Fire Chief Ronny Beasley
Six years ago, I accepted what would become one of the greatest professional opportunities of my career. After spending more than 28 years with the Memphis (Tennessee) Fire Department and retiring as a division chief, I accepted the position of fire chief for the City of La Vergne Fire Rescue in middle Tennessee.
Like every chief stepping into a new organization, I was excited, optimistic and admittedly a little anxious. I didn’t know much about the department beyond what I could gather from personnel files, conversations during the hiring process and a handful of observations.
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What I found was a department full of proud firefighters. They cared about one another and their community, and I wanted to do a good job.
As I reviewed personnel files, I saw impressive credentials: firefighter certifications, instructor certifications, fire officer certifications, hazmat qualifications. Many of the designations that I would expect to find in a progressive organization were present on paper.
I’ll admit something that now seems incredibly naïve. I assumed those certifications meant we spoke the same professional language, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. That realization became one of the most important leadership lessons of my career.
What the résumés didn’t reveal
The department had only been a municipal fire department for a few years. Before that, it operated under a privately owned business before the city purchased the department. During that transition, firefighters worked incredibly hard to build a capable organization. They trained, earned certifications, responded to emergencies and developed pride in who they were.
What they had not experienced wasn’t because of a lack of effort. They simply hadn’t been exposed to the broader fire service.
Looking back, I didn’t appreciate how much my own career had shaped the way I viewed leadership. During nearly three decades with Memphis, I had opportunities to interact with neighboring departments, state associations, national instructors, Urban Search and Rescue teams, the National Fire Academy, conferences, committees and professional organizations. Those experiences slowly shaped how I viewed leadership, accountability, strategic planning, succession planning, customer service, officer development and organizational culture.
None of that appears on a résumé. When I saw “Fire Officer III” in someone’s personnel file, I assumed they interpreted leadership through the same lens that I did. Instead, I discovered something much different. We were using the same words, but they meant different things. Put another way, have you ever been in a conversation where both people believe they’re communicating clearly, yet neither understands the other? That was us.
When I spoke about accountability, many heard discipline. When I talked about professional development, many thought I meant more certifications. When I discussed succession planning, they heard promotions. When I talked about strategic planning, they saw another administrative project. When I discussed community risk reduction, some believed I wanted firefighters to become inspectors.
We weren’t arguing over concepts. We were arguing over definitions.
Exposure before directives
Rather than trying to change culture by rewriting policies or issuing new directives, I came to realize that culture changes when people begin seeing themselves differently. If I wanted the organization to think differently, I first had to expose them to a different version of the fire service.
We intentionally began creating opportunities for that exposure. The initial movement started with higher education. Job descriptions were changed to reflect the requirements of varying levels of degrees with obtainable timelines. We encouraged officers and firefighters to attend Tennessee Fire Chiefs Association quarterly meetings and the annual conference, where they could hear from respected leaders from across the state and the nation. We introduced members to the National Fire Academy and the opportunities that existed beyond our own department. As the Tennessee Fire Chiefs Association expanded its leadership workshops across the state, our officers began attending those programs as well, returning with new ideas, new relationships and renewed enthusiasm.
At the same time, something equally important was happening back home. Meaningful one-on-one conversations began taking place among myself, our battalion chiefs, company officers, and those emerging leaders who demonstrated both curiosity and initiative. We weren’t trying to create followers. We were investing in people who would eventually influence others. And as those individuals began embracing a different way of thinking, they naturally brought others with them. Before long, the momentum for change was no longer being driven by the fire chief. It was being carried by respected members of the organization who believed in the direction we were headed.
From compliance to curiosity
Over time, the conversations throughout the department began to change. Instead of asking, “Why are we doing this?” people started asking, “Who else is doing this?” That question soon evolved into something even more powerful: “What can we do better?”
For the first time, our firefighters and officers weren’t simply looking inward at how we had always operated. They were actively searching for better ideas, benchmarking against other successful organizations and bringing recommendations back to improve our own department. Just as importantly, leadership gave them the autonomy to pursue those ideas. If someone found a better way to accomplish a task, improve training, enhance customer service or increase operational effectiveness, we wanted to hear it. More often than not, we encouraged them to help implement it.
That shift marked the point where professional development stopped being something directed from the chief’s office and became part of our organizational culture. Curiosity replaced complacency, ownership replaced compliance, and continuous improvement became everyone’s responsibility.
I wasn’t interested in creating a department that looked like my previous department. I wanted to create a department that was exposed to enough ideas to become the very best version of La Vergne Fire Rescue. Part of our vision statement is to become a “beacon fire department,” and we are becoming that department.
The cost of professional isolation
One of the greatest dangers in the fire service is becoming professionally isolated. Certifications are valuable, but they are not the same as professional exposure. Exposure creates perspective, humility, relationships, and curiosity.
As chiefs, we often invest heavily in apparatus, stations and equipment. Those investments matter, but none compares to investing in people. Professional development is not simply earning another certificate. It is exposing firefighters and officers to ideas, mentors and experiences that broaden how they think about the profession.
If I could return to my first day as fire chief, I would spend less time explaining my vision and more time understanding theirs. I would spend less time trying to convince people and more time creating opportunities for them to experience the broader fire service themselves.
Today, I remain incredibly proud of the men and women of La Vergne Fire Rescue. We’ve embraced the belief that learning never ends. Leadership isn’t about teaching people everything you know. It’s about creating opportunities for people to discover what they’ve never had the chance to experience.
Looking back, I thought I had inherited a department that spoke my language. The truth was, we were all speaking different dialects of the same profession. Once we learned to speak a common language, everything else became possible.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ronny Beasley, EFO, CFO, is the fire chief for La Vergne Fire Rescue in Tennessee.
