3NJ0101C0524 3NJ0101C0524 ZALLCALL
Woman arrested
after ball game
scuffle
PAGE 3C
Mark Lane
FOOTNOTE
Hurricane
forecast
heartens
Dr. Storms’
outlook
D
r. Storms reviewed
the hurricane predic-
tions made Monday
from the National Oceanic
and Atmospheric Adminis-
tration with the intensity of
a bookie leaning on a track
railing studying a tips sheet.
The spread seemed good.
Between 13 and 16 named
storms. Eight to 10 hurri-
canes. Four to six major
hurricanes. Overall, a lively
summer and fall.
Nobody pays attention to
Dr. Storms when the weath-
er is nice. But his number is
on many a Rolodex as an
easy quote when an authori-
tative voice is needed to
curse the wind and rains. He
is one of the state’s preemi-
nent unlicensed, freelance
authorities on hurricanes,
tropical storms and making
a homeowner’s insurance
claim look almost believable.
So if you don’t want to feel
like a Philistine in the cul-
ture of preparedness, you
should Ask Dr. Storms be-
fore the season starts and he
gets busy.
Q. So is this going to be a
bad season?
Maybe this will be a lighter
season than last year, but it
still could be a ripsnorter.
Sixteen storms would be a
lot fewer storms than last
year, but remember: Last
year, these guys underesti-
mated the number of named
storms by 13.
Q. And you’re OK with that
because disaster is your busi-
ness?
Well, sure. It’s not like Dr.
Storms created multi-decad-
al signal — the set of atmo-
spheric indicators that
suggests busy hurricane sea-
sons until sometime around
2015 — he’s just doing his
job.
Q. So what’s the difference be-
tween running out for batte-
ries at the last minute and
being part of this ‘‘culture of
preparedness’’ you and the
governor keep talking about?
A huge difference. Rain
gear, for instance. Last-min-
ute shoppers seldom are
able to buy anything in the
way of fitted rain gear. Dr.
Storms found nobody was
much interested in having
him on television as an ex-
pert until he bought a cam-
era-ready yellow rain outfit.
Now, he shouts over the
wind with the best of them.
Even that overrated Jim
Cantore on The Weather
Channel.
This year, Dr. Storms
added a waterproof pen to
his hurricane box so he can
sign autographs at hurri-
cane shelters.
SEE LANE, PAGE 7C
mark.lane@news-jrnl.com
What’s your thought?
Q. What do you and your
significant other consider
‘‘your’’ song?
‘‘It’s called ‘‘Take My
Breath Away.’’ My husband
Romano wrote it, sung the ly-
rics and produced it.’’
CHER HOWELL, Port Orange
homemaker
Today’s question by Susan
Irwin
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15 00:24:07 05/24/06 B
Local
SOUTHEAST VOLUSIA EDITION: NEWS FROM YOUR COMMUNITY AND YOUR STATE
Charities’ budgets hit by storm
By ANNE GEGGIS
STAFF WRITER Katrina needs stretch donors thin, officials say
Hurricane Katrina’s pound-
ing winds produced an outpour-
ing of cash for the Gulf Coast but
locally it dealt a blow to the
United Way campaign and area
human service agencies.
The United Way, which distri-
butes funds to 99 programs at 49
agencies in Volusia and Flagler
counties, reported contribu-
tions were down 6.4 percent
from last year, coming in at
about $2 million.
SALAZAR
— and if — they could live with
Agency leaders, who face cuts
from 5 percent to 20 percent,
were calculating Tuesday how
the decreases without reducing
services.
Only the Volusia branch of
To him, smoke smells like fine wine. His favorite song is ‘‘Trees.’’
And his mother had the forethought to name him Timber.
Timber Weller explains about combustible material buildup that adds fuel to wildfires.
Beating the Beast
Did You Know?
Timber Weller of the Department of
Forestry isn’t the only local whose
name fits his occupation:
A VET NAMED NIPPER: Port Orange-
based veterinarian Robert Nipper, DVM.
JUSTICE SPEAKS: Molly Justice,
spokeswoman for the courts of the 7th
Judicial Circuit.
— Compiled by News Researcher
Karen Duffy
SOURCES: News-Journal research
Area hospitals survive ratings race
By ANNE GEGGIS
STAFF WRITER
Just as all your children are above
average, so it seems are the area’s hos-
pitals.
