Back at It: The Life, Legacy, and Last Call of Assistant Chief Matt Anderson

Back at It: The Life, Legacy, and Last Call of Assistant Chief Matt Anderson

By Kenyon Kemnitz

If you sat still for even five minutes around Matt Anderson, you knew you were doing it wrong.

For more than 32 years in Fire and EMS, Matthew Anderson didn't just work in public safety, he helped define what the field is all about. A gifted problem-solver and mechanic, he could fix almost anything. Whether he was tinkering with a stubborn engine late into the night, upgrading emergency vehicles, or fixing complex equipment issues, Matt operated on a different frequency. Driven not by pay, but by a deep commitment to helping others, he was the kind of guy who would pick up extra ambulance shifts to ensure Johnson Creek was covered when no one else was available.

“It’s what he lived and breathed,” said Braden Burger, Johnson Creek Firefighter/Advanced Emergency Medical Technician. “He truly liked being able to help people. If he had any free time, he wanted to spend it serving someone or his community.”

Matt also wasn't the type to lead from behind a desk. He worked alongside his crews, tackled the toughest jobs, and shared his knowledge freely. Respected for both his expertise and his humility, he constantly pushed those around him to make the fire service stronger, always putting others before himself.

When stage 4 colorectal cancer he had quietly and fiercely fought for seven years became too much, Matt faced it with the exact same unyielding attitude he brought to every emergency call. He famously summed up the fight in his own blunt, signature way: he had "fought the asshole and won, until the asshole has won."

Guided by the belief that if you sit still, you die, he kept working for as long as he possibly could, pulling his last shift on April 1st despite the heavy physical toll.

Matt’s commitment to service extended far beyond his primary department. When he wasn't answering calls or managing operations, he volunteered his time with the Jefferson County Emergency Communications Squad (JCECs), handling traffic control and security at major regional events like the county fair. If there was a job that needed doing to protect or serve the public, Matt stepped up, expecting nothing in return.

Yet, underneath his dedication and technical mastery was a legendary, unpredictable streak of humor. Captain Wolf recalls that Matt had a certain "sass" that caught people completely off guard. He was a master at getting people to laugh in the training room or his office when they least expected it, using humor to cut through the heavy tension of the job.

That razor-sharp wit followed him right into his medical journey. Earlier in his career as an EMS transport driver, Matt had delivered countless patients to the Rainbow Hospice Care Inpatient Center (IPC) in Johnson Creek, knowing full well many of them would never leave. His personal mission on those transports was always simple. If he could give a frightened patient just one smile that day, then he did his job.

“He just made patients at ease and was able to joke with them and turn a bad time into a good moment and get them to chuckle and relax,” Burger said.

When the time came for hospice care, Matt made a deliberate choice. He didn't want to be tucked away among strangers. Choosing Rainbow was about more than receiving end-of-life care. He wanted to spend his final days surrounded by people he knew and trusted through decades of service, those who made the Inpatient Center truly feel like home.

While receiving care at an Oconomowoc hospital, Matt’s brother, Paul, alerted Rainbow RN Laura Nemeth they would likely be bringing Matt to the IPC. A small group of firefighters and EMS colleagues accompanied him on the emotional ambulance trip. Even as his condition worsened, Matt’s trademark humor remained intact. As a nurse tended to him, Matt locked eyes with Braden, pointed, and jokingly muttered, "Take them, take them," referring to extra sterilizing caps from the cabinet—a keepsake Braden still has today.

When Matt arrived, he was greeted by familiar faces, including Laura, whom he had known for several years through EMS transports. Their easy banter resumed immediately.

"Matt never stayed serious for long. If you weren't joking with him, he wanted to know what was wrong with you," Nemeth recalled.

Whenever he walked through the doors of the Inpatient Center to drop off patients, he’d look at Laura with a smirk and introduce her to them by joking, "Now we know we're in trouble," before assuring them "Well, I know I'm leaving you in good hands. She's kind of 'trouble,' but she'll take good care of you, I promise." His signature sassy streak came right through, proving that even on his own admission day, Matt was still Matt.

Braden had braced Matt for the reception waiting for him, and the turnout did not disappoint. More than forty vehicles, including engines and squads from across the departments and counties, flooded the IPC grounds, stretching all the way from Remmel Drive down Highway 26 for over a mile to honor a man who had spent decades answering the call.

“We had every truck in the county here, like every department at least. "It was breathtaking for sure," Burger reflected. "Even though he served this community for a short amount of time, in the fire service, you're all brothers and sisters and you're close together. When something happens, you show up and support each other.”

