Dean Westgaard

Dean Westgaard

By Dale Ghere

2005

The day I was hired to be a lifeguard for Laguna was the first step into a lifestyle that I had never imagined. In the beginning I thought that I would go to work on the beach somewhere, get off work at six and do a little surfing in the evening. Beyond that I really didn’t have any other plans. I only knew one other person in the whole city and he planned to do the same thing I was going to do. As far I was concerned life was looking pretty good.

First year guards made about $12.00 a day in the summer of 1960. I thought I was about to become wealthy. Before the first day of work Kiwi and I found housing in an old restaurant that was located at the entrance to Three Arch Bay. Today the north half of the building is a dental office. The other half became a parking lot. Four of us went together to rent the restaurant. We each paid $30.00 a month. How much better could life get than to live on the beach with three other guards, get paid for going to the beach all day and surfing as much as I wanted?

On the first day of work I was assigned Woods Cove, but when I told them that I didn’t know where it was they decided to place me at a beach that they could just point to. So off I went to St. Ann’s. I didn’t know it, but my life was about to take a whole knew direction. I would meet people over the next few months and years that would help me to mature, to gain confidence, to set life long goals and develop a career. Dean Westgaard would become the catalyst for many of the changes that finally stuck. When I became a guard I thought of the beach as a place to work. Dean taught me that it was a place to develop a life style. There was never a doubt in my mind that he took lifeguarding seriously. He was the one that taught everyone how to improve their guarding skills. Everyday started with him telling stories or getting someone else to tell a story about how a rescue or first aid was handled the day before. He would walk us through every event and reinforce what had been done right and what might have been done to improve the situation. Dean’s primary objective during the day was guarding lives, everything else was secondary.

What began to excite me most about guarding was what people did before and after guarding all day. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months my life ambitions were taking some dramatic alterations. I had come to Laguna for summer employment. At the end of summer I would then return to college. As the summer progressed my goals started to change. All of the other guys were doing such exciting things. I was ready to make some changes.

The door to diving was opened for me. I could not believe what could be acquired with just a short dive. At St. Ann’s beach abs, lobsters, and halibut were abundant. Dean and his family lived just above my beach. He would come down almost nightly and go for a short dive if there were calm surf conditions. I couldn’t believe what he was taking home for dinner. I started diving right away. I found that he made it look a lot easier than it really was. When he watched me collect my first ab he knew that I didn’t know what I was doing because it was a black. He patiently explained the difference between good and bad abalone. I next learned to dive for halibut and then I moved to lobsters. After a while I even found a few scallops.

Dean saw that I wanted to learn all of the beach skills. He next moved me into the old dory that was left near the Main Beach tower. I couldn’t believe the bounty that could be produced with a short row down the coast. This beach life just kept getting better. I got paid for going to the beach; I could surf before and after work and I could collect a free dinner on the way home--lovely.

Before the end of summer I had my new life mapped out. I would guard until October. Then with my pockets full of money I would buy a new rhino surfboard and go to the north shore and ride big surf until January. I would then go to the mountains and learn to ski well enough to get on the ski patrol. I planned to work in the mountains until the snow went away and then I would buy a woody and surf up and down the coast until summer returned. I was on a roll.

When I shared this dream with Dean he started spending more time on my beach. He also invited me home for dinner a few times. Each time we would wind up talking about where I was headed. He asked if I liked what I was doing. I said that this was the perfect life. He then said that I needed to go back to college and get a teaching degree so I could guard during the summers. We had a lot of very long discussions about my goals.

Dean lost the first round of discussions. I didn’t go back to school and I did go to the islands with some other guards. It was an incredible winter. It was my first experience with waves well over twenty feet. I did come home and buy a 1948 woody for $200. I did take off and surf from Rincon south to Mexico, but in the end Dean’s influence was just too great. I went back to school and got a teaching credential. I guarded summers until 1974 and after 34 years of teaching I retired in 2000.

During the first few years in Laguna I thought that I was the ‘chosen one’ that Dean had selected to mentor, but as the years passed by I realized that I was really just one of many that was given that privilege. We all gained from his influence. Each one of us that guarded with Dean felt fortunate to have known a man of his character. That is why the Laguna Beach Lifeguard Headquarters carries his name.

