From drawing up emergency plans and coordinating projects to establishing relationships with first responders, the tasks of preparing and educating a county population about what to do when disaster strikes can be overwhelming, even with the resources and staff to do it. But in most small jurisdictions in remote areas of the U.S., one person is commonly charged with doing all of that and with very few resources.
But these emergency managers survive and even thrive by embracing collaboration and taking the challenge of doing more with less in rural communities head-on. For example, in Wilkin County, Minn., which has a population of just under 6,600, Emergency Management Director Breanna Koval depends on her colleagues in surrounding counties for all facets of her job. She explained that because of her location in west central Minnesota, almost all the counties are one-person shops and they stay in constant contact with one another.
“On a daily basis we’re always asking one another questions on how we do things,” Koval said. “What agencies we’re talking to, contacts for agencies, how things were accomplished.”
That sense of togetherness seems to echo throughout many of the one-person emergency management offices in remote areas. The general sentiment among emergency managers in those situations is one of resolve to get the job done and lean on one another for support.
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Dave Rogness, emergency services coordinator of Cass County, N.D., called his job “all about relationships.” He’s responsible for emergency plans and response activities for 27 incorporated cities and 52 townships in Cass County. The only city not in Rogness’ purview is Fargo, which has its own emergency manager. The two operate under a joint powers agreement, so when one person is out of town, the other is on call.
Rogness coordinates with 17 fire departments, along with a variety of ambulance units and law enforcement personnel.
“We try to involve as many of those entities as we can, because frankly, I have no staff,” Rogness said. “It’s me and a secretary that I share with some other folks, and I really have no resources either. I have no equipment to be able to train or respond or do any of those kinds of things.”
Establishing Priorities
Resource-challenged emergency managers must find alternative means to get projects done. From establishing volunteer groups to prioritizing the workload, many said it’s a balancing act to keep a location as prepared for a disaster as it should be.
Tricia Kriel, emergency manager of Ransom County, N.D., which has a population of approximately 5,400, keeps it simple. What she works on during a week depends on what’s the most pressing need at the time. If there’s a flood, everything else gets pushed to the side until the entire emergency period is over. Her approach is mimicked by many of her colleagues in one-person shops.
Doug McGillivray, former emergency manager of Yamhill County, Ore., took an organized but basic approach to his job. He kept a simple white board in his office listing all the projects he was working on in one column, and all the activities he wanted to be involved in, in another column.
McGillivray said people would be amazed by how many items from each column switched places during a year. He retired last October, but called his old job a “tap dance” regarding priorities. Koval agreed with that assessment and said that like McGillivray, she’s big on lists. At any given time, she has a checklist of tasks she’s identified as her priorities for a week, month or quarter, and works off of it.
“What’s a priority this afternoon may not be tomorrow morning — things change,” McGillivray said. “The important [projects] get done, those of less importance, they languish, but we pay attention to them as we can.”
Outreach Activities
Community engagement is a critical factor for preparedness in small jurisdictions. From coordinating volunteer groups to connecting with the public online through social media, getting people to sit up and take notice about what needs to be done in their neighborhoods could make a big difference in the event of a disaster.
Rickey Jaggers, director of the Pontotoc County Emergency Management Agency in Mississippi, (population of nearly 30,000) drawsheavily on volunteers throughout his jurisdiction. While Jaggers is responsible for drafting all the emergency management plans for the municipalities and schools in the county, when an emergency happens, people are ready to pitch in and help.
The county operates off 15 specific functions to staff its EOC, and Jaggers has volunteers for all of them. He’s currently training new people to be backups, so that the county is two-deep for every position.
McGillivray has found enormous success with volunteers as well. When he took the job with Yamhill County in December 2008, he placed a priority on building up the county’s Community Emergency Response Team. It now has more than 400 members, including 25 volunteers that are licensed amateur radio operators.
According to Rogness, one of the advantages when working in a small or remote county is citizens realize that during an emergency, everyone is expected to lend a helping hand. He said his biggest priorities are behind-the-scenes tasks and networking to make sure everyone is on the same page about what to do during a disaster.
From business owners to schools and nonprofit organizations, Rogness said all entities have a role to play. While it’s still primarily a volunteer-based system, it works and helps Rogness get his job done before, during and after an emergency.
For example, during flooding, the county’s universities, high schools and junior high schools are activated to fill and place sandbags. That stems from Rogness’ relationships with school superintendents. The schools provide the students, transportation and staff members to assist and coordinate the groups.
Outreach also can extend in the opposite direction. Jaggers recalled when an F3 tornado ripped through parts of Mississippi and Alabama a few years ago, he jumped in his own vehicle as a citizen and went to Tuscaloosa to help the area. Jaggers said it was a way to “pay it back” when others come up to assist him, and he believes most emergency managers in smaller areas would do the same.
“We go and help one another,” he added. “We don’t really care about the money.”
Technology also plays a part in prepping a community for a disaster. Kriel and Koval use social media to spread the word to residents about preparedness activities and important news regarding emergency planning. Both managers primarily use social media to remind people about severe weather expected in their respective counties. But it helps let people know what they should be doing, particularly if there’s going to be a flood.
In addition, old-fashioned newspaper advertisements and mailings have also been helpful, particularly for Koval during National Preparedness Month in September.
“We’ll send something to the paper, or I send packets of information to day cares, schools and group homes to target those more at-risk populations,” Koval said. “I try to be present at larger events like National Night Out or some of the senior events in town where they have information fairs.”
Challenges
Like many public-sector offices, money is always a difficult obstacle. Most of the one-person emergency management departments operate on small budgets that are significantly supplemented by funding from FEMA’s Emergency Management Performance Grants (EMPG) program.
While Yamhill and Cass counties have budgets of approximately $300,000 and $200,000, respectively, much of that comes from EMPG. By way of comparison, Ransom, Wilkin and Pontotoc counties are all well under $100,000. Most of those budgets are used to pay the emergency manager’s salary, administrative staff costs and program implementation. There isn’t a lot left over for extensive marketing campaigns or training. “EMPG is vital for my department because it pays to have me here,” Koval said. “But it doesn’t pay all of it. We get a small allocation, so it means I can only use so much. It pays a portion of my salary and that’s about it. The county is responsible for covering the rest.”
Jaggers is in a similar boat. His fiscal 2013 budget was $63,000, which covers his salary, costs to operate the office and half the salary of an administrative assistant he shares with another department. Jaggers said if EMPG funding disappears, his job would end because the county can’t afford to keep him full time.
Koval is most concerned with a lack of equipment and responders. EMPG funding is based on population, and because Wilkin County is small, there just isn’t enough money to adequately stock up resources in case of an emergency. If something happens, she’ll pull in equipment from the state or ask another county, but the lag time could result in loss of life or further property damage.
Another concern is the increasing frequency of school shootings. The risk of a shooter infiltrating an educational institution is real, and emergency managers are concerned.
From a lack of time to not having the authority, preparing a community for this threat can be difficult, particularly since not every county government is responsible for the emergency plans in educational facilities.
For example, Kriel said that although the schools in Ransom County are responsible for their own emergency details, she’s still in the midst of planning an “active shooter” exercise using some contractors — just so she and colleagues from other counties are prepared.
McGillivray thought that minimally, emergency management should be a presence in schools twice a year and that general preparedness information should be institutionalized in Yamhill County academic institutions.
“I don’t have time to do all this, and I’ve been squawking about it for 15 years,” McGillivray said.
