Report from Engine Co. 82

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My Perspective on "Report from Engine Co. 82" [Posted on 2006-08-23]
I spent 10 years in the fire service in both engine and truck companys. While I have many memories and stories to tell, the author, Dennis Smith, sums up the life of a fire fighter in an urban environment about as well as can be possibly told. Trying to balance the unpleasantries and sadness against the satisfaction of saving a life or helping a family overcome one of life's most agonizing moments is very well portrayed in this book. This is what a fire fighter's life is about folks. There is no other book that I can remember that tells it any better than this. If you're thinking of a career in a big city fire department or for that matter, if you're even thinking of becoming a volunteer fire fighter this book is a must!

A good look back [Posted on 2006-08-28]
During the tumultuous period of the 60s when author Dennis Smith wrote Report From Engine Company 82, the book was a cry for help from exhausted, frustrated men. Men who cleaned up in the aftermath of other exhausted and frustrated inhabitants of a society stretched to the breaking point.

As I type this, a younger firefighter in a comfortable, air-conditioned fire station among a population that by-and-large respects my profession, it's easy to forget the sacrifice of our past brothers who unceasingly fought fires, city hall and the population they served, until they had forged the modern fire service.

It's an important book for new firefighters to learn how the iron men of old did the job. And for the general reader it's a testament to both a volatile period in our nation's history, and to the timeless strength and courage by which good men have always worked to keep back the chaos of barbarism and destruction.

Report [Posted on 2008-01-19]
This book is one of the best books about the fire service I have ever read. I hung onto each and every word. It was though I was there sometimes.

not as dated as you'd think: more relevant now than ever [Posted on 2008-02-08]
I first read this book 20+ years ago, when I was under 20 years of age myself but streetwise from being the "wheels" (with a driver's license and a car) for various escapades all over Chicago in my raucous, hard-partying and utterly politically incorrect youth. Many aspects of "Report From Engine Co. 82" stuck with me through the years, and I've re-read it several times. Now I'm 40 and an ER RN in a Chicago hospital where we see more than our share of the extraordinarily dysfunctional lives of the people who live in poverty in the neighborhoods that surround our hospital -- the type of job and environment Smith portrays so well in "Report From Engine Co. 82."

"Report From Engine Co. 82." tells truths about the nearly inescapable poverty and illiteracy of people scraping by in lives that are marginalized in every possible way because they don't -- can't -- really care for themselves appropriately because they don't even know how. Poverty isn't what it used to be -- but it's still as screwed up as it was in Smith's first book. Most of our ER visits aren't really emergencies, just as most of the calls Company 82 responded to weren't emergencies, either. Nowadays, people call 911; when "Report" was written, that 911 system didn't exist yet. But not much has changed since then, in terms of what the firefighters/paramedics respond to and bring to the ER.

Most of the "emergencies" he sees are not emergencies. The non-emergencies, combined with the real emergencies, portray the dangerous and unthinking way poor people live through a combination of lack of resources, lack of experience with the "straight" world, lack of common sense, and minute-by-minute survival thinking. Most of these emergencies and non-emergencies are easily prevented -- if people had common sense, proper parenting, and a normal instinct for self-preservation.

These qualities, however, are surprisingly hard to come by in poverty, and this is what Smith dramatizes. The heroin overdoses. The stupid kids doing stupid things because they are constantly left unattended and to their own devices. Kids who shoot themselves in the thigh or foot -- or worse -- "playing" with guns. Fires that kill children because space heaters provide the heat slumlords refuse to provide in their code-violating buildings. The incipient hatred and distrust poor minority neighborhoods have of the white emergency personnel and firefighters who respond to their calls. The huge cultural gaps that make true communication and understanding so difficult -- even when you're both the same race and both speaking English.

What Smith accurately portrays is the way poverty-stricken people "live in the now" -- people whose entire lives are spent with no real financial or material stability or security. These are people for whom the concept of saving money for the future is impossible, either as a concept or a reality. People for whom making an appointment days or weeks in the future, and actually remembering to get to the appointment, is nearly impossible. Their main mode of thought is: what do I need to do now, what do I want to do now, what do I need or want to do in the next five minutes. This inability to think about and plan for the future is endemic, as is the inability to prioritize that which really matters -- one suspects because most of these people realize on some level they have no future that truly matters to the rest of society, and they're incapable of living as the rest of the "straight" world lives because they never have, didn't grow up with it, and don't know the language of living that life, let alone the mindset.

