Sept. 20 -- As Anaheim Fire Chief Randy Bruegman’s retirement approaches, he discusses the future of firefighting and allows that if departments fail to change it could mean fewer men and women prepared to battle infernos.
Along with more mega wildfires and tornadoes of flame never seen before in modern history, the chief points out that 85 percent of calls are for emergency medical service.
“If we don’t adapt,” he warns, “we’ll be challenged to be relevant and worthwhile.”
While we talk, I glance at a collection of fire helmets that attest to the chief’s positions over his 43-year career. I also steal a look at a series of photographs of sooty firefighters that silently speak to heroism, sacrifice and honor.
But it’s a photo of a man dressed in red and gold robes that best captures both the chief’s approach to running a fire department as well as the chief himself.
That would be the Dalai Lama.
Anaheim Fire Chief Randy Bruegman will be retiring and moving to Wisconsin with his wife to be closer to family. (Photo by Mindy Schauer, Orange County Register/SCNG)
Now, if you know the chief, then you know he would immediately dismiss any suggestions of likening himself or his quest to improve firefighting to the Dalai Lama.
But when a man with a quiet and humble nature dedicates his entire adult life to serving people and saving lives, the analogy isn’t too far-fetched.
Like the Dalai Lama, Bruegman also is deceptively mild-mannered and exceptionally serious without taking himself too seriously.
If you’re skeptical, just ask Yoda — the wise-talking doll that gazes across the room from a corner of the chief’s immaculate desk.
Yes, there are layers to the person responsible for heading up a department with urban-wildland interface, steep hills, vast flatlands, the Honda Center, Angel Stadium and Disneyland Resort.
To be sure, you need a little zen to juggle fire, rescue and emergency medical services for an estimated 350,000 residents, 15,000 businesses and 24 million annual visitors.
You also need release. For Bruegman, it’s drumming. You heard right, drumming.
Humble beginnings
It explains a lot about Bruegman’s modest nature when you discover that he grew up in a small town called Cozad, smack dab in the middle of Nebraska. It says more when you learn that after his father died, he and his mother made ends meet by living above a garage.
In those days — the chief is now 62 — firefighting wasn’t on Bruegman’s mind. Life was all about making a living in construction and playing drums.
For a time, Bruegman was in a working band that toured Nebraska and surrounding states. His taste then and now focuses on rock music with horns — think Chicago, Doobie Brothers and some country, such as Jason Aldean.
Bruegman’s even met Chicago’s original drummer, Danny Seraphine. With three drum sets, the chief continues to play.
But by the time Bruegman was in his early 20s, construction and dreams of becoming a professional drummer gave way to a growing passion for volunteer firefighting.
“I really felt like I was good at it,” the chief quietly allows, “and it gave me satisfaction helping people.”
After three years as a volunteer, Bruegman set out for a larger world and decided to apply for a job in Fort Collins, Colo. When he walked into the hall for a series of tests, he faced eight openings … and more than 1,500 applicants.
“I’m not the smartest guy in the world,” the chief says, “but I figured I might as well give it a shot.”
You could say things worked out.
Only a few months after graduating the academy, his bosses pulled Bruegman aside and said he was chief material. “You connect the dots a lot differently than most do. You have the ability to look past the present.”
Then and there, Bruegman matter-of-factly recalls, “I knew I was going to be a fire chief.”
We fall into a discussion about leadership. Along with earning bachelor’s and master’s degrees, he keeps current with management trends as well as the latest technologies. He also is a devotee to getting into the field and reviewing things up close and personal.
Every month, for example, Bruegman walks the Disneyland Star Wars site still under construction. He reports, “It’s really fun to watch.”
But the chief’s not just looking for cool stuff. He is there to review what increased crowds could mean to traffic patterns, evaluates how best to redeploy emergency personnel.
“Always ask what should be done five years from now,” Bruegman shares of leadership practices. “You have to know how to get from ‘A’ to ‘M’ and not lose anything in between.”
With emergency services across the nation staffed below what they were a decade ago, Bruegman’s point is critical.
Consider that Anaheim has 208 sworn firefighters, 67 civilian personnel and handles 39,000 emergency calls a year.
That’s 21 fewer firefighters than in 2008.
Constant innovation necessary
Firefighting in America faces a crux, several cruxes actually. Pension deficits plague many cities. Budgets are tight. Demand for services is increasing.
The way the chief sees it, the profession can either go the way of England, where firefighting and emergency services have become separate fields — or it can embrace emergency services.
Already, the chief has added a mobile nurse practitioner and sees more of the same in the future. He also predicts that as smartwatch and other technologies advance, it will become more common to treat and release patients in the field.
“It’s cost effective,” he says, “and it’s better customer service.”
I ask about the need for big fire engines to pair with ambulances. The chief smiles. There are other fires to put out.
As temperatures continue to rise in California, the chief agrees with his peers in expecting more mega fires. He also offers different solutions to cooling things off.
To reduce the amount of grasses — what firefighters call “fuel” — Bruegman brought in a few hundred goats to graze down fire danger. Currently, his four-legged hotshots are chomping away in Oak Canyon.
Next, he suggests adding sprinkler systems along historical fire corridors such as the 241 Toll Road, where a blaze a year ago destroyed 25 homes and more than 9,000 acres of wilderness.
“You take the concept of irrigation and engineer it down,” the chief explains. “Then you put it in high-risk areas.”
Bruegman acknowledges turning on sprinklers when a fire approaches may not stop a wildfire, but it will slow it.
“It’s a matter of buying yourself 10 to 15 minutes,” the chief explains. “In Canyon 2 fire, we didn’t have enough time or resources to catch up with it.”
On a larger scale, the chief points out that urban-wildland interface will continue to grow because of development, that there are 60 million dead trees in California and that the West is now experiencing “fire tornadoes” a football field wide.
Come Dec. 18, however, Bruegman maintains that he and his wife of 36 years will drive to Madison, Wis., to move near their children and grandchildren.
Yet Bruegman’s not completely walking away from his profession. The chief plans to continue connecting with fire departments and offering his expertise.
Still, there are things about firefighting he will miss.
“Sometimes, you save a life,” Bruegman says, “and sometimes you see a four-year-old and have time to talk.”
Words from a man with service in his blood.
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