Published March 27, 2019

The cheers reverberated throughout White Oak Music Hall on election night even before Marty Lancton strode onstage, flanked by his lieutenants and supporters.

Lancton, the president of the Houston Professional Fire Fighters Association, drank in the crowd, reveling in victory.

"Brothers and sisters, families and supporters and friends, the voters of Houston have spoken," he said. "Proposition B is well on its way to passing!"

EARLY RETURNS: Houston's Prop B on firefighter pay 'parity' up in early returns

The room exploded in applause and whistles, as hundreds of firefighters and their families celebrated. They waved signs touting "Marty for Mayor," and toasted each other. At one point, a pipe-and-drum corps began playing, bagpipes blaring.

Proposition B — the voter-approved ballot initiative mandating "pay parity" for firefighters and police officers — would pass decisively that evening, after more than a year-long struggle between Lancton and Mayor Sylvester Turner.

Firefighters cheered their union boss that November evening, even if they didn't know exactly what would come. More than four months later, most firefighters are still waiting for their raises while hundreds of others face the threat of layoffs. The entire city has a stake in the outcome.

And Lancton, 38, has emerged as Turner's most ardent and consequential political foil, a rank-and-file-firefighter turned union boss stirred to activism by the deaths of fellow firefighters and decades of failed battles with City Hall, according to interviews with dozens of friends, current and former coworkers and political opponents.

Now, the two are embroiled in an increasingly high-stakes battle over firefighter pay, which culminated in the passage of Proposition B.

PROP B: Firefighters ask judge to force city to implement Proposition B

"If you had to pick one thorn in the mayor's side, the biggest one is definitely Marty Lancton," said Mark Jones, professor of political science at Rice University. "You do have to give him credit for being very effective in pushing through the popular vote, essentially overcoming the numerous hurdles Turner placed in his path."

Lancton had supported Turner's 2015 mayoral bid. Three and a half years later, relations between Turner and his one-time advocate have shifted beyond recognition.

Since the passage of Proposition B, the city has faced lawsuits and court actions and left dozens of firefighter cadets unhired. And though firefighter pay has yet to be resolved, the clash has already taken a toll on the city: credit analysts cited it as a reason to downgrade the city's credit outlook, and it was apparently a factor in the Democratic National Committee's decision to choose Milwaukee over Houston for its 2020 convention. The continued battle between firefighters and the city has already emerged as an issue in Turner's re-election bid this year.

The firefighters' union has a long history of aggressive negotiations with city leaders, but Lancton, a West University Place native who took over the union three years ago, raised the stakes with the unorthodox move of taking the issue of a pay raise straight to the voters.

As his fans cheered him election night, he was unapologetic for any potential fallout.

"I will defend the rights given to the firefighters by the citizens every single day," he said.

Marty Lancton, center, the head of the Houston Professional Fire Fighters Association, leads a march on City Hall over the labor dispute related to Proposition B on Tuesday, March 19, 2019, in Houston. Mayor Sylvester Turner recently told council members he intends to lay off up to 400 firefighters to fund the pay raises mandated by Prop. B. less Marty Lancton, center, the head of the Houston Professional Fire Fighters Association, leads a march on City Hall over the labor dispute related to Proposition B on Tuesday, March 19, 2019, in Houston. Mayor ... more Photo: Brett Coomer/Staff Photographer Photo: Brett Coomer/Staff Photographer Image 1 of / 11 Caption Close Marty Lancton profile 1 / 11 Back to Gallery

'Men for others'

Lancton developed a protective streak — and a relentless work ethic — from an early age.

The second-youngest of five in an Irish-Catholic family, he spent his early years in West University Place. His mother, Barbara, a local swim coach, died when he was nine years old. His father, Patrick Lancton, a property manager, worked long hours, leaving Lancton and his brothers to frequently fend for themselves. They lived for a time in Simonton before returning to Houston.

He and his brothers attended Strake Jesuit College Preparatory, a local all-boys Catholic school with more than 1,000 pupils. The Lancton brothers were a tight-knit bunch, recalled Elizabeth Jamerlan, a science teacher who taught Lancton and two of his brothers.

