Firefighters’ Heroism Often Goes Unsung

No firefighter does his job to win awards. When Jasen Brown dived into a burning car to save a mother and her young children, he did what any firefighter would have done, on or off the clock.

For the 24-year-old Costa Mesa resident, turning away or standing by waiting for help were not options. Only a year on the job, the Alhambra firefighter confronted danger with the poise of a veteran.

“You would think he had 20 years on the job the way he commanded the scene,” said Alhambra Division Chief John Kabla.

And because what most would call extraordinary heroism is such a part of the fabric of their daily lives, Brown and other firefighters don’t talk about it in terms of bravery or courage. They mostly downplay it.

The firefighters in Alhambra go as far as making a firefighter buy crewmates ice cream if his name finds its way into a news story. Brown’s supervisors didn’t even know about the Feb. 4 accident until authorities in Ventura County sent letters praising the young rescuer.

But the International Assn. of Fire Chiefs, a 12,000-member organization, wants the public to know about the daily heroism practiced by the 1.1 million men and women who train long hours and regularly risk their lives as firefighters.

This year, Brown is the winner of the group’s Benjamin Franklin Fire Service Award for Valor, a prestigious prize named after one of the nation’s first fire chiefs.

One of the three judges, Roy Brock, said Brown’s stood out among the 15 lifesaving situations that were nominated.

“They were all outstanding,” he said. “But he acted alone and he’s a very young firefighter. Not only did he act to get the children and the lady out of the burning car by himself, he also supervised the others in doing CPR. He really kept his cool.”

Mary Marshall, a spokeswoman for the International Assn. of Fire Chiefs, said, “The point of this award is to choose one case to highlight what our people do every day. So we can recognize what they do does make a difference.”

Last year, the award was given to Randy Schmelz of the Arlington Fire Department in Texas after he ran into a burning house to save a 1-year-old boy trapped in a crib.

In 1999, Matt Mosley won the honor after he dangled from a helicopter harness to lift a stranded crane operator 20 feet above the tip of a raging building fire in Atlanta.

Marshall said there are countless other heroic rescues that go unnoticed.

“The New York Fire Department doesn’t send me stuff; you know they need to be nominating people,” she said. “Ditto with the Los Angeles Fire Department.

“These [rescues] are everyday occurrences in metro departments. It’s also common for people from suburban or rural fire departments. People get in trouble everywhere.”

In Alhambra, Brown said he doesn’t want to draw attention to his recognition.

“I keep my mouth shut and soak everything up like a sponge,” Brown said as he stood in the garage of Station 74, one of four stations in the department that he rotates through.

Capt. Paul Volz, a 27-year veteran, said the award reinforces what he already thought of Brown.

“He’s got a good head on his shoulders,” Volz said. “He’s got a long career ahead of him.”

Brown was born in Palm Springs but moved to Hawaii when he was in fifth grade. There he developed a passion for surfing and for becoming a firefighter.

He left for the mainland when he was 18, studying fire sciences at Santa Monica Community College. He later attended El Camino Fire Academy in Inglewood and the Paramedic Training Institute in Commerce.

Brown said surfing and firefighting are similar. “It’s an adrenaline rush,” he said. “I don’t know what I’ll be doing four minutes from now.”

It’s rare for rescue workers to see an accident happen, Brown said; most firefighters arrive minutes after the fact. He said the February collision was a jarring experience that he has blocked from his mind.

“Life can change in an instant,” he said.

Off-duty and dressed in a dark shirt and tie for a funeral, Brown relied quickly on instincts that morning.

A Geo Prizm on a four-lane road near Ventura swerved around a bend, left its lane and slammed into a Honda Civic carrying two people traveling the opposite direction.

The collision, only 20 feet in front of Brown’s car, sent the two vehicles spinning. The Prizm’s gas tank took a direct hit, setting parts of the car on fire.

Brown jumped from his Jeep and headed for the burning car. The Prizm’s driver, Francine Lopez, was unconscious and pressed against the horn.

Despite his best efforts, the 6-foot, 5-inch, 240-pounder could not pry the woman from her seat. That’s when he noticed a 6-month-old girl sitting in a child’s car seat with blood dripping from her head. He grabbed the infant and handed her to his then-fiancee Laura, a first-grade teacher who is now his wife.

Brown went after the driver again, but noticed a 2-year-old boy hidden in the shadow where the trunk was bent into the back seat. He lifted the motionless child out of the wreck and handed him to an off-duty police officer at the scene who administered CPR.

Brown’s hands were scorched as he reached in again, this time to unhook Lopez’s feet from the car’s pedals. The flames intensified, and plumes of smoke could be seen five miles away at his grandmother’s home, where friends and family were gathering.

With the help of a handful of onlookers, Brown was able to heave the woman to the pavement.

Half a minute later, the Prizm was engulfed in fire.

Lopez would survive, but her two children, Jacqueline and David, would not. Brown learned later that Lopez was pregnant and lost her fetus in the accident. Two women who were traveling in the Civic survived the collision.

Brown changed out of his blood-stained shirt and attended the funeral.

“I wasn’t thinking about an explosion or my safety,” he said. “I just needed to get her out.”