Earle Richmond –water balloon and other stories

July 1, 2008

I thought all of you would like to see this story.  It is just another one of the many stories that shows how times have changed in Laguna.  I don't think this would ever happen today.  Earle is about my age so this probably happened in the late 50's.

Hi Dale - I like reading your E-mails.  They are interesting and well written.  Maybe you should write a book.  I am serious about that.

No one knows better than you what a harmful weapon water balloons can be.  And, the real danger is that people perceive of them as harmless.

However, I have a good water balloon story that happened when I was a senior at Laguna Beach High School.  On Halloween night there was a large group of us on the senior lawn in front of the high school.  A Laguna Beach Police car drove by very slowly to check on us and was immediately pelted with water balloons.  It took of rapidly, undoubtedly to get reinforcements to make a statement that you do not disrespect police officers.

Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later two police cars drove up to the front of the high school. Side doors opened on both cars as the officers got out - and pelted us with a barrage of water balloons.

The police made their statement. As for respect, they received the highest respect from a large group of teenagers that Halloween night.  Those were the happy days.  Earle

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That was 1959.  One of my friends Dad was a lieutenant on the small town force, then. 

More small town stories regarding the police:

As graduation approached we, senior boys, had a stag graduation party at Irvine Cove, next to Emerald Bay.  It was in its natural state.  No construction yet.  In fact, as you may remember we had a lifeguard Luau there a few years later. 

We were drinking alcohol.  Every so often the Laguna Police would come by to check on us.  They knew we were underage and that we were drinking.  But, that being the case they wanted to make sure we all stayed in one place and did not get in to any trouble.  Mark MacMannus was totally drunk and was riding down the hill on a Banana leaf with only his jock strap on.  Dianne Dugan (who has since passed away) and a few other senior girls were in the bushes watching, as we learned later.

Here is another small town Laguna story involving the police. 

In the early sixties when I was a LBLG, John Majuri, a class mate of mine and one of my best friends and I were drinking in the South Seas Bar.  You may remember that was a watering hole for Laguna Beach lifeguards including Westgaard.  If you drink, then you know that and were probably there on occasion.  John was the bartender.  One night Jenny Jo Williamson, also our classmate, and a friend of hers visiting from the east whom John had a huge crush on were at the bar.  Jenny's dad was head of the Art Festival at the time (another small town fact). 

When 2:00 A.M. came John had to close down the bar.  However, the four of use stayed after closing hours and continued to drink. 

Then when we decided to move the party elsewhere John grabbed a bottle of sprits and we headed for the door.  The only problem was there were two Laguna Beach police officers waiting for us at the door.  One was a very tall Mexican, over six feet with a huge flashlight he was holding.  His right hand held one end and the other end of the metal flashlight was resting in the palm of his left hand.  It looked more like a weapon than a flashlight.

The other officer was a shorter blond man who was giving us the third degree and reminded me a lot of a yipping Jack Russell terrier.  They let the girls go (small town culture) and told John and myself to drive down to the police station in my car while they followed us (That wouldn't happen today).  When we arrived at the police station they took us inside to meet Lt. MacMurray.  The Jack Russell terrier kept yipping at us until finally Lt. MacMurray told him to "shut up and get out", in exactly those words.
Lt. MacMurray reminded us of the law that Bars have to be closed down by 2:00 AM and then let us go.  No booking or anything.

John MacMurray was a year ahead of us at Laguna High and played sports with us. He was our friend.  Lt. MacMurray was his Dad.

John lost his job at the South Seas as a result of that incident.  That was too bad because he was a good bar tender with a great personality.  John was my best man at my wedding to Sue Ellen.   Years later when John was still a young man he was killed in a freak accident at Elko, Nevada when a tree that was being cut down fell on him.

Doug Bartlett

Marilyn & Dale,

I am one of the Upland Boys from back in 1961 and 1962 along with Art Smart, Rod Becker and Pete Allen. We were the party house in Victoria Cove. This reunion was a great idea however business commitments have gotten in the way. Not sure how my priorities got turned around. Please say hi to all the group and particularly Dean Westgaard. Dean, as mentioned by others, was the person responsible for bringing the Laguna Guard job opportunity to our attention. For many he was also our mentor with his many stories and adventures as well as commitment to life guarding and fitness.

For many of us the Laguna Lifeguard experience was our entry to adulthood. It provides us the sense of commitment, responsibility, concern for others, physical fitness and some great times and friendships. It has certainly played a very important and memorable role in my life. Again Hi to all and tip a cool one for me!!!