"Those kids always checked in on each other," said Jamerlan, who still teaches at the west Houston school.

Lancton threw himself into sports — basketball and water polo — and the school newspaper. He worked part-time jobs, starting at 14 as a lifeguard at a local YMCA. He also taught CPR and swim classes, and waited tables at Outback Steakhouse.

Decades later, Lancton still recites the school motto, "Men for others."

Even then, however, Lancton talked of being a firefighter, said Robert Cremins, a lecturer at the University of Houston who taught Lancton in high school.

Fate solidified his decision one evening a few weeks before high school graduation.

He returned home from work to find his father staring at the TV, mute and glassy eyed, aimlessly switching the channel. His father had had a stroke and heart attack, and would need bypass surgery. Lancton promptly turned down a scholarship to St. Louis University in Missouri to watch out for his dad and his little brother still at home.

"I didn't even think twice about it," he said.

His father recovered, only to die from cancer six years later, when Lancton was 24.

‘I don’t know if I can do that’

Lancton immediately set his sights on a career in the fire service, taking EMT classes at Blinn College and then enrolling at the Texas A&M Engineering Extension Service fire academy in College Station.

But first he had to get over one hurdle: Lancton didn't mind the idea of fighting fires, but blood terrified him.

"Reading textbooks is one thing, but seeing blood — it was like, 'I don't know if I can do that,'" he said.

After spending a 12-hour shift at a local emergency room for his EMT training, Lancton, then 18, knew he'd made the right choice.

"When you're put in a position where people rely on you, and it's their worst day, there's not an 'oops,'" he said. "You don't get to have an 'oops' moment."

His first firefighting job took him in 2000 to the Cedar Park Fire Department north of Austin. He juggled multiple jobs — a common practice among firefighters and paramedics — with several different fire departments including Manor, Channelview and Aldine-Bender. He also worked at a sign and lighting company, ran a bar and worked at a private aviation and yacht charter company.

In 2003, he joined the West University Place Fire Department, working in stations he used to visit as a child.

There were also signs of what would come. Court records show Lancton and five other firefighters sued the Channelview Volunteer Fire Department in 2005, accusing the department of misrepresenting the job, duties, pay and benefits. The suit, which sought at least $300,000 in damages, was ultimately settled, court records show.

‘The politician’

After six years at West University Place, Lancton took a hefty pay cut to join the Houston Fire Department in 2009, going through the department's academy on his way to a full-time position.

He threw himself into training, earning a reputation for his outspoken presence by encouraging others on training runs, finagling better assignments for his squad and letting other cadets routinely crash at his house.

"We called him 'the politician,'" said Perry McClendon, who sat behind Lancton during the academy. "If you needed something and he was able to give it to you, he would give it to you. And he would never ask for anything in return."

Tragedy struck that year. Fellow cadet Cohnway Johnson, 26, collapsed from heat stroke at the end of a four-mile training run and was rushed to the hospital. A week later, Lancton and another cadet sat by Johnson's bedside with his family during his final hours.

FAMILIES REMEMBER: A year since hotel fire tragedy, loved ones still coping

City leaders initially tried to deny death benefits for his relatives, a move that galled Lancton, his fellow cadets and the rest of the rank-and-file. The city eventually relented and classified his death as in the line-of-duty.

Fourteen years later, Lancton still keeps Johnson's name tag tucked inside his fire helmet.

Tragedy followed him to Station 51 after he left the academy. The station was among several that responded in 2013 to the Southwest Inn Fire, where four firefighters died and another was permanently injured and later died in what remains the worst tragedy in HFD history. Lancton ended his shift just hours before the fire and arrived at the hospital to find nurses wheeling a friend's body into a private room.

Families of the four who died that day sued the radio manufacturer, saying equipment failure contributed to the deaths. After the lawsuit was settled, city leaders tried to recoup money it had paid in death benefits, a move that enraged firefighters. The dispute — which played out in 2018 amid contract negotiations and the battle over Prop B — hardened everyone's position.

