Veteran Firefighter Logs 22 Years In Florida Department

Oct. 5, 2004
Alice Joy Wilson has logged 22 years as a Parrish volunteer.
Alice Joy Wilson has logged 22 years as a Parrish volunteer.

'AJ' keeps history - and heart - of Parrish firehouse

Perhaps one of Parrish's most cherished legacies is that of the town's volunteer fire department, whose members banded together about 25 years ago.

While there are still 22 volunteers and only four career firefighters in the Parrish Fire District, some believe within the next decade many volunteer firefighters will be replaced because of increasingly strict insurance and state regulations.

When that happens, 22-year veteran Alice Joy Wilson, along with 25-year veteran Wayne Ownby and 13-year veteran Ed Chitty, will be known as the last of the original Parrish volunteers.

Longevity will embellish any career, but Wilson's gruff laugh, her firehouse nicknames "Mother" and "AJ," her ability to drive any of the department's 10 trucks, including engine, tanker, brush trucks and the new Carolina skiff rescue boat and her feats of courage on rescues have made her reputation.

At 59, when many of her friends are grandmothers, Wilson is still whipping on 50 pounds of fire gear and running out on calls.

"I don't sew, don't knit, don't bake, don't golf and don't do crafts," Wilson said. "This is my home away from home. These people are my family. This and 4-H is all I do."

Wilson raised her daughter, Wendy, through local 4-H Club activities and life at the fire department. Wilson and her daughter were part of Quality Beef Club for many years, and Wilson still announces the steer, heifer, showmanship and other livestock shows at the Manatee County Fair.

In the old days, Wilson would put Wendy in the fire truck on a call, and Wendy knew her job was just to stay still.

"Those days are gone," Wilson said. "You can't take a child on call anymore. Gosh, I remember one time when we worked a car crash and came back to the station at 5 a.m. and had a structure fire. Wendy was with me through it all, and finally Chief Glenn Cooley's wife took Wendy home."

Wilson's friends say there is no one quite like her.

"She is always willing to help anyone out," said Bradenton's Sandra Rawls, who has known Wilson for 40 years. "She's tough, but she's also got a marshmallow heart."

Wilson's nickname, Mother, came about mainly because she watches over the station like a mama eagle.

"AJ definitely speaks her mind," said volunteer firefighter Sawyer Ramsey. "She has all kinds of knowledge and gives tips. After a call we always debrief, and no one does that better than AJ."

A common mistake many new volunteers make is to want to show off their equipment and gear, Wilson said.

"The heat can get to them," Wilson said. "I'm always fussing at them to stay cool. I always preach safety. That's why they call me Mother."

Wilson worked for years in 4-H, helping kids find steers, working as an assistant club leader, Rawls said. "She was the leader of the 4-H exchange clubs and one year chaperoned a group to Tennessee," Rawls said.

Wilson tried to work in a nursing home once, but failed.

"I couldn't stand hearing people say, 'My daughter is coming next week' when they haven't been there in six years," Wilson said. "I just can't take that. Now, give me an emergency room. I can handle that."

Rawls said most people don't know that Wilson has been through triple bypass open heart surgery and diabetes herself.

Wilson left her hometown of Pahokee in 1974 and moved to Parrish, where she worked for the U.S. Department of Agriculture for 18 years, the first five in the brucellas program and the last 13 as a crop reporter, amassing information from area farms on tomatoes, peppers, corn, cucumbers and other crops for the state.

Wilson was laid off in 2001 when the state ended its crop reporting program. She has no retirement or insurance benefits.

But her troubles haven't made her bitter or depressed. She considers herself a volunteer, someone special.

"When we go out on parades and I see people wave in appreciation, tears start rolling down my face," Wilson said. "The fire trucks make people happy. Someone has got to do this and it's us."

Wilson once raced into a flooded ditch to save a motorist and ended up sinking to the bottom. She had to grab onto the car to keep from drowning before fellow firefighters tossed her a lifeline and pulled her out.

While giving CPR to a heart attack victim on State Road 62, Wilson was kneeling so long on rocks that blood from her knees soaked through her bunker gear.

"We are cut out to be able to go to an accident scene and find a body," Wilson said. "We have a safe place to put that in our minds where we can separate it from everyday life. A family member can't. That's why we have to do it."

Wilson often helps with dispatch and knows every nook and cranny of the Parrish area.

She has saved many lives through CPR and fire rescue, but says she is proudest of her actions when she couldn't save a life.

"I've held so many hands," Wilson said. "We would call the preacher and take care of their kids. We would take over food or drive an extra car to the hospital. There were not so many people in Parrish then and we could do all that. We can't do things like that as much now."

Wilson and her volunteer mates are also among the last departments to pray over the deceased.

Rookie volunteer firefighters, many young men barely in their 20s, are at first intimidated by the sight of Wilson barking out commands, said fellow volunteer Sawyer Ramsey.

"The kids come right out of school and say to themselves, 'I'm a fireman,' " Ramsey said. "Then they see this woman who could be their grandmother driving a tanker and fighting structure fires and they don't know what to think anymore. They can't imagine a grandmother on a truck."

Ramsey said Wilson's biggest contribution is providing an institutional memory for the younger volunteers.

"AJ is one of the last of the old Parrish firefighters," Ramsey said. "The young guys don't have any idea of the history here. She helps us maintain that. They listen to her stories. Having her gives the younger guys a buy-in to the station. If you know the history, it will mean more to you."

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