During his final days, Matt’s room became a sanctuary. Even Moxie, his loyal lab-mix dog, visited him at the IPC, bringing a familiar comfort to his room. Captain Wolf remembers a crowded night when roughly 30 firefighters packed shoulder-to-shoulder into his suite—a warm, intensely close gathering. Losing Matt was deeply personal for the captain and the entire department, marking one of the most difficult periods in their history. Yet, instead of dwelling on his own pain, Matt delivered a final masterclass in leadership to his crew.

"He told us to keep fighting and doing what is good for the department," Captain Wolf reflected. "He told us all to stay strong and stay close during the tough times. We all vowed to be stronger than ever because that is what Matt would want us to do."

On a warm and sunny afternoon, looking to grant him the fresh air he always craved, staff and family rolled his bed right out into the sunlight. Standing beside him, Laura delivered the kind of loving, no-nonsense sass he loved and respected: "All right, you're outside now. Clearly your soul's too big to be inside. Knock it off. We're done with this. You're just kind of hanging on. Nobody knows for what. You're outside now."

Surrounded by his dad, Gary, stepmother Connie, sister Darlene, brothers Paul and Karl, and close friends and fellow firefighters Amanda and Scott, Matt took his final breath just half an hour later. His spirit was simply too large to stay contained.

Inside his IPC suite, RN Laura Nemeth, IPC Manager Tamara Vogel, and the honor guard helped prepare for Matt’s final departure as a flag was draped over him. Led by Honor Guard Commander Brent Jones carrying Matt's fire helmet and radio, family, staff, firefighters, and EMS personnel gathered for a solemn walkout. Near the entrance, Jones called attention and Captain Scott Wolf called in the broadcast to dispatch. As his Final Call to Duty echoed over the radios, first responders in dress uniforms lined the halls in a silent salute as Matt was escorted out of the building. Though his time at the Inpatient Center lasted just five days before he passed away on Saturday, June 6, at age 51, Matt left a lasting mark on everyone around him.

"I got to see one of my best friends take his last breath, and our department was able to give him the proper send-off—one that he not only would have loved but truly deserved," Captain Wolf said.

"It was very emotional," Nemeth said. "Being part of that final call was incredibly touching and seeing that kind of support for one firefighter was amazing."

What followed was a tribute that reflected the deep impact Matt had on the firefighting and EMS community, with crews coming together from across the region to honor a man who had spent decades answering the call. Behind the scenes, Braden made 50 to 60 phone calls in a matter of hours to coordinate with units across Jefferson and Rock counties.

Outside, a sea of red and blue lights escorted Matt on his final journey down toward Beloit, aided by units from the Rock County Sheriff's Department. Overpass after overpass along the route was manned by local first responders standing at attention in a powerful show of respect, creating a massive traffic backup—a detail Braden noted would have given Matt a huge laugh. For those who knew him best, it was a fitting farewell to a man whose influence reached far beyond his own department.

"That final salute didn't create closure," Captain Wolf said. "It just made a new chapter in our life book. He is still with us on every call we go on and still in our hearts."

Today, Matt’s absence is felt throughout the Johnson Creek station. Colleagues still catch themselves reaching for their phones to call or text him or looking toward the office where he spent countless hours serving the department. Younger firefighters, deeply impacted by his drive, have found permanent ways to honor him, including one crew member who had Matt’s helmet shield tattooed onto his arm, while his original helmet was proudly presented to his son.

In the months since his passing, firefighters, family members, and community supporters have worked together to ensure his legacy lives on through memorial projects at both the station and the Inpatient Center, supported by community fundraisers and ongoing decal sales. The station has plans to feature his gear locker in a shadow box set up alongside a bench, while the department is also exploring the possibility of a brick or a bench in Rainbow's memorial garden.

Helping lead the memorial efforts has been a vital labor of love for Braden. Having known Matt since their days at Ryan Brothers Ambulance, he felt a responsibility to honor the mentor who helped shape his career.

"This is the least I could do to make sure the impact he had on so many people is never forgotten," Burger said.

Moxie also remains a comforting presence at the station. She still spends time around the firehouse as part of the crew, serving as a daily reminder of the warmth and dedication Matt brought to those around him.

When Captain Scott Wolf considers how the department moves forward, he believes Matt wouldn't have much patience for lingering sorrow. He doesn't see Matt's death as the end of a story, but the beginning of a new chapter shaped by the lessons he left behind. If Matt had one final message for his brothers and sisters in uniform, Wolf knows it would be delivered with that signature, but simple no-nonsense grit: "Get your shit together and keep going. Stop mourning me and do what I told you to do. Keep the place running, stay close, and get the job done."

It's a sentiment that echoes the motto displayed on Matt's truck and the words those closest to him still carry today: "Back at it."