The BIG GUYS - Robin Williams

The BIG GUYS

By Robin Williams

August 2004

Guarded 1956-1958

His name is “Jake” Jacobsen and he was a big guy. His name was Dean Westgaard and he was a big guy. These were big lifeguards with real muscles that they did not need to blow up with weight lifting and steroids. They were built that way naturally. They were the Captains and they were the bosses. We took orders from them.

But, they never really gave orders. They used thought communication. You either received their thoughts telepathically or you worked your whole time as a lifeguard without knowing what you were doing. They were teachers in local schools and they knew how to communicate without talking. They just looked at you. You got the message. If you did NOT get the message, a slight smile would appear on the lips of Dean Westgaard. THEN you would get the message…BLAM…it would come crashing into your mind. “Oh my gosh, he just told me that I need to quit talking about my girl friend, get out of the Main Tower and off to my beach.” That kind of thing.

“Jake” sometimes used the concrete noun for the abstract quality. Like “Wheaties” for “swim power.” And “Mardi Gra” for the adulation you receive when you rescue a woman in front of her whole family.

One day early in the morning while Jake was busy putting out the equipment on the Main Tower, he said something without looking at me. He just kept dragging out boards and flotation devices and he said….”Heard you pumped your wheaties and used your grays yesterday and Mardi Grawed yourself all over Crescent.”

This meant that he heard that I swam out into multiple rip tides and used my brains to rescue a lot of people and one of the rescues was the wife of a Laguna Beach Police Officer and her family was there watching the whole thing.

Hurricane surf was pounding the coast and I had rip tides working both ends of the cove and the crowds just didn’t get it. They kept entering the water and immediately were pulled out to sea. I raced back and forth, up and down the cove from one riptide to the other and pulled people in by their hair. “Get on your back!” I shouted and then grabbed their hair and back swam them to shore using only my fins for power. This went on all day long. I had plenty of energy and I loved every second. We didn’t have the floatation tubes the guards use today but I did have my Churchill fins.

Then I saw a sight I did not want to see…dozens of people waving for help in both rip tides and two people waving for help right in the center of the cove. That was absolutely too many people in trouble. I was then overloaded. She is going to eat up all my time that I needed to run from one rip tide to the next. I ran to my tower, called the Main Tower for help and then raced out and got to the woman just before the next line of monster waves arrived. She said, “Are we going to make it?” I thought, why does she think we are not going to make it? “Of COURSE we are going to make it,” I told her. Then I added, “But you are going to have to do exactly as I tell you. I am going to take you under the waves if they come before we get to shore. When I tell you to take a deep breath, you must do it.” “All right,” She said.

I looked up and here they were. Lines of monster waves. We had no time to make it to shore as the water was rushing out to meet the first wave and pushing us out fast. “Take a deep breath NOW!” The first monster crashed right on top of us.

We banged and rolled around under water and I tried to keep our bodies in the roiling mass instead of getting clear of it. I wanted to use it to move us closer to shore. That worked…when we surfaced we were in waist deep water and I stood her up. The entire beach was standing up and watching us. Thousands of people were standing in a semi-circle watching the rescues. It was the 4^th of July and everybody on earth came to Crescent Cove that day. They filled the entire cove and stood phalanx like from the cliffs right down to the wet sand. I turned to make sure we were not going to be pounded by the next wave and noticed that her bra was down around her waist and her breasts were exposed for the whole beach crowd to see. Since this was not the French Riviera, I quickly lifted her bra back where it belonged and delivered her to her family. They disappeared quickly into the crowds and I went racing off to the north rip tide to swim out and pull people in by their hair.

This was more fun than I could stand.

By this time the big guys from the main tower arrived and I hand picked who was to swim out in the south rip and directed them and they all took off like lightning. Three or four came with me and we cleaned out the two giant rip tides of frightened swimmers in less than ten minutes. They could not believe how fast they were swooped out to sea. Their eyes bulged in fear.

NOW, the crowd seemed to come to their senses and nobody entered the water again that day. The action was over. Chad Burton and Bill Sorrells added their style of mirth by putting on a show for the crowd and pretending they couldn’t breathe. Phil Jones was motioning for the crowd to give him money, holding his fins out as a collection cup. There was more humor in these guys than all the stand up comics on the planet. The big guys hung around with me for an hour or two and then returned to Main Beach in the jeep and left me alone once again. The crowd was still laughing over their antics hours later.

Next morning after a cup of coffee with Dean and Jake at the Main Tower, I walked back to Crescent where I was the lifeguard for that week and picked up the telephone from my tower’s lock box and reported in to the Police Station dispatcher. “Williams at Crescent,” I said. The officer on the other end of the line said. “Check, got it.” Then he said, “I want to thank you for saving my wife yesterday.” My heart jumped. Her husband is the dispatcher? Does he know that I put on her bra? I almost choked on my own phlegm. “Oh, was that your wife?” “Yes,” he said. “She is all right but she really got scared. My mother in law took her home after you rescued her and she sat in the back yard for hours just talking about it.”

Gulp. Whew! Maybe her mother was smart enough to not tell the Police Officer what really happened with the bra incident. And I am fairly sure the woman did not know it happened at all. But there were about 1000 people on the beach who had more entertainment than they deserved!

The summer droned on after that huge hurricane surf of the 4^th of July of 1957. I worked my way back down the beaches, one week on each beach, until September rolled around and they appointed me the winter lifeguard for the City of Laguna Beach. Two guys went fishing in a canoe about a mile off Boat Canyon on a bright sunny day in February and capsized. And that’s another story for another time.

Oh, and one more thing. The big guys…invented the phrase “Maximize your human potential.” They did it by just looking at you without saying much. You got the message through the ether. Hope you get a chance to meet “Jake” Jacobsen some day. If he doesn’t say anything, just wait. You’ll hear him speaking to you in the silence. Or…maybe you won’t.