Hopefully every young person has a hero, someone to emulate and follow. The night I discovered that he had died I went to the beach and cried uncontrollably. A friend and a mentor had been lost. I have been comforted to know that his influence on my life would touch both my children and grand children. I miss him a lot.

Over Here Ghere

Over Here Ghere

By Dale Ghere

2005

It was about 10:30 in the evening, towards the end of October, probably about 1970 or 71, when I got a call from the police department dispatcher. Apparently there was a report that someone was in the water off of Oak Street yelling for help and since I was on call I would need to respond.

I put on my Speedos, grabbed my fins and tube, and jumped in the car and head down the hill to Oak St. I figured that I could run all of the stop signs because any policeman on duty would be headed there also. It didn’t take long to travel the three quarters of a mile. By the time I got there several people had already informed the police officer that they had heard someone yelling for help well beyond the surf line. They said the voice had become rather faint because he seemed to be out so far.

None of their stories made much sense to me. It was pitch dark, there was not any surf to speak of and therefore there was no rip. Who besides a diver would be out in the water at that time of night? And if there was someone out there how was I suppose to find him in the dark? There was certainly no indication to either the officer or myself that anyone was still in the water. There had not been another yell for help since either one of us had arrived. The only troubling part was that everyone agreed that they had clearly heard someone yell for help, not once, but several times. I hadn’t taken a board or a light. I had not even taken time to get a wetsuit. It didn’t look like I had very many options open to make people think that I knew what I was doing. I was going to have to get in the water and make it look like I was there to find and save the yelling victim. My heart wasn’t really into getting in the water. I didn’t expect to be able to swim out in the dark, find the victim and return to the beach with the admiration of all who were there. As I slipped off my pants and shirt I asked everyone to shout to the person to see if they could get a response. They did as I requested, but no sounds returned except those of the breaking waves.

I asked a guy to point in the direction that he thought the last sound came from. As he pointed I entered the water and dove under the first wave. I didn’t figure this would take too long. I would just swim out past the surf line, yell a few times and then return to beach. I figured that I would probably have more luck finding a diver who had gotten scared and started yelling in the dark for his buddy. I wouldn’t expect to find them still in the water, but back on the beach, probably at Mountain Rd. or perhaps Thalia St. But for now I needed to do something and this was the best thing I could think of. So out I went. I yelled loud enough for the people on the beach to hear “Is there anyone out here?” Then I swam another 25 or 30 yards and repeated the yell. Each time, as expected, there was no returning voice seeking help. It was chilly, but not so cold that I was in any great hurry to get out of the water. I don’t remember how many times I called out, but I will never forget what happened after my last call.

I had finally swum about as far as I wanted to go when I made the last call. This time I yelled towards the beach. I wanted to make sure that everyone was well aware that I was trying to find the person and that I was not going to give up easily. I yelled, “If there is anyone out here you had better yell now or I am going to leave you here. I am swimming back to the beach.” That is when I heard a quiet voice come across the water from the dark abyss of the ocean, “Over here Ghere.” The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up, every nerve in my body was prepared to send a message somewhere and I was about ready to dance on the water all the way back to the beach. What was happening? Who was in the water? And most importantly how did they know it was Ghere.

It didn’t take too long to get all of the answers and for my heart rate and blood pressure to return to normal. I swam in the direction of the voice and found one of my old beach gremlins from Saint Ann’s having a good time swimming around. He was high on something. We talked for a while and then I asked him to swim to the beach with me so that everyone could go home and know that all was well for the evening. When we started out of the surf I realized that he was naked so I asked the officer to get my towel and give it to him. He couldn’t remember where he had left his cloths so I walked down the beach searching for the missing cloths. I found nothing. Sadly, by the time I got back to where everyone was the police officer had decided that he was going to take him to the police station for being on drugs.

Ten years earlier Laguna was the center of the drug culture for southern California, to some degree it was probably the Mecca for all druggies of that era. The preaching of Timothy O’Leary and the drugs took a heavy toll on the youth of Laguna during those years.

It was several years later before the next time I saw the errant gremlin. Once again our encounter was on the beach, he was visiting Laguna from a halfway house in Costa Mesa. He said that life had been difficult the past few years. Most of the kids made it through those turbulent years and developed good lives, some didn’t.