Cheers,

Doug Bartlett 

Don W. Bestor

August 8, 2005

When we had the reunion in 2004 I had asked everyone attending to send me a letter that described some aspect of their guarding experience.  This is Don’s letter to Dale Ghere.

At the time of this letter Don was a Farmers Insurance salesman in Laguna Beach.

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Dale,

I started my life guarding career (2years) in 1953 after graduating from Laguna High.  I was hire by Mr. May who had an ambulance service in Laguna.

I mainly worked at St. Anns and Crescent Bay.  I grew up at Crescent Bay and became good friends with Bob Lowell the current life guard in 1946.

In 1953 we had a basic metal lifeguard stand with a phone and a small first-aid kit.  I only needed the phone once for an emergency when a young boy was hit by a wave when he was on a rocky point at Crescent Bay.  We rang the Main Tower for help.

Sunburn came when I used Noxema to protect my nose and face.  I soon learned that when Noxema wears off the skin is very tender and burns very fast.  I then went to a lady’s facial make-up to cover my skin.  I only had minor scaring, but no skin cancer.

Our trunks were red with white patch and we had no vehicles to use.  I also picked up trash and seaweed.  Sometimes I dug holes to put the seaweed in.  We all made an extra effort to rake the front of the Laguna Riviera Hotel at St Anns.

I was going to life guard in 1955 when they started a more extensive test.  The test was in May and we had to swim from the Main Beach to the Coast Inn.  I went to the local gas station and used their lube grease to cover my body and made the swim.  We also had to run a distance and enter the water and carry a person out.  I didn’t guard in 1955.

I hope this helps you out.

Don

Written June 8, 2006

By Dale Ghere

This was written for a newspaper article about the plaque that was given to LBHS by Paul Schilling.  Paul lifeguarded in 1937

At Wednesday evening's Laguna Beach High School Honors Convocation a plaque was given to the school by Dr. Paul Schilling to commemorate those past students who had given their all while serving in one of the armed services of the United States America.  Dr. Schilling graduated from LBHS in 1937 and served in the Navy during WWII.  The plaque was presented to the school by Father Chuck Maier.  Father Maier served in Korea and graduated from LBHS in 1950. During the presentation Father Maier stated that his best friend in school was John Adams, one of the names listed on the plaque. The commemorative plaque was accepted by Trevor Pierce, next year's ASB President. 

The plaque is titled, "They Gave the Last Full Measure of Devotion".  It will hang in the school library.  The following twelve names are listed: Allan Goff, Jr., WWII, Class of '38, Lloyd Babcock, WWII class of '38, Gordon Shive, WWII, class of '39, Weston Balfour, WWII, class of '40, Malcolm Shive, WWII, class of '41, Harry Ritter, WWII, class of '41, Milton Henry, Korea, class of '49, John Adams, Korea, class of '50, Arnold "Riley" Wester, Korea, class of '50, Henry Toro Herrick, Vietnam, class of '64, Daniel Neiswender, Vietnam, class of '64, and Steven Larrabee, Vietnam, class of '67.

The reason I was involved with the plaque is because of the 2004 lifeguard reunion.  That is where I first met Paul.  He was the oldest attending lifeguard.  There were two older guards that I knew of at the time, but neither one could attend because of health problems.  They were Don Brown and Bud Kerrigan.  Both Don and Bud guarded in the 30’s.  Don died in 2004.  Marjorie Burns Savage is still alive, but I didn’t know about her when the reunion was being planned.  Marjorie was a volunteer lifeguard from 1930 to 1933.  The city paid for training girls to be lifeguards during those years, but the city would not hire girls to be lifeguards.  Therefore any girl who wanted to lifeguard had to do it as a volunteer.

Paul had made a plaque earlier and had given it to the school.  It had been hanging in the library for ten years.  He had found three additional names and wanted to replace the old plaque.  He asked me to have the new plaque made.  The Plaque was made by A 1 Awards in Mission Viejo.  The cost was $164.32.

During the time the plaque was being made Paul called me and asked if I would help him attend the annual LBHS reunion.  It is held the second Saturday of every May.  It is held in Heisler Park and is for all past graduates.  He is not able to walk very well so I asked the lifeguards for the use of their sand wheel-chair.  He had a great time at the reunion.  Afterwards he and Marian took Marilyn and me to Las Brisas for most enjoyable lunch. 

I met Father Chuck Maier while at the reunion.  It was after the reunion that I thought of asking him to make the presentation of the plaque.  He said that he would be honored.  The presentation went well.

Did I Really Say That?

