2008 Woodie Awards
From the Monarchs to the Hot Shots
A fire technology student gets set for the real world.
Michael Ordoña
Issue date: 3/3/04 Section: News
- Page 1 of 1
Jose Rodriguez is the guy most mothers wish their daughters would bring home.
The handsome 22-year-old Valley College student stands 6 feet tall, is soft-spoken, affable and extremely fit. Among his favorite subjects are journalism and history. And he's a fireman.
Rodriguez is one of the success stories of Valley's largely unheralded fire technology program, which trains professional firefighters and sends its Monarch crew all over the country.
"We've been in Montana, Oregon, Washington, Arizona, New Mexico, pretty much all over the western states," Rodriguez said. "I did two seasons with the Monarchs, and each season we did probably between 12-15 [wild land] fires."
As a Type II crew, the Monarchs are supposed to be limited to cleanup duties in the wake of blazes. Occasionally, though, since they have the same training as a Type I (hot shot) crew, they end up actually fighting fires.
"Mt. Baldy was my first fire," said Rodriguez, "it was exhausting. I was pumped, 'Yeah, we're doing it, we've learned everything we need to know, we're in shape,' and then we get out there and it's a totally different world. Your adrenaline is running 110 percent. You've got to control that, but when it's your first time, it's really hard. I remember burning out in four hours, and we had a 16-hour shift. You're out there hiking, cutting line with chainsaws and hand tools. After the fourth hour when you've burned out ... I was really discouraged at the time."
Dave Burke, a Burbank firefighter who runs the program at Valley, is glad that Rodriguez stuck it out.
"Jose is a great guy," said Burke. "He definitely dedicated himself in class. In field drills, too, he stood out. As we like our people to do, he continued to better himself. He went above and beyond, continuing to get into better shape, seeking more knowledge of the service.
"One way we measure success is if people take what they learn here and go out and get jobs. [By that measure, too] Jose is a success."
Indeed, Rodriguez has moved on to a Type I crew, the Bear Divide Hot Shots in Santa Clarita. He is one of those lucky people who has always known what he has wanted to do. He can trace the genesis of his interest in firefighting to an incident at home when he was five.
"The story is, we were getting ready for school one day and my mom had started the car to let it warm up," he said. "She started doing something, she forgot about it, and then the car caught on fire in the middle of the garage. Within like, two minutes [firemen] were on top of it, breaking the thing apart. I remember being so scared, but so excited at the same time. 'Man, that's pretty cool. I'd like to do something like that.'"
Rodriguez was born in Nicaragua and came to the Valley when he was 5 with his mother, father and younger brother and sister.
"[Nicaragua is] a country with a lot of turmoil - there's been a revolution for 100 years," explained Jose. "My father, who was really politically involved, felt it wasn't a safe place to raise a family."
The senior Rodriguez, now a plant manager for the Department of Water and Power, was the mayor of a small town in Nicaragua - and a Sandinista. Jose's mother is also from Nicaragua, but came to US when she was 12, eventually attending the University of Hawaii.
"She was the black sheep of the family," said Jose, "really into the political thing, while [her mother's] side was really anti-Sandinista. My mom met my dad at a political rally in L.A. and they went back to Nicaragua together. They were at war. So my dad said, 'If I come back, we'll get married.' And that was their story."
Rodriguez' story as a firefighter is just beginning. After high school, he opted for Valley because he had heard about how hands-on the training was in their fire technology program. He's in his fourth year at Valley, on and off, due to the profession's demands on his time.
He said, "The whole deal is, you're available year 'round. They can call you any time and you have to be ready in two hours [and be gone for two weeks]. A lot of teachers, if you don't show, you're not going to get a grade. I'd get called out and all of a sudden I'd miss two weeks; I ended up having to drop a lot of classes."
Fire technology classes meet Fridays through Sundays, from 8 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon, for about a month and a half. The program includes 80 hours of education and hands-on training, including 8-10 hour hikes with chainsaws, hand tools and gear bags - the equipment can reach up to 65-80 pounds.
"They do this to make people understand before they commit that this is what you're going to be doing, day in and day out, whether you like it or not," said Rodriguez. "It starts out with about 40 people in the class, and for any fire call there's a minimum of 18 people needed - but by the end of the year, you're usually running slim.
"One of the things that makes people not want to do it is being gone for two weeks - and out in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes you can't even get cell phone reception. If you've got stuff going on, if you've got a girlfriend, usually she doesn't dig it when you're gone for two weeks at a time and you don't even call. Then you're home for three days and you're gone again. That's really common."
When the California wildfires hit last year, Rodriguez's hot shot crew was in "wind-down" mode, getting ready for the end of the season, playing X-Box all day.
