As memories fade, Florida tinkers with building code
Lawmakes it easier to change standards built up after catastrophe
Before Hurricane Katrina, before Superstorm Sandy, there was Hurricane Andrew.
The intense Category 5 hurricane, a compact buzzsaw that ripped the roofs off thousands of South Florida homes 25 years ago, was so catastrophic that it led to sweeping changes in the insurance industry, weather forecasting and disaster response.
Floridians — shocked by acres of flattened houses — rewrote the state’s building codes, making them the toughest in the nation.
As memories of the horrendous destruction of Aug. 24, 1992, grow dim, the lessons learned from Andrew may be fading, too.
The building codes once hailed as the gold standard other states should emulate are under assault.
At the core of that growing dispute is a simple calculation: The tougher the building code, the more it costs to build a home.
Florida’s codes dictate construction methods, require wind testing and mandate extensive training and oversight for inspectors. Those standards, home builders argue, can add unnecessary costs that don’t amount to a hurricaneproof home. Insurers and homeowners’ associations say the tough codes save money in the long run.
This year, alarm bells went up all over the state capital, Tallahassee, when the Republican- led Legislature and GOP Gov. Rick Scott passed a law that untethers Florida’s code from international standards and requires fewer votes for the Florida Building Commission to make changes to the building codes.
Opponents said it opened the door for the commission, which is dominated by home builders and contractors, to weaken the codes.
Craig Fugate, the former head of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, the agency that responds to disasters, said Florida’s latest move sickened him.
“I don’t think builders are inherently evil people, but you’ve got to look at what their business model is,” said Fugate, who led Florida’s emergency management agency before heading FEMA. “The quicker they get to sell a home with the least amount of cost and the least time delays increases the money they make.”
Republican leaders and the state’s home builders say such concerns are overblown. Jeremy Stewart, a Crestview, Fla., developer and president of the Florida Home Builders Association, noted that the bill passed in Tallahassee did not change a single building code. Instead, he said, it simply modernized the process for updating the code.
There’s no reason, he said, to think developers will use the process to weaken the state’s building codes, and he bristled at the suggestion that builders simply seek to cut costs.
A BUILDING BOOM
For Florida’s builders and building officials, life could be defined as “before Andrew” and “after Andrew.”
The Florida peninsula juts straight into the tropical storm- prone area of the Atlantic known as “hurricane alley.” Before Andrew, South Florida hadn’t suffered a direct strike from a major hurricane since Hurricane King in 1950, said Michael Goolsby, director of building code administration for Miami-Dade County.
Year after year, hurricanes swept by, either slipping up the East Coast or falling apart in the Gulf of Mexico. “That’s more than 40 years,” Goolsby said. “That brings about a certain level of complacency.”
Construction boomed and the state’s population swelled. To curb haphazard home building, local governments created building codes, but they varied from county to county.
What codes did exist were frequently ignored. Ricardo Alvarez, a former state and federal building inspector, said contractors cut corners as the storm drought dragged on. Instead of using sturdier plywood under roofs, they used a cheaper, flimsier version of particle board. Instead of using roofing nails, they used staples. Then, Andrew hit. Its 145- mph winds tore apart the working- class suburb of Homestead, reducing entire city blocks to rubble. Debris torn from roofs or lifted from the ground turned into deadly projectiles, smashing windows and impaling people.
The numbers were staggering: 25,524 homes destroyed, 101,241 damaged and more than 40 people killed, according to the National Hurricane Center.
All told, Andrew led to $ 24.5 billion in insured losses, the costliest disaster in U. S. history at the time. Only Hurricane Katrina in 2005 and the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, cost more, according to the Insurance Information Institute. Andrew’s costs were so high that 11 insurance companies went bankrupt.
Andrew forced Florida leaders to examine disaster response, insurance laws and evacuation procedures. The Legislature created a state catastrophe fund, which stands at $ 17.6 billion, to help cover losses from hurricanes.
Lawmakers took the hardest look at the building codes. Why, they wondered, did thousands of roofs lift from their houses?
Investigators founds dozens of flaws but zeroed in on gables, the triangular areas of a house that sit on top of a masonry wall and under an arched roof.
Gables could be made from wood at the time, which investigators realized had created a glaring weakness easily exploited by hurricane- force winds. When water and wind got through the gable, the wind could lift up the entire roof or whip through the house, blowing out windows and doors.
Over the next decade, state leaders studied construction standards, negotiated with home builders and finally unveiled a statewide, mandatory building code that took effect in 2002.
The lessons of Andrew drove many of the building code changes. Inspectors had to approve building plans and sign off on all phases of construction. The entire “building envelope” of a home — every window, door, skylight or any point that could let in wind — had to undergo testing and approval.
FLORIDA SCALES BACK
Rather than embrace the success of the new codes, the state started walking them back.
During the legislative session this year, legislators pushed for big changes.
One proposal called for state officials to freeze the code as it stands, with only occasional updates. Another proposal called for a six- year cycle of updates instead of three.