Published: August 2, 2007 - The Union Democrat
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Many little boys dream of being firefighters — donning helmets and heavy gear to brave the flames and smoke.
Orange County native Carlos Lopez did.
"It's one of the ultimate gifts I think — risking your life for someone else," he said.
But his childhood ambitions likely didn't include wearing the signature bright-orange uniform of a prison inmate.
Lopez, 38, is serving a sentence for aggravated assault at Sierra Conservation Center, where he is going through the inmate firefighter training program.
Despite the path he took to reach prison, the training is providing him a new opportunity. Already, he's learned much.
"There's more to it than I ever imagined," he said.
Lopez is one of 2,100 to 2,200 men to enter firefighter training at SCC each year. Of those, about 1,800 go on to fill spots at 19 of 39 inmate fire camps in California from El Dorado County to the Mexican border.
The army of firefighting convicts saves the state millions of dollars each year on high-security housing they would otherwise need. And those savings don't include the low-cost labor they provide.
Sierra Conservation Center was actually designed for this purpose, Cal-Fire Battalion Chief Craig Konklin said.
Its yards were built larger to transition prisoners from the tight walls of other prisons to the wildlands. Its barracks help acclimate inmates to living in larger groups.
"The whole thing was engineered with the thought in mind of converting the inmate into a firefighter," Konklin said.
Time and prison overcrowding have provided some distraction from SCC's original mission, but the program has survived and is still pivotal in the state's conservation camp program.
The program is a partnership between Cal Fire, the Department of Corrections and the California Youth Authority.
Participating inmates must be minimum-security prisoners, the lowest on a scale of one to four, with no history of trying to escape from behind prison or jail walls, and no convictions of certain offenses such as sex crimes, arson or kidnapping.
They also must be within five years of the end of their sentence.
Once inmates are determined eligible, they must meet medical requirements and complete a physical fitness training program.
Then they enroll in a two-week training program in classrooms on the SCC grounds. It consists of one week of in-class instruction from a Cal Fire captain, then a week of field training.
Wednesday morning, a group of inmates sat in rows of desks in their orange garb, "SCC prisoner" written down a leg of their pants.
Capt. Bob Coolidge pulled one of a dozen tools from a red board on the wall, demonstrating how to use it.
Above him, an array of posters show a diagram of an incident command post, warn against the danger of power lines and illustrate the parts of a fire.
"To take these people, some of who never worked a hard day in their life, and be able to give and motivate them to do the kind of grueling work they have to do on a hand crew, is quite satisfying," Capt. Walter Southwick said.
Once inmates move to a camp, the work begins.
Baseline Conservation Camp is Tuolumne County's version of the program in action. The small camp near the prison holds a maximum of 134 inmates.
The convicts live in dormitories lined up in front of an immaculate yard.
The camp is basically self-sustaining, with everything from barbers to cooks to laundry service to mechanics on hand within the inmate population.
Prison counselors help provide the camp with inmates with special skills, said Lyn Rambo, a Cal Fire division chief in charge of the camp's firefighters.
Its Sew Shop takes orders from fire stations all over the state, tailoring uniforms and sewing on insignia. And the mechanics service engines from the entire Tuolumne-Calaveras Unit, he said.
Those side services also give purpose to inmates who find their niche.
Danny Mullett, 42, worked in construction before he was convicted on drug charges. He's moved up the ranks to become lead chef in the Conservation Camp's kitchen, and found it is more than a way to pass the time.
"This has probably changed my life," Mullett said. "I've taken on a lot of responsibility here ... It's really made me stop and examine my life."
One of Baseline's distinctive qualities is the substance abuse program it runs alongside the firefighting camp. Almost all of the inmates at the camp participate, attending counseling for three hours, five nights a week.
During the day prisoners work on community service and fire suppression projects, until they hear the tones signaling a fire or other emergency, said Sam Cousins, a Cal Fire administrative captain at Baseline.
"We keep them busy," Rambo added.
All the work gets them in shape, said Michael Buckholz, 35, an inmate in prison on drug charges.
"It's hard, it's hot, it's physically demanding," he said. "But all and all, when it's said and done, you get a feeling of having done something for the public."
"Going out there and seeing 100-foot flames, it's a whole other experience," added Richard Resch, 38, in prison for transporting drugs. "You get to respect it."
Security out in the field is not the issue one might think. The inmates know that trying to escape could lose them their coveted spot at the camp, Konklin said.
"It's very rare we have an issue with that because these guys want to be firefighters," he said.
But just in case, fire captains make security checks throughout the day, Rambo said.
On days off, there is some opportunity for recreation, Correctional Officer Mike Sanders pointed out, with a basketball court, TV rooms, game room, library, hobby program and others.
"They become artists at this camp," he said. "They find a lot of talent they never had or knew they had."
Few inmates actually move on to become firefighters once released from prison, said Kenny Calhoun, a custody captain for the prison.
But they take an improved work ethic and self esteem to other jobs, he said.
"For many of these guys, this is the biggest accomplishment of their lives," he said.
It shows them an alternate lifestyle to what many of them have been leading, Konklin added.
"When they get off the bus, the public doesn't see them as inmates, they see them as firefighters, and there's a pride in that," he said.
The more tangible benefits are better are wages than general prison workers. Firefighters earn $1.45 a day when they are working on projects, but are bumped to $1 a hour while on a fire. Jobs within SCC's walls only pay about 8 to 30 cents an hour.
Some inmates earn two days off their sentence for every day served in camp, and the program is a nice touch on a resume, Konklin said.
Inmate Jason Kawana, 29, would like to turn his Baseline Camp experience into a career with the U.S. Forest Service when he's released.
"Before I came here, I never thought that I could physically and mentally push myself as far as I have here," said Kawana, who is serving time for evading arrest. "It's given me hope, and I know now what I can accomplish."
Contact Alisha Wyman at awyman@uniondemocrat.com or 588-4527.
Wow, I was an inmate firefighter for 2 seasons and worked in the sew shop for a season all at baseline fire camp from 2006-2007. The firefighter training along with the life skills programs, and the opportunities to utilize them was the most rewarding experience of my life. Might sound weird, but I often wish I could be back there. It was that meaningful and gave me so much purpose. I sincerely remember all my training and I know I could pass the P.F.T. and F.F.T. today. I live in san jose, ca. and I'd volunteer if I knew where to go..Anyways, the article was accurate and even the familiar names ignited fond memories. Although I was incarcerated at that time I'd trade that in a minute, minus having to get arrested and all that stuff you have to endure like County jail, court, politics, reception center, etc...etc. Is baseline still functioning???
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