These are the people and children who have no insurance, no health care, no glasses when their vision is bad, no braces or dental care when their teeth are bad; who never use birth control (to prevent pregnancy OR to prevent disease transmission). People who don't understand why it's inappropriate to come to the ER with an upper respiratory infection and get pissed off when they wait hours for care while higher priority, higher-acuity patients (in respiratory distress, cardiac arrest, heart attacks, asthma attacks, and overdose, etc.) are taken before they are.

Conversely, these are also the people who shun health care until they are so sick they can no longer avoid it, and discover they have cancer... Cancer that could have been prevented or at least treated, often saving their lives, had they ever had regular health care -- but who are now consigned to an inevitable death they will blame on the healthcare providers who couldn't save them because they were at a stage beyond saving or treating in any way other than palliative.

Smith's New York is NOT the New York of Sex And The City. This is the New York of the infants whose welfare mothers don't immunize them, but have the latest, most expensive coats and boots because conspicuous consumption is how they live: you show how much money you have by wearing all that your money has bought you (rather than doing the far less glamorous but sensible things more responsible people, whose children were WANTED rather than accidental, do). The New York of the kids having kids who have kids, all of whom have never known proper parenting, nutrition, or health care. The overdoses. The children who come in with accidental poisonings or burns from household chemicals because no one was watching them. The attempted suicides with anything and everything -- cold medicine, knives, guns, illegal drugs. The kids raised by siblings because the parent is completely incapable, if they're even around, with or without the additional problems of substance use/abuse, addiction, or domestic abuse. The families which are largely single-parent families -- and where the parental figure may be an elder sibling, aunt or cousin who cares more for the children than their biological parent(s) does or is capable of doing.

This is also the world of the terrified illegal immigrants who wait so long to call for help because they're afraid of INS (now ICE) and deportation; by the time they do, they're often too sick to save. The penniless old people whose pensions don't cover their living expenses and who don't call for help because they're terrified of being discharged from the hospital to a nursing home and losing what little autonomy and material security they have left. The fractured families (with utterly dysfunctional dynamics) who interfere with the paramedics' jobs -- as well as the tight-knit families who are rich only in love for one another. The people who refuse help they desperately need because they fear and distrust the paramedics and firemen trying to help them, and because their healthcare illiteracy is such that they have no idea what is necessary to save their lives, and so refuse or avoid medical treatment that could stop problems in stages when they're still treatable. The mothers who speak no English, who superstitiously fear that emergency treatment will kill their children, yet who are so desperate to save their babies, they don't know what else to do, because all home remedies have now failed. The endless numbers of people who let their prescriptions run out or try to save money by taking less than the prescribed doses and then have severe health problems that wouldn't happen if they bought and took their meds as prescribed -- but who, for multiple reasons, can't and/or don't. The people who beg not to be brought to the hospital because "people DIE in the hospital" -- people who don't understand that their neighbors and family members who died in the hospital, died because they waited far too long to call for help, and were therefore were beyond saving when they finally got to a hospital.

Anyone who works in public service as a fireman, cop, nurse, social worker, or psych intake worker in a big city -- and in poverty-stricken, crime- and drug-infested suburbs and rural communities -- can relate to Smith's book. For everyone who majored in something else, this book opens a door and exposes the lives of people you don't even know exist, people you don't acknowledge when you're forced to share a bus or train with them during rush hour (or who you intentionally avoid by driving in your own car, despite the expense of gas, insurance, and time spent on the commute): the people who don't work, or the people who work wage-slave jobs like janitor, maid, fast-food worker, security guard, who can barely pay their bills or care for their children with what little they make -- or who blow it all on liquor and/or drugs and/or gambling (or all three) to escape the miserable hopelessness of their lives. The kids who have the latest "stuff" -- whether it's the shiny ten speed bicycles Smith writes about, or today's video games and cell phone/mp3 player/cameras -- but whose parents can't or won't give them what they really need: breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a stable environment from which to emerge every day to deal with the life-endangering risks of walking to and attending public schools that do little more than babysit and warehouse kids whose futures include teen pregnancy (and the late-term, life-threatening miscarriages that go with total lack of prenatal care, with or without drug use), repeated incarceration, and shorter-than-average lifespans due to the daily likelihood of violence in their communities and their lives.

