LIFEGUARD MECHANICS
By Jon Brick LBLG 1975-1984
August 28, 2015
This story is not about lifeguard heroics. Like anyone who has guarded a number of years I have plenty of those stories, but I wanted to share a recollection that was about mentoring, trust and developing self reliance.
The year was probably 1982 or 1983. I was working the unit with Steve McCormick back when we had those beautiful yellow Jeeps. We were assigned the area from Emerald Bay all the way up to the edge of Cameo Shores. The State had acquired the section of beaches from El Moro up to Cameo shores, but was unable to manage guarding it yet, so they contracted with the City of Laguna Beach to handle it.
It was a great place to work. Back then there was no such thing as Newport Coast nor was there a single traffic signal between Corona Del Mar and Laguna. There were no State parking lots on the bluffs, just wide open hills. At the north end near Corona Del Mar, there were some horse stables between PCH and the bluffs above the beach. As part of our daily rounds we would drive along the dirt road to the stables and say hello to the girls tending to their horses. Riders would often times ride their horses along the beach splashing through the shallow water.
Working the unit back in the city area, we rarely drove the Jeeps in the sand. However in this north area we were always either in the sand, or on the dirt paths on the bluffs. This change brings us to the heart of this story. Since we were driving in the sand so much, and going down the steep unpaved paths to the beach all the time, the brakes wore out much faster than normal.
One day when Steve was driving he turned to me and said that the brakes felt a little squishy and that we should probably get them checked. We radioed to HQ that we were heading to Main Beach. We got to the Main and saw Bruce Baird our Chief coming out of the Main Tower just as we pulled up. We walked over to him and explained our dilemma with the brakes. He looked at us for a moment, scratched his chin and said, " Well you better go and change the brake pads then". With that he turned and walked toward PCH. Before he got too far away I asked,
" Where do we get brake pads?" He turned his head and replied over his shoulder, " LM&P". That was it. No further details.
We shrugged our shoulders and climbed back in the Jeep. I knew LM&P was the little auto parts store at the corner of Pearl St., so I directed Steve in that direction. Beyond that I had no idea what we were going to do. Neither of us had any money to buy brake pads, and neither of us had any experience working on automobiles. I was training to be a pilot at the time so I knew a bit about airplane engines, but I was clueless when it came to cars. Steve was sort of a brainiac egghead from UCI and knew next to nothing about automobiles.
We headed south on PCH and radioed dispatch that we would be out of service for awhile so the other units would know to cover our area. As we drove I contemplated our next step.
One of the things you learn early on as a Laguna Beach Lifeguard, is the requirement to be self reliant, creative and adaptable. I remember even during initial training that being a guard here was not like anywhere else. We were told that unlike Newport or Huntington, a guard here does not have the luxury of having supervising guards patrolling in Jeeps up and down the beach as back-up. You could always call for back-up. But often the most critical part of the incident you had to handle on your own until help arrived. The concept of contingency planning for emergencies was emphasized by our trainers and mentors. Bruce Baird, Jack Linke, Chuck Ware, Dick Johnson, Mike Dwinell and Jim Stauffer guided us early on, followed by many others as the years passed.
Lifeguards in Laguna designed and built their own towers. We repaired our own paddle boards and dories. We fashioned our own oar locks for competition. Somebody either showed us how or we figured it out ourselves. And now I was coming to understand, guards also fixed their own Jeeps.
So we walked up to the counter at LM&P and told the guy we needed brake pads for our Jeep, oh and by the way we have no money. He looked us up and down standing there bare chested in our lifeguard trunks, then looked outside at our Jeep. Without saying anything he turned and disappeared into the parts room, then returned with some brake pads. He wrote up a bill of sale and said, " Just sign here on the bottom". I remember thinking that step one of this project was too easy. Free parts just because I had red trunks on. We took the pads and left.
Back then the Jeeps were always parked at the end of the day in some garages behind city hall. We went there figuring we could get in the shade, plus we might be able to bum some tools from one of the real mechanics that worked on the fire trucks, police cars and buses. The lifeguards only had three jeeps at the time, so we came to find out that we were way down the priority list compared to the rest of the city vehicles.
We parked the Jeep and then went searching for some tools. We found a mechanic who gave us a couple simple tools and we got to work. We jacked up the Jeep and took off a wheel. Then we just started taking pieces off from where we thought the brakes might be, and carefully lined them up on the ground in the same order we took them off. We continued this process until we got to the brake pad and replaced it with a new one. Then we replaced all the parts in the order they came off and replaced the wheel. I was hot, sweaty, greasy and had little pebbles imbedded in my knees and back from the asphalt. I remember thinking I was glad I was a lifeguard and not a mechanic.
We did the same with the other pads which took us a few hours. We did not do anything like bleed brake lines, and to this day I don't know if we should have.
When we were done we were a mess. Our bodies and trunks were covered in dirt and grease. However we both had big smiles on our faces and proudly drove back to the Main with a sense of accomplishment. And that was what it was really all about. When Chief Baird stood there looking at us earlier that day scratching his chin, he had a choice. He could have told Mike Dwinell, who was sort of a genius at fixing things, to change the brake pads for us. Or he could have put the Jeep on the waiting list with the city mechanics and be short a unit for a few days. But instead he assigned the task with minimal instruction to two members of his "extended family". Bruce truly cared about each and every one of the young men and women on the department. It was with little events like this that he helped us develop into problem solvers in life, not just observers. We learned that obstacles were not roadblocks. We just needed to figure a solution around them. JB
