For those of you who’ve read my prior columns, you know the story pretty well by now. I didn’t have a job, I was feeling like crap because of that, and simply put I was getting desperate. Very desperate. Posting my resume on Facebook as something of a last resort, I ran into Captain Jacob Urban in the comment section of that Facebook post and here we are. It’s not everyday you find yourself discussing job prospects with a man whose profile picture is a black and white photo of him holding a turkey, but nevertheless, there is a first time for everything.
A year really doesn’t seem like a long time, mainly because of the frenetic pace at which it runs, especially when you’ve got your head down trying to lock in and earn your keep. But like a thief in the night, it sneaks up on you, and when it does as it has recently with me, you get reflective. I walked in to West Haven Fire Headquarters for the first time as an employee on April 17, 2023. A two story building located in the heart of the Center District of the city, its history is presented to you from the moment you walk in.
Signs bearing the names of the past and with it the weight of a million and one stories going back centuries stare right back at you. Acknowledgement of past heroic acts, recognition of fallen heroes, and portraits of leaders past and present it is a place in which it is not overwhelmingly difficult to find yourself frozen in time. Frozen I sure was. Mind you, was I entering in there as a firefighter preparing to respond to any and all emergencies alongside the crew? No. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t have to prove myself to them. If anything, I was consumed with doing all I could to gain their respect.
In the first responder world, dynamics can at times be very touch and go and understandably so. Those who do this kind of work can smell bullcrap from a mile away and know a phony when they see one. Would I be some unfortunate schmuck to earn that reputation, or would I thrive? It’s sink or swim, no in between.
“Can I help you?” Firefighter Pete Lainas asked politely upon seeing me in a suit and book bag walk in. “Oh, I work here. I’m your new Digital Services Specialist!” “Oh, I didn’t know we had a Digital Services Specialist”. An immediate ice breaker and a funny core memory, I still laugh whenever I think about it and Pete, and I have a good chuckle whenever it’s brought up.
I won’t lie to you. In the beginning, there were some growing pains, and I was terrified. As with any new job, it’s an adjustment from the standpoint of both you trying to understand what exactly your role is and how to maximize it and understanding how your boss or bosses in my case feel it best to utilize you. Also, there’s the component of trying to build a rapport with your new colleagues who don’t know you from a hole in the wall and understandably, keep you at arm’s length until they know what you’re about.
The first four months were hot and cold, I made headway, but then I’d make a rookie mistake. I’d pitch a good social media idea, then follow it up with a social media faux pas. In retrospect, I was trying too hard. WAY too hard. Trying to be liked, trying to prove my value, trying to fit in. In reality, all I had to do was just be myself. Luckily, I have a great command staff. The aforementioned Captain Urban has been a great soundboard, and a great and easy individual to work for. We collaborate but more importantly, he’s direct with me in a way that is not rude or hurtful, but in a way that very much helps my Asperger’s brain comprehend.
In this last year, he’s proven himself to be someone I can depend on, and I know in turn as I’ve grown in my role, he’s come to feel similarly about me (even if spreadsheets are not my strong suit). Rounding out our command staff is Chief of Department James O’Brien, Deputy Chief William Johnson and Deputy Chief Ron Pisani. Between those three is over a century’s worth of firefighting experience. Simply put, they could forget a hell of a lot more about the fire service than I could ever hope to know.
You don’t want to let them down. Ever. The feeling of disappointment and sadness when you do is almost worse than letting your mom or dad down. Hence why I was moving a billion miles a minute trying to do all I could to prove myself. Yet, in different ways, at different points, their advice to me in one-on-one interactions was simple: slow down. Firehouse culture is a humbling, sobering experience unlike any culture in any other workplace. Legendary NCAA basketball coach John Wooden had an iconic saying “be quick but don’t hurry”. I’d mastered the quick part. It was the not hurrying part I needed to work on.
