By Glenn Smith
The Post and Courier
 AP Photo/Alice Keeney Rusty Thomas speaks after the Super Sofa Store fire. |
CHARLESTON, S.C. — A group of Charleston firefighters gawked as Chief Rusty Thomas walked over to greet them wearing a sky blue golf shirt and a pair of khaki slacks.
They had never seen the chief in anything other than his crisp Fire Department uniform.
“Chief, I bet the last time you wore civilian clothes, bell bottoms were in fashion,” firefighter Buck Newcomb joked.
Thomas laughed, knowing the quip wasn’t far from the truth. For more than three decades, the Charleston Fire Department has been Thomas’ life, a calling he often placed before his family and his own needs. Now, that’s coming to end.
Thomas, 50, retired from duty Friday, leaving behind the proud but divided department he has led since 1992. He says he has no qualms about his decision. But it’s a change that will clearly take some getting used to for this third-generation firefighter.
“It’s kind of weird. All these years, all I’ve ever wanted to do was get up, put on my uniform and go to work,” he said. “It’s difficult walking away from something I’ve done for such a long time.”
The chief hung up his uniform for good on June 18 after attending memorial services on the one-year anniversary of the Sofa Super Store fire that killed nine of his men. The day also marked the 32nd anniversary of Thomas’ first shift as a Charleston firefighter. It seemed a fitting time to begin his passage into retirement.
Thomas has spent his final days in street clothes that his wife dug from their closet and a pair of brown loafers borrowed from his son. He’s filled five or six bins with the photos and memorabilia that lined the walls and crannies of his office on Wentworth Street. And he has said a lot of goodbyes.
Thomas wants to remain active in the community, but he has no firm plans, no clear idea what awaits him. He figures he’ll take off the next month before hunting for a job. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I ain’t ever done nothing else but work at the city of Charleston Fire Department.”
This wasn’t the way he planned it, to go out on the heels of a jarring tragedy that shook his department to the core and split its ranks. Grief gave way to finger-pointing and criticism in the wake of the blaze, with Thomas at the center of the often-rancorous debate.
His supporters, of whom there are many, including his boss, Mayor Joe Riley, defended the chief as a hard-working, model public servant who gave countless hours to any number of community causes and projects.
 I do hope that CFD can change the inbred ways and get past this.  | ||
| — ‘Gettheroof’ FireRescue1 Member | ||
A chorus of critics countered with calls for Thomas’ ouster, faulting the chief for adhering to aggressive tactics and failing to keep pace with modern advances designed to protect firefighters.
Thomas announced his retirement last month, one day before a city-appointed panel of experts issued a report that was sharply critical of the Fire Department’s handling of the sofa store blaze.
Thomas won’t say what he thinks of the report, but he insists it didn’t force his hand. After much soul-searching with his family, Thomas said, he simply concluded that it was time to go, that he had taken the Fire Department as far as he could on its mission to improve after the deadly fire. It was time to put his family first, he said.
For years they vacationed at Folly Beach so Thomas could be close enough to respond to fires in the city. He bought his own scanner so he could monitor fire calls when he was off duty.
When he returned to his James Island home at day’s end, he always backed his vehicle into the driveway so he would be ready to roll if a call sounded. “The Fire Department came first - always,” he said.
A farewell tour
One morning this week, Thomas drove around the city visiting a handful of places that hold special memories: the old landfill building on Romney Street where he caught his first fire call; the St. Margaret Street home where he battled his first house fire; the mechanics’ shop off Savannah Highway where his father worked for decades as chief engineer.
Thomas smiled as he stepped inside Station 8 on Huger Street, where he began his career. Photos of him as a young firefighter are still tucked under the glass tabletop on the captain’s desk.
The bed where he slept sits a few feet away from the old brass fire pole. His first helmet, with a big Number 8 on the front, still rides with Thomas in the back of his Chevy Tahoe. He also has a handwritten log from June 18, 1976, his first day of duty.
His acting captain that day was Ronnie Classen, who will serve as interim chief until Thomas’ replacement is found. Thomas still chuckles as he recalls Classen telling him to stay close as the veteran led the rookie into his first fire.
Thomas was so busy looking around for flames that he walked right into the back of his commander.
“There are so many memories with him,” Classen, 59, said this week. “It’s a tough pill to swallow to see him leave here before me. ... I hate to see him go like this.”
Thomas went straight to Station 8 when the memorials were finished on June 18. Earlier, he had broken down crying on the way to the evening service, his emotions spilling over as he approached the scarred earth where the sofa store once stood.
But at Station 8, where he first pinned on his badge, he found comfort once again in the memories that linger within the ancient bead-board walls.
Those memories, and support from his family, have helped sustain Thomas through a bruising year. He has always considered himself a “fireman’s fire chief,” a leader who took the time to know the men he worked with and the community he served.
Standing outside Station 8, he can point to the surrounding homes and name every person who lived on the block while he was there. And so it was with the men under his command.
“That is who I am,” he said. “I am not a front.”
Thomas knew all nine men who died and considered them friends. He said he stayed as long as he did to honor their memories by making the many changes recommended by the city’s expert panel.
Out of uniform
Thomas took some time off on a recent Tuesday afternoon and went for a walk with his wife. It seemed so odd to be out of uniform, strolling around on a weekday with no obligations. Then it hit him: This would be his life soon.
It’s a strange new world. For the first time in years he won’t be driving his signature red Tahoe with “Chief” emblazoned on the sides, waving to citizens and answering calls for “Car 1.”
He’ll simply be Rusty Thomas, citizen, driving an old pickup truck on loan from his Dad. “I ain’t got nothing else to drive,” he said with a shrug.
Thomas hopes whomever the city hires to replace him will continue to move the Fire Department forward, make it something firefighters and the community are proud of. He senses that his department is healing, and he is confident it will endure. It always has.
“At end of the day, the hose still has to come off the truck,” he said. He paused and his eyes grew misty as he surveyed the old steamer trucks parked in the engine bay at headquarters. “I am going to miss this place.”
Copyright 2008 The Post and Courier (Charleston, SC)
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