Robin D. Williams

August 26, 2004

Laguna

This commendation was given to Dick Johnson in 1982.

Resolution of Commendation

By

Board of Supervisors

County of Orange

Richard Johnson

On motion of Supervisor Riley, duly seconded and carried, the following Resolution was adopted:

WHEREAS, on December 21, 1981, Richard Johnson was working the concession stand at Aliso Beach Park, when he heard the cries of Steve Champion of Westminster who had been caught in the undercurrent and swept out to sea; and

WHEREAS, without a wet suit to protect him, Richard Johnson entered the cold water in an attempt to rescue the imperiled swimmer; and

WHEREAS, Johnson, an off-duty member of the International Lifeguard team which serve South County beaches, failed his first rescue effort, but continued in his lifesaving attempts despite the cold water, rough seas, strong winds and perilous riptides; and

WHEREAS, Richard Johnson concluded a 30-minute battle with the elements by pulling Steve Champion safely from the sea;

NOW, THEREFORE, BE IT RESOLVED that the Orange County Board of Supervisors does congratulate Richard Johnson for his professional work in saving a swimmer at Aliso Beach Park and further commends him for his courage and unselfishness in the face of danger in completing this successful rescue.

January 19, 1982

Supervisors:

ThomasF. Riley

RogerR. Stanton

HarrietM. Wieder

BruceNestande

RalphB. Clark

Full Circle

Full Circle

By John Gill

August 2006

As we got to know each other at the beginning of our tenure at the Laguna Beach Lifeguard Department, I found that several of my fellow guards were interested in backpacking and fishing. Terry Klein, Jeff Masterson, and Dick Johnson all liked to take off for the Sierras and Dick was probably the most avid adventurer after me.

We took our first trip in the early 70’s and kept at it once or twice a year for the next 30 years. Dick’s perfect trip was a 5 to 7 mile hike up to near treelike to camp for a couple of days beside a beautiful lake with a stream running into and out of it. We would set up our camp and then soon assemble our fishing poles to fish for trout.

At the onset, Dick was basically a worm and salmon egg guy at the side of the lake. I would frequently find him leaning back against a tree asleep with his pole in his hand. He really knew how to kick back, relax, and slow down when he got out in the country.

After watching me learn to fly fish and seeing the quantity and size of the fish I was hauling in Dick bought a fly rod and started fishing the streams with me for brook trout. One of our favorite places was upper Green Creek on the East side of the Sierras. While we pulled in lots of big rainbows up to16 inches on grasshopper flies in the lakes we also found a stretch of stream at about 11,000 feet that was consistently good to us for brook trout.

One afternoon we were having a ball catching lots of 7 to 9 inch brookies when a horse packer guide stopped along the trail beside the stream and asked Dick how the fishing was. Dick laughed and said “so good I’ve lost count of how many I’ve caught and released.” As the guide came up to me he asked what fly I was using, and I said “just you’re basic Royal Coachman.”

As the packer rode on by with his mules shaking his head Dick came up to me and we laughed for some time at the expression on the packers face. He must have ridden by that stream a hundred times and never thought to throw out a line with the most commonly used trout fly.

Dick was just a great companion and never complained about the mosquitoes, the cold, the food, and rarely about the weather. The one time he said something was on the third day of hellacious wind and rainstorm at a barren lake at 10,000 ft. It poured rain the whole time and the wind had gusted to at least 70 miles an hour during the first night.

We had spent two nights hanging on to the tent poles for dear life as the storm raged and ebbed. At daylight on the 3^rd day Dick says to me “JG you’re a good friend, but I don’t think I can look at your ugly mug one more day in this little tent.”

We both then agreed that more importantly we were out of rum for our “trail daiquiris” and it was definitely time to pack up and get out of there. We hiked for several hours soaked to the skin back to Mammoth Lakes only to find the road south had washed out and we would have to drive home north through Yosemite. Still not complaining about a 12 to 14 hr road trip home we thoroughly enjoyed getting to see Yosemite’s waterfalls surging with water from our storm (that had finally cleared out) in an unusual late September occurrence.

Dick was a superb companion to head out on the trail with. We always had a great time, good conversation, could relax and admire the outdoors and just plain get away from it all for a few days. Five years since his death we still always remember Dick with our evening daiquiri toast as we enjoy a Sierra sunset and drink to Dick’s words, “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

The year after Dick passed away we asked his wife Jo if we could have a bit of his ashes to spread in the Sierras. We hiked for 17 miles looking for that perfect lake and stream that had Dick’s signature written on it. As we looked at the map half way from Yosemite Valley to Tuolumne Meadows we all thought that Cathedral Lake and Cathedral Mountain might fit the bill. When we found a campsite beside upper Cathedral Lake we knew we where there. We took several great photos that we gave to Jo upon our return.

Several months later at a church function, Jo leaned over and whispered to Jeff Masterson a couple of seats down the pew “how did you know to go there.” “Go where” Jeff asked back. “That lake was the first place Dick ever went backpacking along with me and my family.” We had no idea we had taken Dick full circle and still marvel at how we were lead to that place.

The Dad I Don’t Know

The story that follows was written by Fletcher Johnson. Fletcher was a junior high school student at the time. The purpose of this report was to fulfill a term writing project of an art class that he was taking in 1991. There were several topics that Fletcher could have chosen, but he selected the option to write about the life and accomplishments of an individual artist. The artist he wanted to write about was his father.

I have decided to share this story because it shows the insight a 12 year old son had of his father.

The Dad I Don’t Know

By Fletcher Johnson

November 1991

Today I know a guy who dresses up in a suit and puts on a tie and goes around selling insurance. He is a financial consultant. Before that he was a person who owned a lifeguard company. But even before that, before I was born, there was a guy who I don’t know, a person who made beautiful pots that I see all over in my family’s home. So here I am today to tell you about this man, my Dad who was a potter and maybe will be again.

