technical knowledge of firefighting.

Crawford was among the founders of The Pioneers, a black firefighters group that financed and fought the court battles necessary to keep black citizens in the ranks of firefighters and to advance up the management ladder. The Pioneers and similar groups in other major cities are part of the International Association of Black Professional Firefighters.

Crawford's story of the struggle is more than a chapter from the past, said Teresa Everett, executive director of the IABPF.

"There continues to be a need for organizations like the IABPF because we fill a void that comes about in many areas related to the fire service," she said by phone from Miami. "We're not an organization that promotes blacks in terms of not being qualified, but to show that we are viable candidates for the positions we are qualified for ... throughout all levels of the fire service."

Creating a legacy

Crawford and his 11 colleagues had different outlooks on how to deal with the intense pressure. They had 10 years to compare notes on a daily basis because for 10 years their only posting was at Fire Station No. 8 at the corner of Mississippi and Crump boulevards.

They agreed at least one person in the group would take every promotion exam so that some in the group always had scores on file in the event promotions were posted. It became a common strategy for other black firefighter groups across the country.

"It's important that the fire service recognize that all members of a community should be allowed to make a contribution to the fire protection activities taking place within their particular cities," Everett said.

"Typically the fire service as a profession is passed down from one family member to another. And because African-Americans or blacks have not been that active in the fire service or as visible in the fire service, it's an opportunity for us to pass down our profession and encourage members of our family to become a part of the profession just as in other ethnic groups."

In the book, Crawford wrote that in addition to battling hostile attitudes in firehouses around the city, he also had to work hard to find out about developments in how the department was run.

White firefighters in the loop who talked with him could and were ostracized or punished in other ways. When he wasn't networking, Crawford pored over every firefighting manual he could find.

The disconnect, he wrote, continued even after he became the No. 2 firefighter in the organization in 1985.

"Administration was so tied up with denying my presence that they didn't know what I was doing. It was like looking back at the present," he wrote. "We are all products of our time. This was Memphis, 1985, with remnants of Memphis, 1955. Some still refused to accept blacks in commanding position."

Crawford retired in 1988 as deputy director

"... I observed little boys watching black firefighters, dreams of becoming firefighters in their eyes. I never had these dreams because I never saw firefighters that looked like me."
- Robert J. Crawford



 

Meet the Chief: Douglas Barry, Los Angeles Fire Department By Jamie Thompson FireRescue1 News Editor   AP Photo/Nick Ut Douglas Barry speaks during a news conference in December 2006.      There were likely few less desirable jobs in the fire industry than that of Los Angeles Fire Department Chief just over 12 months ago. The LAFD had been subjected to a string of lawsuits alleging sexual and racial harassment, and union relations were seriously strained. The turmoil crested in December 2006 when then-Chief William Bamattre resigned amid a furor over a black firefighter, Tennie Pierce, being served spaghetti mixed with dog food. Fortunately for the LAFD, Bamattre's replacement, Douglas Barry, has helped to steady the ship — even if he was initially reluctant to take on the job. Barry was a 31-year veteran of the LAFD, having served as firefighter, engineer, captain, battalion chief, chief of staff and assistant chief. The chief's position seemed the logical next step, but at the time of Bamattre's resignation in December 2006, Barry had already scheduled his retirement for just several months later. And, in Barry's own words, "I've always preferred to working behind the scenes, not upfront where the fire chief is and very visible." But as Barry began his work as interim chief, seeing firsthand the huge challenges the department faced, the sense of loyalty and pride that goes with more than three decades on service began to have an effect on him. Change needed In addition, his efforts in rallying the beleaguered department seemed to be having an effect. Also — and perhaps most importantly — for the first time in what seemed like years for many in the city, everyone seemed to agree change was needed, from union leaders to local politicians.   "Many departments and groups had come to all work together to resolve these issues and I saw the opportunity was there to really get some things done that the fire department had been trying to do for a long time," Barry said. "The environment was perfect for it; people seemed to have confidence in the city." Barry's retirement plans are now on hold. Now that he's begun to initiate reforms and cultural change within the department, he has strong sense of seeing those through. "I worked on getting reforms in place and when it came to deciding whether I would become the full-time chief, we were making progress with things, even though it was slow," he said. "I decided that I wanted to finish that." One of Barry's first actions that won favor with department personnel and unions alike was the decision to meet his members across the city face-to-face. Shortly after being appointed interim chief, he set out a schedule to visit the department's more than 100 work locations, a figure he is still working his way through. He said his aim is to "effectively communicate the expectations of the department and myself as the fire chief." The decision to go for the personal touch, rather than my memos or e-mails, he said, stems from his experiences as a supervisor, where he found the most effective way to communicate to people was "face-to-face." "It has also been the chance to listen to what they thought the department should be doing, and I learned a lot from the members," Barry said. "I'm not only talking to the people but I'm also listening to what they have to say." Upon his appointment, Barry admitted that his biggest task was to put an end to the "frat-house culture," as local media described it, that seemingly allowed hazing and discrimination to spiral out of control. However, he insists the issues within the LAFD are not as bad as they have been painted in some quarters. Reflection on society   Photo Mike Meadows An LAFD firefighter uses a hose line on flames during the Corral Brush Fire near Malibu in November.   The LAFD, or any large department or organization, is a reflection on society, according to Barry. In addition, the well-documented issues have been given more exposure because of the size and stature of the LAFD, he added. "Some of these things have happened at other departments," Barry said. "But because we are a large department and we are in the limelight, a lot of it gets more attention. But similar things do happen in other departments as well; we're all a reflection of society." In his own rise through the ranks, Barry, who is black, said he never experienced any overt racism, before adding, "Maybe I'm just a very fortunate person." Of course, it hasn’t just been internal departmental affairs that have consumed Barry's time and efforts. The SoCal wildfires toward the end of last year posed their own particular challenges to the city, namely staffing. Barry said that the LAFD's main role was providing resources, sending roughly 30 companies to assist other fire departments. "It was a big challenge for us insofar as sending the resources that were needed, but to make sure we had enough resources here in case something happened in the city," he said. As for tests that lie ahead, Barry identifies budgetary issues as the biggest challenge facing not only his own department but those nationwide. It’s the constant headache faced by any chief, he said, of "being asked to do more and more but with less and less money.” "Thirty years ago, it was firefighting with some EMS and little bit of fire prevention," he said. "But now it's so much more than that. Firefighters are being pushed to have so many new skills in different areas and be proficient in all these various fields." Now 12 months in as chief, it has been a steep learning curve for Barry in finding out what makes a good chief.     AP Photo/Nick Ut William Bamattre resigned in December 2006.   For him, there are two things involved in being an effective leader: building the trust of your people and consistency. "You need to be consistent, people need to know where they stand and what to expect from you," he said. "You also need to build trust and provide a vision and the direction the department is going in — but it has to be shared." Barry looks back on the first year with both pride and honesty. "We've had everyone working together, pulling together, and progress is being made," he said. "Perhaps my only disappointment is that the progress hasn't been fast enough in some ways."

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