LAYOFFS: Turner to lay off up to 400 firefighters to fund Prop B raises

Those tragedies were a "driving force" for Lancton, McClendon said.

"I've assumed Marty has taken all of that over the years, and made a decision that he felt that he could provide a different outlook and mentality for the union," he said.

‘Is it good for the city?’

Lancton quickly channeled his outrage into new-found activism.

About 2014, he started going to the union hall on his off days, helping firefighters fight city grievances, then serving as the union's communications director.

Tensions grew under Mayor Annise Parker's term after firefighters — facing a city-wide economic downturn — agreed to a three-year contract in 2011 providing just a one percent raise in an effort to avoid layoffs.

After Turner took office in January 2016, he convinced state legislators to reform the pension systems for firefighters, police, and municipal employees, significantly cutting some benefits.

Firefighters, who hadn't gotten a raise since 2011, were irate.

"Houston firefighters are inherently the individuals not to ask for help," Lancton said. "They'll put duct tape around something. That's been part of the political problem: firefighters don't care about anything other than taking care of the citizens and making sure that if the [sirens] go off, that they're there for them.

"And when the leaders and the politicians that have the ability to affect change and to effect firefighters, and their families, and their lives, and they don't do the right thing, it is very frustrating."

When the union president abruptly resigned that year, Lancton ran to replace him but lost to longtime firefighter Alvin White. Lancton ran again in 2016 with the slogan, "Expect more," and won with 58 percent of the vote just months after Turner stepped into the mayor's office.

Under Lancton's tenure, the union has taken a more adversarial stance against the city, firing off a series of lawsuits alleging bad faith during contract negotiations.

When talks broke down, firefighters took the unusual step of forcing the pay raise initiative onto the ballot by collecting more than 60,000 signatures in a matter of days.

Turner campaigned against the measure, noting that it came with no funding source and stressing that the city operates under a voter-imposed cap on property tax revenues, the main source of funding for core city services like police, fire, parks and libraries. Rising property values have typically forced city council members to trim the property tax rate each fall to avoid collecting more revenue than the cap allows.

After voters approved Prop B — by a 19-point margin — the police union sued, saying it was unconstitutional. So far, judges have sided with firefighters.

"Is this the right move strategically for firefighters? The answer seems to be yes, they have greater leverage than the same groups in other cities that are fighting for higher pay," said Brandon Rottinghaus, a political scientist at the University of Houston.

"Is it good for the city?" he asked. "Probably not. The impact may disproportionately affect firefighters, given how the mayor has chosen to handle it, or may have broader implications, if that's changed."

'I will not stop'

Rank-and-file firefighters are quick to praise Lancton for his hands-on approach, for loudly and publicly advocating for firefighters and their families, and for his accessibility and personal touch.

Lancton's devotion to firefighters borders on piety: He describes them as "the brave men and women" of the fire service, routinely labeling them "heroes," and says they always get the job done despite low pay and poor equipment.

Supporters say he reinvigorated a demoralized rank-and-file, repaired relations with the black firefighters' association and other groups, and worked to make the union more inclusive.

"The union president should be firefighter rank," said Gaylon Davenport, a past president of the Houston Black Fire Fighters Association. "He's fighting from the bottom up — he's fighting from his rank up. He's fighting for everybody."

TRAINING DROUGHT: Harvey laid bare lack of resources, training at Houston Fire Department

In a state where labor groups are historically weak, Lancton has wielded the tactics of an old-fashioned New York ward leader — meeting hundreds of firefighters and going station to station and shift to shift.

"You have to be effective," Lancton said. "If you're not effective, then you can't positively impact the people that rely on you to advocate on their behalf."

Critics, however, say his relentless advocacy misses the bigger picture of what will make the city thrive as a whole.

They say Lancton has happily embraced bully tactics and demagoguery to achieve his ends, accumulating lawsuits, straining relationships and entangling the union in an uncomfortable fight with police labor groups over the pay issue. He regularly vilifies his ideological opponents, labeling them "vindictive" and "third-rate politicians" who are full of "hatred" for everyday firefighters.

