Covering The Deaths Of Two Salisbury Firefighters

This blog was written by WBTV reporter David Whisenant:

I almost didn't go. I was at my usual Friday morning prayer breakfast at the Checkered Flag. Three friends and I meet every week, we enjoy each other's company and then we pray out loud together for specific needs. Yeah, the people in the other booths think we're nuts, but such is the Christian walk. Anyway, someone called to tell me there was a fire at Salisbury Millworks, probably not a big deal, and the Salisbury Fire Department was already on scene, and that usually means no matter how close I am the fire is out before I can get to it. Something told me to go, I can't describe it, but I apologized to my friends and left.

I got to the fire in just a couple of minutes. At first I was run off by an employee, that's okay, that happens, and it turned out to put me in a better camera position at the front of the plant instead of the back side off Martin Luther King, Jr. Avenue. I was there early, first reporter on the scene, and I started rolling video in my camera. Initially, from the eye of a news photographer, it wasn't an astounding sight...smoke coming out of some windows in what appeared to be a small office building. I exchanged "good mornings" with police officer Andy Efird and rookie officer Andy Carlton. I nodded at some of the firefighters who were going about their work in the usual professional manner. I called the WBTV assignment desk and told them werhe I was, told them I was covering a fire, probably not a big deal, I'd stay a few more minutes and run to the bureau on the square in downtown Salisbury and feed in some video for noon.

At some point, and I can't really put my finger on the time, something changed. I remember the police had allowed me to cross the railroad tracks and get some closer images. The smoke coming from building was heavier, and it was darker in color. I remember seeing a bright orange glow in the window that I believe was in owner Norde Wilson's office. I interviewed Wilson a few minutes later, he was still confidant that the fire would be extinguished quickly, and he had high praise for the Salisbury Fire Department. His only regret, at that point, was that some fine cherry woodwork in his office was probably being destroyed as he watched. Then another significant change.

The smoke was mixed with flames coming from the roof of the office, flames mixed with smoke now pouring out of Wilson's office window. Now there was more smoke and it was coming from eaves and doorways, garage doors and windows, and it wasn't just in the office, it was coming from the huge manufacturing area that ran nearly a block long. Soon the flames overpowered the smoke...bright, orange, fierce, crawling on every surface, being fueled by superheated air. I even zoomed in with my camera on a specific spot in which I saw a bright blue flame near the front of the building. A firefighter told me it was probably one of the chemicals used in the plant now on fire. The flames were so big at this point, leaping into the air over the brick building now struggling to stay standing. Then another change, and one that was haunting.

No one told me firefighters were hurt, I didn't hear the "Mayday" call from Captain Barkley, but I didn't need to. You could see it on the faces. I knew something had happened and that it was horrible. Chief Parnell walked by with a look of shock and sadness. I called the station back and said they better send me some help because I knew now this was not just a structure fire like I'd seen hundreds of times in my career. I saw the ambulance move in close to the building, that was surprising since it was so near the flames. Chief Parnell then walked by and asked me and the other news crews if we would hold off reporting anything until families could be notified. At that point I didn't know what had happened, but those words made it pretty clear to me that at least one firefighter had died.

Two years ago for a story, Chief Parnell dressed me up in fire turn out gear and let me go into a building the department was burning for training. I can still feel the heat from the day. As I crawled on the floor I wondered how firefighters could do this and keep their senses. I remember that there was a point, probably just a minute or two into it that the firefighters started to pull me out. I wasn't ready to go, but I saw a part of plastic on the cover of my camera start melting. I didn't need anymore convincing. But now on this early March this was no training fire, no experiment, this was a raging inferno that had claimed victims.

What I noticed next was truly telling about the character of these men and women. They didn't stop fighting this fire. There were one or two who took ten second to hug, but then they charged right back in. The grief, the pain, had to put aside, for now, while the flames continued to wrap their fingers around the building and consume a car that an employee had parked earlier in a spot he was certain was out of reach of the fire in its infancy. I still had a job to do, I had a story to tell. The station did send some help and I spent the rest of the day on the scene of the fire. I had to to three live reports in our noon news, plus one at 5, one at 6, one at 7, and an additional story for WFMY in Greensboro and WRAL in Raleigh. My video, those unbelieveable images, went out to CBS News in New York and to CBS and affiliated stations across the world.