It was his junior year at the University of Redlands in California and my Dad was majoring in psychology. One class was doing rat experiments. The students zapped the rats to see how long they lived. He didn’t respect the teacher and almost threw up every session. He hated the class so he took a pottery class to escape the rat experiments. Although he got a psych degree in 1971 he decided after he graduated to get a Master’s in Ceramics.

On the way up to Washington for his interview with the graduate department, he stopped by my Mom’s college in Oregon. That was the year he graduated from Redlands. Mom went overseas to study for a year and two weeks after she got back they married. They have been best friends since the 8^th grade. It took Mom and Dad two years to make enough money to be able to move to Washington so he could study ceramics.

He made money throwing pots and coming back to Laguna in the summer to lifeguard for the city. He did this until I was born in 1979.

The year I was born, Dad started his own lifeguard company. For 11 years his company guarded all of the county beaches between Huntington Beach and San Clemente and never had a drowning. He was a dad to the 150 kids who worked for him each season. He didn’t throw pots during this time. He learned to build houses during the winter. Dad says he would throw pots again if he could have his own studio, a place where he could go and not be disturbed and have no money worries.

The Potting Years

The two years he studied ceramics at Redlands, the teacher was Leon Moberg. He taught him the fundamentals of clay work and taught him to recognize and throw in the different styles.

In Washington, Carlton Ball and Ken Stevens were the teachers. Carlton’s motto was, “Throw ‘em big. Throw ‘em tall, throw ‘em just like F.C. Ball.” Ball was an old man and not very active in the department. Ken Stevens was young and had been a chemist. He was an amazing glazer. And Dad learned a lot from him about glazing.

There were 12 kids in my Dad’s graduating class in ceramics at Puget Sound. Curtis Heafer, Jim Williams and Adrian Enriquesare are some of his friends who still throw pots.

They were required to take classes in sculpture, design, art history and glaze chemistry and to teach undergraduates so they could practice their teaching skills. The kilns ran all night. My Dad had to watch the kilns and usually didn’t get home until 2:00 to 4:00 in the morning. Mom says he didn’t mind because he loved the firings. It was wet and cold, but the kilns kept him warm.

Two of Dad’s favorite classes were Chinese History and Japanese History. He knows all the periods and all the different styles of pottery from those countries. He likes a lot of styles, but Chinese porcelain and tea ware, and Japanese brush work and glazes of their utility ware stand out in his mind.

His favorite period of pottery is the Bizen Period. Bizen is the name of a village in the Imbe area of Okayama, and has been a pottery production center in Japan for over 1,000 years. The pottery is a traditional native ware. Two families, Kimura and Kaneshige, were under the protection of the Ikeda clan because the families provided the clan with ceramics. The lords gave the two families a kiln, tools, a house, food and clothing. The two families were not allowed to ever leave or live anywhere but on the Ikeda’s land. Bizen pottery, over the years, has really changed because each clan leader had his own favorite styles and taste and wishes. One of the members of these two old families decided to duplicate the clay, glazes and brush work of the pots thrown so long ago. This was very hard because there was no one living who could describe the kilns or where the clay was found. But after many years he succeeded and is now known as “a Living Art Treasure.” This is the highest honor the Japanese people can give to one of their people.

Because Dad was so interested in Japanese history, culture and in particular pottery, he decided to go to Japan. He and Mom bought tickets and planned the trip. Then the charter was cancelled and rescheduled for 1 month later. They had to pay rent for the month they remained in Laguna. Dad had never traveled out of the country except to Tijuana, but my Mom’s family had traveled a lot. So Mom insisted that he go without her and they cashed in Mom’s ticket so they could pay for the rent. He traveled for a month all over the country to places like: Tokyo, Kyoto, Nagasaki, Nagoya, Osaka, Kamakura, and Kurashiki.

After he finished his thesis on ash glazes and got his Master’s Degree, he took some classes here in Laguna at the Art School, which is now in the canyon. The teacher, Janet Bradley, made it fun because her attitude towards pots was for fun, not for money!

During the time in Washington he made about 3000 pots a year and he says he didn’t make much money. Mom and Dad were married for nine years before I was born and that year he stopped making pots.

How to Make Pots

The Clay

People mine their own clay or buy it. Where does this clay come from? The earth’s crust is 10 miles deep.

Very few oxides make up the bulk of the minerals at the surface of the earth. Silica and Alumina make up about 75% of the crust and these two oxides are the most important elements of clay. 90% of the earth’s crust is made of five minerals.

About 2 billion years ago, the earth’s atmosphere changed from a vapor to condensed water. Torrential rains began and lasted millions of years. Water melted minerals in rocks, rocks ground together, wind and root and ice action all caused erosion and weathering. Clay is the resulting debris, ground very fine. It ends up on the ocean floor and then is pushed up by geologic upheaval to dry land. There it is dug up by potters or people who sell the clay.

Dad bought his clay in San Clemente when he was here in Laguna. In Washington, it was dug up on the islands in Puget Sound.

Potters are very particular about the clay they use. He had access to a pug mill in Washington. It is a big mixer and you can throw your clay in there and it will do the work for you. You still have to knead it to get the air bubbles out. Washington’s weather was good because it was nice and moist. If a pot dries too quickly, it will crack. The thicker the pot, the longer it takes to dry. It was so damp in Washington, they had to use heaters to dry the pots enough to bisque them first. That’s the first firing. Then you take them out and glaze them and fire them in a second firing at a higher temperature.

Cones and Kiln Temperature

They use cones in the kilns. A cone is a thin, triangular piece of clay that has been manufactured to melt at a certain temperature. Each cone has a number on it. You line up the cones in a plaque of fire clay and put it in front of a peek hole. As each cone melts, you will know that the kiln has reached a certain temperature. You have at least 2 rows of cones placed on top and bottom shelves so you know how hot the top and bottom of the kiln is.