The Houston Police Officers' Union sued in an attempt to block Prop B's implementation, saying it was unconstitutional.

"Marty is very tenacious in defending his people — he puts his people above everyone else, which is what you're supposed to do as a union leader," HPOU President Joe Gamaldi said. "However, there is a risk at pushing too hard, where you actually put your own people at risk and their jobs and livelihoods. And that's what I believe is happening right now."

Now Playing:

'No longer a political fight'

Now, Lancton and his members are locked in a power struggle with the mayor, who has proposed laying off hundreds of firefighters and 100 municipal workers to pay for the raises, which the city has pegged between $80 million and $113 million annually.

Lancton has relentlessly attacked Turner, accusing him of playing games with the city's accounting to avoid political embarrassment. Critics say Lancton's aggressive bargaining style could backfire by forcing sharp cuts to the fire department.

"It's one thing to take the fight to the mayor politically, and negotiate a contract," said Mustafa Tameez, former campaign manager to Mayor Bill White. "It's another thing to derail a city budget. Then the fight is no longer a political fight with the mayor, it actually starts affecting city services as a whole."

The first warning signs came days after voters approved the ballot initiative, when one of the nation's three credit ratings agencies, Fitch Ratings, downgraded the city's credit outlook, pointing to a possible future reduction in its credit rating. Fitch is owned by Hearst, the same company that owns the Chronicle.

BIDDING FAREWELL: Family, friends and thousands of mourners to remember 'Iron Bill'

Then earlier this month, the Democratic National Committee chose Milwaukee over Houston to host the 2020 Democratic National Convention. Prop B, critics contend, was likely a factor in the decision.

"Do I want layoffs? No. Do I want a reduction in service? No. But you have to balance the books," Turner said recently at a press conference, after declining a Chronicle request to comment about Lancton directly. "You can't send City Hall a huge tab, and then say, 'Go pay for it,' if you don't provide a funding source. I just don't think it's difficult for people to understand."

Parker, the former mayor, was equally aghast.

"Contract negotiations by popular vote, if they became a thing across the country, would hamstring government entities. It's a bad way to do business," Parker said. "That's not anything like a business. It's insane."

Firefighters shrug at those concerns. Some doubt Turner's resolve, others refuse to back down.

Lancton is resolute.

"I will not stop until what is earned, what is fair, and what the citizens of Houston have clearly stated, happens," he said.

'The voters are not stupid'

Today, Lancton works from an office at the union hall in Near Northside surrounded by firefighter and sporting memorabilia — Maltese crosses, bottles of whiskey given to the union by other departments, a poster of former Texans linebacker Brian Cushing, old firefighter gear — and pictures of Lancton's wife and child.

Tall, blocky and perpetually sunburned, he's traded his firefighting gear for a business suit, ostrich boots and French cuffs.

Earlier this month, he launched his latest salvo with a march on City Hall that drew hundreds of firefighters, their families and supporters. Some carried signs bearing new slogans: "The voters are not stupid, Mayor," and "Solidarity."

In a city with a lackluster labor movement that has rarely challenged authority, the protest was a rarity.

"The mayor and too many of these council members are waging a political and legal war against firefighters and their families," Lancton said, as the chanting sea of firefighters erupted into boos.

It was time to send a message to City Hall, he said: Keep your word, or we'll make you find another job come November.

Out in the crowd, two relatively new firefighters looked on, nodding approvingly.

They supported Lancton — and his crusade.

That didn't mean they weren't nervous. They both had fewer than five years with the department and both stood to lose their jobs if Turner followed through with proposed layoffs.

"We're on the chopping block," one said.

St. John Barned-Smith joined the Houston Chronicle in 2014 and covers public safety and major disasters. He has worked on two teams named Pulitzer finalists in recent years – for covering Hurricane Harvey and for helping show how Texas unlawfully denied education services to children with special needs. He previously reported in Philadelphia and Maryland and spent two years in the Peace Corps in Paraguay. Follow him on Twitter or email tips to st.john.smith@chron.com.

Design by Jasmine Goldband and Jordan Rubio

***