Chief James Carswell prepares to disconnect from AFD
Carlton Fletcher
ALBANY — For the past 40-plus years, James Carswell has never pondered John Donne’s famed existential poetic admonition: “Therefore, send not to know For whom the bell tolls.”
The bell — the fire bell at Albany’s various fire houses — has always tolled for Carswell and his mates who’ve chosen careers of protecting their fellow citizens, calling them from the security of the station house into the hell of any number of conflagrations that have lives in the balance.
That bell will stop tolling Friday. The man who, for many in the community, became the face of a fire department recognized as one of the finest in the state and, indeed, the nation, is walking away from a career that was born of necessity but quickly became a labor of love.
“I don’t know how to put into words what it means to save a life,” Carswell said as he looked back on a career that saw many such instances. “But at the end of the day, that’s why we’re here. In a house fire, sadly, nine of 10 people who die are already dead before the fire department even gets the call. So we have only a one-in-10 chance of actually rescuing someone. When that happens, you see what it means to be part of a team, because that’s what this is.
“But as deeply as you feel it when you’re able to save a life, when you fail in an attempt, it’s 10 times worse. That’s the worst of the worst. It haunts you.”
Carswell’s tenure with the Albany Fire Department started with one of those stories that offers evidence that fate plays a part in our lives. Like his older brother William had before him, Carswell fully expected to follow in the footsteps of his electrician father, Bill. But when Bill Carswell died, 17-year-old James’ career path changed abruptly.
“I’ve always believed that when the Lord closes one door, he opens another,” Carswell said. “It’s hard for people today to understand the way things were in the ’60s and ’70s, but there was a kind of natural progression to things. I’d never looked beyond following in my father’s footsteps.
“But when he died, I decided to take a drafting course at Albany Vocational Technical School. My instructor happened to also run the Engineering department with the Water, Gas & Light Commission, and after my first year in the two-year program, he offered me a summer job.”
That summer job turned into a full-time job for the 18-year-old Carswell, but almost as quickly as the opportunity sprang to life, it died.
“They were cutting jobs at WG&L, and mine was one of the ones that was eliminated,” he said. “But Mayor (James) Gray had a program where people who lost their city jobs were offered opportunities to fill other vacant positions. I chose to go to work at the fire department.”
Starting at AFD on Jan. 1, 1975, Carswell stepped into an “all-male, macho, competitive club” where rookies like himself only became a part of the “family” through their capacity to work and learn.
“Oh, it was an entirely different world then,” Carswell says of those early days. “Back then, you had to earn the right to be in certain circumstances. You had to accept less desirable duties, and you were always competing to improve your position. Where you were assigned was something of a status symbol in the department.
“The department was something of a paramilitary organization, but I fell in love with it right from the start. Because when that (fire) bell went off, you became part of a unit.”
Carswell went to EMT school during the early part of his tenure at AFD, looking for ways to improve himself within the department, and in 1978 he got the first promotion in what would be a steady rise to the chief’s position. He was elevated to a firetruck driver post (now called an apparatus operator engineer) and did so well he got another promotion in 1983, to training officer.
“That gave me a broader knowledge base, exposed me to every shift and every employee,” Carswell said. “I was able to increase my knowledge of the job and also gained a greater appreciation for the administrative side.”
Carswell became a station captain in 1986 after requesting a transfer back to shift work.
“My aspiration at that time was to be a shift commander or battalion chief,” he said. “I felt like that’s where I could have the most impact. One of the things I’d learned as a training officer is how important it is to pass on knowledge to the guys coming up behind you. The goal is always to help make a better outcome.”
Carswell’s career path took a major turn in 1991 when Henry Fields became chief of the department. Fields selected Carswell to become one of his assistant chiefs, changing his focus to strictly administrative duties.
“I really don’t know why Chief Fields selected me (as assistant chief),” Carswell said. “He had plenty of candidates to choose from. It turned out to be a blessing, though, and it set me on a path from aspiring to be a battalion chief to a more administrative career path.”
In 2001, when Jimmie Arrowood replaced Fields as AFD chief, he named Carswell his deputy chief. When Arrowood stepped down in April of 2005, Carswell became interim chief and, after interviewing with other candidates for the position, six months later became chief of the department.
Carswell’s desire to change the culture of the department, to bring it into the 21st century through updated equipment, better and more varied training, and to impact citizens’ pocketbooks by improving Insurance Services Office ratings, meshed with a push by city officials to modernize the force.
“One of the things I always remember Chief Arrowood saying was, ‘If fire service doesn’t evolve beyond putting out fires, we’ll put ourselves out of business,’” Carswell said. “I took that to heart, and I believe today our citizens expect us to be not only experts at putting out fires, but to also be experts at vehicle extractions, public health, responding to weather-related emergencies, high-angle rescues, hazardous materials, water rescues.
“We, essentially, had to retool ourselves, to continue to evolve.”
During his 10-year reign as chief, AFD became one of the state’s most efficient departments. Its efforts helped the city and a large portion of Dougherty County achieve a “2” ISO rating, saving citizens in the community — many of whom aren’t even aware of the fact — hundreds of millions of dollars in insurance premium costs.
Carswell’s efforts helped increase department pay by an average of 25 percent, stay ahead of the curve in purchasing and even helping develop updated firefighting equipment, provide educational opportunities for employees to earn college degrees while on the job, implement an enhanced E-911 system and a CodeRED emergency notification system, develop an advanced training facility that has evolved into a regional facility, create a program with city officials through which blighted structures are removed through burns that serve as training exercises, improve community education efforts and create a water rescue/recovery dive team.
“Chief Carswell has been a wonderful asset to our community during his tenure,” Albany Mayor Dorothy Hubbard said. “I know a lot of the citizens aren’t even aware of some of the things he’s been able to do, but he’s made changes in the department that directly impact our citizens’ lives, such as the improvement in the ISO ratings.
“A lot of government is about having the right person in the right position, and we did that with Chief Carswell. He has other ideas that have not been implemented yet, but I believe we’ve got the right person in place (new Chief Ron Rowe) to take up where Chief Carswell left off. I have confidence in Chief Rowe because I know Chief Carswell has prepared him for the job.”
The city will host a reception for Carswell Friday, and when he leaves Fire Station No. 1 later that day, his life as a firefighter will end.
“I know I’ll always be a part of Albany’s fire service history because I’ve been here for the past 40 years,” the outgoing chief says. “But people move on. Once you’re away six months, things move past you. But this department will always be a part of me. I was born, raised and grew up in Albany. I’ll always want the best for our community.
“For the last 10 years, even when I’ve been away from the station, I’ve been connected. I might be 1,000 miles away on a cruise, but I was never not connected. I don’t know what it’s going to be like to lose that connection. I’m not sure what’s going to happen when there’s silence, when there’s nothing but static.”
Like all who come to the end of a substantial career, those bells that tolled so long for James Carswell will now grow silent. It’s a silence he’s earned.