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Photo Pru Sowers Mike Trovato, Provincetown fire chief shown here at one of the suspected arsons, also holds down another full-time job at Joe & Son Appliance. |
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Photo Pru Sowers Ronnie White is one of the oldest active members of the Provincetown Fire Dept. |
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Trial by fire
Volunteer firefighters put themselves on the line every day
By Pru Sowers Banner Staff
PROVINCETOWN — At Special Town Meeting on Monday, one of the first comments made from the floor acknowledged the town’s volunteer fire department.
“It’s been a difficult week and they deserve our appreciation,” resident Ginny Binder said into the microphone, referring to the string of 11 suspicious fires that have played havoc with the town and its residents since Oct. 23.
As the applause began, one person, then another, then the entire room stood and gave a sustained ovation to the fire department, a group of approximately 65 volunteers who make up the town’s fire and rescue squads. It was a brief, powerful moment as the town’s residents thanked the department for its work.
But the fires are deeply unsettling to many firefighters. Not only is someone burning their town, he — or she or they — have escalated their attempts with every fire. Starting with a brush fire, then moving on to trashcans and dumpsters, the arsonist or arsonists are now burning unoccupied buildings. What may be next, of course, is the biggest fear.
“He’s improvising,” said Fire Chief Mike Trovato. “He’s playing games. We don’t know what to expect and that’s how guys get killed.”
One firefighter came close to serious injury in the latest fire, which occurred last Friday at 9 Oppen Lane. Justin White, a 23-year-old fireman, was shooting water on the blaze in the basement when a grand piano came crashing through the roof above him. Trovato said White heard the floor cracking and ducked his head just as the piano fell through, grazing his helmet.
”Another foot one direction or another and he could have been crushed,” Trovato said.
There are dozens of ways firefighters can be injured on the job. But that’s not what they’re thinking when they get the call on the pager each member of the department carries. They’re thinking about “making a good stop,” knocking the fire out as quickly as possible and ensuring that no one gets hurt. That’s why they call it the “brotherhood,” according to Provincetown firefighter Paul Silva.
“You rely on that guy in the back of the building while you’re in the front. You rely on the ladder guys to have a ladder at the window if you get trapped. You get really close to them, not only the 16 guys in your [fire] house but the 80 guys in your department,” Silva said.
That’s one of the reasons few firefighters seem to ever leave the department. Silva joined in 1983 and Trovato in 1974. But Ronnie White has 51 years as a volunteer firefighter in Provincetown. Closing in on age 75, White doesn’t fight the actual fire anymore. As captain of Engine House #1, he supervises the fire truck and tries to keep the younger firefighters from taking the kind of chances he and Trovato did when they were young.
And he has a few extra things to worry about. His two sons and four of his grandsons are members of the fire department. Justin White, who had the close call with the piano, is one of those grandsons.
“It’s scary. My grandson was almost killed in that fire,” he said. “I don’t know what the hell is in this guy’s mind. Here I am trying to save a house and there’s some nut trying to burn it down.”
Family tradition seems to make up a good part of the spirit behind the department. White’s father was a local fire chief and started the rescue squad. Silva’s brother-in-law was chief, too, and recruited Silva. And both Trovato and Deputy Fire Chief Warren Alexander grew up next to local firehouses. Their fathers were both district chiefs and served on the board of fire engineers together.
Despite the history, however, it’s a department that is struggling to hold itself together. As the ranks of the firefighters age, there are fewer and fewer young people to replace them, primarily because the cost of housing in Provincetown has driven young families to less expensive environs. Trovato said the fire department and rescue squad used to hover around 80 people. These days, it’s down to 65.
“We’re still trying to keep it together. But we’re older. And we need to make a living,” he said.
Trovato, who owns Joe & Son Appliance, is paid $25,000 a year for handling the responsibilities of running the department. Firefighters are paid a $791 stipend to help replace clothing that is damaged from fire and smoke. And because they are technically not town employees, they are not eligible for any benefits, including health insurance.
“There’s a lot of sacrifices from the guys to make it work,” Trovato said. “For me, it’s more than a full-time job. Chiefs before me have lost their businesses because they got so involved with it. It’s an honor to be fire chief. But it’s also a lot of work.”
Trovato estimates it would cost Provincetown $3 million a year to have a full-time fire and rescue department, something the town can little afford right now. That’s the reason Trovato likes to run a “flexible” fire department, meaning he doesn’t ride the volunteers too hard if they miss a drill or need to stay overnight a few days in one of the fire stations, something Trovato was criticized for last month when he allowed former firefighter Larry Flores to live in the Johnson Street firehouse for what stretched into four months.
“We know how to make a volunteer fire department work. It’s a unique organization. I want to run a flexible organization where people aren’t pressured,” he said. “They don’t get paid to go to drills. They don’t get paid to go to fires. They don’t get paid for the training they do, never mind putting your life on the line to go into a burning building.”
While Trovato’s role is largely administrative, he’s also on the scene of every fire. He rarely goes into a burning building, staying outside to direct the attack. But he knows what it’s like.
“It’s hot. You stay down low and the fire sometimes rolls right over you. The adrenaline is pumping so hard. We’ve had many, many close calls. You have to look out for each other. That’s the brotherhood,” he said.
“Most of the time you don’t see anything because you can’t see more than two feet in front of you,” Silva added. “It’s hot, smoky and you’re crawling around in an unfamiliar environment looking for the fire.”
Fighting a deliberately set fire is disquieting for many in the department. The principle is the same: break the windows to vent the smoke out of the house, then use fire hoses to push the flames out of windows, doors and the roof, where it dissipates. But the emotions are, if possible, heavier.
“You’re definitely mad. You worry about the other guys in the fire department. Somebody’s going to get hurt,” Silva said.
“It consumes you,” Trovato added. “I’m not sleeping very well. I’m not thinking about much else except getting this guy and stopping him before someone gets hurt. It’s frustrating that someone would have the nerve to destroy property and maybe kill someone.”
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