Marv’s Drive and Dive

Marv’s Drive and Dive

By Dale Ghere

July 24, 2004

Who wouldn’t want to be able to wake up in the morning and see written on the wall, “This is what you will encounter if you decide to accept today’s assignment.” That way if you thought the events of the day were not to your liking you could just rollover, go back to sleep and wait for a better day to occur. Who would not want to be able to see into the future?

I have thought about this a lot over the years and I have come to the conclusion that I would only like this ability if it were limited to the good things of life. In my thinking if you could predict the future then you would just know ahead of time what was going to happen, you wouldn’t have the ability to change the events so it wouldn’t happen. I think that it might be nice to know the good things that were about to occur, but to know that something terrible was about to happen and have no power to stop it would be devastating. There is comfort in taking life just one moment at a time. It causes you to plan and prepare. It provides a sense of anticipation to one’s life. We can live a life of adventure. We can think that we are in some control of our destiny, but at the same time know that we are not in total control.

I guess that is why we are taught at a very early age to begin to weigh our decision and calculate the consequences of our actions. Our parents try to impress us with the idea that if we make good decisions we will be rewarded with a full and meaningful life. However, if we make poor decisions then we will pay for it, one way or another.

Every morning can be filled with great expectations, but in reality some days do not go as well as expected.

I have forgotten what year this story took place. It was probably some time before 1965. I think that it was just after summer officially ended, but we were still keeping a skeleton crew. Guards would have been at Crescent Bay, Diver’s, Main, St Ann’s, Mt. Road, Wood’s and Victoria.

I was guarding at St Ann’s, which meant that I had to cover everything from Sleepy Hollow to Mt. Road. The problem with that situation was that all areas could not be seen all of the time from any one position. Because there was no single point to guard from, a lot of my time that day was spent walking up and down the beach. The surf had been red flag throughout the previous week, but by Sunday it had dropped considerably. There was a fairly strong wind chop and the water conditions for diving were terrible. There were few people on the beach and hardly anyone was in the water so when I saw three guys coming down the stairs at St Ann’s with all of their dive gear on all of the warning flags started to wave immediately. Who were these guys? I didn’t recognize any of them. Where were they from? If they had all of this dive gear and knew how to use it then why were they coming down the steps? One look at the water would have been enough to tell any experienced diver that it would be a better day to mow a lawn or paint a house than it would be to take a dive. The water was rough, there were still rather strong rips and the visibility was less than two or three feet.

As I approached them it became obvious that these guys didn’t have a clue about what they were doing. My first question to them was, “Are you certified divers?” They assured me they were, but they had left their clothes in the car so they could not prove it. I tried to point out all of the danger signs I saw when I looked at them and explained that if they really knew what they were doing they would have just gone home when they saw the water conditions. I suggested that they should just go for a free dive first and then they would see for themselves what I was talking about. Going for a quick dive without their tanks seemed like just a lot of extra and unneeded effort to them. They tried to argue with me and then they threatened to go in the water against my advice. I told them I would call for a back up and have the police arrest them if they insisted on going diving. This was a bluff, but it worked.

They eventually agreed to not go diving. They removed their dive gear and took some of it back to the car. They returned to the beach with their clothes on to get the last of their stuff. I was happy to see them going and figured that I had done them a big favor. They would have gotten in the rip at St. Ann’s, been thrashed around for a while and would have had a terrible dive experience. I figured that there was a good chance that one or more of them could have gotten into real trouble. I didn’t need to deal with that possibility. Now they could come back on a nice day, know what water conditions to look for and experience a good dive. I felt that all of Westgaard’s training lectures about keeping inexperienced divers from getting into a bad situation had paid off that day.

The next three hours were pretty uneventful; lots of patrols, few people and little to do. I was back at the tower when I saw two of the morning divers walking towards me from Thalia Street. As they got closer they started to run. I got out of the tower and asked them where their buddy was. That is when the day took a big turn.

They told me they had planned on going home when they left the beach. Then they stopped to have something to eat. While eating they decided to go to another beach to go for a dive. So they drove around looking for a beach where there was no guard. . They had decided that they didn’t want to waste the money they had spent renting their dive gear from a place called Marv’s Drive and Dive in San Bernardino. All of their dive gear had been rented from a gas station that doubled as a dive shop. They said that they had seen me walk down to Oak Street and had waited until I left before they went down the steps to get in the water at Cress Street. They then told me about getting thrashed by the waves. As they got out of the water they recognized I had been right. The two boys had thought at the time that their friend had been able to get through the rough surf so they had taken their equipment back to the car and had gotten dressed while they waited for him to finish his dive. They waited an hour before they really started to worry. Then as the time lengthened they figured that something must have gone wrong. They waited another half hour hoping their friend would show up. After all of that, they decided to ask for help.