When the firing is done, you come to my Dad’s favorite part of the process called “cracking the kiln.” You take out a few bricks in the door so you can peek inside while the kiln is cooling. Sometimes the pots “ting” as they cool. If they cool too quickly, they will crack. Mom says Dad came home with blood-shot eyes from staring at the red interior of the kiln during the firing. The heat coming out of the peep holes is intense.

Designs and Glazes

There are many different aspects of design and I will name a few. Dad loves the shape of pots, the kind of clay used, the thickness of the clay, the finger marks of the potter’s hands on the clay, the brushwork (for his Japanese style brushwork, he has an amazing collection of brushes), incising (which is cutting a design in the clay) and last of all glazes

Dad loves ash, salt and celadon glazes. Most glaze recipes are guarded and prized by their owner, just like some cooks who won’t share their recipes. You have to know a lot of chemistry to be able to predict what chemical mixtures will melt at what temperature and how they will react to the glaze next to it and also to the chemicals of the clay.

Conclusion

Every person works in a different way, but most like the company of other people. So that’s why Laguna was a gathering spot for theater people for a while and then for all kinds of artists. Now it is so expensive to live in Laguna that a lot of those people have moved away. Some of Dad’s friends have gone to Oregon, Washington, Idaho and Colorado.

Maybe if Mom and Dad move to a place where there is peace and space, he will throw pots again. He looks so happy in the pictures in the scrapbooks of those days when he was covered with clay.

A Tribute to Dick Johnson

Tales of the Watermen

A Tribute to Dick Johnson

1949 to 2001

By Dale Ghere

As I get older it is easier to look back and recognize specific occurrences that caused the path of my life to alter. Some people have lives that are well planned, but for most of us life seems to unfold through a series of unplanned events. It is only in reflection that I finally recognize that a specific chance encounter, an event sometimes so subtle as to be of no apparent value, caused my life to be permanently altered.

Dick Johnson did not plan on becoming a major influence on the lives of people in Laguna, it just sort of happened through a series of events that caused his path to change from the one he had planned.

Dick grew up in Pomona where he was born in 1949. Dick loved the outdoors, particularly hiking in the Sierras. He was a good athlete and academic student. When he went to Redlands University he planned on playing football and earning a degree in biology. He thought that after lifeguarding a few years he would become a doctor. But the displeasure of doing lab experiments on living animals caused him to quickly look for another major. He eventually completed a Master’s Degree in pottery. Dick finally became a specialist in ancient Japanese chemistry and techniques for glazing pots. From this point in his life he believed that he would become a professional potter.

Much of what molded Dick’s life started when his parents bought a house near Victoria Beach in the early 1960’s. They all thought that Laguna would simply be a great vacation spot. They had no idea that the choice of location would give Dick the opportunity to start a private lifeguard department for Orange County beaches or to become a world famous designer for skimboard art.

Even though Dick grew up in Pomona it was not uncommon to see him on the beach all summer and many weekends throughout the school year. Although he loved football and wrestling he became a strong swimmer through the YMCA program in Pomona. On the beach he came under the influence of Jack Lincke, the guard at Victoria. Because of Jack’s encouragement Dick joined the junior lifeguard program in 1966. Dick was the oldest junior lifeguard on my roster and one of the better swimmers. It frustrated me to have a young person with his talent and desire who would be too old to want to be in the junior guard program and too young to meet the city’s age requirement to be a lifeguard the following summer. I faced this problem every summer. Boys only wanted to be junior guards up to about 15. I normally lost them when they turned 16. The city would not allow boys under the age of 18 to be hired as a lifeguard. I used Dick as my prime example to finally justify changing the age limit to16. Because of Dick and others like him, in 1969 the Rookie Program for training young lifeguards for Laguna Beach was started.

Dick became a lifeguard for Laguna Beach in 1968. Dick was affectionately referred to as “Big Red” by other guards. He was a great leader, a sincere friend and a fierce competitor. Dick quickly became a waterman’s waterman. Barrel-chested and strong, he was confident and capable in every way when he was in the water. He was the kind of person that makes other lifeguards breathe a sigh of relief when he shows up to a mixture of turmoil and trouble. More than one person owes their life to Dick.

Dick had no idea that 1978 would be the year that generated another event that would eventually alter the path of his life once again. Proposition 13 was passed. This caused the County of Orange to drop the beach lifeguard service it offered on all county beaches. This meant that an alternative contractor would be sought to provide that service. The county staff contacted San Clemente and Laguna Beach Lifeguard Departments and asked for a bid to cover all of the county beaches. When Dick and Jim Stauffer heard about this opportunity they decided to start a private lifeguard service called Lifeguard International. They won the contract and together provided lifeguard service for South Laguna and all other Orange County beaches for 11 years. They sold the company in 1981. This same company continues to provide lifeguard service for all Orange County beaches and harbors (including South Laguna), many of the private beaches and the City of Seal Beach.

One of the families that the Johnson family grew to know well at Victoria Beach was the Haines family. At the age of twelve Dick would not have guessed that in 1972 he would marry Jo Haines. And who would have guessed that her brother, Tex, would some day develop a business called Victoria Skimboards. Tex started his business in 1975. By 1984 Japan was the biggest customer of custom skimboards. When Tex needed help with designing art work for his boards Dick was the logical person to turn to for advice. Several things came together to influence the designs that became show pieces of skimboard art. First was Dick’s love of 17^th and 18^th century Japanese glazes. He had traveled to the South Pacific and Japan to study specialized glazing chemistry and techniques. Dick’s employment by Harry Lawrence at Warren Imports was also an influence. Warren Imports, now soon to close, has always specialized in Oriental art. This gave Dick the opportunity to study the extensive library of Japanese art that is available in the Lawrence library. With all of this influence it is easy to understand why so much of skimboard art shows a direct relationship with Japanese design.

In November of 2001 Dick died of a heart attack while running in the hills behind Top of the World. Here is a memory that is shared by his sister, Karen.

