Man overcomes phobia to fight fires

NOELLE FRAMPTON
ConnPost Article Last Updated: 07/17/2008 12:59:43 AM EDT

MILFORD — Jim DeVico was like a fish in the water when he was a kid.

Then, his father drowned in the line of duty as a Station 6 volunteer firefighter.

"After that, I kind of didn't like the water anymore," said DeVico, who shares his father's name.

But he deeply admired his father, to whom he'd felt very close, and was determined from a young age to follow in his footsteps and become part of the Milford firemen brotherhood. But because Milford is a coastal city, that meant overcoming his deep-seated fear to pass a swimming test.

It took a decade of trying — DeVico, 37, took the test, offered every two years, five times — but he finally passed it in April 2006 and was placed on the department's hiring list.

He was hired in November, was trained and worked his first shift at the Milford Fire Department June 10, and he loves his new job and the "family" of men around him.

"Every morning we clean the toilets — I don't care. I'm just glad to be here," DeVico said. "I love it. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

His father, the last Milford fireman to die in the line of duty, drowned on Oct. 25, 1980, in a violent coastal storm. While trying to evacuate residents, he was lost in 12-feet-high waves for two hours after the boat he was in capsized, according to Fire Department records.

His son was 9, waiting at the fire station for his father to return as he'd done many times before, since he was 3. His childhood goal of being a fireman intensified as years passed and he dreamed of reaching it before he passed 36, his father's age at death.

But while the required oral, written and agility tests were no problem, the safety and survival swim test — a 100-yard swim and 5 minutes of treading water — remained a daunting barrier.

"I know how to swim — I love swimming," he said. "But when I got into the water I used to have little panic attacks inside. I just had that in my head about [my dad]."

DeVico tried not to show it, but when the water got rough with the splashings of other swimmers, he lost his nerve and either stopped swimming or touched the wall, an automatic disqualification.

Finally, he decided that at the April 2006 test, he'd sink or swim.

"I'd taken it so many times," he said. "I said, 'I have to make it.' "

So DeVico enlisted the help of everyone he knew with swimming expertise. He spent every spare minute working toward his goal and every day he got in the pool.

Based on research and advice from friends and co-workers, he opted for the backstroke and "just took my time. For me, that was easier because my face was out of the water."

The test boosted his anxiety because so much was at stake, he explained. When he finished successfully, he laid down by the side of the pool in joyful disbelief.

Being in a pool doesn't bother him now, DeVico said, adding that he swam during his months in the fire academy earlier this year and felt fine.

DeVico said he was concerned that his mother, Rose Marie, wouldn't want him to be a fireman due to his father's untimely death, but he needn't have worried. She supported her only son wholeheartedly, even caring for his dog while he trained.

When he was hired, "I was elated," Rose Marie said. "That was his dream."

The whole Fire Department was rooting for him, too, something DeVico said meant a lot.

Firefighter Karl Hofmeister has been close friends with DeVico for more than a decade and supported him through his struggle.

"He wanted to be here so bad," Hofmeister said. "And we all wanted him to be here because of the family history."

Shortly after he knew he'd passed, DeVico called Hofmeister.

"He was screaming, he was ecstatic," his old friend said. "It was a big deal. I'm very, very proud. I think he's done more, over and beyond what most of us would've done."

So far, DeVico is doing a good job, Hofmeister said.

Acting Capt. Christopher Zak, who trained the new recruits for 10 days after they got out of the academy, agreed.

"You can just tell he's going to be an exceptional firefighter," Zak said. "He's doing all the right things. He's the last one to eat, but he's the first one to get up from the table to do the dishes."

Now, instead of commuting to emergency medical services jobs in Stamford and Greenwich, DeVico travels a few minutes down the road in the city where he's lived for 35 years.

"I'm partial to Milford," he said. "It's just home."