I called for a back up and we spent the rest of the day walking up and down the beach looking for the lost diver. I asked everyone that came to the beach to keep an eye on the water so we could recover the body. The tank he was using would have held less than an hour of air so we had no hope of finding him alive. There was no sense in any of us getting in the water to look for him. The visibility for us would have been less than an arms length. We would have been feeling for him more than looking for him.

Look as hard as we may, nothing came ashore. Not a fin, a faceplate or anything that would indicate the boy was there. We all went home that evening knowing that there was a young man drifting around the bottom somewhere.

Eugene dePaulis found the body Thursday morning near Anita Street. The boy went in the water looking like any typical 16-year-old boy; four days later he came out of the water looking more like a 60-year-old man. Eugene said when he checked the air tank and it was still full. Like the others, he had gotten in trouble as soon as he entered the surf. He never did go for the dive and he was too inexperienced to be able to get himself out of the turbulent water. The boys had come to beach for an adventure and because of a series of poor decisions the day had turned into a hardship. Not only for all of the boys, but for me too. Forty some years later and I still question myself about what could I have done differently that might have made more of an impression on them in order to keep them from deciding to dive that day.

Andrew Shannon

The Most Critical Rescues of My Guarding Career

By Andrew Shannon

August 9th, 2004

Laguna Beach

I was the regular Victoria weekend guard in 1981, '82 and '83 and again after a hiatus in '87 and '88.

During the years I worked there I got to know many of the long time locals. I don't know if any of you ever knew Joe Coffee, but he was a great old guy. Every Friday, Saturday and Sunday he would lug his chair and umbrella along with the latest issue of sports illustrated down the ramp. He'd spend the afternoon reading and always went for a swim unless the surf was really large.

He was in his eighties and set an example that I'll always try to remember.

The Victoria tower sits almost on the city line. To the right is Victoria beach proper. The guard is responsible for the water and also the beach and ordinance enforcement. To the left is Lagunita, a "private" beach where dogs and alcohol were allowed. You ignored the beach but ended up guarding the water. One weekend in July or August of 1981(?) it was hot and the surf was solid. It was red flag and the beach was packed. If you've seen Victoria on a big day, you know the rips stack up on wet sand and literally grab inattentive people right off of the beach.

I had just rescued a little girl out of one of those rips to the left of the tower.

It was one of the most critical rescues of my guarding career and I was exhilarated. After carrying the girl back up the beach to her grateful parents and a round of spontaneous applause from the beach goers, I was back on the tower toweling off. Then I noticed him. He was standing on the wet sand a bit South of where I'd rescued the little girl. There was a small set coming in and he started back up the beach. At first I thought he was going to make it on his own but then I realized he needed help. I checked the water to make sure everyone else was okay and started in his direction. The water was piling up on his uphill side. He started jumping and dolphining up stream but lost his footing and started to roll like a hot dog in one of those cookers at a movie theatre. It was just then that I reached him. The water was five or six inches deep and he was one worried Dachshund.

I plucked him out and carried him up to dry sand and more applause than I'd received for rescuing the little girl.

--- Andrew Shannon

.

Ken Alton

Ken Alton

2004

Hola Dale and Marilyn

Thank you for the letter and yes I will be there... I am now living in La

Paz Baja California Sur for 9 months of the year and the rest of the year in

Kailua-Kona on the big island of Hawaii... I moved to Hawaii 11 years ago

and Mexico 8 years ago... I am involved in a project in La Paz that will

hopefully be the highest end destination resort in all of Mexico, named

"Bahia de los Suenos". Go figure, as I retired from Land Developing 9 years

ago and was going to spend all my time fishing and diving on my boat in

Kona... I work harder now than I did my whole building career... when in

Kona, I call Paul Golfos on Maui, and we take the boat to south point for

fishing and diving... I do not work all the time here in Mexico as I find

ample time for fishing and diving, just last week we caught four 50+lb wahoo

just south of the bay on my boat in the morning, and had a great dive in the

afternoon... it's a rough life, but someone has to do it...