Smith's portrayal of this kind of poverty is not pretty but it is not unsympathetic -- there are glimpses of beauty and hope, mostly in the young women and children who haven't yet been ruined by their surroundings. Smith tempers it all with a matter-of-fact acceptance that although it is his job to care for these people, he may never really understand them because he's now too removed from that life, and he takes on faith that they possess human qualities they often fail to demonstrate. But some do show their humanity, and those are the people he does it for.

Smith does an excellent job of portraying the paradox that the job of these firefighters and paramedics is to help and save these people, which by its nature includes finding them WORTH helping and saving, at the same time as they move and live as far away from these neighborhoods and the associated poverty, crime and drug problems as they possibly can. This is not merely a racial difference. There are plenty of black and Latino paramedics, cops, firefighters, nurses and doctors who straddle the gulf (some might say 'minefield') between their class and the class of the people they help, in circumstances that are at best trying and at worst nearly impossible to help them transcend for any sustained length of time.

Smith portrays the sympathetic detachment required to know that this is what you do, all day, every day you work, with only the hope that one or two out of ten people will actually genuinely and sincerely thank you for what you do or have done for them -- which is that elusive reward you get, one that can make it all seem worth it when it happens -- and to hope that when you show up and give this of yourself on every shift, there might be one kid or teen who sees what you're doing, who still has enough time ahead of them to see this glimpse into another world... A world it is just *barely* possible for them to enter given enough determination, education, mentoring and drive, and sadly also given enough instinct to discard much of what they learn in their families about how they THINK the world works, versus how the world REALLY works for the more educated and better-off people who run it.

The fact that Smith can show all this without denigrating an entire class of people -- does, in fact, portray them with humanity and the grace one occasionally sees in these circumstances -- is because he also recognizes that he is not that far removed from the kind of poverty he sees on the job (he grew up poor, too). He recognizes and accepts that he is that kid who admired firemen as a boy and saw a different world -- he is that kid who made the leap to the next class up, to the working class and blue collar as opposed to poverty-stricken. He understands the dysfunction -- the drinking, the drugs, the abuse -- that occurs in the neighborhoods Co. 82 responds to because it occurred in his neighborhood, his family, his poverty, while he was growing up.

This understanding that few "get out" -- and that he was one of the lucky few -- underscores with sympathy his otherwise stark portrayal of the job of a NYC fireman in the 70s when NYC was not a desirable place to live and people did their best to escape "the city" as soon as their financial circumstances permitted it.

The uncensored version of this book (which is the one I've read multiple times) also shows the bizarre split someone who works as a fireman/paramedic, nurse, or doctor must negotiate within themselves -- the intimate knowledge you have of the bodies of the people you must save, which is merely part of your job but which you can't really talk about to any family member or lover who isn't in one of these fields. I don't mean merely intimacy with people's genitals -- though there is that, such as the way the Smith describes heroin overdoses getting icebags put under their testicles (negative stimulus, designed to bring unresponsive, unconscious people back to responsiveness and consciousness). I mean the intimacy of seeing people stripped of their modesty and dignity, voluntarily (prostitutes) or involuntarily (the terribly sick), whose personal space and body integrity you must necessarily invade, often in less-than-respectful or diplomatic ways because there is no time for those niceties when someone is dying and you're trying to save them. People who don't work in these fields can never really understand how you can be unaffected by the nudity, exposure and/or intimate knowledge you have of these total strangers, and the disinterest or casual attitude with which you greet what would shock most everyone else.

And, of course, you're not unaffected by this knowledge. Sometimes you're disturbed, or someone or something sticks in your mind -- the things you've seen or had to do -- and is recalled in inappropriate moments with your loved ones. You're not unaffected, you're just emotionally calloused or you compartmentalize it, in order to repeatedly perpetrate and endure this violation of the boundaries between strangers and its inherent power imbalance: you, as the emergency personnel, never have to reveal any of these intimacies to your patients... but they must necessarily, willingly or not, reveal them to you. This includes the mentally ill and the hopelessly drug-addled or dopesick (or both, combined) -- sometimes the most disturbing intimacy of all: the insides of their heads and their distorted, sometimes frighteningly unhinged, perceptions of the world around them.

Gift [Posted on 2008-10-10]
I sent it to my son when he was in Afghanistan. It's a classic story

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