“Dick isn’t gone. He’s here in our stories of him, in the gestures we make, in the laughter we share, in the family we are. I’m proud to tell people stories about my brother. I will share my stories, I will spin my tales and I will keep alive the moveable feast that is my brother. My memories of Dick are like a banquet, so many things to choose from and so many things to savor. I will return to those memories again and again, selecting my favorite tales to enjoy and to share. It will be Thanksgiving every day because I knew a man named Dick Johnson, my brother and my friend.”

The next time you go the beach look around for signs of the influence that Dick left behind for all of us to enjoy. Look for a lifeguard doing a good job, look for someone giving a helping hand, listen for a word of encouragement, look for a unique skimboard design, watch the Rookies at work on Main Beach and remember one of the greats who shared his life with so many here in Laguna.

Acknowledgements: Jo Johnson, Fletcher Johnson, Tex Haines, John Gill and Kai Bond.

“Sea Monster”

Dick Davis

Dick Davis

372 Center

Laguna Beach, CA 92651

Phone 949-497-1022

Guarded --19448-1954 Woods Cove, Divers Cove, Crescent Bay, Victoria and Main Beach

Coached basketball at Glendale High School, U.C. Irvine and San Diego State Un.

Owned and operated health clubs, including the “Girls’ Gym Laguna”.

Retired from coaching in 1990 and currently enjoys playing high stakes poker at Hawaiian Gardens Casino.

The Sea Monster

In 1948 at Woods Cove, Dale Seaman and Bill Griffin, unbeknownst to me created a fake “Sea Monster”. It was actually Dale in the water underneath a black tarpaulin with some poles to hold up the tarp. Bill was in a rowboat out by ring rock (about a 100 yards off of shore) when he screamed and turned the rowboat over. Dale then emerged under the gleaming black tarp that from a distance looked like it could be a “Sea Monster”.

It was a crowded Sunday and everyone saw it. I made everyone get out of the water. Bill righted the boat and came to shore excited about what a huge creature it was. I had called down to the Main Tower and Carl Mays and Charlie Plummer came to Woods with the sirens screaming.

A writer from the L.A. Times arrived at Woods about an hour later. He interviewed me and took pictures. As I recall the article the title read. “Sea Monster spotted in Laguna Beach”. When I found out later it was all a big joke I was pretty embarrassed. I was just 18 years old.

Hang On

Hang On

By Dale Ghere

July 14, 2004

One of the first things I said to the bosses when I started guarding in 1960 was that I would prefer to not work on Sundays. I told them that I wanted to be able to keep that day free for church and because of that beginning I always managed to work out a schedule that allowed me to have either Saturdays and Sundays or Sundays and Mondays off. I often worked a six-day week because I was always willing to work extra days if someone was sick or needed some time off. For the most part I managed to keep Sundays free.

It suited my personality when I found that a lot of the guards would be given a permanent beach. I was given St. Ann’s, John Parlette had Brook’s Street, Kiwi was at Mt. Road and Ken Alton had Sleepy Hollow. Some guys preferred to rotate beaches, but I liked being at the same beach. It must be in my genes to stay put. My dad retired from a company that he had worked for 28 years, I retired from a school that I had taught at for 30 years and mom still lives in the house that her and dad purchased in 1948. Staying put worked well for me. I got to know everyone on the beach and they knew me. The attitude on the beach was more like that of an extended family than just strangers who happened to be sitting on the same beach.

The locals worked at keeping their guard happy. I was invited home for dinner, I was given freshly baked cookies on a regular basis, a slice of water melon was shared to help assure me that I was part of the group, everyone seemed to always have an extra drink that they didn’t want to have to haul back up the stairs and help was quickly offered any time there was an emergency. Locals became the major reason I grew to love Laguna so much. Everyone knew how little we were making so they did a lot to help. The Jamison’s gave Marilyn and me a small rental for $85 a month one summer. Even then that was a good rate. In return I provided a safe beach, watched and trained their kids and distributed treats that I collected form the ocean to each family. It was a good life.

I did manage to guard all of the beaches at one time or another. Guys always needed time off for some reason. So it wasn’t all that strange to be asked to cover Crescent Bay one day. I didn’t know many people there, but I could deal with that for one day. The surf was low and the water was glassy. It was actually a better day for diving than it was for guarding. The crowd was light. It looked liked it was going to be another day to relax and enjoy the scenery. I had no idea that I was about to teeter on the threshold of death, my death!

The day had progressed enjoyably. A few of the kids that I knew gathered around the tower and we enjoyed telling each other stories. Then someone yelled, “Look” and pointed towards the cliff at the north end of the beach. At first I just stood there and stared. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. I thought that I was supposed to guard the water not the cliffs. There, just a few feet below the top was a young boy clinging to the face of the cliff. He had apparently climbed up the cliff from the beach, but because of a slight overhang near the top he was stuck. He couldn’t get to the top and he could not see his footing to climb back down. He was so scared that he could not even yell for help. He was just holding on like a little crab waiting to be swept off of the rocks by the next wave. It was clear from the first glance that he would most likely die if he fell.

I called for a backup and ran to the cliff so I could encourage him to stay calm and just hang on. I assured him that help would arrive soon. In no time at all Dean Westgaard showed up next to me on the beach. He said that he would drive around to the top of the cliff and throw a rope over to the kid. That sounded good to me.

We quickly ran into problems. Because of the over hang Dean could not see him from the top and the kid could not let go of the rock to grab the rope without falling. The next idea was for me to wrap the rope around my chest and they would pull me up. I could then just grab the kid and carry him to the top. I used my Boy Scout training to tie a bowline around myself with the parachute cord we were using. Dean started to pull and as soon as I started to be lifted it was clear that it wasn’t going to work. The rope was too thin and felt like it was going to cut right through me. I was lowered back to the beach. I then turned around and picked up my rescue tube and strapped myself in. Next I tied the rope to the brass ring on the tube. I then yelled for them to pull away. It worked perfect. The inflated rubber tube carried my weight and provided the needed cushion. As I went by the kid I grabbed him and we were both pulled to safety as the crowd cheered and the newspaperman shot pictures. All had turned out as expected.