By Charlie Ware

April 18, 2012

Robbie Potter’s story exposing some of the funnier sides of lifeguarding sparked a rather interesting statement I made after a cold water rescue I had back in 1972. Great stories Potsy!

I eagerly waited for that phone call each weekend to get some lifeguard fill in hours from any of the permanent guards in the off season. Living in Laguna and going to college close by, allowed me to work fairly regularly most winters. The money kept me afloat until the steady money came in working almost non-stop every day each summer. Great gig for sure.

Jim Stauffer called me early one late February morning with just a “wanna work” dead pan voice. It was like music to my ears and even though it had rained hard the day before, I didn’t care what was on the LBLG agenda that day. The forecast called for a cool, clear and “breezy” day and I was sure that would keep everyone out of the mid 50’s winter water. As I arrived at HQ, Jim said we had a few maintenance projects to do and that this was a perfect day to get them all done. By noon we had a lot crossed off our list and the wind picked up to about 25 knots. The angry seas were both beautiful and treacherous. It looked like the San Francisco Bay out there. A call that a sailor has capsized his catamaran off of Irvine Cove came in and both Jim and I raced for the unit. As we blasted Code3 down Coast Hwy, the already cold wind biting at my face in our open air jeep, I was reminded that this why we trained in cold condition environs.

As we hit the top of the stairs at Irvine Cove we looked out at the 6- 8 ft. wind chopped waves to see a single sailor attempting to right his 16 ft. catamaran at least 500 yards off shore. Jim simply said, “Go help him and tell him this is not a good day for this.” By now the wind was at its peak and the water temp had plummeted. With no wet suit and just my tube and fins, I charged into the water at first not really feeling the cold, but after a few strokes, my head started pounding and it was all I could to swim head up to keep an eye on the craft and the victim. By the time I had arrived, the sailor who was wet suited head to toe, was in the water trying desperately to right the boat. He seemed determined to finish his adventure and after I dove down to un-cleat the sail we were able to right the boat together. Now, the cold temp was starting to take affect. I had planned to hitch a ride back to the beach with him, but he hitched- up quick and he was gone before I could climb aboard. The wind was blowing even harder now and he hit the beach in no time. By this time, I had drifted almost to Emerald Bay and I debated weather I should go with the flow and swim in at the north end of E-Bay or gut it out back to Irvine Cove. I knew first stage hypothermia had set in and I had to get moving fast. I took the shortest route towards Irvine Cove and battled the current most the way. When I hit the beach I was shaking like leaf and I couldn’t feel my hands or feet. Growing up and surfing in Laguna I had experienced this many times and thought nothing of it. I climbed the stairs to Jim standing next to the unit with that classic Stauffer grin. He threw me a towel and my light jacket and said,” Nice job, was it cold out there?” He laughed loudly as we headed back towards City Hall where the Police Dept. showers really worked best. The heat of those showers was all I could think of while we sped through town. Jim all the while, still chuckling as we recounted the rescue along the way. As we approached the intersection of Forest Ave. and Glenneyre we stopped for a very attractive gal crossing the street. As she crossed near my side of the jeep we made eye contact and I blurted out, “Wanna take a shower?”

I have no idea what made me say this. Perhaps the hypothermia had affected my judgment or she was just that cute, but Jim burst out laughing again. The good natured gal just smiled and continued on. I’m sure today I would have been severely disciplined for that remark. It was truly a great time to be a LBLG.

Bud Kerrigan

The First Laguna Beach Lifeguards

1920’s and the 1930’s

By William Wallace Kerrigan, Jr.

AKA “Bud” or “Wally”

2005   

My parents built the third house in Three Arch Bay in 1926.  My mother and brothers spent the summers, with my father commuting from Hollywood on the week ends.  There were no paved roads.  The area was so lonely and isolated that my mother demanded that we move to Laguna Beach where they had a grocery store, drug store and the Bird’s White House Café.  In 1930 they built a home at 235 Calliope, above Fisherman’s Cove.  The entire area was unpaved and virtually open fields up to Emerald Bay.  There were less than 50 homes in North Laguna.

When my wife’s parents built their home across the highway from the old Jahrus home there was no Pacific Coast Highway.

To my knowledge, Laguna’s first lifeguard was Dana Lamb.  He was hired in the twenties.  Dana’s father was the County Treasurer, but never strayed far from Laguna.  He built kayaks in the winter out of steamed oak strips and heavy canvas, which he diligently water proofed and painted a powder blue.  Dana quit in the thirties to try to kayak to Panama and maybe, with great fortune, make it all the way to Chile.  He had a tiny tri-sail, two sets of paddles, a crystal radio, a sterno stove, two large jugs of water and a box of canned goods.  He planned to stop at beaches at night and live off of the land.