I cried at the end of my 5 pm live shot. I couldn't help it. This is my hometown, these are people I know and respect, and they're hurting, so I'm hurting. It may not have been professional, but it was real. I said something to the effect that in my 16 years of covering news on television, this was the worst, the bottom line worst story I had ever covered. I've seen a lot of bad things, suffering, anger, but this was the nadir of all of it. That led me to do some things out of character for me. I snapped at several people in our newsroom, including our anchor Maureen O'Boyle. I snapped at good people at Rowan Regional Medical Center, I snapped at my wife. I knew I had to get my temprement under control. I prayed for peace for myself, but then felt guilty asking God for anything when so many people needed so much more than I.

The next few days were truly a blur of events and images, some sad and heartbreaking, some hopeful and wonderful. The show of support from the community was truly encouraging. Banners, ribbons, signs, all offered prayers to the families of the fallen firefighters, and for those still on the job. As a reporter it was good to have some positive things to say about the horror that I had seen on Friday, but there were difficult and awkward moments. As always, some of my cohorts in the media didn't want to respect what I felt were reasonable rules for covering the aftermath of such tragedies. And as is often the case, they, including one television station that had repeatedly reported inaccurate information on the day of the fire and with virtually no ties to this community, was rewarded for their aggressive efforts. I just didn't think this was the time to be concerned with beating the competition. I did stories about how out of town firefighters were covering for Salisbury and Rowan County, and I talked to Brad Jordan, a firefighter who was there Friday and who had seen death before when he was riding with firefighter Jim Shue of the Locke Fire Department around 12 years ago and was involved in an accident in the fire truck that took Shue's life. Yet here was Jordan, married to a firefighter, and ready to run on the next call.

The day of the funeral was another milestone. For days there was behind the scene drama about how the media would be allowed to cover the event. I wanted to have my camera there and I was willing to "pool" the video. That's a media term that means everybody gets the same thing I get. I thought this was an historic event and that it should be documented, but my perspective on it should not overrule the wishes of two families dealing with immense grief. The family did approve the request, but again, there was more drama that lasted right up until the morning of the service. We in the media usually play nice together, from television to print and radio, but there are those times that one outlet or another has to push the bounds of reason and sensitivity. In the end ot worked out, and the television camera in the chapel made it possible for the overflow crowd in Keppel Auditorium to still see and hear the images of a moving and emotional service.

Outside the chapel there was a little more media drama, and even some light comedy. The media area was down Oliver's Way, a beautiful walkway that runs from the chapel to the auditorium, problem is, the other cameras and crews were behind a small weeping willow tree. Deputy Chief Steve Whitley had agreed to that position, after much begging on our part, and he was serious about any violations of the ground rules. I mean so serious that he called the magistrate and the judge Thursday morning to give them a "heads up" that he may be bringing in some media types if they crossed the line. I love Chief Whitley, there's just enough of an edge to him that you know he's serious, but he's also a little playful behind the Serengeti sunglasses. We joked about the tree maybe falling prey to an unknown lumberjack of beaver, but to our amazement, and pleasure, Catawba officials simply dug it up and moved it. It was a major and unexpected concession, and one that was truly appreciated. On the other hand, you had the presence of the news helicopters. Those choppers, Sky 3, Chopper 9, and Air Star, are a vital part of broadcast news gathering, but they are loud and intrusive. The stations were given two conflicting rules on chopper access, and when that is the case, you always go by the one that allows the most access. Lt. Rory Collins of the Salisbury Police Department first noticed the "wop wop wop" of the birds and started telling the station's representatives on the ground to have the choppers back off a few miles. They did, and with the amazing technology of the zoom lens, they were still able to provide gripping images of the procession and the traditional rituals normally observed with the funeral of a firefighter.

I think I wrote this as therapy for myself. I wanted to remember these images and the feelings I experienced during this mouornful time. I prayed hard this week, for the Islers and the Monroes, for Chief Parnell, Captain Barkley, our Salisbury city public information officer Karen Wilkinson who was suffering in her own way as the cousin of Justin Monroe. I also prayed for myself and I asked others to help me with that effort. I just wanted to conduct myself first as a Christian, then secondly as a sensitive and compassionte reporter who still had a job to do. One of the speakers at the funeral said that God can bring that which is good out of that which is tragic. I know he can, I certainly was an eyewitness to that this week, both the tragic that we leave behind, and the good that drives us to hope through the grace of God.