HARRY R. CARTER, Ph.D., MIFireE

I have read a great deal over the past three decades about the subject of what it takes to be a Fire Chief. In the world of my youth, a fire chief was the proud possessor of the five-bugled emblem of authority, and for many years, the chief was the toughest person around. Maybe they were not the larger than life figure that many of us remember, but at least they were well endowed with the guts and integrity that some of today’s chiefs seem to be lacking. The chief’s of yesteryear appear to be a part of the vanishing past in our fire service.

Recently one of my loyal readers from Virginia shared a story with me about a particular fire chief who made a deep and abiding impression on him as a child and later as a young man. This kind reader took the time to speak of a man who carried himself in that larger than life way that only a true leader can. He spoke of a man who moved through the community in his red car with red and white lights, and the words FIRE CHIEF emblazoned on the side of the vehicle in large gold letters.

The larger than life man at the heart of this story climbed the ladder of promotional success within his large city department, one rung at a time. This man proudly wore the uniform of fire chief, with the appropriate gold stripes reflecting his rank and position.

This fire chief also worked hard to establish himself as a person to be reckoned with. He spoke with an authority not often seen these days in our American Fire Service. He was proud of his position and he made sure that the politicians in his community knew that he was the FIRE CHIEF. He built a strong base within the community and the citizens knew they could count upon him for a fair shake anytime he approached the city council for something that would benefit his community.

It will not serve any great cause to share this revered man’s name with you, for he stands representative of a generation of such leaders. It would not be fair for me to evoke the ghost of a former leader to embarrass anyone currently in power. If you close your eyes for a moment, you can see him in your minds eye, larger than life itself. Suffice it to say that the man at the heart of this story represents a wide range of individuals. I leave it to you who have been around the block a few times, to fill in a name that has a meaning for you.

I can recall such a person in my career. I can recall his red car with the words FIRE CHIEF emblazoned on the side. I can recall the battles I saw him fight with the politicians. I can recall his gold badge with the five bugles of authority circled in a ring of gold. Most importantly, I can feel the sorrow in my heart when he retired.

Many years have passed since that dear man moved on to a career at the National Fire Protection Association. I dearly missed his guidance and wisdom as the years passed, and my beloved fire department began to move aimlessly in rudderless circles, the victim of decades of caretaker management with nobody at the helm.

While I was reading that message from my loyal reader, a comment was made that struck home with me. My faithful reader spoke of the images that we all saw of General Norman Schwartzkopf on television during the Gulf War of 1990-1991. He mentioned that anytime you saw the general on television, you saw him in the same uniform that the troops in the trenches were wearing. He did not set himself apart in any way. We were going to war and he was dressed for the part.

As I sat staring at my computer screen, mulling these things over, I started to ponder the wide range of managerial trends that have filtered randomly through the fire service over the past two decades. There was a feeling that if it were good for business, it would be by default, good for the fire service.

It was at this moment that I began to mull over the leader versus manager problems that I witnessed in the National Guard during my decades of military service. And I recalled the staff officer versus line officer dichotomy that cropped up time and again. The words from countless professional articles also ran together in my mind’s eye.

Back in the early days of my career, I worked as a reporter for the National Guard’s state news magazine. In this role, I had the privilege of dealing with people at every level of the military. I can recall many times when I saw an officer in the military who cared deeply for the troops under their command suffer at the hands of the people with the power in headquarters. It was the old mission over people philosophy that I saw on far too many occasions in the active and reserve forces.

How much of a threat could a three-stripe sergeant pose to people with stars, bars, eagles, and oak leafs? Not much. I was able to move about freely interviewing people of every rank. A great deal of the deep background notes I took would never see the light of day, but what I quickly observed was that people who cared for the troops rarely made it up the line. They were too quick to take the part of the people over the organization. I noted that the people who wore the clean garrison uniforms looked down upon the people in the dirty fatigues. At this point, I must point out that General Schwartzkopf was one of the rare exceptions that fought for the troops and made it up the ladder.

While the initial difference I was thinking about had to do with type of uniform, I soon noted that the attitude of the wearer was an offshoot of the style of uniform. Personally, I wore whatever uniform seemed right for the assignment. If I was in the field interviewing infantry people, I did not wear my shiny shoes and clean tan uniform. Conversely, my trips to state headquarters were made in a freshly pressed tan uniform with my best shoes. But I began to see the difference. The people with the clean uniforms of a headquarters billet often looked down on the lowly ground pounders with the dirty fatigues.

My friends who served in Vietnam had a very derogatory phrase that they applied to people who had a strong aversion to being within several miles of gunfire. I will not define what a REMF was, because it is not a series of words accepted by polite society. When someone spoke those letters, they usually spit them out quite harshly. A polite phrase for these people was "in the rear with the gear."

As I reviewed this bit of personal military history, thoughts of the same thing happening in the fire department came to me, but with a difference. These thoughts congealed in a historical and anecdotal observation. There is no real research to base this statement upon. But I saw this phenomenon often enough that I think it merits reflection by all of us concerned with the future of the fire service.