The latest round of awards from two
national hospital consulting compa-
nies shows that all three of the hospital
systems in Volusia and Flagler coun-
ties are rated tops in at least two areas,
such as stroke or gastrointestinal
treatment, if not general excellence.
A spokesman for Florida Hospital
DeLand said a billboard is planned to
advertise its latest achievement. The
hospital is one of the ‘‘Solucient 100
Top Hospitals: Performance Improve-
ment Leaders’’ for a second consec-
utive year.
But other studies show a wholly dif-
ferent result.
HealthGrades.com, a company like
Solucient that sells its hospital quality
analysis, honored Florida Hospital De-
Land only for its orthopedic services
out of 11 categories. Apparently
HealthGrades.com’s measurements
are more favorable to Halifax Medical
Cyan
SECTION C
WEDNESDAY
MAY 24, 2006
THE NEWS-JOURNAL
gram the agency planned for
families in crisis, given the cuts
in its allocation. The army’s so-
Second Harvest Food Bank es- cial services and emergency
caped unscathed. Last year’s MORE ONLINE shelter were reduced by $7,380.
funding was continued because ‘‘I knew the campaign was
See a complete list of the
the local United Way gives pro-
portionately less to that agency
than United Way chapters in
local United Way’s partner
agencies:
news-journalonline.com
having some difficulty, but I
was surprised it was as deep a
cut as it was,’’ Harwell said.
surrounding counties.
‘‘Katrina hit the coast on Aug.
28 — about the same time as our
fall campaign began,’’ said Ray
some point, a donor is going to
‘‘We’ll do our very best not to
curtail our services.’’
Each agency’s allocation was
HARWELL
Salazar, president of the United
Way of Volusia-Flagler Coun-
ties, theorizing that ‘‘donor fa-
say, ‘I’ve given enough.’ ’’
Capt. P. Mark Harwell, corps
officer of the Salvation Army,
reduced according to ratings as-
signed by United Way volun-
teers. The more critical the
tigue’’ set in after people gave to
high-profile charities working
in the Gulf Coast region. ‘‘At
said he’s not sure whether his
organization will be able to exe-
cute a long-term assistance pro-
SEE STORM, PAGE 7C
anne.geggis@news-jrnl.com
Turtle
eggs
may have
been hurt
By MELANIE STAWICKI AZAM
STAFF WRITER
NEW SMYRNA BEACH — Turtle
tracks left officials wondering if
a sea turtle nest was damaged by
heavy equipment in a dune res-
toration project.
‘‘It was inconclusive whether
there was a nest laid by the ani-
mal or not,’’ Joe Nolin, manager
of the Ponce de Leon Inlet and
Port District, said Tuesday. ‘‘It
appears to be a false crawl,’’
meaning a turtle came up on the
beach, may have even dug a nest
but didn’t lay any eggs.
Apparently, turtle tracks were
seen on the beach Saturday
morning near Ocean Reef Con-
dominiums, in the 1500 block of
South Atlantic Avenue, Nolin
said. But no eggs were found.
There was then a time lapse
between when the tracks were
found and the marking of the
possible nest, so contractors be-
gan grading the area. Concern
arose when it was discovered
heavy equipment may have
rolled over the turtle nest and
damaged it, Nolin said.
‘‘It was just an unfortunate in-
News-Journal/ROGER SIMMS
cident on our part,’’ said Bob Er-
nest, president of Ecological
Associates Inc., the county’s sea
turtle environmental consultant
who monitors that stretch of
beach. ‘‘There was some misun-
derstanding about procedures.’’
His company reported the in-
cident to state and federal wild-
life agencies, then investigated
and excavated the area Saturday
and Sunday.
‘‘We don’t know for sure
Getting burned leads to job teaching about fire whether or not it was a nest —
the 800-acre brushfire. A tan safari hat that’s the bottom line,’’ Ernest
By SETH ROBBINS said.
STAFF WRITER rests on his head and his uniform flaps
in the wind. This perch is as close as he Ecological Associates field bi-
EDGEWATER — The column of smoke ologist Dave Wise said five turtle
is willing to go. Staring at the inferno
swells as Timber Weller races toward it, from behind a pair of sunglasses, he nests — including the one that
his radio crackling with information appears to be a false crawl —
lights a cigarette.
about the third wildfire to ignite this ‘‘It’s uncanny the way it does the worst have been dug since nesting sea-
month in Southeast Volusia. son started May 1 in the five-mile
thing possible,’’ he says, not usually a
Traffic cones block his path. guy to talk in metaphors. ‘‘It’s almost dune restoration work area,
‘‘That’s why I’ve got the pretty red which lies south of Sapphire
like a sentient demon is behind it.’’
lights,’’ he says, officers lifting the barri- Road. Three nests have already
‘‘A lot of firefighters refer to it as ‘The
cade to Interstate 95. Beast.’ ’’ been moved and one was created
A shadow creeps across the highway
in the conservation zone. Eight
as billowing smoke blots out the sun.
