Story Author: John Slowsky
Lifeguard from 1969 – 1973
Notable achievements:
Member of 1st Rookie Team
National Champion in Lifeguard Competition
Brother of the first Female Beach Lifeguard in Modern Era
Wow, many stories, many experiences and all of them were molding a young man into adulthood with responsibilities beyond his age. Being accepted as a Lifeguard was an honor, being accepted among your peers was priceless. My simple joyous story begins on Bluebird Beach in the middle of the summer when the water is warm and beautiful. Bluebird was an easy beach to guard, mostly because it was so small and with the locals to your left (playing volleyball) and the numerous rocks straight out in front, the only real area to keep your eye for danger was to the north in front of the Surf and Sand Hotel. Charlie Ware, my best friend and fellow Lifeguard was guarding at Mountain Road to the North, with the Surf and Sand sandwich between us in equal distance. Although we were the best of friends, we were also as competitive as young lions. Charlie could swim circles around me, but I could do the same to him on foot. Charlie was easily the fastest in the water on the force, and I the quickest on foot. (That's how I won the Nationals). I remember always having a fancy for Fudgesicle, the ice cream. I still have a problem with ice cream and my body shows it. But on this particular day there was no fear in the tower, beautiful summer day, sparkling water with an occasional set of substantial size waves, but really no rips or cares. From training with Dale Ghere and Jack Lincke, we were taught as guards that if a rescue was questionable, hit the water anyway and check it out before it became an issue. Anticipate the problem when it was still in doubt and resolve it before it became an emergency. The worst thing that could happen was that you took a swim in the element that you loved so much anyway. So there I am with a Fudgesicle in my mouth when I see a little girl in front of the Surf and Sand beyond the shore breakers on one of those suicidal, flimsy, blow-up rafts. The little girl was about 10 years of age and obviously unfamiliar with the water by the way she struggled on her little raft. From my vantage point I could see a set coming in its slow march towards shore. I could also see that this little girl appeared to be in the perfect spot to catch the impact zone when this wave finally made it to shore. So I hit it, jumping out of my tower to take an easy jog down the beach without my fins and still with my almost consumed Fudgesicle in my mouth. Don’t ask me why I remember the ice cream but it’s true. Well as soon as I started making my move down the incline of the beach I looked way up North and saw Charlie Ware in the same action and motivation from Mountain Road. We must have both saw it at the same time and at the same time looked for each other in the distance.Then the testosterone kicked in and it was off to the races! Damn, no way I’m going to let Charlie beat me to that little girl, no way! I suck down the last of the Fudgesicle and toss the stick out of the way as I’m bolting at full speed. Charlie fired into high gear exactly the same time I did and the both of us are completely oblivious to anybody else on the beach. I'm grinning just telling this story all over again. I know I have an advantage over Charlie while we’re still on land, but I know he’ll surely catch me and possibly pass me in the water unless I keep a spark of a lead. I always try to imagine what this might have looked like if you were staying at the Surf and Sand Hotel from your balcony. Two, young, blond stallions charging down the beach in their sunbathed red trunks carrying their bright red emergency tubes; I mean the contrast to everyone else slowly moving on this beautiful day compared to two red blurs descending on one obvious location. Where are they going? Where's the emergency? Sure enough that lumbering wave finally made it to the shelf right in front of that little girl on her suicide raft. It must have looked huge to her and even more impressive to the people on the beach that never even saw it forming. This next part, try to read it really fast :) Wham! I pop my tube and in one motion I have it across my body while I’m still in midair before making my first plunge. Wham! Charlie hits the water next to me in almost the exact same time which alarms me so I have to sprint like there's no tomorrow. The wave has reached its peak and is cresting to break; the little girl is sideways and at the bottom of the impact zone. You could see her little eyes the size of saucers. Stroke, stroke, stroke goes the two sprinters with their trailing red tubes. I’m not gonna give Charlie the satisfaction of getting to her first... Crash goes the wave onto the little girl and almost instantaneously two lifeguards have dove below the crashing wave, caught the little girl under that lip, pulled her through the other side and lift her out of the water. She is both stunned and relieved as she becomes aware that she is suspended by a lifeguard on either arm. It was a tie; both Charlie and I are staring at each other as this little girl is raised over our heads. We both have grins surrounding our faces and the satisfaction that this race was so much fun. We both make the short swim in with this little girl and are greeted by her parents that are too grateful for what they just saw. Charlie and I wrap our tubes before setting off in opposite directions back to our separate towers. With a wave and a smile I bid my friend farewell knowing I’ll probably see him later after work as we spent many a summer evening together. On the walk back to Bluebird I find my stick from my Fudgesicle (no kidding, I really did) and make my way back to my tower thinking to myself, “That was so much fun”. The next morning was one of those days where the entire Lifeguard Squad met at Main Beach for training and briefing from Dino Westgaard (you remember those?). Well, while sitting there with the rest of the guys in the sand as Dino standing on the deck of the main tower, began to make an announcement that yesterday the Headquarters received more phone calls from citizen’s praising how good their Lifeguards were than any other time in recent history and that it was on a Green Flag day. On top of that, all of the phone calls came from visitors staying at the Surf and Sand Hotel. I remember it was bothering him to know what happened. He points to the both of us sitting in the sand with the other 50 guards and asks if we could illuminate. I remember the both of us staring at each other with this dumb look on our faces because to the both of us, we didn’t have a clue. There was nothing special yesterday… then we both flash on the little girl at the same time “Ah… it was this rescue of that little girl” and I remember the both of us feeling almost embarrassed. We had accidentally made a small thing a big thing and we were just having fun. I know we didn't tell the whole story and Dino was suspicious. We figured it best we keep it to ourselves.
