By Dan Morse
Washington Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
If he could do it again, Charles "Junior" Woodland said of the home repair project gone awry, he wouldn't try to thaw frozen pipes with a propane torch.
"I would have left it alone," Woodland, 63, said recently, recalling the fire that destroyed part of his Southern Maryland home.
Every winter, people across the nation burn down all or part of their homes this way. The phenomenon is rare, but it led to the death last month of an 86-year-old Wyoming man, and it prompts warnings from the American Red Cross, insurance companies and fire departments.
"Never use a torch!" the Fairfax County Fire and Rescue Department advises on the frozen-pipe section of its Web site. Department spokesman Dan Schmidt said Fairfax sees an average of one such fire a year, adding, "The sensible thing is to call in a plumber."
But like many weekend handymen, Woodland figured he would give it a shot. He lives in a one-story, three-bedroom house owned by his mother, Madeline Woodland, 81, in the Bel Alton community of Charles County.
Madeline also lives there, having moved in 45 years ago. She raised all but the oldest of her 15 children inside. They come back for gatherings, including at Christmas, squeezing more than 50 bodies inside. "She is the glue that holds us together," one of Madeline's daughters, Thelma Woodland, likes to say.
On the morning of Dec. 8, the temperature dipped below 24 degrees. At 11 a.m., Madeline sat in her living room, sorting her more than 10 medications for diabetes, high blood pressure and other ailments. Her son became convinced an outside pipe was frozen.
Limping from a car wreck years ago, he walked outside to the north side of the house, blocked from the sun. A five-foot storage tank held kerosene, which was fed via copper pipe to a furnace in the house.
On the ground: a blue electrically-heated cord, designed to wrap around pipes to prevent freezing. The cord had been removed during repairs to the tank. Woodland had meant to reattach it. Now it was too brittle. He got his torch.
Fire prevention experts interviewed said they do not track how many fires start this way.
In Maryland, deputy state fire marshal Jason Mowbray estimated that his agency handles one or two such fires a year but said that probably was a conservative statewide total, because his agency investigates only certain fires. A dozen years ago, Mowbray said, a Western Maryland man was torching frozen pipes when his house blew up because of a gas leak, and he was killed.
In Virginia, state Fire Marshal Ed Altizer said the fires have popped up occasionally in his more than 30-year career. "It's been a problem for us for that entire time," he said.
In Washington, where the housing stock does not lend itself to pipes freezing as easily, a fire department spokesman found no record of such fires in the past five years.
Fire officials say that what Woodland tried -- torching heating fuel lines -- is particularly dangerous. Torching frozen water lines also is risky. Copper pipes can carry heat several feet to flammable materials behind walls. Torching also can thaw water so quickly it boils, rupturing the pipe and spraying scalding water.
In 1993, The Washington Post published an Associated Press article that suggested using a torch, along with two provisions: Place a doubled-up piece of sheet metal behind the pipe to contain heat, and "keep a fire extinguisher handy just in case."
But extinguishers hardly guarantee safety. At an Alberta, Canada, apartment building, according to one notable example, maintenance workers torching a frozen drain pipe ignited nearby insulation. They tried a fire extinguisher. No luck. Of the firefighters called to the scene, five were injured when a ceiling collapsed.
Winter brings out all kinds of ill-advised fire-safety behavior.
Barbecue enthusiasts place briquettes inside fireplaces. Unlike regular fires, which produce enough heat to create an upward chimney draft, barbecues are cooler and can send carbon monoxide drifting into the home. Others dispose their Christmas trees in the fireplace, creating the opposite effect: fires so hot they can ignite the chimney. Some owners of kerosene space heaters, wanting toasty toes, place them against cloth-covered ottomans or fill them with gasoline.
In Charles, it is unclear exactly how Woodland's torch led to the fire. A spark may have ignited part of the house. When Woodland saw the fire, he hurried inside.
"Mama, get out of the house!" he yelled.
Using her walker, she made her way to a large tree in the front yard, blocking herself from the wind. Her son tried to douse the flames with buckets of water, making three trips inside the house -- the last one nearly trapping him inside the debilitating smoke. He was able to call 911.
Firefighters stopped the blaze, saving the bedrooms and much of the living room. Investigators ruled it accidental, assessing damage to the house and contents at $150,000.
Junior and Madeline have moved in with family members. They plan to move back to the house after it is repaired.
Last week, a daughter brought Madeline to the house, which was cleared of enough smoke for her to reenter for the first time since the fire. She slowly walked to her houseplants. They were badly burned, but she found one bulb and one surviving plant, which she placed in a plastic bag to take with her.
She wheeled to her bedroom, finding it in better condition.
It could be a lot worse, Madeline said. She had looked forward to Christmas at a daughter's large house in Upper Marlboro. Without everyone squeezing into the old house, though, it won't be the same.
"I wish I could be here in my little home," Madeline said.
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