For a man like Chief Johnson, the fire service is something he was born into and molded by from boyhood. With a grandfather who served as Chief of Department and a father who was Chief of Department, his path was set from the start. With 39 years and a plethora of experiences under his belt, with 23 of those 39 years as a fire officer commencing with his November 2001 promotion to Lieutenant, he is also a key soundboard. His knowledge of not just the fire service but our department and district as a whole is invaluable and a resource I draw from whenever I have the opportunity to.
In the early days and still now, another critical soundboard for me was Deputy Chief Pisani. Simply put, I love the man and I’m not ashamed to say it. I’d run through two brick walls for him if he asked me to. I’m not really a crier per se, but when the dreadful day comes in which he retires, I’ll be shedding some tears. In any scenario at any point, he’s given me key direction. Not to mention, In the early days of my employment when I was putting paychecks aside to buy a car, it was Chief Pisani so often times giving me a ride home. Did he know me necessarily well at this point? No. Did that stop him from lending a helping hand? No. And that speaks volumes about the kind of a man he is and why I love working for him too.
Whatever training session or community outreach event I was tasked with going to, his directive was simple: “Take good pictures”. That directive in the last year has applied to any and everything. Bailout training, hose line operations, rescue simulations, giving small children tours of the apparatus, classroom instruction, and anything the spontaneity of life in a firehouse can bring in a 24-hour cycle. Though part of a job, those pictures and videos are now part of my memory bank too. Each picture tied to a moment, each moment subsequently tied and stored in your heart for a variety of reasons too long to write. All of them good.
With time, I found my footing in my role and things got busy in a good way, a huge part of that of course being the guidance, collaboration, and suggestions of Captain Urban and Captain Andy Bennett, another great soundboard for me who has looked out for me since day one and a friend. A defining turning point being the creation of this video:
If there was ever a point in which I finally felt I belonged and proved myself as the “social media guy” (God knows not the I.T. one), it was there. Since then, voiceovers have become my thing and filming our training or outreach initiatives has served as a greater catalyst to do more of them. It’s a simple concept: you do good work you gain more trust and respect. At last, it felt like I had reached for that brass ring and grabbed it with both hands.
As time has flown, my rapport with our shifts has grown too. The guys on the A, B, C, and D shifts have embraced me, roasted the ever-living crap out of me, looked after me, and roasted the ever-living crap out of me some more. Remember when I said firehouse culture is dramatically different than any other workplace culture? If they’re busting your chops, that means they like you. And boy, they REALLY must like me then.
Would I want it any other way? Of course not. I love these guys and for as much as they razz me and each other, make no mistake about it, they are absolute professionals and they prove it every time the tones drop and it’s time to answer the call. Jocularity quickly gives way to urgency, urgency to determination, determination to execution of proper response tactics, execution of proper response tactics to the kind of excellence that has made our department renowned since its inception in 1888. It’s a sight that I’ve been blessed to see many a time and no matter how many times I’ve seen it, it never gets old. If you were having any sort of emergency, these guys, my guys, are the ones you want coming for you.
I have no doubt in my mind that if I was ever in any kind of trouble, they would be there for me and that folks, is something very few people can say about their place of work, and it is not by any means lost on me how fortunate I am I get to say that. The days are unique, the shifts different, the daily agenda constantly changing, but I’m a part of it, a member of a very large, wonderfully chaotic, and hilarious family. From the pranksters of Captain Bennett’s A-Shift, the dry humor and wit of Captain Roy Sebas’ B-Shift, the energy and constant comedy of Captain Mike Farrelly’s C-Shift, and the deadpan humor of Captain John Perry’s D-Shift, there are no bad days. There are simply adventurous ones.
THE BOX ALARM
On February 28, 2024, I was in my office and the day had been busy and productive. Members were at work on various tasks and on this day calls were minimal. They were not coming in rapidly and interrupting the work flow of the firehouse as can sometimes be the case on certain days. As the guys were handling their tasks around quarters, I was handling my business in my office, typing away at an assortment of different projects.
In almost a year of being there, I had not gone to a single fire. Something of what’s known in the fire service as a ‘white cloud’, it seemed as if they were avoiding me. I’d hear them at home over my scanner or be told about them the next day. Nothing substantial seemed to happen when I was around and the two box alarms that had been transmitted in which I was present and responded to with the guys to document our operations through photography and video were mere false alarms.