In 1933 a reporter from the Santa Ana Register was at Divers Cove as we pushed him into the water.  His first venture ended at Oceanside.  The second time he got as far as Ensenada and we never heard from him again.

Ed Hobert succeeded Dana in 1931.  The next year he was joined by Bill “Skinny” Walters, George Bronner, Windy Brown and Orville Skidmore.  Ed’s starting salary was $100 per month and he worked seven days a week.  He was given a bathing suit as a perk.  Anything else he had to purchase out of his own pocket.

In 1934 Curtis Burns was hired to guard Divers Cove and Freddy Schwankowsky was hired by the property owners association at Emerald Bay.  I was hired to work weekends in 1935.  My pay was 50 cents per hour and I had to buy my own bathing suit.  Since the kelp beds were so extensive off shore we were given a pitchfork and told to have the beach free of kelp and sea grass by 8:00 a.m.  All of this was on our own time.

In 1936, the City decreed, for the first time in history, we could wear gabardine red trunks with “Life Guard” stitched on the left leg.  My number was four.  We were given one pair and we could purchase another pair for$2.50.

I guarded full time at Divers Cove (Which at the time was known as Boat Cove.) in 1937 and 1938.  The cove always had five or six skiffs, punts and dories tied to stakes driven into the bank.  We had a community box where all of our oars kapok pillows, spears, dive gear and outboard motors were stored.  It was never locked.  Nothing was ever stolen during my time there.  My full pay was $85.00 per month.

In 1937 Day Tawney, Jack Chamberlain and Lester “Bus” McKnight were added to the corps. 

Fish, lobsters and abalone were plentiful, virtually there for the taking.  One night Bus and I rowed up to Emerald Bay and speared a 40lb halibut.  Many of the guards would get a tire-rod and a Japanese diving goggle and after work would swim out to the reef about a 100 yards west of the blow hole to fill a gunny sack full of 12” to 14” abalone.  As a child I can remember taking a jack pole with a small lure and catching 8 or 10 four pound yellowtails in an hour while fishing off the rocks at Fisherman’s Cove.

All of the guards had a support group of beach regulars.  The Main Beach had the willing help of the Watkin brothers, the Delany brothers and Dale Micklewait.  At Divers Cove Dink Reisner, the Abrahm brothers, the Shipkey brothers, Bill Watts, Albert Frech, Bobbie Peacock and Tommy Peden would frequently get to someone in distress before I could.  At Emerald Bay Freddie had the support of Ralph Kinney and a group of Pomona College athletes.

Ed Hobart was the father of professional lifeguards in Laguna.  He arranged American Red Cross classes in first aid and artificial resuscitation.  We had a meeting early Monday mornings all through he season to compare notes and see how we could increase our skills.  We would frequently meet at 6:00 a.m. at Emerald Bay and swim to the Main Beach so Ed could check on our condition.  We did not have a phone or a tower at Divers Cove.  In an emergency we had someone on the beach run up to the Honnald House and call the Main Beach.  Ed was, simply stated, the best of the best.  In 1936 Ed got a tower build and a phone installed.  It made a big difference to the guards.

 Anyone who guarded at Divers Cove has had his Kodak moment.  One of the tests of manhood in the 30’s was to go to the cliff above the Blow Hole.  Then one of us would watch down below and when the tide filled the blow Hole we would signal it was safe to jump.  Curt Burns and Dink Riesner bloodied themselves badly on several occasions executing this dump (at least in retrospect) jump.

Our first aid training was, at best, cursory.  Doc Mallow’s drug store supplied us with first-aid kits that consisted of a bottle of mercurochrome, a bottle of iodine, a large roll of sterilized cotton, a roll of gauze a box of ammonia capsules and a tourniquet.  Every Monday morning Doc Mallow’s drug store would refill what we had used and bill the city.  Our artificial resuscitation instructor directed us to lay a rescue victim on his back.  We then were to lay his arms at his side.  Next we would raise and lower the arms above his head and then put then back to the side.  We were to vigorously continue this until he started to breathe again.  Later one of my longtime golfing partners, who was a doctor of emergency services at a major hospital, said he wondered how anyone survived this treatment.