SEE BEAST, PAGE 7C more nests were dug on six miles
Why would anyone want to inch closer?
of southern beaches,
Weller jumps onto a pylon to glimpse seth.robbins@news-jrnl.com
SEE TURTLE, PAGE 6C
melanie.stawicki@news-jrnl.com
By the ratings from the state Agency
for Health Care Administration re-
leased last November, performances
Thursday
COMING
What we’re planning
by area hospitals are a little more mid- in The News-Journal
dling with Halifax showing ‘‘more
than expected’’ rates of infection and
death from pneumonia.
The proliferation of ratings in the
past 15 years is the result of a conflu-
ence of factors: more evidence about
what makes good medicine, more tech-
nology that has made data easier to
crunch and wider use of the Internet
that has made data more accessible to
consumers.
These ratings are more than just a
marketing tool, health policy experts
say. Even if imperfect now, the ratings
News-Journal/JI-EUN LEE are the beginning of a movement that
A billboard of the Halifax Medical will inject more competition into hos-
Center’s ranking stands on Nova pital markets and pressure hospitals to
deliver better quality, according to Mi-
Road.
chael Counte, a St. Louis University
Homeless man’s
professor of health management, and killing
Center in Daytona Beach and Florida others.
Hospital Fish Memorial in Orange One brutal death — and the
City. Both were rated in the top 5 per- SEE RATINGS, PAGE 7C pain lingers a year later.
cent of the nation’s hospitals and they
have billboards announcing the honor. anne.geggis@news-jrnl.com
ï
Yellow Black
3PL0400W0531 3PL0400W0531 ZALLCALL 15 12:46:00 05/25/06 B

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4W Wednesday, May 31, 2006 NEWS-JOURNAL FOCUS The Daytona Beach News-Journal

To him, smoke smells like fine wine. His favorite song is ‘‘Trees.’’ And his mother had the forethought to name him Timber.

News-Journal/ROGER SIMMS
Timber Weller explains about combustible material buildup that adds fuel to wildfires.

Beating the Beast

Getting burned leads to job teaching about fire
By SETH ROBBINS
STAFF WRITER
EDGEWATER — The column of
smoke swells as Timber Weller
races toward it, his radio crackling
with information about the third
wildfire to ignite this month in
Southeast Volusia.
Traffic cones block his path.
‘‘That’s why I’ve got the pretty red
lights,’’ he says, officers lifting the
barricade to Interstate 95.
A shadow creeps across the high-
way as billowing smoke blots out
the sun. Why would anyone want to
inch closer?
Weller jumps onto a pylon to
glimpse the 800-acre brushfire. A
tan safari hat rests on his head and
his uniform flaps in the wind. This
perch is as close as he is willing to
go. Staring at the inferno from be-
hind a pair of sunglasses, he lights a
cigarette.
‘‘It’s uncanny the way it does the
worst thing possible,’’ he says, not
usually a guy to talk in metaphors.
‘‘It’s almost like a sentient demon is
behind it.’’
‘‘A lot of firefighters refer to it as
‘The Beast.’ ’’
But The Beast burned Weller and
he can never hop in the saddle of his
tractor again — the heat could kill
him.
Did You Know?
Timber Weller of the
Department of Forestry isn’t
the only local whose name
fits his occupation:
A VET NAMED NIPPER: Port
Orange-based veterinarian
Robert Nipper, DVM.
JUSTICE SPEAKS: Molly
Justice, spokeswoman for the
courts of the 7th Judicial
Circuit.
— Compiled by News
Researcher Karen Duffy
SOURCES: News-Journal research
Weller, 43, once fought the fires
that run wild and he is the man to
have on the front lines. To him,
smoke smells like fine wine. His fa-
vorite song is ‘‘Trees’’ by the hard
rock band Rush.
And his mother had the fore-
thought to name him Timber.
‘‘There is nothing more thrilling,’’
he said, ‘‘than diving into the woods
on a tractor. You against the fire.
Who is going to win?’’
