HUMOR OFTEN CROSSES LINE IN LIFE-AND-DEATH JOBS.

Byline: KERRY CAVANAUGH Staff Writer

From their first day on the job, Los Angeles firefighters can face grueling trials of humiliation, stamina, physical strength and mental fortitude -- and that's just in the firehouse.

Despite a decade-old ban, many Los Angeles Fire Department rookies are still hazed, and pranks and horseplay often remain part of the department's culture. But the dog-food case of Tennie Pierce has intensified the pressure for leaders to immediately end the culture that has long fostered hazing.

Authorities say, however, that such a culture is not unique to the LAFD and efforts to change it will not be easy.

Many high-stress professions have initiation rituals for newcomers and use hazing and pranks as a way to blow off steam and bind a community, experts say. And generally the more dangerous the job, the more elaborate the rituals.

While it's troubling when discrimination or racism creeps into the situations, analysts say simply declaring an end to hazing will fail.

``It is the one great truth of human behavior: Don't take something away without replacing it with something else,'' said Jorja Leap, an adjunct professor at the University of California, Los Angeles, School of Public Affairs.

``The question is how to develop the spirit and community and let off steam. Until they find a replacement, there's always going to be hazing.''

This week, acting Fire Chief Douglas Barry admitted that hazing and pranks exist in the department -- though not as widely as they did a decade ago.

``We need to send a clear message to our people on what is acceptable behavior,'' he said in a radio interview. ``We don't want an environment that no one can smile and no one can have enjoyment. But at the same time, there are certain kinds of behavior that do not belong in a professional environment.''

Alternatives sought

The challenge for Barry and whoever is named the permanent replacement for ousted Fire Chief William Bamattre will be building that new culture.

``There needs to be a sense of commitment and community. When you're facing life-and-death situations, the ante goes up, and their initiation rituals become even more extreme to bind people together and make them one group,'' said Leap, who noted that putting military recruits through boot camps -- or even medical residents through 36-hour shifts -- can be considered forms of hazing.

LAFD psychologist Robert Scott said firefighters can witness more trauma and pain in one shift than some people see in a lifetime, so they use humor to cope.

While most firefighters and stations handle humor in a positive way, he said, he also has been trying to develop alternatives to hazing and pranks to take the edge off stress on the job.

``The prank has too many inherent dangers that someone is going to get hurt or someone is going to take it the wrong way,'' he said. ``As our culture expands -- and it's a highly litigious society we live in -- things have to change sometimes. The prank just may need to be replaced with good-hearted humor.''

Options might include funny movies in the station or mock stand-up comedy nights, he suggests.

``There will be some resistance. It's not going to be easy,'' he said. ``The fire service is always slow to change. It's an organization that is steeped in history. My feeling is it's going to have to change. It can't exist with these problems.''

Attitudes changing

John McDuffie, first vice president of United Firefighters of Los Angeles City, said the department already is changing, and hazing is no longer the norm.

``It's not even close to a frat-boy atmosphere,'' he said. ``I can't tell you some of the things I heard (years ago) that I would be shocked to hear now.''

Yet a consultant hired by UFLAC to evaluate discrimination in the department said there remains a feeling that the firehouse is the ``young man's idea of a workplace.''

It's viewed as a second home, a private place to relax after a call, rather than a place of work such as an office or a police station.

``If they saw this as a city building in the middle of a neighborhood (where) people could walk in at any time, they would behave differently,'' said Abby Liebman, who heads Liebman and Associates and specializes in discrimination prevention and response.

While pranks and hazing can be a bonding rite of passage, they can become insidiously harmful for women and others often viewed as outsiders.

``The notion behind initiation is to bring you in. But here the goal is not to bring them in, but to get them out. It's often cruel, and the motivation is hostile,'' Leibman said.

The department needs to evaluate how it recruits, hires, trains and promotes firefighters, she said.

``The vast majority of the time now, firefighting is not fighting fires, it's responding to emergency medical calls. Most calls for fires are false alarms. It is very dangerous a small percentage of the time,'' she said.

``They need to look at what you need in a firefighter today. What kind of person is best equipped to do this work?''

She cited fire departments in San Jose, Berkeley and Phoenix that have changed their cultures to be more welcoming and inclusive.

Phoenix Fire Department Division Chief Mike Sandulak said that department's former chief and union president two decades ago wrote a guide for firefighters that spelled out acceptable behavior -- from how to answer the phone to how to drive.

With a simple mission statement, ``Survive, prevent harm and be nice,'' Sandulak said, firefighters know that even saying something mean to a colleague will not be tolerated.

For some veteran firefighters, however, that goody-goody atmosphere is hard to swallow.

Lottery ``winner''

Capt. Bob Witherspoon retired in 2004 after 31 years with the LAFD and said City Hall and departmental leaders are messing with tradition.

``It's sad to see the department come to this, where it's sanitized to the point where you can't crack a joke.''

As long as he was on the job, pranks and horseplay were common. He said the jokes sometimes went over the line of acceptability, but firefighters knew how to roll with the punches. There was always an opportunity for retaliation down the line.

Witherspoon was the victim of a prank that became legendary. In 1985 his colleagues made up a lottery announcement so he would think he'd won $4 million.

He was in the firehouse, ecstatic, and called his wife at home with the message: ``Don't tell the kids yet, but I think we may be rich, and I may have won the lottery.''

Later, when he called a California Lottery office, his ticket didn't match the winning numbers in a recording. Undeterred, he called again 10 minutes later -- and again, no match.

That's when he realized.

``I thought, `They got me. Son-of-a-gun, they got me.'''

Yet he calls the trick a morale booster. To this day, Witherspoon still gets calls from former department colleagues asking him about the lottery.

``If only Pierce had taken it on a little lighter side,'' Witherspoon said. ``Everybody laughs at everybody. Everybody enjoys playing a trick on somebody, and when it happens to you, you've just got to bite your tongue.''

kerry.cavanaugh(at)dailynews.com

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