It is widely recognized that Alan V. Brunacini (AVB) was the visionary architect, advocate, leader, mentor and change-agent who had the greatest influence on the North American fire service, and beyond, at least for the past half century. He was loved, respected and admired by many, as we can clearly see by the reaction to his sudden and unanticipated departure.
There are so many stories that can be told about his influence on various individuals and organizations, but I feel privileged to have known him for longer than most and to have worked closely with him for several years. I would like to share some of those memories.
Early encounters
I landed in Phoenix in 1974 through an unpredictable set of circumstances and encountered an environment that was very different from everything I was used to, beginning with a climate and urban landscape that caused me to wonder why the area was inhabited by humans. I was going to work for the Phoenix Fire Department (PFD), an organization about which I knew next to nothing, but they had offered me a position and I was ready to explore the unknown.
Alan Brunacini had been on the board that interviewed me, and he struck me as friendly and intelligent in that brief encounter, but I didn’t really get to connect with him until about the third hour of my first day on the job at PFD headquarters. From that point, we began a relationship that would take me to a lot of interesting places over the next 43 years.
Traditionalists vs. revolutionaries
It didn’t take long to figure out that there were two different organizations coexisting within the department at that time. There was the traditional "old school," inflexible, authoritarian component that was supposedly in charge, and there was a subculture flowing in the opposite direction, shepherded by the young buck Brunacini, who was the second in command.
My position reported directly to the fire chief, who believed in maintaining tight control to ensure that nothing happens, while the revolutionaries were working furiously to cause all kinds of radically progressive things to happen. I was quickly seduced by the Brunoites, but I had to maintain an extremely low profile in my subterfuge due to my placement within the organizational structure.
I had been hired as the department’s first fire protection engineer. The expectation was that they would be hiring an engineer who knew about fire protection, but they accidentally hired a firefighter who happened to have an engineering degree and was really preoccupied with fire department operations. That fit well with Brunacini’s vision of a radically different and progressive fire department that would be built on a foundation of operational excellence. We were tuned to the same channel, but he was operating in high definition while I was still analog.
Homestead and the Matador
Very soon I learned that the focal point for all of this incendiary progressive thinking was the Brunacini homestead, an impressive Western-style residence that seemed to be open at all hours for the Bruno disciples to come and go and to engage in passionate discussion of any topic related to the fire service. The disciples included several members of the PFD as well as countless others from near and distant places who were all connected to the fire service in one way or another. The list of occasional guests could be published as a “who’s who” of the fire service.
Every few hours, a delicious meal would be served to whoever was present by Rita, the lady who ran the establishment. Between meals she would offer palm readings and crystal ball predictions of subjects that had absolutely no connection to the primary subject matter of the household, which included all aspects of the fire world. There were occasional diversions related to the current building project or the next planned improvement on the estate property, as many of the faithful were also highly skilled in various building trades.
In addition to the steady stream of visitors coming and going, there was a continuing sideshow provided by the second-generation members of the Brunacini family. Nick and John were never restrained in offering their observations on almost any subject and engaged in an endless series of quasi-bizarre antics. Candy appeared to be a genuine sweetheart who had inherited her mother’s ability to ask penetrating questions.
In addition, there was the continually evolving menagerie of felines and good-natured monster dogs who slept most of the time and slobbered by the gallon. I still have an image in my head of a tiny kitten perched on the huge forehead of a drowsy mastiff who didn’t seem to be even slightly bothered. If the dog had yawned, the kitten would have been swallowed in an instant.
All of this activity created a highly synergistic environment, although it was often hard to keep track of everything that was going on!
The other significant focal point was the Matador Restaurant, where over many years the conceptual plans for most of the important advances in the American fire service were developed in green ink (mixed with red salsa) on paper napkins and 3 x 5 cards. If there was anything highly significant to discuss, the discussion occurred at the Matador and involved the consumption of copious quantities of iced tea. Lunch discussions often continued through mid-afternoon. Arriving at the Matador with AVB was similar to landing on the lawn of the White House in Marine One.
