Dec. 13, 2004
By Curtis Morgan, Oscar Corral And Tim Henderson
Miami Herald
In every hurricane that hit Florida this year, buildings that were supposed to be the strongest and safest -- emergency operations centers, police and fire stations, hospitals and hurricane shelters -- failed.
Santa Rosa County deputies fled their station as Ivan peeled off the roof. They went to the nearby emergency operations center, itself paralyzed without power, plumbing, phones or computers.
''We were basically isolated from the earth for about 12 hours,'' said sheriff's spokesman Don Chinery.
In small-town Arcadia, 1,200 evacuees were forced from the shelter in the Turner Agri-Civic Center when the roof, then a wall, buckled during Hurricane Charley.
''I had one boy under each arm, ready to run,'' said Julio Chavez, who endured the terror with his wife and two boys. 'People were saying, `We're going to die.' It would have been safer staying at home.''
A Herald survey of the 10 hardest-hit counties found that nearly 50 shelters and buildings considered ''critical facilities'' suffered structural, roof or other damage that left them useless for emergency services.
Emergency managers, politicians and engineers see a compelling case to toughen standards for buildings that serve vital roles in hurricanes. Particularly alarming, they say, is a pattern of failures at special-needs shelters for the infirm, elderly and disabled.
`RUDE AWAKENING'
''We have become somewhat complacent over the last few years,'' said state Rep. Gayle Harrell, a Republican from twice-battered Stuart, who wants structural inspections of all shelters. ``We have had a very rude awakening.''
Even before the worst hurricane season on record, the 2004 Statewide Emergency Shelter Plan offered a stark statistic: 55 of the state's 67 counties lacked enough shelter space to meet demand. Miami-Dade and Broward, with surplus space, were not among them.
Going into 2004, Florida lacked space for about 600,000 people -- more than half along the west coast, where low lands restrict the designation of buildings as shelters.
Many shelters were built under old codes and are of questionable quality, most of them outside Miami-Dade and Broward.
A PUSH FOR UPGRADES
State emergency managers say they have pushed counties to build tougher shelters and upgrade older ones.
Danny Kilcollins, Florida's shelter planning manager, said he knew of no shelters, other than in Arcadia, that he would label a ''major'' failure. He stressed that there had been no deaths and few injuries in shelters. If people can be moved around a shelter or walk away after a storm, lost roofs and leaky windows are ''acceptable levels of damage,'' he said.
Engineers assessing the damage for the Federal Emergency Management Agency could recommend tougher building codes next month. Although it is not on the official agenda, the Legislature also could weigh the issue in a session starting today.
In Florida, most ''critical facilities'' -- hospitals, police and fire stations, emergency operations centers -- are supposed to withstand at least 15 percent stronger winds than other structures, said Rick Dixon, executive director of the Florida Building Commission.
Because wind codes vary across the state, building strength also varies. In Miami-Dade and Broward, which adopted the state's toughest code after Hurricane Andrew, critical facilities built since 1992 are designed to withstand 160 mph winds or more.
But across Alligator Alley in Charlotte County, the Emergency Operations Center was housed in a metal building so weak that managers were worried about tropical storms. The stay was supposed to be ''temporary'' but lasted four years, said emergency coordinator Jerry Mallet.
When Hurricane Charley turned toward the coast and the flimsy roof started to flap, emergency managers rushed to the county jail for safety.
''I think we were caught behind the curve on that one,'' Mallet said.
Charley, which packed the highest winds of any hurricane this year, destroyed half of Charlotte's fire stations and shut down four of six public health service facilities. About 100 special-needs patients were terrified as the roof peeled off Pilgrim United Church, used as a shelter because the county didn't have anything stronger.
John Pistorino, a Miami structural engineer who helped rewrite South Florida's building code after Hurricane Andrew, said failures were predictable because communities downplayed the odds of a strike.
Some of the most troubling failures occurred at dozens of hurricane shelters.
In Hardee County, ''shelters were actually some of the worst-damaged facilities,'' said spokesman Richard Shepard. Charley knocked eight of 13 shelters out of commission.
Special-needs facilities proved particularly vulnerable. At least one suffered structural or roof failures in each hurricane. Others lost power, which can be more than an inconvenience for many frail evacuees.
In Melbourne, police, firefighters and medical workers struggled to move 350 people from Sherwood Elementary School when Hurricane Jeanne tore open a roof section at 2 in the morning.
Kathryn Nemitz, who has cerebral palsy, credited workers with keeping everyone calm, but she struggled against the wind as her wheelchair barely made headway.
`NEW ISSUES'
Mike Stone, spokesman for the Florida Division of Emergency Management, said, ``Mother Nature did throw some new issues on the table.''
Topping some engineers' list of concerns: The chief shelter standards are Red Cross guidelines that focus more on the number of toilets than on hurricane shutters.
Kilcollins, the state's shelter planner, said his agency didn't have the authority to order the structural inspections some want. ''All we can do is provide guidance'' to local officials, he said.
Counties are supposed to select the strongest buildings that also fit the Red Cross criteria. But in some cases, the state rejects them -- decertifying eight of 10 Red Crossapproved shelters in Okaloosa County before the hurricane season because they failed to meet standards for elevation.
The state also will help counties upgrade buildings -- most of them schools -- but the budget is limited, at about $3 million last year. Still, with state, local and federal money combined, about $48 million has been spent since 1999 to harden older shelters, cutting the capacity shortage in half.
Since 1997, state law also has ''recommended'' that counties build tougher new schools to serve as shelters -- structures designed to withstand winds 40 mph higher than code, a standard that engineers believe would cover even worst-case strikes.
But under the law, schools can be exempted if local emergency managers or the state Deparment of Community Affairs approves. A 2001 state audit showed that about one-third of new schools still were not built to the toughest standards.
`COUGH UP THE MONEY'
Tim Reinhold, vice president of engineering for the insurance-industry-supported Institute for Business and Home Safety in Tampa, said that this season, many communities got what they paid for. Among failures he saw were buildings in line for upgrades and newer ones built to low-bid standards.
''We are all trying to go for lower taxes, but at some point if you're going to provide the protection people need in these events, you've got to cough up the money,'' he said.
That is the biggest question after the nightmare season of 2004: Who coughs?
Many counties and schools insist that they just can't.
St. Lucie Administrator Doug Anderson said his county had asked the state since 2000 for help to put a stronger roof on its civic center. It came off during Hurricane Frances with 240 special-needs patients inside, many using oxygen masks or wheelchairs. They were moved around three times inside as the storm raged.
Now, Anderson said a county strapped by two strikes is worried about how to fix it before next season. ``We're in a real bad situation here.''
SPLIT THE DUTY
Some school administrators want to get out of the shelter business, or share the burden. The costs go beyond storm damage. At Westwood High in Fort Pierce, people were cooped up for two days without working plumbing. Many relieved themselves in classrooms. Carpet had to be ripped out, rooms sanitized.
Sue Hershey, chair of the Martin County school board, said that building Jensen Beach High to shelter standards added $1.5 million to its $48 million price. But the school survived with little damage.
Hugh Willoughby, a meteorologist at Florida International University's International Hurricane Research Center, noted that except during Charley's hit, most buildings failed at well below major hurricane-force winds.
In Arcadia, where the Turner Center -- billed to withstand 140 mph wind -- collapsed, doubt runs deep.
Louann DiMattesa, 47, a school custodian, ran 300 yards through the gale as the center collapsed behind her.
''I will never go back to a shelter,'' she said. ``If they say there's another storm coming, I'm leaving the state.''
Herald staff writer Larry Lebowitz contributed to this report.
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