"San Bernadino blew up, then all of a sudden, Camp Pendleton," he recalled. "When something happens, hot shots are the first to go. We worked all day, then went to Riverside. We got there about midnight and started a back burn operation at about 2:30 in the morning that went all the way to about 6 in the afternoon. It was a 36-hour shift. We walked about 12 miles, just burning.
"It was one of my best experiences. For me it was one of the most challenging, mentally, doing stuff for 36 hours. That's not regular. My body wasn't used to it at all. I'd have no problem doing 24 hours, or 16, which is a normal shift. But at the 26-hour mark, you're just dragging."
"Right after that, we ended up going to another fire at Camp Pendleton," he said, smiling. "They didn't want many people there because it's a military base - they have a lot of ammunition scattered throughout there from when they didn't have restrictions on where they could shoot. So the fire's going down and you hear these bullets going off - everybody's looking around, wondering what the hell's going on. That was a 24-hour shift."
But there are plenty of times when the seriousness - and stakes - of what they do are hammered home for the firefighters.
"The Monarchs were in Colorado, it was my second year on the crew," said Rodriguez. "We were up in the mountains, cutting line. There were big trees everywhere and we were on the ridge top, [where] winds can knock full-grown trees over. They were already burned out at the base; they're pretty much free-standing. You get a gust of wind, that's not a good situation. That was my first fatality fire, and hopefully my last.
"It was a professional tree-faller. This guy was like a lumberjack, dropping trees on fires for maybe 20 years of his life. It was second nature to this guy. Then, like I said, one of those erratic winds ...
"I remember they called over the radio that they needed EMTs. We had two in our crew, so we started heading over there, and like 10 seconds later they called back and said it was a fatality. A green tree, not the one he was [working on], fell on him and killed him on impact.
"To me, the whole fire thing was fun - until that moment. Then I realized this was a situation I never want to be in again. It's dangerous.
"Dave got us all together, we were in this meadow, away from the trees. He looked at all of us and said, calmly, 'This is not a regular occurrence. What you guys need to appreciate is that this guy gave his life for something. And the only thing you can do to show respect is to learn from it. Don't ever be in this situation.' I remember being teary-eyed and thinking, it's just bushes. It's just trees, it's not worth your life. When someone like that [dies in the line of duty], it just sucks.
"It bugged me for quite a while. I use chainsaws, falling trees, that was my job. For a while I was kind of timid about it. And to this day, I carry it with me, just to remember not to take anything for granted."
Still, Rodriguez is undaunted in his pursuit of a career in firefighting: "I just know that I want to do it. It's been a lifelong dream for me."
 Media Credit: Salvador Aguilar FIGHTING FIRE WITH FIERY DETERMINATION - Valley fire technology student Jose Rodriguez. |
The handsome 22-year-old Valley College student stands 6 feet tall, is soft-spoken, affable and extremely fit. Among his favorite subjects are journalism and history. And he's a fireman.
Rodriguez is one of the success stories of Valley's largely unheralded fire technology program, which trains professional firefighters and sends its Monarch crew all over the country.
"We've been in Montana, Oregon, Washington, Arizona, New Mexico, pretty much all over the western states," Rodriguez said. "I did two seasons with the Monarchs, and each season we did probably between 12-15 [wild land] fires."
As a Type II crew, the Monarchs are supposed to be limited to cleanup duties in the wake of blazes. Occasionally, though, since they have the same training as a Type I (hot shot) crew, they end up actually fighting fires.
"Mt. Baldy was my first fire," said Rodriguez, "it was exhausting. I was pumped, 'Yeah, we're doing it, we've learned everything we need to know, we're in shape,' and then we get out there and it's a totally different world. Your adrenaline is running 110 percent. You've got to control that, but when it's your first time, it's really hard. I remember burning out in four hours, and we had a 16-hour shift. You're out there hiking, cutting line with chainsaws and hand tools. After the fourth hour when you've burned out ... I was really discouraged at the time."
Dave Burke, a Burbank firefighter who runs the program at Valley, is glad that Rodriguez stuck it out.
"Jose is a great guy," said Burke. "He definitely dedicated himself in class. In field drills, too, he stood out. As we like our people to do, he continued to better himself. He went above and beyond, continuing to get into better shape, seeking more knowledge of the service.
"One way we measure success is if people take what they learn here and go out and get jobs. [By that measure, too] Jose is a success."
Indeed, Rodriguez has moved on to a Type I crew, the Bear Divide Hot Shots in Santa Clarita. He is one of those lucky people who has always known what he has wanted to do. He can trace the genesis of his interest in firefighting to an incident at home when he was five.
"The story is, we were getting ready for school one day and my mom had started the car to let it warm up," he said. "She started doing something, she forgot about it, and then the car caught on fire in the middle of the garage. Within like, two minutes [firemen] were on top of it, breaking the thing apart. I remember being so scared, but so excited at the same time. 'Man, that's pretty cool. I'd like to do something like that.'"