ALS service arrives
There was a lot going on within the PFD those first few years, in spite of determined efforts by the establishment to suppress the revolutionaries. One of the many notable accomplishments was the initiation of advanced life support service. Those were the days when we all tuned in on Saturday evening to see what Johnny and Roy were up to and discuss which one was supposed to represent Jim Page. Paramedics were still a Southern California phenomenon that had not reached the Colorado River.
Below the official radar screen, a group of Phoenix firefighters had been covertly assigned for six months to Arizona’s first (unadvertised) paramedic training program. Right about the time their training was completed, the State Legislature adopted a bill that would allow paramedics to be certified and to practice in Arizona, and approximately 24 hours later, Rescue 1 went into service in downtown Phoenix.
Rescue 1 had been running calls for two or three days when the fire chief began to ask questions about things he was hearing on the radio. From the point of learning of the existence of Rescue 1, it took less than 60 seconds for his blood pressure to reach the level where it might have been appropriate to call for them to respond. Magically, just a few minutes later, Mayor Tim Barrow was on the phone congratulating the fire chief on the best advancement in public service that he had ever seen. It’s funny how it all worked out.
Spreading the progressive evolution
The covert progressive evolution that was occurring within the Phoenix Fire Department continued for about four years after my arrival until there was a changing of the guard and “Car 2” moved up to “Car 1” or, as he described it, the inmates gained control of the asylum. By that time, the Phoenix Fire Department was already developing a reputation as leader in innovation and progressive thinking, based primarily on the fireground commander program and the growing volumes of standard operating procedures that were being developed, printed, copied and widely distributed.
Bruno and his two straight men, Bruce Varner and Chuck Kime, were off on American Airlines almost every weekend to present the roadshow version of modern incident management to an enthusiastic audience somewhere or other. The influence and reputation of the PFD were spreading faster than a wildland fire on a windy day. From Monday to Friday, the mission was to develop the Phoenix Fire Department into the best that it could possibly be, and on weekends, it was to spread the vision to anyone who would listen.
It is almost impossible to count all of the positive changes and innovations that sprouted over the following years, but they all radiated from one person who had the vision, the skills and the perseverance to make it all happen. He was a visionary master of leadership, change-agent and enabler, and he seemed to absolutely enjoy what he was doing right up to his last day with us.
Success and respect
The Phoenix Fire Department was his pride and joy, or at least one of them, and every dimension of that organization today is a reflection of his talents. He had a team of very competent supporting actors whom he counted upon and trusted to work out a lot of the details, but he set the direction and provided the inspiration. Many of his management methods were unorthodox, but they were effective as a result of his unique combination of intuition and innovation and his ability to be serious momentarily, but only when it was absolutely necessary, and disarmingly low key and humorous the rest of the time.
We often had visiting fire chiefs, management professors and other interesting folks sitting in on senior staff meetings to try to figure out how the PFD managed to be so avant garde and successful. One of them described the experience as a board meeting at Animal House with John Belushi presiding. It was unstructured, unconventional and sometimes unbelievable, but a lot of things got done.
The most important factor that made Bruno successful, aside from being highly intelligent and naturally talented, was that he truly loved the fire service and firefighters. He wanted to make the fire service as good as it could possibly be, and he wanted every firefighter to be safe, healthy, happy and satisfied. As he loved to say when he made a point, “It’s just that simple!”
He had a few favorite phrases, but that one was particularly appropriate. He had a knack for distilling complicated discussions down to the key points and presenting them in a manner that would make the conclusion self-evident, then wrap it up with “It’s just that simple!” and by that time, it was. How many times did I hear him say that?
He also had the ability to wait for the right time to make a move to accomplish something significant. He would have something all figured out, waiting for the circumstances to fall into the proper alignment, then he could pull a new program out of his sleeve at just the right moment like a gambler playing his hidden ace. He not only knew when to play it, but he knew how to play it to get what he had been planning for months or years, and that is the simple explanation why PFD had the equipment, facilities and programs that were envied by every other fire department.