It was a small fire in March 1993,
two miles from his home in Putnam
County. Weller, a state Division of
Forestry ranger, was riding a
tractor 150 feet ahead of a 1-acre
blaze digging fire breaks when the
winds shifted and an air mass de-
scended. The fire exploded. Treetops
burst into flames, a ceiling of fire
heading toward him. He stopped.
‘‘I knew I was going to get run
over,’’ he said, wistfully. He has pic-
tured the scene many times and has
never determined how he could
have changed the outcome.
Without enough time to deploy
his fire tent, a hut made of fire-resis-
tant material, Weller pulled off his
glasses, gulped some air and cov-
ered his face.
Flames burning at 550 degrees
Fahrenheit enveloped him for about
35 seconds — the charred remains of
his clothing would later show the
fire was gobbling land at 55 mph.
Most brush fires reach speeds of
only 1 to 2 mph. After the flames
passed, he pumped the foot pedals of
his tractor and rode out of the fire,
saving his own life.
Friend and fellow ranger Tracy
Walters found him lying in an am-
bulance, skin peeling from his body.
He looked like one big blister, Wal-
ters said. Burns covered 70 percent
of his body. Doctors said he
wouldn’t survive.
‘‘I attacked that fire with a differ-
ent attitude,’’ Walters said. ‘‘I was
thinking about killing the fire; it
was personal.’’
Weller lay in an isolation unit for
two months as surgeons harvested
skin from his stomach to replace
what had been seared off his arms,
upper back and face.
After two to three years of physi-
cal therapy and spending time in a
suit slathered in shark oil, his burns
healed. In 1998, he graduated from
the University of North Florida in
Jacksonville, just in time for one of
the worst wildfire seasons on re-
cord.
A fire now burned inside Weller,
hating to watch smoke rise in his
rearview mirror. But the fire that
nearly killed him left him without
sweat glands. If he fought a fire in
the sun, his body would overheat,
and he could die.
When the 1998 fires were over, a
study showed part of the reason the
state was caught unprepared was
education. Weller’s two passions
collided: He graduated with a teach-
ing degree and he loved to talk about
wildfires. He became a fire mitiga-
tion specialist with the Division of
Forestry based in Bunnell, someone
who talks to the media and the pub-
lic about how to prevent wildfires,
and if they do occur, how to protect
houses. Since starting his position,
wildfires have decreased from about
5,000 to 2,500 a year.
‘‘It’s pretty fitting,’’ Walters said.
‘‘He not only faced The Beast, he felt
The Beast and survived. Who better
to speak of it?’’
The scars tracing his arms and
face make it hard not to listen.
When a fire billows, like the one
recently in Edgewater, Weller once
again races toward the smoke — he
just doesn’t go so close.
‘‘Getting burned over is some-
thing you want to do once or less,’’
he says. ‘‘I’m one of the best media
escorts, because I ain’t letting it
catch me a second time.’’
On Interstate 95, his phone blares,
reporters wanting to ask him the
same questions. Before answering,
his eyes linger over The Beast,
watching its movements, the shades
of smoke and how the helicopters at-
tack it.
Between his thumb and finger, he
stubs out his cigarette. His well-
manicured hands, one of the few
body parts not scarred, are left un-
harmed.
seth.robbins@news-jrnl.com

Ormond Beach Fire Chief Baker still excels

By EILEEN ZAFFIRO
STAFF WRITER
ORMOND BEACH — When Barry
Baker was growing up in Pitts-
burgh, pretty much nothing fore-
shadowed the 40-year career he’s
had in firefighting.
Baker’s dad was a regional
manager for a grocery store
chain, and he wanted his son to
be a doctor. Baker dreamed of
going to forestry school at Syra-
cuse University, but a few fateful
events steered him toward big
red trucks and blazes.
When he was 12, a heart attack
stole the life of his 48-year-old fa-
ther. Baker still recalls his dad
being taken away in a station
wagon that served as the local
police department’s ambulance
service.
‘‘They didn’t even have oxy-
gen,’’ marveled Baker, who ear-
lier in his career was trained as
an emergency medical techni-
cian and has been Ormond
Beach’s fire chief since 1997. ‘‘He
died the same day.’’
When Baker was 15 he started
to follow in his father’s footsteps
and worked at a small grocery
store. A woman he worked with
was married to a volunteer fire-
fighter, and when an electrical
fire broke out at the grocery
store one night he got to meet his
co-worker’s spouse.
Baker was intrigued by the
firefighter’s offer to join him on
the volunteer force.