My Two Most Memorable Guarding Moments

One Sunday we had the red flag up at Divers Cove.  The surf was up.  Ten foot waves were curling and the rip current (in those days it was called a rip tide) was very strong.  A lady who was about thirty years old swam around the point and got sucked into the blow Hole.  She was badly chewed up by the time I got her out.  In the process of the rescue I lost two fingernails and one toenail.  I carried her up to the tower and got a blanket from one of the beach goers.  She was breathing, but had a terrible wound in her left breast.  She had a one-piece bathing suit that was crimson red and blood was gushing out.  I told someone to call an ambulance.  I then pulled her suit down.  She had a hole in her breast and all I could think of was to stuff it full of cotton to stop the hemorrhaging.  Suddenly someone put a hammerlock around my neck and screamed, “You Bastard!  You exposed my wife in public.”  I actually started to turn blue.  People were crowded around, but no one made a move.  Some of the beach regulars saw I was in trouble and finally pulled him off of me.  During the struggle I managed to keep the wound from bleeding.  Doctor Mason said I had saved her from going in shock and possibly dying.  They patched me up and gave me Monday off with pay.

The other rescue that has stuck in my mind these last 65+ years occurred on another busy Sunday with an unusually large crowd.  The wind, tide and surf made for a very rough sea.  I noticed a man fishing off of rocks on the south end of Picnic Beach.  I left the tower and ran down and shouted to him to get back on the beach.  He gave me the finger.

About an hour later a kid ran up to the tower and said a man had just been swept off the rocks and was screaming for help.  Before this year we were given a soldered tin “torpedo” which was attached to a winch on the shore.  It had a small rope around it and the person in trouble was to hang onto the rope while the people on the beach pulled both the victim and the guard back to the beach.  In 1936, after years of guard’s complaints, we were assigned a long slim rubber tube that we could snap around someone to pull then into shore.  I took my tube and jumped into the water and finally reached the fisherman.  He was so large I could not wrap the tube around him.  He still had his wading pants on and could not swim.  Both of us were being ground into the rocks.   I finally pulled him into deep water just as Day Tawney and Jack Chamberlain arrived in the dory from Main Beach.  Together we pulled him on board.  Day told me that I was bleeding.  I swam ashore.  My girl friend (later my wife for 55 years) got someone to cover my by beach and then she drove me down to Dr. Mason’s office.  He put a few stitches in me and I went back to work.  About a hour later the fisherman’s wife came to the tower and thanked me.  She then asked me if I would mind swimming out to try to locate his fishing pole!

When I look back at those summers so long ago, my thoughts can be summed up in the song from my father’s old Vaudville act; Those Hazy, Crazy, Lazy Days of Summer” and the words from Fiddler on the Roof, “Those were the days my friend, I thought they’d never end…”

P.S.  When I went full time as a guard I was paid $85 per month.  I worked six days a week from 8:30a.m. to 5:30 p.m.  In 1938 I was given a raise to $100 per month.  Cleaning the beach every day was my responsibility.  This was done on my own time.  Still it was the best job of my life, including my tenure as a corporate president.

In writing this “Remembrances of Things Past” I must recognize several people.

Refugio Coronado

This gentleman was of an indeterminate age.  Supposedly he was a 100 years old when he died; a true old man of the sea.  He appeared in Laguna after World War I and specialized in building boats dories, skiffs and punts.  He constructed all the lifeguard ship-lap dories from San Diego to Santa Monica.  A Coronado built boat was a thing of beauty and a true work of art.  Although this may be an apocalyptic story it is worth repeating.  It was said that his wife was fixing tortillas for dinner in an outside oven on his small spread in Laguna Canyon when she said, “I am going now Refugio.”  He said goodbye, ate his dinner and walked to the police station to report her death.

Pat Ford

Another mystery man.  He lived in the YMCA in San Pedro.  His whole life revolved around beach volleyball.  From Cabrillo Beach to Oceanside, he was the apostle of volleyball.  He would arrive on the beach with a net, lines, ropes and Voit volleyball.  Soon a game was underway.  He finally formed a league with my father’s financial help.  The league included Laguna, San Clemente, Capistrano, Huntington Beach, San Pedro and Santa Monica.  Curtis Burns, Dink Reisner, Dale Micklewait, Jimmy Lu, Bob Peacock and I played in the League for many summers.

Foot note: Bud died in December 2008.  Bud’s Godfather was Charlie Chaplin and his Godmother was Mary Pickford.  Bud developed Lake Forest.  He said he lost a lot of money because no one wanted to live that far out of town.

My Rowing Partner

By Ingrid Loos Miller

Guarded 1976-1984

Bruce Baird was my boss from 1976-1984, but mostly he was one of my best friends. When he died, part of me went with him. He always kept me safe and it is hard to come to terms with the fact that in the end, I could not do the same for him. I have dreams about him occasionally, and wish he could have known my children. I never knew his very well. Bruce carried with him a deep sadness in his personal life. Perhaps that is why he so embraced his guards as family.

