By Andy Reardon
I recently retired after nearly 31 years of service. My career took me through the ranks from firefighter to battalion chief in assignments varying from basic firefighting and medical care to special operations and arson investigation.
About six months before retirement, my wife and I were sitting on the back porch when she asked, “How do you think you will be remembered?” The question took me by surprise. Did she mean how I performed on the fireground over the years, how I treated my people, or if I was well-liked? In essence, she wanted to know my legacy.
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Defining legacy
Traditionally, the fire service defines your legacy by your emergency scene performance — how well you know the rig and your tools, how you apply strategy and tactics, and how you perform on the fireground. While these factors are certainly worth remembering, your legacy also reflects the person you are, the values you uphold, the relationships you build, and the positive changes you inspire in yourself and those around you — factors not talked about as much around the dinner table and on the fireground but important nonetheless.
Over the next week, I thought about it all. I had been at busy firehouses my entire career, and I knew my job. My colleagues could count on my job knowledge, my work ethic, and my application of the right strategy and tactics for any situation. But when I really thought about it, those things didn’t matter to me nearly as much as the firefighters I mentored, the friendships I made and the people I took care of. I reported back to my wife that my legacy, what I hoped people would say about me at my retirement, was that “he took really good care of us” and “was always there when we needed him.”
The last month before my retirement was a whirlwind of firehouse visits, one-on-one talks in the truck room, and personal text messages.
After 30-plus years of being a firefighter, I heard reassuring statements like, “you were never too busy to listen,” “you always picked up the phone when we called,” “you went to bat for us with the bosses” and “you are a fireman’s chief.” I joked with one of my firefighters that if they had said all those nice things about me over the years, I would have stayed longer!
How to shape your legacy
Now, reflecting on it all, I share these thoughts and advice that has served me well over the years. Remember, it’s never too late to define your legacy.
Exercise discipline: My first lieutenant taught me that discipline is what you do and how you act when no one is looking. But what you don’t realize at the moment is that someone is always looking. It might be your captain when you are a firefighter, or it could be one of your firefighters when you are a battalion chief.
Strengthen relationships: It all starts with relationships. Whether you realize it or not, you are informally mentoring those around you with your actions, both good and bad. When I was a probie, I always had my eye on the other firefighters, asking them question after question. When I was a lieutenant, I made sure to have conversations with other company officers about what they were thinking and why they did what they did. And I asked them how I was doing. By the time I became battalion chief, I had spent so much time watching, listening and asking questions that I had most of the answers. How will you know? Your peers will start asking you all the questions.
Prove your dedication: Firefighters and engineers, be the first one to start working and the last to wrap up. Company officers, yes, you have reports to do, but pick up the hose and clean the tools first. You can do the admin part of the job once your people go to bed. Chief officers, get out and train with your crews. Share in their hardships: When’s the middle of July and they’re doing drills in the 100-degree heat, get out there with them, in the same level of gear they are wearing. Again, payroll and emails can wait until everyone is done for the night.
Listen: You can’t have an open-door policy when the door stays closed (both physically and mentally). As you move up the ranks, your firefighters are going to come to you with issues at the firehouse as well as personal situations. When they want to talk, you need to treat the conversation as if it is the most important thing you will hear all shift because to them, it is. Listening is an active skill that is perishable; do more of it.
Take responsibility: Take responsibility for your mistakes and failures. At my retirement party, a four-year firefighter who worked in a neighboring battalion reminded me of a two-alarm apartment fire that we made together a few years back. I got there and took command of a fire that was not going well. There was confusion about the mode of operation and how the fireground was divided. I knew it went poorly, and they knew it as well. As all fires do, this one eventually went out. But the firefighter reminded me of how the post-incident review started — by me owning the fact that as the incident commander, it was my responsibility to clean up the strategy and tactics and divide the fireground accordingly. He also reminded me of what I said next: “I’m sorry that my mistakes overshadowed the hard work that you all did. I promise to do better next time.” Powerful words from a junior firefighter.
Say yes more than you say no: When your people bring you a request for a training seminar, a specialty class or a chance to instruct at the fire academy, yes should be the standard answer. Chances are that if they are willing to put in the extra work, it is for something legitimate and beneficial, and they will represent you and the department well. And if it’s a no, you better be able to articulate why — in person to all your troops — and how you are going to swing it to a yes next time.
Show genuine care: Over the course of your career, think more about your eulogy than your resume. When you leave, no one will remember what you did, but they sure will remember how you treated them when you were doing it. You never get a second chance to make a first impression.
A final piece of wisdom
I will leave you with a final thought to wrap this up. When I was applying to be the A shift special operations battalion chief, I met with the rescue captain who was housed at my (hopefully soon to be) firehouse. We had come up the ranks together, and I considered him a friend. He told me a simple rule that would later ensure my success: “Everyone knows you have the fireground knowledge to run the battalion. Where you need to be able to hold your own is at the kitchen table and the truck bay.”
So, how do you define your legacy? And how do you achieve it?
People first, mission always.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Battalion Chief Andy Reardon recently retired from the Austin Fire Department after 31 years. His career spanned across multiple disciplines, from Operations to Hazmat, and Arson Investigation to Special Operations. Prior to working for AFD, he spent 5 years as a Marine, with deployments to the Pacific theater, as well as serving in the first Gulf War. Contact Chief Reardon.