His self-effacing nature is legendary. As much as he was admired and respected, he never ceased to refer to himself as “the dwarf” or by some equivalent description. One afternoon he arrived at the training academy accompanied by an FDNY deputy chief who was visiting Phoenix and had just experienced the Matador. As they entered, a firefighter was exiting and said “Hi Bruno” as they crossed paths.
The visitor was aghast. “Did you hear what he called you?” he asked. “Do you let your men call you Bruno?”
“That’s better than last time,” came the reply. “The last time he saw me, he called me Fatboy.”
Controversy and unions
Of course all of this radical progressive stuff did not meet universal acceptance throughout the fire service. On a significant number of occasions, the Brunacini movement precipitated negative reactions from more traditional elements of the fire service that did not share the same vision. Sometimes those reactions were openly hostile. On more than one occasion when he was informed that a particular individual was unhappy over something, Bruno replied simply, “If he doesn’t get over it soon, he will be unhappy for a long time.”
To be more precise, he would bargain and negotiate for as long as it took to make things happen for the right reasons, but he would not compromise one inch for the wrong reasons. Anything that was contrary to his core values of promoting a better fire service and taking care of firefighters was non-negotiable.
The relationship between Local 493 and the Phoenix Fire Department became legendary during the Brunacini era. Labor relations experts came to Phoenix to study what was going on that allowed such a positive relationship to exist. The secret, of course, was Alan Brunacini and a leadership team within the local that shared his vision and appreciated his management style.
It was no secret that if he hadn’t been the fire chief, Bruno would have been the union president and that his core values included every positive thing that a union should be striving to provide for its members. This was sometimes described as Brunacini’s three-step process for successful labor relations:
- Step 1: Call Pat Cantalme and ask him what he wants.
- Step 2: Give it to him.
- Step 3: Call him back and ask him what else he wants.
Common positive vision
The truth is that there was a common positive vision of what could be achieved by working together to build a great fire department and to take care of the members who make it great. That also explains why Brunacini was the primary initiator of the movement to make occupational health and safety an important component of the fire service locally, nationally and internationally. He truly cared about all firefighters, and he did everything within his power to promote their health and safety as a personal crusade. No one even comes close to his level of accomplishment.
Bruno was a lifelong student of management and leadership, but he was really in a league of his own, whether it was building the Phoenix Fire Department into the model of his vision or spending hours engaging in casual unstructured educational conversation with ordinary firefighters on an endless variety of topics.
One day he told us that Rita had become understandably agitated over something and told him, “Honestly Alan, sometimes I think that you love Ladder 1 more than you love me.” He told us that he reassured her by responding, “Rita, nothing could be further from the truth. It’s Engine 1 that I really love.” And if you have ever seen Engine 1, you will understand. Next door to the Brunacini home is the custom-built single-bay firehouse that is occupied by the most perfectly restored and polished L-Model Mack pumper that exists anywhere; the very same Engine 1 that Alan Brunacini rode as firefighter, engineer and captain. That says a lot about how much he loved the fire service, but his family really did come first, always!
Thankful for Bruno
To say that he was well known and respected is an understatement. One day, a few years ago, I was crossing the border from Quebec into New York State. The U.S. border agent was understandably curious about a guy with a U.S. passport driving a Montreal Fire Department SUV. When the conversation revealed my past connection to the Phoenix Fire Department, his eyes lit up and he quickly asked, “Do you know Brunacini?” He was very impressed when I replied that I knew him quite well.
There is so much more that could be said, but these are just a few of my personal reminiscences of the person we will all miss for a very long time. We are thankful for everything that he did for the fire service, for all of us collectively and for so many of us individually.
To Rita, Nick, John, Candy and all of the spouses and grandchildren, thank you so much for sharing him with us. We all share your loss. We find it hard to believe that he has left the building, but his accomplishments and his memory will linger for a long time.