The rookies called him "Daddy Bruce", only partially in jest. Like any good parent, Bruce was able to see the potential in all of us and he challenged us to go beyond our self-imposed limits. We all learned to fear him during training. He came up with the most grueling and unpleasant tests. As physical as those tests appeared to be, they were all in reality, tests of will. Bruce had little patience for egotistical hot shots. He wanted guards he could count on to do the right thing. His lessons went beyond teaching us to be good lifeguards. He wanted us to be good people, too.  Bruce told the truth and sometimes it hurt, but it was not his nature to sugarcoat.

The only time he did not tell the truth was when he was in pain. I saw him break his toe on the lifeguard dory once. I saw him in agony with severe stomach cramps during a particularly difficult 6-hour race. I saw him lose one of his heroes, Dean Westgaard. I saw him grapple with professional betrayals among his peers.  In the end, I saw him facing cancer, and the pain was in his eyes but he did not want to talk about it.  

Bruce was "The Chief". He was our leader, but his focus was always on us, his guards. He kept us safe while encouraging us to grow. He never made decisions based upon gossip. He confronted guards that were having trouble and went to great lengths to help them.  His quiet charisma charmed us, and his grim determination intimidated us. He expected us to do our best. He was active in the local and national lifeguard associations, and made a point of improving our level of training and professionalism.

Bruce was also one of us. He joined in the tortilla throwing revelry of a certain "La Bamba" party one year, and he cooked scrumptious feasts for the annual luau.

He encouraged us to compete in lifeguard competitions up and down the coast, and he participated as well.

Soon after I became a guard, we started rowing the dory together in competition. Bruce and I both felt that we would be a hindrance to other guards. Bruce thought he was "too old" and I knew I was not as strong as the men, so we became rowing partners. Nonetheless, what we lacked in strength we made up for in finesse. Bruce had an uncanny ability to read the surf and we took pride in our ability to land the dory through the surf without capsizing. Bruce expertly steered from the stern while I worked the oars in the bow. We usually finished among the top three in the dory relays.

We decided it would be fun? Interesting? to participate in the annual race across the Catalina Channel.  We trained with workouts from Laguna, to Dana Point and Newport. We never went out in the dory without a couple of fishing poles, returning with a load of fish as well as sore muscles. Bruce was a Cordon Bleu chef and he showed me how to clean and prepare the fish. We shared our troubles and made each other laugh during those workouts. We left our cares on the beach and enjoyed the exertion of the workout in the serenity of the ocean. The hardest part of the workout was returning to shore, pushing the heavy wooden dory up the sand amid gawking beachgoers.

The first time we did the race we were prepared for the worst. We did not have a chase boat to carry our supplies. Since the race started early in the morning at Catalina, we camped on the beach the night before. We rowed back carrying our camping gear, enough food and water for several days (what if we got lost?) and rescue beacons.  It is a wonder we finished the race at all with so much cargo.  The finish line was in the Long Beach Harbor. As we approached the finish line, we fouled the line of a fisherman on the breakwater. We were too darn tired to row around his line. Our exhaustion threw us into hysterics and we finally crossed the finish line with tears streaming down our faces.

One year, there was another man-woman team that we tried hard to beat. Bruce felt as though he let me down when they pulled ahead of us after several hours. He suffered such a terrible bout of stomach cramps I was afraid we would not make it. But Bruce never gave up and we finished.  In the years that followed, we repeated the race several times, traveling lighter and faster each time.  .

Bruce could have traded me for a stronger rowing partner, but he never wanted to. He told me that to do such a race required a special level of trust. Indeed, we saw each other at our worst, for hours at a time, in the middle of the ocean. There was no escape if things turned sour between us. They never did.

When I stopped guarding and started law school, Bruce and I stayed I touch and went to lunch several times a year. I was through with rowing, but Bruce kept on racing across the Catalina Channel. Instead of finding another rowing partner, he rowed the

2-man dory alone.

In my dreams Bruce is always at the place he most cherished, on the ocean with his friends.

Those Years Stay With You

Bonnie Stockton (Clifford)

1980-1984 Shaw’s and Diver’s Cove

March 9, 2012

Having grown up inland, I had never given much thought to becoming a

lifeguard until my swim coach suggested it my junior year. That was Dave Simcox, who

still runs the JG program at Huntington City. I had always loved the beach and even

though I wasn’t lucky enough to grow up in one of the beach towns, I wasn’t unfamiliar

with it. My Dad used to surf a lot back in the 60’s with Whitey Harrison, Stanford King

and Matt Brown, who were old time surfers in the Orange County area. When I was

small, we used to go to Doheny every weekend back before the jetty was built for Dana

Point harbor. While my dad surfed, I spent hours getting pummeled in the surf, coming

out water logged and the crotch of my bathing suit full of sand! But I digress.