Upon graduating from Cal State Fullerton, I have been in the building and

development business... I am now divorced and have two daughters, Kyri, 26

who is married to an eye doctor and living in Irvine, and Kati, 25, who is

married and living in Arkansas with my granddaughter Melony, now 2 years

old...

I believe I guarded from 1958 thru 1967 and worked Crescent Bay, Sleepy

Hallow, and then became a Lt. and drove the rescue jeep with Dean, Jake and

dePaulis... by the way, Jaunita lived down the street from my house in Kona

for along time and moved last year to Honolulu to be near Shirley Dugger,

small world... I believe my starting pay was $4.50/hr and when I became a

Lt. it was raised to $7.75/hr but I was able to get overtime... I think

these numbers are close, but now days I have trouble remembering what I had

for breakfast...

Side note... Mike Farley, the lifeguard from the Hotel Laguna, will be here

at the project next month as he has been a boat captain for a Mexican

family for the last 15 years... he stops by each year on his trip up inside

the Sea of Cortez, small world...

Hope this is what you were looking for and look forward to seeing you

soon...

Ken

Looking for a cold one!

Looking for a cold one!

By Jeff Powers

2004

Aloha Dale,

Just received a copy of the anniversary party info from Big Sam here on Kauai. I own CJ's Steak & Seafood in Princeville, Hanalei, Kauai about a mile from my brother Tom who moved here right after me in 1970...still going home to Laguna every year to see Mom and my brother Chris...cruise Javier's and see Big John and the boys at Thalia or go to Wally's barber shop and get the gossip from Rudy...some even find me here and come in for a free dinner like Mark Klosterman and Big John (John Parlette). If you ever make it over to the north shore of Kauai, make sure you come by...I don't forget old friends and heroes!

Hope all is well with you...not sure if I will fly over for the dinner, as it is Labor Day time and very busy here, but I am thinking about it...talked with my brother Tom and doubt he will be able to come, but he could change his mind. I am interested in the anniversary ring, also, so fill me in on that...hope all is well with you...see you soon perhaps...Old guards never die, they just float along looking for a cold one!

Aloha

Jeff Powers - guarded in the 1960s

Al Mendez

Al Mendez

Hey Dale,

Sorry this is so late. I will be coming w/ my wife. What is the cost?

What beach will everyone be hanging out at during the day?

Current info:

Al Mendez

Married to Diana

Years: '75 - '81 "The / 2 years rookie program ("Danger Jack" Linkey /

Charlie Ware)

1975 coldest year on record for training... 47 degrees. Young, dumb & full

of c......

Beaches: Main, Picnic, Divers, Woods, E-Bay.

"Moved inland & got a job"

Best memories: Rookie workouts, La Bama party (Charlie Ware's b-day), BB

King (Bill Brown), Bruce Baird (a classic), Lifeguard competitions

(Brunswick "Bruno" / Mendez # 1 rowing team), naked pier jumps (w/ Steve

McCormick's girlfriend), The "Dodger Run", Big Wednesday parties, buddy,

buddy, buddies, girls, girls, girls!!!

Lifeguard buddies for life: Brick, Brunswick, Patterson & Houts

Classic competition story: Brunswick / Mendez rowing the dory at the San

Clemente comp on a red flag day. Last leg around the pier coming into the

beach (huge set). Bruno: "oh shit Mendez, look at this set". "Row Bruno,

row!!!" (Bruno rowed stern & I was bow) We couldn't make it out of the

impact zone. We're now on the crest of a 12 - 15' wave when Bruno decides

to bail off the back of the dory & shout: "see ya Mendez". Thanks Bruno.

Classic buddy story: Jon Brick noticing a little crab on his leg while

sitting on his tower. "I'm so huge... I am a true waterman... I've got sea

life growing on me". True story!

Thanks Dale,

Al

Hey Dale,

Sorry this is so late. I will be coming w/ my wife. What is the cost?

What beach will everyone be hanging out at during the day?

Current info:

Al Mendez

Married to Diana

628 Oak Glen

Irvine, CA 92618

e-mail: alm@consumerportfolio.com

Years: '75 - '81 "The / 2 years rookie program ("Danger Jack" Linkey /

Charlie Ware)

1975 coldest year on record for training... 47 degrees. Young, dumb & full

of c......