Lifeguarding was a lot of fun and I'm a better person because of it.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Yes, I Know
Yes, I Know
By Dale Ghere
2000
Since 1960, surfing Lowers has always been one of my favorite spots here in southern California. At Trestles I have had many days of outstanding surf to enjoy and remember. It was one of the first places Kiwi and I would go surfing before we had to report to our beaches to lifeguard in Laguna Beach. In those days it was not unusual to be there alone in the early morning dawn hours. We would surf nearly every morning the surf was up because the Chief, Art Fisette, would allow us to be late if we went surfing before work. The options were: show up on time and do a “rock swim” for time or go on a “dawn patrol” and come to work late and miss the thousand yard swim. Art considered surfing good for developing strong waterman skills. He always said that it would make us better lifeguards.
It was not unusual for me to surf before work, lifeguard all day at Saint Ann’s Beach and then surf Brooks Street until dark. Surfing evenings in those days was usually done someplace close to home. This allowed us to eat quickly, take a long shower and get to bed early so we could get up before dawn the next day and repeat the cycle again.
As the years have gone by I’ve always enjoyed surfing the early morning hours, but for some reason the late evenings have become a very special time for me. There is something unique that happens for me as it begins to get too dark to surf, a feeling of peace and contentment. It occurs between the time I get out of the water because I can no longer see the set waves coming and the point of total darkness. During that time I am usually walking north along the beach at Trestles while watching the color of the sky change from a deep red, to purple, to black. I enjoy this time of being alone and quiet, thinking about how fortunate I am to be able to spend another evening in the water.
As my son Ryan got old enough to surf, the evening surf sessions developed into a special event for both of us; something to anticipate whenever the surf was up. To this day it is a time that we share and enjoy together.
There was such a night last summer that I always want to remember. Ryan and I had a good evening of surf together. It was glassy and warm. The waves were not large, but they were clean and had good shape. I got out of the water one set before Ryan. When he did finally make it to the beach we dressed and started walking up the beach in silence, enjoying the quietness. We had not walked very far when Ryan said, “I can hardly wait until Matthew is old enough to surf. It will be great to come surfing with my son.” I replied with, “Yes, I know.”
We walked on in silence.
By Dale Ghere
2000
Since 1960, surfing Lowers has always been one of my favorite spots here in southern California. At Trestles I have had many days of outstanding surf to enjoy and remember. It was one of the first places Kiwi and I would go surfing before we had to report to our beaches to lifeguard in Laguna Beach. In those days it was not unusual to be there alone in the early morning dawn hours. We would surf nearly every morning the surf was up because the Chief, Art Fisette, would allow us to be late if we went surfing before work. The options were: show up on time and do a “rock swim” for time or go on a “dawn patrol” and come to work late and miss the thousand yard swim. Art considered surfing good for developing strong waterman skills. He always said that it would make us better lifeguards.
It was not unusual for me to surf before work, lifeguard all day at Saint Ann’s Beach and then surf Brooks Street until dark. Surfing evenings in those days was usually done someplace close to home. This allowed us to eat quickly, take a long shower and get to bed early so we could get up before dawn the next day and repeat the cycle again.
As the years have gone by I’ve always enjoyed surfing the early morning hours, but for some reason the late evenings have become a very special time for me. There is something unique that happens for me as it begins to get too dark to surf, a feeling of peace and contentment. It occurs between the time I get out of the water because I can no longer see the set waves coming and the point of total darkness. During that time I am usually walking north along the beach at Trestles while watching the color of the sky change from a deep red, to purple, to black. I enjoy this time of being alone and quiet, thinking about how fortunate I am to be able to spend another evening in the water.