Well not quite everything. Dean patted me on the back and took the kid as he pulled us over the edge. He walked the kid towards the Jeep and I started to untie the rope from my tube. My knees went weak, I started to sweat out of every pore in my body and the world began a strange slow motion spin. I sat down before I fell down and just stared at the rope.

I had tied the rope to the brass ring and because of the weight the ring had come apart where it had been braised. It was no longer a ring. It looked more like a big deformed “C”. The bottom of the C was still in the rubber strap. The only thing that kept the rope from sliding of the end of the ring was a slight bit of the braising. There was just enough so it stuck in the nylon rope. Dean asked if I was okay. I said yes and then showed him the rope. Neither of us said anything, but we both knew what the other was thinking. Today we were just lucky.

It wasn’t long after this event that the lifeguard department purchased rock-climbing equipment and developed good cliff rescue skills.

Ryan Ghere - Choices Matter

Ryan Ghere – 9/1/04

LBLG – 1983 – 1988

I am a lifeguard because of someone I do not know. It goes something like this.

There was a man born in 1921 who lived with his family in a log cabin in Laguna Canyon. At some point he helped his family build a house at 445 Oak Street, which is where I rent now. But there is more to it.

Because of his choices and the choices of his family they built a house on Oak Street and he became a lifeguard. I do not know when the family sold it but they sold it to another lifeguard, Art Fisette. We rent from Janine Fisette (daughter of Art) now. But there is more.

Art Fisette later became the chief lifeguard and was well liked by many. Fast forward a few years to 1960. My father, Dale Ghere, was trying out for a LA pool guard position when his friend Kiwi happened to see him getting out of the pool and mentioned that there were some openings for beach guards left in Laguna Beach. Kiwi had just taken a position there. My Dad went to city hall and they directed him to 445 Oak Street to see Art Fisette. Art was pleased to greet him and invited him in to discuss the openings for lifeguard. 445 Oak Street was the first house my father set foot in, in Laguna Beach. My father passed the tryouts and became a lifeguard in 1960 and guarded until 1974. He started the rookie program.

Fast forward to 1983. I became a lifeguard in 1983 which lasted for 6 years. I had a wonderful time guarding and many great experiences including a 5 month surf trip with 3 other lifeguards.

I moved away for 12 years, I returned with my wife to be with our families and live near the beach. We have been very blessed through out the years but a huge blessing happened when we bought a little house at 479 Oak Street. The little house needed to be remodeled in order to fit our family’s needs; we needed a place to rent nearby. We found a rental at 445 Oak Street. Little did I know when I invited my Dad down to see the rental, the story he would have for me about this little beach house.

It was not until the reunion preparations that my Dad found out the extended story of whose family built the house.

I realize now how important our life choices are. Because of someone I do not know I have had the most wonderful and privileged life that ever could be lived. I have been able to enjoy and learn about the ocean, a passion that will never grow old.

It is this passion that I am now so excited to share with my three sons.

Our choices matter to everyone.

Phil Jones

Phil Jones

From “Cookin’ on the Coast”

“Recipes of Laguna Beach Lifeguards”

By Pam Strayer and Stephanie Cunningham

1988

Phil was a Laguna guard from 1955 to 1968. He still is active in the Association and continues his friendships with many of the “old guard” as well as newer members.

He often shared the duty with Brayty Norton and Chad Burton, and he happily remembers an incident that caused him to laugh “harder than I ever laughed in my life.” Brayty had been sent out in the motorboat to patrol the section of coast north of Main Beach, beyond the sight of the two other guards, Chad and Phil, who were on duty at the Main Beach Tower. Brayty was gone for a very long time, so long that Phil and Chad were beginning to fear that something had happened to him. But he finally came back and had no story to tell. They gave it no more thought.

The next day Tom Pletts and Pete Verity, who were known as the “Trash Pickers” because they had a summer job cleaning up Heisler Park, dropped by to say they’d seen Brayty jump off the boat the previous day for a quick swim, but he’d forgotten to idle the engine. The boat kept right on going, but luckily it went around in circles. Brayty had a heck of a time getting it back. Pet and Tom observed all this from a cliff at Heisler, roaring with laughter, as the boat nudged Brayty aside time after time.

Poor Brayty. He’s never been able to forget this little lapse with a good friend like Phil to

help him remember.

Salsa Felipe

Ingredients:

6 ripe tomatoes, quartered

¼ c. chopped cilantro

1 small clove garlic

½ white onion, chopped

¼ c. chopped chives

1 t. oil (olive or Wesson)

1 T. red wine vinegar

2 Jalapeno peppers, chopped and seeded

Place all the ingredients in a food processor. Chop to desired consistency.

Salt and pepper to your own taste. Serve with tortilla chips.

Serves 6 – 8. You’ll love it for dipping!

Charlie either knew you or you didn’t get hired.

Norm Anderson

By Dale Ghere

2004

Norm started guarding in Laguna in 1948. He had not planned on being a beach lifeguard that summer. He had a good job digging ditches in the canyon. Everything was going well for him until a union boss showed up on the work site one day and asked him why he wasn’t paying union dues. When he found that he would have to pay $50 a month in union fees he just step out of the ditch and started walking towards the ocean. When he arrived at the beach he saw Charlie Plummer and told him that he had just lost his job. Charlie then asked him if he would like to be a lifeguard for the rest of the summer. He could start immediately because they needed another guard.

There was no test to pass. Charlie either knew you or you didn’t get hired. Plummer was looking for locals to hire who knew how to handle big surf and was aware of the specific dangers inherent to each beach. He hired local guys that were known to be surfers or body surfers who were unafraid of big surf, good divers and people who were trustworthy. Plummer was a good waterman himself so he knew what to look for when he hired a new guard.