My junior year of high school I tried out for a state position. Good Luck! There

must have been 200 guys there! Dave Simcox took Dana Drucker, myself and a couple

other girls to the try outs and what an experience! He had us smear Vaseline in our

armpits to protect us from the cold. The rest is just a blur. Lots of splashing and kicking

and getting swam over, literally. We all finished, but none of us made the cut as the

competition was too great. Later that spring, Dana went to try out in Laguna and was

hired. Unfortunately I was out of town that weekend and had to wait until the following

year.

Senior year I decided to give it another shot. First I tried out at Huntington City

and made it into training. I completed training and was on the hiring list for that season.

Dana suggested that I come to Laguna and try out there as well. Boy am I glad that I did!

I quickly fell in love with Laguna and its people.

The tryouts in Laguna were completely different than I was used to. Much more

humane and polite. At the bigger beaches, no one thought twice about grabbing a

competitor by the shoulder in the water and swimming right over them. It was just how it

was done. I did that to someone in try outs and later found out who it was. In training, I

believe it was Casey Coogan who came up to me and said “You’re and animal! You

swam right over me!” Then I felt kind of bad. But that’s just how it was done!

I must have been some kind of freak, because I actually enjoyed the training.

After already having been through training in Huntington with a much larger group and way gnarlier conditions, I had a blast! Bruce Baird, Mark Klosterman and Mike Dwinell were our instructors. I’m not saying it was easy by any means. In fact there was another girl who started out in training with me who actually dropped out. I was so surprised when she did, thinking “but why? It’s fun!” Of course the water was cold, and we had days where we had to do a long ocean swim, then come in and immediately sit down to take a test. And of course Bruce picked the ugliest day when the ocean was covered with white caps and very cold and windy out. Then, running up the beach, which you couldn’t feel because you’re numb from the knees down. And then try to talk and you can’t quite form the words right because even your tongue is numb!

In Laguna, there was never a dull moment. If you weren’t busy swimming,

running or taking a test, you may just be laughing til you sides hurt. I will never forget

sitting in the class room and looking up to see Klosterman wearing resusci-Annie’s face

over his, all tucked into his sweatshirt hood. It was one of the funniest things I ever saw,

with the nose all dirty from so many fingers holding it closed. I look back now and

realize how fortunate I was to be trained be those guys, some of Laguna’s best, who

could push you to your limit one minute and lighten the next with some humor.

Compared to training in Huntington, Laguna’s training covered more of a variety

of situations. In Huntington, you have huge rips with some wicked long shore currents to

deal with. Along with a lot of crowd control issues. Laguna seemed to focus more on the

guard having to adapt to a variety of situations, in addition to being on your own in some

situations until backup could get to you. This requires the guard to be able to think on

their feet. And also to have the skill to handle all possible emergencies; extensive first

aid training was required, rock rescues, cliff rescues, SCUBA diving. In Huntington, one

of the things that weeded out a few of the trainees was pier jump training. Ah heck! Us

Laguna guards did that for fun!

My rookie year guarding was the best summer of my life. Every morning we had

an hour workout on the beach. We worked Main Beach under close supervision and got

a couple days running relief. That was the best! You got to become familiar with all of

the different beaches and got to know everyone in the department. I sill remember our

first meeting up at City Hall after our first 2 weeks of work. One of the supervisors went

around handing out envelopes and I opened it up to find my first paycheck. I almost

laughed out loud. I had almost forgotten that I was getting paid for all this!

All in all, I did hear from Huntington by the end of my first summer at Laguna. By

then I was hooked. No way would I even consider changing beaches. The camaraderie

amongst the guards in our department is such that you remember those people that you

work with for a lifetime. You form friendships for life and even if you haven’t seen them

in years, when you do, it is way better than any high school reunion. The work, the

parties, the experiences help to mold you into the person you become, and always in a

positive way. I think that we can all agree that those years stay with you always.