Close to 3PM or so, Captain Urban informed me he had a personal matter to tend to and was heading out to handle it. Given I clock out at 4, we said our goodbyes, thinking we wouldn’t see each other again until the next morning. An hour later, the day got flipped upside down. A structure fire had been the furthest thing from my mind, I’d just about resigned myself to the fact that I’d seemingly perpetually miss them. Just a week before, I’d missed a two-alarm fire. “It’ll be a bit before a job like that comes over the air again and if it does with my luck, I’ll probably miss that too” I thought to myself.
It was just after 4PM. I was packing up and heading home and right as I reached for my jacket to take off the rack, it came over the air: “Allingtown Box Alarm, (Truck) 22, (Englne) 25, (Rescue/Ambulance) 27 Mutual Aid”. For those not familiar with West Haven, Connecticut we are not one singular fire department but rather three separate fire districts. Allingtown, West Shore, and us in the Center District. There is a mutual aid agreement in place and departments work in unison without issue at these emergencies.
Sprinting down to the apparatus floor (sorry to Rich Decker and Lieutenant Joe Bruneau, I know, I know, don’t run, walk! I promise I’ll do a better job of heeding that advice next time guys!) I hopped onto our Ladder Truck, Truck 22, with Captain Bennett, senior man and driver Frank Paine, and Florent Sevrin. Was this the real deal or just another false alarm? Captain Urban, only a few blocks away from the fire location would arrive first and quickly confirm the former, transmitting the call of a working fire over the air.
My adrenaline levels, already high to begin with, shot out to levels I’m not sure I’d felt before or will ever feel again. Don’t believe me just ask Florent, I don’t think I sat down the whole way there, peering out the front windshield waiting to see smoke. Coming down a hill, smoke I saw, and a whole lot of fire too. It’s one thing to watch a fire on news reports or YouTube videos but an entirely separate thing to see it in person. Nearly 10 months into my tenure, I’d caught a job and a job that’d soon become a third alarm blaze. One the very same Captain Urban I’d said my goodbyes for the day to an hour earlier, was in command of and under some intense circumstances, did an outstanding job.
Due to the fact that it’s an active investigation, I cannot say more on it. But what I will tell you is this: I was already proud to work with these folks. That job made me prouder. I knew they were warriors on the fire ground from the stories I’d heard. But on that rainy Wednesday, I finally bore a first-hand witness to it, and I will never forget the displays of heroism and bravery I witnessed our members do as long as I live.
“You finally got one, huh?” Lieutenant Adrian Figueroa, a class act and damn good fire officer, said to me at the scene. Oh yeah Lieutenant and it was definitely one to remember. Though your heart breaks for those afflicted by the fire and my thoughts certainly remain with them, I am glad I got to see the guys do what they do best: protect life and property and do it with both a ferocious intensity and a warm compassion that defines who we are as a department.
In Conclusion…
“It’s ok to love the job” said Lieutenant Joe Wendland of our C-Shift in conversation with me. And he’s right 1,000 times over. I love it, I’m happy going into work, and I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t a little sad at the end of the day when it’s time to clock out.
To my colleagues on all shifts A through D, I say thank you. You’ve put up with me and my hall of fame level displays of retardation. You’ve brought a lot of joy to my life, and I hope in return I’ve at least brought some semblance of entertainment and comic relief to your lives. I love and respect all of you very much and it’s a pleasure and privilege to call you my colleagues [hopefully you don’t find that sappy enough to warrant “swimming lessons” there Brian Elliott (love ya brother!) :-)].
366 Elm Street will forever be known as my second home. Its members my second family. A year down and hopefully many more to follow, I have taken good pictures and videos but more than that, more than anything, I’ve taken relationships and memories that’ll last me a lifetime.
“What do you do for work Mike?” I get asked here and there. With pride and gusto, I answer: “I work for the West Haven Fire Department.”
Mike Colón is the host of the Mic’d In New Haven Podcast which can be found on all podcast platforms and is simulcast in video form on YouTube
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