Surfing Doho, Dana and Sano were the favorite spots for most of the guards. They would go surfing and then stop at Dana Point or some other favorite dive spot to collect abs before returning to Laguna. They would then clean the abs and have a beach party in the evening. In the years between 1948 – 1950 while Norm was guarding, Abs were easy to find. The modern technology of WWII had not reached the general public yet so few peopled were good divers. There were no wetsuits or SCUBA equipment available at every sporting-good store in those days. A faceplate and an ab iron made out of an old leafspring was all that was needed to make a well-equipped diver. It was not uncommon to bring home twenty or thirty abs. Those were the days before the commercial divers striped the local waters of the large beds of abalone. All of the guards were good divers and collected abs, lobster and scallops on a regular basis. Spear fishing was nothing unusual. All beach parties were supplied with abundant amounts of food from the ocean.

Not so many years ago Norm was fly-fishing on the Kings River when he saw a woman floating down stream. She was trying to swim, but her head was under water more than it was up. It was evident from the start that she was in dire trouble. Norm threw his fishing gear on the bank and dove into the icy water to save her. The river was carrying her swiftly down stream. Before he could reach her she washed into another fisherman standing in the river. He managed to get her safely to shore before Norm could catch up and make the rescue. Norm was disappointed that he was too slow to be able to make a quick and dramatic rescue, we all slow down with time, but he was happy that he still had the spirit.

Today Norm lives in Three Arch Bay. He is 77 years old and still has many fond memories of spending days on the beach in Laguna as a lifeguard. For him lifeguarding influenced the development of many life-long friendships and led him to attend USC where he roomed with Hevs and several other Laguna guards.

He still remembers the day when he had to pull Miss America out of the water. Not once, but twice in the same day.

He also remembers a time when he was going home in South Laguna and Hevs came roaring up and yelled, “Jump in, there is a big rescue at 3rd Street” in South Laguna. They drove to the edge of the cliff to look for the victim. Once he was spotted Hevs decided to jump off of a 60-foot cliff rather than to take the time to run around to the stairs to gain access to the beach. The surf was huge and the water was shallow so he had to time the jump well to keep from being injured. Just as Hevs jumped a very large wave caught the victim and rolled him into the surf line. All was well in the end.

When guards went to their beaches during the 40’s they were expected to pick up all of the trash and rake up all of the kelp. The guards dove, surfed, fished and had parties together throughout the summer. As he would say, “Those were the best of days.”

Outstanding People Who Helped Shape My Life.

Mike Contino

Guarded 1969-84

Written in 2004

There are many things which appear small at the time that can have a large impact on you and your future. Only looking back can one appreciate the events that led to turning points in our life. Most people are lucky enough to have one or two persons who dramatically affect their lives; I consider myself one of the few who had the benefit of many outstanding people who helped shape my life.

Growing up we would spend our summers at Crescent Bay. My five brothers and sisters would spend almost every daylight moment and most nights at the beach. This was our place and an extension of our house. We lived in a simpler time when parents never thought twice about kids on the beach 12-14 hours a day.

I never had fear of the water and this would eventually lead me to getting pounded into the bottom of the bay until I was rescued by one of the lifeguards. Pee Wee Jensen would get mad at me and make me sit under his lifeguard stand. The guards told my parents to get me into Sea Cubs so I could take care of myself. I really think that I was beach brat and they just wanted to get rid of me for part of the day. Sea Cubs lead to Junior Guards and by the time I was fifteen, Skip Conner and Steve Knauer would let me sit in their towers and guard with them. They even gave me a tube and let me patrol the rocks for them (as well as get their lunch and cold drinks).

The one thing that influenced me the most was the Rookie program and Dale Ghere. I was lucky enough to be in the second Rookie class. Dale had the formidable task of training us not only to become lifeguards but also to become adults. Dale could do anything, he taught us discipline, he taught us patience, and he taught us how to become watermen. He also had a way to teach us pain during his workouts. Years later when I was a teacher and coach I tried to emulate many of the skills and techniques I learned on Main beach under his mentorship. I was very proud of my water polo players and swimmers who eventually became guards for Laguna.

It was great to be a guard, but we were the few, the proud: WE WERE THE ROOKIES. We were the lean mean Dale Ghere’s machine. We had the best of all possible worlds, great friends like Charlie Ware, Bill Brown, Jeff Slowsky, John Enfield, Dirk Van Dusen, Earle Wellsfry, Brad McCallahan, and Jeff Quam. We had daily workouts with Dale; we ran relief and worked the unit at night. On top of that they paid us $2.73 an hour, and let us go to parties where there were lots of beautiful girls and beer.

Dale taught me how to row, something I still do today. I loved rowing in competition as a guard and competing on Taplin relays, the Catalina Crossing and at Nationals. My whole family still rows but now it is crew, and I watch my daughters compete in regattas. When I sit in my shell in the mornings I still can hear Dale’s frustration in trying to get me to pull on both my oars at the same time.

I was lucky enough to start guarding in 1969 and continued until 1984. Times were simpler. We guarded, went surfing or diving; pier jumped, had great beach parties, and guarded some more. I was able to guard in the winters, I lived with Les Wall and Mike Dwinell at the infamous Wave St. house. Dick Johnson threw pots in the garage and his kiln was in the backyard. I was able to go bodysurfing with Dean Westgaard at Bird Rock during red flag days. I would repel off Crescent bay cliffs with Bruce Baird, who later would show me how to make clam chowder and cook prime rib. I was lucky enough to guard with my pier group Digger Ware, Craig Parsons, and Dave Kerr but to also guard with the likes of Art Smart, Jim Herdman, John Cunningham and Rod Riehl.

I was fortunate to be working a cardiac arrest as a guard and went to South Coast Hospital with the patient. I was doing CPR and mouth to mouth in the ambulance and into the ER. I was wet and sandy in only my trucks, and I was amazed when the ER doc jammed an eight inch cardiac needle into this guy’s heart and gave him a bolus of adrenaline. The shot did nothing for the guy and he died, but it affected me more than I realized. It took me many years and several different paths but eventually I became that ER doc.