Bonnie Stockton (Clifford)

1980-1984 Shaw’s and Diver’s Cove

Bob Lowell

Guarding in Laguna – 1944-46

My lifeguarding years in Laguna Beach were from 1944-1946; then I left for college on the east coast - US Navy Academy.  At the time Charlie Plummer was captain and Bob Kellogg was assistant captain.  We had a total of 8 guards.  My area of responsibility was Crescent Bay and occasionally Diver’s Cove.  We had very young (age wise) guards due to World War II.  Black out was in effect.  No street lights or car lights other than parking lights could be used.  No beach fires – period!  Guards were 100% responsible for cleaning the beach (trash, kelp and bottles).  The bottles were super as the 3 cents rebate for Coke and Pepsi helped supplement our $5.00 per day from the city.  To help make ends meet I also set pins at the bowling alley in the evenings.  At Crescent Bay, it was truly a family atmosphere and seldom did we have any problems until the surf “acted up”.  Then the real challenge – as the torpedo like orange colored metal cans were almost like a weapon!  Large tackle boxes were our first aid “kits” – yes, we also had to stock our own first aid kits and we paid for the “goods”.  We also had to furnish our own hats and swim suits.  As like today, the girls were still in awe of a lifeguard and secretly we loved it!!!!  Bottom line, being a lifeguard in Laguna Beach was a special time in my life.  I was a Los Angeles boy only in the winter – Laguna was my family’s home since 1926.  During President Nixon’s time in office – when the Western White House was operational – some of my military time was devoted to transporting dignitaries to/from Washington, D.C. – of course, staying in Laguna was always a “hardship”.

Having been an Air Force pilot and traveled most of the world, truly, there is NO PLACE in the world that has such beautiful coves and beaches.  Retiring to Laguna after 30 years in the military – for my New Jersey wife, it is special to live in Laguna.

See you and former guards on September 2^nd.

Warm regards and best wishes,

Bob Lowell

July 20, 2004

Bob was Earl Wellsfry’s (guard from the late 60s into the 80s) uncle and great uncle to Sam Wellsfry who started guarding in 2011.  Bob lives in South Laguna.

Barney Voorhees

Barnard Voorhees

1968

So…..Stories? Junior lifeguards.

I've lived a varied and most interesting life. Whether a blessing or a curse is up to interpretation. One thing is certain, however. Being a Laguna Beach Lifeguard was the best job (if not exactly the highest paying) I have ever had.

            One my most exciting memories of those days coincidentally involved Junior Lifeguards. My first solo beach as a Laguna Beach lifeguard was Woods Cove. One morning, hearing that it was going to be a red flag day, I arrived at work half an hour early. I couldn't see any large waves as I stood at the top of the stairs and studied the cove below, but you knew it. The salty moisture in the air, the glassy surface of the ocean, the rolling grounds swells, more than that a certain excitement and tension in the air.  You knew it was going to be a big day (and I mean BIG). Half way down the stairs I was met by the excited cries of two of the local Wood's Cove gang, Jeff and another fellow whose name I can't (forgive me) recall. Both were Junior Lifeguards. Apparently just a few minutes before my arrival a large family of Italians had arrived on the beach. The boys had tried to warn them about the danger of going out on the rocks, but had been ignored, possibly because few if any in the family spoke English.

            I looked out at the blowhole horrified to see at least nine people, setting up chairs, unlimbering fishing poles, setting out coolers . . ."It's a lull," said Jeff.  "There've been some twenty footers coming through." He didn't need to tell me. I could see a huge set already building outside.

            Luckily I was caring my fins and Peterson. There was no time to unlock the tower. I ran waving and screaming at the people, who must have seen me. But it was too late. The first wave hit the rocks, sweeping the family away like a bowling ball hitting ten pins. Most were carried across the rocks. Others, at least four, were swept into the sea.

            I ran onto the point, yelling at the ones still on the rocks, to get to safety. A second wave was about to hit. I dove into the water, grabbing up two victims just as the second wave was peaking a good hundred yards outside. Somehow we made it through, the three of us holding on to both the buoy and each other for dear life. I buckled one guy in and told the other to hang on as I swam frantically toward the beach and away from the rocks. A third wave was approaching. I knew at least two more victims were in the water but I could only handle so many. I'd get these guys to shore and go back. My worry was I might not be able to find them in the turbulence, or that I might be thrown into the rocks.

            I got my two guys into the beach and was turning to go out again when, with a huge sense of relief, I looked out to see Jeff and the other Junior Lifeguard, towing in the last two victims on boogie boards. They had, without being asked, with little thought of their own safety, seen what the situation called for and gone for it.

            An ambulance arrived a few minutes later. Jeff had called in the scene to Zero, which had dispatched an ambulance. Total casualties were two broken arms, numerous lacerations and abrasions, but no drownings. I don't remember if I ever told those two kids just how much I appreciated what they had done.

Barney Voorhees

Guarded 1967-1972