SNAPSHOTS
Portraits of Local Lives
So Baker claimed to be 16 and
showed up at the station one day
back in 1966.
‘‘I started going to fires with
no training,’’ recalled Baker, 55.
‘‘They just gave me a coat and
gloves and said come by when
there’s a fire. Once I did get some
training, I thought it was pretty
interesting.’’
A high school guidance coun-
selor told him firefighting was a
dead end career, but he ultimate-
ly ignored that advice and went
on to get a bachelor’s degree in
fire administration from George
Mason University and a mas-
ter’s degree in administration
from Central Michigan Univer-
sity.
Now, at an age when many sea-
soned firefighters hang up their
equipment for good, Baker is
still excelling in his career.
Last year, he was named Volu-
sia County fire chief of the year.
Last month, he was honored in
Tallahassee as Florida’s fire
chief of the year.
Those two honors were
stacked on top of an already long
list of accomplishments.
He’s a technical expert for the
International Association of
Fire Chiefs Intrastate Mutual
Ormond Beach Fire Chief Barry Baker pretended to be older
to get his first firefighting job.
Aid System, and in 2004 and 2005
he was the Florida State Emer-
gency Response Coordinator.
In July, he’ll become the first
vice president of the Florida Fire
Chief’s Association.
As the state emergency re-
sponse coordinator, he was re-
sponsible for the deployment of
fire and rescue resources during
disasters.
That position led him to Punta
Gorda and St. Lucie County dur-
ing the 2004 hurricanes, and Mis-
sissippi after Hurricane Katrina
devastated the Gulf Coast.
News-Journal/NIGEL COOK
His disaster coordination ex-
pertise came in handy again this
spring when he took a leader-
ship role in the emergency re-
sponse to a string of area
wildfires.
When Baker was ready to be-
come a full-time firefighter, the
Pittsburgh Fire Department was
laying off firefighters. So he ex-
panded his job search and land-
ed in Fairfax, Va.
Baker has no shortage of inter-
esting tales from his four-decade
career.
He can’t forget finding the
body of a little boy, about 5 years
old, who accidentally started a
house fire using a lighter to look
for the GI Joe doll that got stuck
under a chair.
He still carries indelible
images of a disaster at a high rise
under construction in Virginia
in the 1970s. The top floors gave
way, and a horrific domino effect
caused a collapse. Thirty con-
struction workers were killed.
‘‘People were trapped. Doctors
were doing autopsies on site to
extricate people,’’ Baker said.
Baker seized promotion oppor-
tunities, and at one point he was
the youngest battalion chief in
the Washington, D.C., metro
area. He eventually became as-
sistant chief in Fairfax.
Beyond the interesting work,
Baker cherishes the close bonds
he’s developed with other fire-
fighters.
One of those close friends is
Don Barklage, now a battalion
chief who worked under Baker’s
command in Fairfax from 1978
until Baker left for Ormond
Beach in 1997.
‘‘As my supervisor and men-
tor, he helped me tremendous-
ly,’’ Barklage said. ‘‘He was great
to work with and for. He not only
had a lot of experience, but he
was a very progressive supervi-
sor . . . He was always improving
himself with training.’’
Bob Mandarino, an Ormond
Beach firefighter and the
union’s president, also has deep
admiration for Baker.
‘‘He has vast knowledge of the
service,’’ Mandarino said. ‘‘He’s
been very upfront and easy to
work with. We can talk openly
. . . He’s not intimidating at all.
He talks to all ranks. We get
along well with him.’’
He loves his work, and even
when he steps down as chief, he
said he’ll probably still work a
few days a week.
He might teach — something
he’s already done intermittently
— or work for the Homeland Se-
curity Department.
‘‘I’m active. I can’t sit,’’ he
said. ‘‘When I’m at home I don’t
like to do nothing. I’m the only
one in my neighborhood who
cuts my own grass.’’
He also loves to ride his motor-
cycle, get out on his boat, and
spend time with his wife, two
grown daughters and grandson.
Baker doesn’t know when he’ll
retire.
‘‘I made a deal with myself to
work here five years. It’ll be nine
years in September,’’ said Baker,
who oversees a $5.2 million bud-
get and 53 firefighters.
He said he’ll remain chief as
long as the answer to two ques-
tions he asks himself remain
yes: Am I making a difference in
what I’m doing here, and am I en-
joying what I’m doing?
eileen.zaffiro@news-jrnl.com
ï

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