Tragedy's shared lessons may be enduring legacy

The ground where nine men died sits behind a chain-link fence, empty and apart from the bustling retail strip where thousands of cars rumble by each day. Aside from a toy fire engine and a memorial flag, there is little to hint at what occurred on this scarred earth or how much those events changed a proud, storied city.

It started as a small trash fire, the kind of routine call firefighters handle every day. But in a matter of minutes on June 18, 2007, the blaze exploded into a massive inferno that devoured the Sofa Super Store on Savannah Highway.

Nine Charleston firefighters were trapped inside when the roof came crashing down, sealing their fates.

The loss left the Lowcountry reeling and drew the nation's eyes to Charleston. The city had not lost a firefighter in the line of duty since 1965. Suddenly it was home to the nation's deadliest firefighting tragedy since Sept. 11, 2001.

"It was a heartbreaking event that is almost impossible to describe," Charleston Mayor Joe Riley said.

"Every citizen in our community experienced the profound sadness of a loss that was personal, even though most people didn't know the firefighters themselves. It was just a time of great sadness and sorrow."

The twisted, charred remains of the sprawling furniture outlet long since have been carted away. But the legacy of the Sofa Super Store fire still looms large over this land, as it does over the community as whole.

That legacy is on display in roads, fire stations and plaques dedicated to the fallen. It can be seen in myriad improvements to the Charleston Fire Department's equipment, training and tactics.

It is evident in lessons studied by fire departments across the country. And it resonates through the families and survivors still struggling to deal with the loss.

"I think about it every day, and I don't think I ever will stop thinking about it," said Jean Dangerfield, who lost her brother, Michael French, in the fire.

"It might be a song you hear or a smell or the sound of a fire engine heading to a call. There are constant reminders."

More than two years later, 171 firefighters and their relatives continue to receive counseling through the Charleston Firefighter Support Team.

Many continue to carry out their duties while working through their grief. For others, like former Capt. Clinton Jones, the pain was just too great.

In the early hours of his 35th birthday, Jones helped carry his friends' burned bodies from the ruins.

The experience haunted his dreams and drove him to an early retirement. "My whole life has been turned upside down because of this," he said.

The blaze has been reviewed, examined and dissected by all manner of experts, but some questions still remain. Chief among them: What started the fire?

Experts suggest that a carelessly discarded cigarette was the most likely cause, but a definitive conclusion has been elusive.

At least one federal study of the fire is still due, and a police investigation into the blaze eventually might result in criminal charges.

Also pending are lawsuits filed by the families of the fallen against Sofa Super Store and others.

In many ways, the fire marked the beginning of the story.

In the days that followed the blaze, hundreds turned out to look at the ruins, lay a flower on a memorial or light a candle in remembrance. Some 10,000 mourners from around the nation filed into a coliseum to pay their last respects.

Others stopped by fire stations with flowers, food, condolences and thanks. Some $4 million in donations poured into a city fund to help the families of the dead.

Grieving soon gave way to tough questions, and the fire department underwent a thorough, painful examination of its traditional, hard-charging approach to firefighting.

Riley stood firmly behind Fire Chief Rusty Thomas and insisted the fire department was among the nation's best.

But a scathing report from a city-appointed panel of experts found the department's practices were 30 years out of date and that firefighters were utterly unprepared for the inferno they faced that night.

The report and other studies spurred sweeping change. The city committed more than $8 million to upgrading the fire department's equipment, training and operations.

The drumbeat of criticism also prompted Thomas to retire shortly after the first anniversary of the blaze. Some of his top commanders followed his lead, paving the way for a re-shuffling at the top.

After a nationwide search, the city replaced Thomas with Tom Carr, a veteran chief who ran a Maryland fire department 10 times the size of Charleston's.

Since arriving in November 2008, Carr has helped usher in a new way of doing business based on modern firefighting techniques and standards, with an eye toward firefighter safety and regional cooperation.

The fire department is moving on with its mission, determined not to forget the sacrifices made or the lessons learned from the deadly fire.

Capt. Chris Villarreal led the first crew into the sofa store that night. Though he still struggles with those memories, he's tried to use the experience to help others. He's been back to the site to tell his story to classes of new recruits.

And in October, Villarreal gave a presentation about the blaze and its effects at a fire chiefs' conference in Minnesota, a talk later detailed in Fire Engineering magazine.

"I tried to let everyone know we are keeping our heads up and doing the job we need to do," he said. "It helps to get it off my chest and helps me a cope a little bit more every time I talk about it."

Those shared lessons may well be the most enduring legacy of the fire, Dangerfield said. An Ohio fire commander recently told her that he pulled his men from a burning building after recognizing that it had a steel truss roof, similar to that of the Sofa Store. Minutes later, the roof collapsed.

"Mikey and the others are still saving lives because of what happened," she said. "All we can ask is that fire departments keep learning from them."