by Richard Prior
Staff writer
F i f t y-s e v e n y e a r s.
Fiftysevenyears.
“If you say it fast, it doesn’t sound that long,” said Miles Bowers. “But you have to say it real fast.”
By any measure, or vocal style, 57 years is a fraction of a second in the life of a rock, but it’s a long time to spend at one job.
Chief Miles Bowers knows. He was 21 years old and semi-fresh out of the Air Force when he was hired by the Jacksonville Fire and Rescue Department. The date was Sept. 13, 1946.
“I was in pilot training during World War II,” said Bowers. “I thought seriously about maybe continuing with that and becoming an airline pilot. I kind of floundered around for a few months, working various small jobs.
“Then I met a girl who said she wouldn’t marry me until I got a permanent job.”
As it happened, the City was holding examinations for acceptance into the fire department. Bowers signed up . . . as did 2,000 to 3,000 others from around the world.
“There were a lot of returning servicemen looking for work, and the fire department was one of the first to open up after the war,” he said. “Of course, 3,000 didn’t show up. But a lot of them did.”
The exam included general education and a variety of other subjects, such as hydraulics and knowledge of the streets of Jacksonville.
“I came out 26th on it,” said Bowers. “I felt like it was a pretty good feat.”
Nearly six decades after he passed that test, Bowers will be honored at a special dinner. It will be held Thursday, his last day on the job, at Fire Station No. 10, 1055 S. McDuff Ave.
A retirement party will be held Saturday at the Oceanway Community Center on Sago Avenue West.
“It been a very satisfying, very rewarding career; I recommend it to anyone,” said Bowers. “I’ve enjoyed it — if you can say ‘enjoy’ in bad times.”
His first day on the job, Bowers saw wooden wheels on the chain-driven equipment “with open cabs,” he recalled. “Actually, they weren’t open cabs. There were no cabs at all.”
There were 16 fire stations with 16 engines, two or three ladder trucks and various other pieces of equipment. There were 137 firefighters to cover 37 square miles.
There are now 1,000 firefighters at 52 engine companies to cover 840 square miles. They also have access to 29 rescue units, 11 ladders, 11 tankers, six brush trucks, three marine units and 10 SUVs.
Bowers fought fires for about five years before the chief, recognizing his mechanical ability, persuaded him to move over to the department’s in-house shop.
He resisted right up to the day he fought a fire in 17-degree weather, icicles drooping from his helmet. Being indoors and warm made sense.
He stayed there 16 years, working up to chief mechanic at the shop, where crews repaired and painted equipment, and overhauled all the fire pumps.
He was promoted to lieutenant in 1969, then to captain. He was named fire chief under Mayor Jake Godbold on April 5, 1974. He served as interim fire chief under Mayor John Peyton until Richard Barrett was appointed.
The evolution of communications is the biggest difference between then and now, said Bowers.
“When I went on the job, there were no radios at all,” he said. “There were call boxes on the corners that rang the number in the fire station. If there was a fire, someone would go pull the box. We would go out, hoping someone was there to tell us where the fire was.
“But there was no communication from the time we left the station until we got to the box.”
The December 29, 1963 fire at the Roosevelt Hotel was the worst he ever fought, “in terms of the lives that were lost. Twenty-two people, including one of our own (Assistant Chief J.R. Romedy), died in that fire.”
Tactics have changed over the years. But it’s always been “a whole lot more than going out and squirting water on a fire.”
“As the town has grown, we’re doing more with less,” said Bowers. “There’s better utilization of our existing manpower.
“Years ago, we did inundate it with manpower and water. But, with the Incident Command System, someone gets there and takes charge and delegates authority to different positions, each one responsible for a certain section of the fire.
“And we have a Rapid Intervention Team that stands by. If some firemen get in trouble, we send the team in to bring them out.”
Bowers lives at Eagle Bend Island, on the Duval County side of the Nassau River. Betty, the woman who insisted he get a permanent job before she would marry him, passed away in December. They had been married 54 years.
He’s not sure what he’ll do now, other than continue teaching hydraulics to firemen at FCCJ.
“I’m going to miss the camaraderie at the station,” he said. “You live one-third of your life with the firemen. When they hurt, you hurt.
“When I lost my wife, I don’t think I’d have made it through without the firemen being there, looking after me. A word of advice now and then. A word of encouragement.
“And they’re always playful. That makes the time go by real good.”