I have developed an opinion that goes something like this. When people stop wearing the uniform of a fire department officer or member, they begin to lose touch with the people who will be doing the work. It is almost as though it becomes an "us and them" sort of situation.

I realize that I run the risk of offending my many fire chief friends and associates who go to work in a business suit. I also realize that I run the risk of being cast in the negative light of a throwback to the old days. Regardless, I shall stand by my statement. Here is why.

More times than I can count, I saw a fairly decent person turn into what I will generously define as an administrative lackey. When their ability to smooch butt was the primary requisite to keep them in their cushy staff berth, miraculous changes could occur. And they were usually for the worse.

It is my memory that it took a strong effort on my part to avoid this phenomenon during my various staff assignments. This was particularly true during my assignment in community relations. This was the only assignment where I had to wear civilian clothes and mingle with the community. I can recall spending a great deal of time teaching secretaries how to be safe from fires in their downtown, glass and stone-encased high-rise enclaves.

It is almost like something begins to creep into your mind. A certain feeling works into your mind that says you are above the day-to-day work of the common laborers in the line assignments. I have seen people who were decent firefighters, captains, and chief officers turn into some seriously warped staff people. Others have done a real Doctor Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde act. It is as though they think that no one will recall their past life.

So did this happen because of the clothes? Or was it simply that we were assigning people to positions where they were suddenly in over their heads? It is one thing to be an aggressive firefighter, capable of battling blazes, making rescues, and saving lives. It is another to be suddenly placed in command of a budget presentation. Perhaps people begin to fear that they will be found out as imposters. Or perhaps merely nice people put into harm’s way by a bad boss.

Before I go any further, I want to state that people who are in positions of administrative importance need to be educated as to how to perform their jobs. Their jobs truly are critical. For far too many years we have made people fire chiefs and administrators simply because they were the senior firefighter.

I am a strong proponent of properly educating every member of the department for their job. I am also a strong proponent for insuring that people are qualified for their assignment. My background, as a person with a college education, frequently caused me to be placed in staff assignments. I did the best I could, but I always kept the troops in the trenches firmly fixed in my brain. This was very easy, as one of those troops was my brother.

Having voiced this opinion, let me now state that I also believe wearing a uniform has strong connotations of being part of a team. You do not see the Green Bay Packers out there in civilian clothes. Even the coaches and trainers wear team shirts, hats and coats. They all look the same, because they are on the same team. And so it should be with firefighters. Whether you are the Chief of Department, or the lowliest recruit, you should be in uniform.

I can hear the whining now. How am I going to be a member of the city’s administrative team if I do not look the same as the others? Won’t they think I am different? Won’t they think I am not a team player? Trust me gang, if you are the true professional expert in fire protection for your community, they probably will not care if you are buck-naked and you should not give a damn what they think.

What they will want to see is a well-thought-out plan for fire protection in your community. What they will want to see are solid, well-thought-out arguments for your plan. They will want facts and figures, not a passel of bovine byproducts. What they want to see is a person who believes in something and is willing to fight for it. They will also want to see a person capable of negotiating with others. You can indulge in a give and take. Just remember to take as much as you give.

My friends, it is how you represent the people whose lives you have been charged with caring for that makes you a team player. Rest assured that the other department heads are out there selling their parts of the organization. You cannot lay back and let them walk all over your civilian clothes clad body. Wearing a uniform tells them that you are special. Wearing a uniform tells your people that you are with them. Wearing a uniform sends a message. It tells the world that you are proud of what you do.

However, if you are basically an ignorant person, with a minimal background in the fire and emergency services world, please feel free to wear civilian clothes. If you are a political fraud who has butt-smooched their way to the pinnacle of power in your community, you will probably choose to separate yourself from the people who really know what they are doing by wearing civvies.

In these cases, I urge this wearing of civilian clothes, so that you will not be confused with those who really do care about getting the job done. This is not about clothes; it is about knowledge, skill and the will to do the right thing.

To all of my friends out there around the country and throughout the world who are doing an outstanding job while wearing civilian clothes I offer a simple message. Come home to where you started. Better yet, don’t forget where you came from. Wear the blue t-shirt under the white shirt every so often. Let the troops know you care about them.

Maybe that is what this little diatribe is all about this week. People who forget where they come from end up hurting the people they should be supporting. So suit up and rejoin the fire and emergency service team. Let there be no doubt to the world about who you are and what you do. Stop being an executive and start being a uniformed fire service leader.

The commentary in this column does not necessarily reflect those of Firehouse.Com, Firehouse Magazine, their employees or parent company Cygnus Business Media. Harry R. Carter, Ph.D., MIFireE, is an internationally known municipal fire protection consultant and contributing editor to Firehouse Magazine. He recently retired as a Battalion Commander with the Newark, New Jersey Fire Department. His commentary appears regularly on Firehouse.Com. For more commentary and information, visit Carter's web site at www.harrycarter.com Harry has published several books available for online ordering, including Firefighting Strategy and Tactics and Management in the Fire Service