As my son Ryan got old enough to surf, the evening surf sessions developed into a special event for both of us; something to anticipate whenever the surf was up. To this day it is a time that we share and enjoy together.
There was such a night last summer that I always want to remember. Ryan and I had a good evening of surf together. It was glassy and warm. The waves were not large, but they were clean and had good shape. I got out of the water one set before Ryan. When he did finally make it to the beach we dressed and started walking up the beach in silence, enjoying the quietness. We had not walked very far when Ryan said, “I can hardly wait until Matthew is old enough to surf. It will be great to come surfing with my son.” I replied with, “Yes, I know.”
We walked on in silence.
Not on My Watch
Not on My Watch
By Dale Ghere
March 18, 2006
It was a perfect beach day for guarding. There was no wind, the water was warm and clear, the surf was small, there was not a cloud in the sky and the beach was not overly crowded. It was the kind of day that you have to find things to look at to keep yourself focused. This kind of day can lull a guard into thinking that he really doesn’t need to watch as hard as on a day when the surf is red flag. What can go wrong on a day that is so calm and nice?
I was walking between towers on the Main Beach because I was supervising the Rookies. The sun was at the perfect angle for looking through the face of the waves. The water was so clear that I could see objects in the sand under the waves. I had just stopped at the top of the berm to watch a school of corvina working a small rip in search of sand crabs that had been exposed by the previous wave when she walked past me. I had been contemplating whether or not I should go for a dive after work. Just then a young girl, wearing street clothes, in her twenties, walked past me headed for the water. Now this girl was interrupting my train of thought. Who was she and what was she doing here? It really was not all that unusual for people to come to the beach with street clothes on and then to walk into the water, but this girl was well dressed. She had her purse and high heels in her hands and was obviously going to get in the water.
Just before she reached the wet sand she gently placed her purse and shoes in the sand. Then she continued to walk towards the water. I expected her to turn around or to stop in shallow water. No, she continued walking into deeper water. First her knees got wet, then her skirt and then she was in deep enough to get her blouse wet. The surf was so small she could walk beyond the waves. Then it looked like she sat down.
What was she up to? I had seen guys jump in the water with jeans on, but I had never seen a girl with a skirt and a blouse on go for a swim. As I stood there I was curious to see what her next move would be. Would she go for a swim, would she come up and stand there or would she walk back to the beach and leave as quietly as she came – only wet?
She didn’t do anything. It took a moment or two for me to realize that she wasn’t coming back up. Now I wasn’t curious, I was anxious. Who was she and what was she doing? These were questions I asked myself with a big exclamation mark. Then I spotted her through the face of a wave. She was lying on the bottom. The only motion appeared to be caused by the ebb and flow of the waves. Even then I could not believe what I was watching. I just stood there as she drifted back and forth on the bottom. This could not be happening. My first thought was, “No one would walk into the water and drown themselves at Main Beach in the middle of the day. Maybe she can just hold her breath longer than normal.” No, it was time to act.
I ran into the water and grabbed her. As I ran back to the beach I jostled her hard to try to stimulate her to breathe. Nothing! A crowed quickly formed around us as I placed her in the sand and gave her a breath of air. I was relieved to see her begin to gasp for air after the second breath. She was going to make it! Then she stopped breathing. I repeated mouth to mouth resuscitation and once again she began to breathe on her own. This time she started to move and then she wanted to get up. I told her to stay down and that we would have help right away. She started to roll away from me and to get up on her knees. As I repeated my instructions I put my hand on her shoulder to restrain her.
I didn’t see it coming; it was something that no one had ever discussed in training. How can you prepare for something that you have never thought about? All I remember hearing was the word “Bastard” and then I blacked out. One minute I was happy I had just saved this girl’s life, the next I was trying to get her to stay down and then I was falling into a great abyss of darkness. As she had gotten to her knees she had turned and taken a full swing. She hit me on the side of my head with her fist. I was out and falling backwards. I must have woken up as soon as I hit the sand because as I was regaining my senses the girl tried to stand. She immediately fainted and once again stopped breathing. There I was back to giving this girl respiration, the one who had just knocked me out. The next time she started to breathe I would be ready. No more getting up and no more free swings. No more being a nice guy. Fortunately the ambulance arrived as she was regaining her senses. We strapped her on the gurney and headed for South Coast Hospital.
A lot of screaming went on while we were in the ambulance. Most of it revolved around her saying, “You had no right……..” and me countering with admonitions to stay calm and “It’s my job.” When we got to the hospital she continued shouting a lot of things at the nurses and doctors. She eventually said, “You can’t keep me here!” She then jumped off the bed, grabbed her purse and shoes and ran out of the hospital. The only things she left behind was some beach sand and a puddle of salt water.
