Disaster chief takes a lesson from `9/11'.

Byline: City Beat / Eugene by Diane Dietz The Register-Guard

TO THE UNINFORMED eye, the action in Tower 1 at the World Trade Center that fateful September morning, as captured by documentary filmmakers, appeared disorganized - understandable given the extraordinary circumstances, but chaotic nonetheless.

But to the studied eye of Eugene Deputy Fire Chief Randy Groves, the Fire Department of New York performed a precise, sophisticated and well-coordinated - though short-lived - rescue operation that day.

Groves is in a position to appreciate their work because he's the guy that the city of Eugene would turn to in a large-scale disaster or terrorist attack.

He was the incident commander, for instance, on Labor Day 1994 when 30-foot flames were spotted on the roof of the Eugene Hotel, a retirement center.

As a commander, he's among those responsible for the lives of the city's 150 line firefighters - a position that weighs a little heavier since Sept. 11.

The list of the 343 New York firefighters lost that day remains on Groves' desk at the Chambers Emergency Services Center at Second Avenue and Chambers Street. "It's very much paramount in our minds," he said.

When Groves saw the firefighters' work in the "9/11" documentary aired on CBS last week, he found a lot to admire, beginning with New York Battalion Chief Joseph Pfeifer.

Pfeifer was standing in a New York street on a routine fire call when he witnessed the first airplane flying into Tower 1.

Groves was impressed with the way Pfeifer snapped into action, leapt onto the radio, issued an early dispatch on the catastrophic incident, designated a

nearby intersection as a staging area - and told the dispatcher that the crash was intentional; he had seen the plane correct its course before plowing into the building.

Groves watched Pfeifer establish a command post in the Tower 1 lobby and then begin making strategic and tactical decisions about how to rescue tower occupants, how to hook hoses to the relay pumps to get water aloft, and where to send each of the fire-suppression crews that arrived on the scene by the dozens.

Groves watched in amazement as the fire commanders got word about the second airplane hitting Tower 2. They split the command structure, sending half of their number to the other tower.

"Just one of those towers having a fire like that would be a huge situation," he said. "I sat there in awe of those people. I was in awe of all of them."

The firefighters clearly understood their situation, Groves said. Firefighters study the burn properties of various substances and know that jet fuel burns hot.

Firefighters understand that high-rise fires will create a shower of glass and rubble and, yes, even falling human bodies.

"It's not unheard of," Groves said. That's why they put the command post in the lobby rather than outside.

And the commanders in the World Trade Center were well aware of the potential for collapse, Groves said.

"You're always thinking burn time," he said. "You're always wondering what the structural integrity is like."

Still, the New York troops stayed and did what they could. "Firefighters are not wilting violets," Groves said. "They're aggressive. They want to get in there and take care of business."

Groves knows how the thinking goes because he's practiced what he'd do during a terrorist attack right here in Eugene.

Late last month, Groves was the incident commander in a terror "tabletop exercise" with 45 other city leaders, hospital officials, Red Cross representatives and FBI agents.

Police got a call that a "smoke bomb" exploded at the Eugene Hilton, where a 2,500-guest convention was under way.

In the pretend scenario, conferencegoers were falling to the sidewalk, convulsing, gasping for air and dying.

As the event unfolded, Groves learned that there were as many as 300 casualties.

The first two police officers on the scene weren't responding to radio calls. The "smoke" appeared to be a deadly nerve gas, perhaps sarin or tabun.

Groves had to make critical calls, such as how and when to send firefighters into the convention center, whether to evacuate or order people to "shelter in place" - and how many blocks to cordon off as the dangerous "hot zone."

He had to figure out how to minimize the casualties, including decontaminating the conferencegoers as well as tracking the firefighters' level of exposure.

And he had to account for the victims' friends and relatives, who were pressing in on the scene and endangering themselves.

So much rests on snap decisions. Some New York firefighters escaped with 30 or 40 seconds to spare after Pfeifer made the call to evacuate.

In a subsequent interview included in the "9/11" documentary, Pfeifer looked aged and weary. He lost a brother - also a firefighter - in the building's collapse. He said being a firefighter wasn't fun anymore.

Groves said Pfeifer's comment has stuck with him. "Are you going to second-guess yourself the rest of your life?" Groves said. "I hope he doesn't. I hope he finds peace."

As the tree branches

In arboreal news, urban forester Mark Snyder has announced that city workers have found a more satisfactory location for the progeny of the majestic 154-year-old cherry tree in the Owen Memorial Rose Garden.

Last December, the city decided to move the young tree that, three years earlier, it had ceremoniously planted in the shadow of the original - as an eventual replacement, many believed, for the much loved but aging tree.

Gardeners decided that the best place for the progeny was a landscaped island in the park's parking lot.

"We have a conflict with trees in general because it is a rose garden, and roses need sunshine," senior gardener Paul Heard said.

But community feedback was vociferous - in part because of two healthy cedar trees that would have had to be removed from the parking lot island - and Snyder decided to find another home for the progeny.

"People really wouldn't want to lie underneath that tree - or rest and recreate under it, or get married under it - with cars backing up and their exhaust being right there," he said. "It wouldn't be a very restful place."

So city workers last week moved the young tree next to the replica of town founder Eugene Skinner's historic cabin along Cheshire Avenue in Skinner Butte Park.

Although the suggestion drives some historians nuts, others like to believe that Skinner himself planted the original tree. "It was a great and natural tie-in to have right there," Snyder said.

Whether the city will replant a progeny inside the rose garden when the big tree falls is a matter of conjecture. Snyder says definitely yes; Heard says not likely - although it may be decades before the city has to decide.

While the big blow of Feb. 7 took out dozens of younger and lesser trees all over Eugene, the stately Owen cherry stood its own.

Reporter Diane Dietz can be reached at 338-2376 or by e-mail at [e-mail].

CAPTION(S):

CITY BEAT / EUGENE Diane Dietz