I met my wife Donna at 3.5 when I was supervisor up in the State Park. I was looking for a date for a Toga party at Ingrid Loos’ house. Our first date was at the O’Hara’s house at La Bamba, where Bruce and Ingrid came through the door only wearing tortillas. We were married 22 years ago at Crescent Bay, and the beach has been a special place for us. We have watched our daughters grow up on the beach and go through the junior guard program (OK it was Newport’s).

Congratulation to all the fantastic people who have made the Laguna Beach Lifeguards such an energetic organization. I for one would not be the person I am today if it was not for my association with this group of men and women. To my friends and associates thank you for all the wonderful years at the beach.

A Memorable First Day

A Memorable First Day

By Steve Foster

Memory of my 1^st day as a Laguna Beach Lifeguard * via Steve Foster

It was June 1964 and I was 16. At that time, the City’s insurance policy would only cover those guards who were 18 years or older. Thus, anyone younger could only work part time (<>

I had only been in the tower at Picnic Beach for one hour, when a girl, about 14 or 15, runs up to me yelling that her brother is drowning. It was BIG SURF and he was around the point, where he had evidently been washed off the rocks.

I was so pumped up, but at least remembered to call the main tower to report the incident, as I took off in the direction the girl had indicated.

Dean Westgaard was either at Main Beach or Rock Pile at the time of my call, so he came out, by foot, and was at the top of the rocks observing my actions. I remember exactly what he said, once I had completed my rescue and the situation was under control . . . “Good Job, Rookie, but next time I would suggest you grab your fins and buoy before you go out on your rescue mission.”

The weather my first day was very cold and shitty, so I was pulled off duty as they were sending other guards home. Westgaard was in the jeep giving me some pointers for future rescues. All of a sudden, he got a report that a skin diver was shot at Boat Canyon. I jumped in the jeep with Dean and we drove over to Boat Canyon. There was a skin diver sitting/leaning against a rock holding the shaft of the spear that had gone right into his chest. It didn’t actually go all the way through, but to me, it certainly appeared that it should have been right through his heart. Dean essentially handled the situation as I observed and learned. The victim was calm and had not gone into shock. We needed to get him transported, so we had to put him on a stretcher to get him to the top of the path where we then met the ambulance. As the ambulance attendants were transferring the victim from the gurney to the ambulance, Westgaard noticed that they were getting ready to load the victim into the ambulance in such a manner that the shaft would have hit the top of the van causing major damage. Dean was quick to stop them and rotate him onto his side, so that he could then be slid in without further damage. The accident had occurred when the victim was coming out of the surf with a loaded gun. Definitely not proper safety protocol! He did survive and was quite lucky to only lose a few lobes of his lung.

DEFINITELY A VERY OVERWHELMING FIRST DAY FOR THIS ‘ROOKIE’ GUARD!!

Suffering From Some Level of Hypothermia

Jon Brick

I have hundreds of fond memories from 10 years of lifeguarding, 1975 through 1984. Here is one the whole family can enjoy.

The winter of 1974-1975 was when I went through training. There was a day during training that the water was 47 degrees. To add to it there was a bitter cold Santa Ana wind howling through the canyon. The type of wind that left the water surface near the shore fairly smooth, but farther out you could see huge white caps breaking.

Of course wetsuits were not an option, but I think it was Jack Lincke that talked Bruce into letting us use fins on a swim, the thought being we would spend less time in the water. When I hit the water it was an unbelievable shock. I literally could not take a breath for what seemed like an eternity it was so cold.

When the swim was over everyone was suffering from some level of hypothermia. I was shaking so much it felt more like convulsions.

We then marched up to city hall to take a written test. We could barely wrap our fingers around the pencils to write the answers, and the writing looked like scribbling. While I was working on my test, Bruce Baird and Jim Stauffer were standing next to me talking quietly while looking at some sort of chart. They seemed very concerned. I asked Bruce what it was they were looking at. He said it was a Navy exposure chart, and they were trying to figure out the length of the next swim that afternoon. He showed me the chart which had temperature down one side of it, and time in minutes along the bottom. A bright red line went diagonally across the page. I asked Bruce what the red line was. He said that was where the combination of temperature and time would cause death. Fortunately none of us hit the red line that day. I don't think the water has ever been that cold since here in Laguna.

Jon Brick

“Rescue Technique Learned in Time”

Newspaper Article about John Hill

“Rescue Technique Learned in Time”

“Guard Saves Girl”

June 24, 1960

“Laguna Beach lifeguard John Hill puts newly-learned rescue technique to work on

18-year-old Linda Wilson, who almost drowned in the rough surf at the beach at the foot of

St. Ann’s Drive. Miss Wilson was caught in an undertow.

“Just two hours after receiving instruction in mouth to mouth respiration, Lifeguard John Hill used that method of resuscitation to save the life of Linda Wilson, 18 of Covina, after he had pulled her from the surf at St. Ann’s beach late Monday afternoon. “I noticed the two girls when they went in the water,” said Lifeguard Hill, “and since the undertow was particularly strong, I kept an eye on them. They started to drift toward the undertow,” Hill continued, “and one of the girls called me to help her friend.

“Immediately I pulled the girl in and started to give her mouth to mouth respiration. After about twelve breaths her breathing was somewhat normal and forty-five minutes later she was recovered enough to come over and thank me.”

John Hill not only had his first spectacular rescue on Monday, but it was his first day of guard duty. Fortunately, he must have paid strict attention to the forty-five minutes of instructions given by Chief Lifeguard, Art Fisette, each morning.

The handsome, dark haired lifeguard, who is the son of Mr. And Mrs.George Hill of 441 Cress Street has just graduated from Orange Coast College in liberal arts and business administration.”