Rodriguez was born in Nicaragua and came to the Valley when he was 5 with his mother, father and younger brother and sister.
"[Nicaragua is] a country with a lot of turmoil - there's been a revolution for 100 years," explained Jose. "My father, who was really politically involved, felt it wasn't a safe place to raise a family."
The senior Rodriguez, now a plant manager for the Department of Water and Power, was the mayor of a small town in Nicaragua - and a Sandinista. Jose's mother is also from Nicaragua, but came to US when she was 12, eventually attending the University of Hawaii.
"She was the black sheep of the family," said Jose, "really into the political thing, while [her mother's] side was really anti-Sandinista. My mom met my dad at a political rally in L.A. and they went back to Nicaragua together. They were at war. So my dad said, 'If I come back, we'll get married.' And that was their story."
Rodriguez' story as a firefighter is just beginning. After high school, he opted for Valley because he had heard about how hands-on the training was in their fire technology program. He's in his fourth year at Valley, on and off, due to the profession's demands on his time.
He said, "The whole deal is, you're available year 'round. They can call you any time and you have to be ready in two hours [and be gone for two weeks]. A lot of teachers, if you don't show, you're not going to get a grade. I'd get called out and all of a sudden I'd miss two weeks; I ended up having to drop a lot of classes."
Fire technology classes meet Fridays through Sundays, from 8 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon, for about a month and a half. The program includes 80 hours of education and hands-on training, including 8-10 hour hikes with chainsaws, hand tools and gear bags - the equipment can reach up to 65-80 pounds.
"They do this to make people understand before they commit that this is what you're going to be doing, day in and day out, whether you like it or not," said Rodriguez. "It starts out with about 40 people in the class, and for any fire call there's a minimum of 18 people needed - but by the end of the year, you're usually running slim.
"One of the things that makes people not want to do it is being gone for two weeks - and out in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes you can't even get cell phone reception. If you've got stuff going on, if you've got a girlfriend, usually she doesn't dig it when you're gone for two weeks at a time and you don't even call. Then you're home for three days and you're gone again. That's really common."
When the California wildfires hit last year, Rodriguez's hot shot crew was in "wind-down" mode, getting ready for the end of the season, playing X-Box all day.
 Media Credit: courtesy Jose Rodriguez HOT SHOT - Rodriguez at work. |
"San Bernadino blew up, then all of a sudden, Camp Pendleton," he recalled. "When something happens, hot shots are the first to go. We worked all day, then went to Riverside. We got there about midnight and started a back burn operation at about 2:30 in the morning that went all the way to about 6 in the afternoon. It was a 36-hour shift. We walked about 12 miles, just burning.
"It was one of my best experiences. For me it was one of the most challenging, mentally, doing stuff for 36 hours. That's not regular. My body wasn't used to it at all. I'd have no problem doing 24 hours, or 16, which is a normal shift. But at the 26-hour mark, you're just dragging."
"Right after that, we ended up going to another fire at Camp Pendleton," he said, smiling. "They didn't want many people there because it's a military base - they have a lot of ammunition scattered throughout there from when they didn't have restrictions on where they could shoot. So the fire's going down and you hear these bullets going off - everybody's looking around, wondering what the hell's going on. That was a 24-hour shift."
But there are plenty of times when the seriousness - and stakes - of what they do are hammered home for the firefighters.
"The Monarchs were in Colorado, it was my second year on the crew," said Rodriguez. "We were up in the mountains, cutting line. There were big trees everywhere and we were on the ridge top, [where] winds can knock full-grown trees over. They were already burned out at the base; they're pretty much free-standing. You get a gust of wind, that's not a good situation. That was my first fatality fire, and hopefully my last.
"It was a professional tree-faller. This guy was like a lumberjack, dropping trees on fires for maybe 20 years of his life. It was second nature to this guy. Then, like I said, one of those erratic winds ...
"I remember they called over the radio that they needed EMTs. We had two in our crew, so we started heading over there, and like 10 seconds later they called back and said it was a fatality. A green tree, not the one he was [working on], fell on him and killed him on impact.
"To me, the whole fire thing was fun - until that moment. Then I realized this was a situation I never want to be in again. It's dangerous.
"Dave got us all together, we were in this meadow, away from the trees. He looked at all of us and said, calmly, 'This is not a regular occurrence. What you guys need to appreciate is that this guy gave his life for something. And the only thing you can do to show respect is to learn from it. Don't ever be in this situation.' I remember being teary-eyed and thinking, it's just bushes. It's just trees, it's not worth your life. When someone like that [dies in the line of duty], it just sucks.
"It bugged me for quite a while. I use chainsaws, falling trees, that was my job. For a while I was kind of timid about it. And to this day, I carry it with me, just to remember not to take anything for granted."
Still, Rodriguez is undaunted in his pursuit of a career in firefighting: "I just know that I want to do it. It's been a lifelong dream for me."