When I got back to the beach there was talk that she had been in loud argument with a guy somewhere on Ocean Ave. No one knew who she was or where she had come from. The mystery lady just disappeared.
I think this story took place in 1969. I am not sure. The actual date is not important because it could have happened anytime. Fortunately she didn’t die on my watch.
By Dale Ghere
March 18, 2006
It was a perfect beach day for guarding. There was no wind, the water was warm and clear, the surf was small, there was not a cloud in the sky and the beach was not overly crowded. It was the kind of day that you have to find things to look at to keep yourself focused. This kind of day can lull a guard into thinking that he really doesn’t need to watch as hard as on a day when the surf is red flag. What can go wrong on a day that is so calm and nice?
I was walking between towers on the Main Beach because I was supervising the Rookies. The sun was at the perfect angle for looking through the face of the waves. The water was so clear that I could see objects in the sand under the waves. I had just stopped at the top of the berm to watch a school of corvina working a small rip in search of sand crabs that had been exposed by the previous wave when she walked past me. I had been contemplating whether or not I should go for a dive after work. Just then a young girl, wearing street clothes, in her twenties, walked past me headed for the water. Now this girl was interrupting my train of thought. Who was she and what was she doing here? It really was not all that unusual for people to come to the beach with street clothes on and then to walk into the water, but this girl was well dressed. She had her purse and high heels in her hands and was obviously going to get in the water.
Just before she reached the wet sand she gently placed her purse and shoes in the sand. Then she continued to walk towards the water. I expected her to turn around or to stop in shallow water. No, she continued walking into deeper water. First her knees got wet, then her skirt and then she was in deep enough to get her blouse wet. The surf was so small she could walk beyond the waves. Then it looked like she sat down.
What was she up to? I had seen guys jump in the water with jeans on, but I had never seen a girl with a skirt and a blouse on go for a swim. As I stood there I was curious to see what her next move would be. Would she go for a swim, would she come up and stand there or would she walk back to the beach and leave as quietly as she came – only wet?
She didn’t do anything. It took a moment or two for me to realize that she wasn’t coming back up. Now I wasn’t curious, I was anxious. Who was she and what was she doing? These were questions I asked myself with a big exclamation mark. Then I spotted her through the face of a wave. She was lying on the bottom. The only motion appeared to be caused by the ebb and flow of the waves. Even then I could not believe what I was watching. I just stood there as she drifted back and forth on the bottom. This could not be happening. My first thought was, “No one would walk into the water and drown themselves at Main Beach in the middle of the day. Maybe she can just hold her breath longer than normal.” No, it was time to act.
I ran into the water and grabbed her. As I ran back to the beach I jostled her hard to try to stimulate her to breathe. Nothing! A crowed quickly formed around us as I placed her in the sand and gave her a breath of air. I was relieved to see her begin to gasp for air after the second breath. She was going to make it! Then she stopped breathing. I repeated mouth to mouth resuscitation and once again she began to breathe on her own. This time she started to move and then she wanted to get up. I told her to stay down and that we would have help right away. She started to roll away from me and to get up on her knees. As I repeated my instructions I put my hand on her shoulder to restrain her.
I didn’t see it coming; it was something that no one had ever discussed in training. How can you prepare for something that you have never thought about? All I remember hearing was the word “Bastard” and then I blacked out. One minute I was happy I had just saved this girl’s life, the next I was trying to get her to stay down and then I was falling into a great abyss of darkness. As she had gotten to her knees she had turned and taken a full swing. She hit me on the side of my head with her fist. I was out and falling backwards. I must have woken up as soon as I hit the sand because as I was regaining my senses the girl tried to stand. She immediately fainted and once again stopped breathing. There I was back to giving this girl respiration, the one who had just knocked me out. The next time she started to breathe I would be ready. No more getting up and no more free swings. No more being a nice guy. Fortunately the ambulance arrived as she was regaining her senses. We strapped her on the gurney and headed for South Coast Hospital.
A lot of screaming went on while we were in the ambulance. Most of it revolved around her saying, “You had no right……..” and me countering with admonitions to stay calm and “It’s my job.” When we got to the hospital she continued shouting a lot of things at the nurses and doctors. She eventually said, “You can’t keep me here!” She then jumped off the bed, grabbed her purse and shoes and ran out of the hospital. The only things she left behind was some beach sand and a puddle of salt water.
When I got back to the beach there was talk that she had been in loud argument with a guy somewhere on Ocean Ave. No one knew who she was or where she had come from. The mystery lady just disappeared.
I think this story took place in 1969. I am not sure. The actual date is not important because it could have happened anytime. Fortunately she didn’t die on my watch.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)