Beaches: Main, Picnic, Divers, Woods, E-Bay.

"Moved inland & got a job"

Best memories: Rookie workouts, La Bama party (Charlie Ware's b-day), BB

King (Bill Brown), Bruce Baird (a classic), Lifeguard competitions

(Brunswick "Bruno" / Mendez # 1 rowing team), naked pier jumps (w/ Steve

McCormick's girlfriend), The "Dodger Run", Big Wednesday parties, buddy,

buddy, buddies, girls, girls, girls!!!

Lifeguard buddies for life: Brick, Brunswick, Paterson & Houts

Classic competition story: Brunswick / Mendez rowing the dory at the San

Clemente comp on a red flag day. Last leg around the pier coming into the

beach (huge set). Bruno: "oh shit Mendez, look at this set". "Row Bruno,

row!!!" (Bruno rowed stern & I was bow) We couldn't make it out of the

impact zone. We're now on the crest of a 12 - 15' wave when Bruno decides

to bail off the back of the dory & shout: "see ya Mendez". Thanks Bruno.

Thanks Dale,

Al

A Remembrance of Art Fisette

A remembrance of our father as told to me by my brothers – Gary and Larry Fisette

By Janine Fisette

2004

Our father- Art Fisette loved Laguna Beach, the ocean and the people of Laguna and this was reflected in his establishing many of the lifeguard programs for the community. He was one of the early Chief Lifeguards and was instrumental in purchasing the first lifeguard jeep, paddleboards and rubber rescue tubes. His love of Laguna and the beach was reflected in his desire in making the waters safe. He did this by implementing the Sea Cubs and Mermaids youth programs that still exist today and are very popular as a service to our community and the safety of the youth around the sea.

He also gave talks and demonstrations to the Women’s Club and other local social organizations about mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and emergency heart message “CPR”. These were new techniques at the time. Gary recalls being brought along for demonstration purposes.

Dad was an avid reader of the newspaper, the Laguna Newspost. There he read an article regarding Claremont College, how it had won the Nationals for Junior Colleges. He went to the college and asked to speak with the swim coach, and then he asked the swim coach if he could speak to the swimmers. He talked to the swimmers about becoming lifeguards in Laguna Beach. Inviting them to come and apply and how they would be tested in things like the run-swim-run. Dad had previously, both before and after the war, been a beach lifeguard in Los Angeles County. He had also coached the Wolf brothers who won Gold Metals in the Olympics.

Some of the swimmers that he drew from out of town were: Tim Davis, John Cunningham, Jim Herdman, Paul Golfos, and Dale Ghere. These fine athletes created a new standard.

Many of them did not have a place to stay so they moved into our guesthouse. We had the best looking guys in town sleeping on our floor and they had the best looking girls trying to go out with them.

Some of the guards became teachers, got married and then became our teachers. Now they are our town fathers and they are loved.

Art Fisette was the Chief Lifeguard in 1959 and 1960.

A Mother’s Perspective By Susan Campbell 2005

A Mother’s Perspective

By Susan Campbell

2005

Lifeguards

When I was pregnant with my son, one of my favorite things to do was walk barefoot on the beach. The little life growing inside of me was as real and alive as the Sea. The movements I felt inside of me seemed to be in sink with the movements of the tide and the currents beside me. In me and beside me were life and beauty. One could not in a lifetime, experience the elation of those feelings, an expecting mother has.

Just after Davie was born, I’d try to work off those extra pounds by swimming in the ocean. My husband would sit on the beach with Davie, while I’d go for a swim. I’ll never forget one afternoon when I came back to out little spot on the beach. I asked Don, “Where’s Davie?” (He was only 6 days old) Don replied, “He’s right here…can’t you see him?” “No!” I said, “I can’t see him!” Then Don pointed to the lifeguard tower and sure enough, there was my 6 day old son, wrapped up like a cocoon and resting at the bottom of a little Mexican bag and hanging from the lifeguard tower. The wind was rocking him to sleep and he was perfectly content. That’s where Davie took his afternoon naps, until he out grew the little Mexican bag.

Only living two blocks from Rock Pile in North Laguna, made it easy for us to develop a pattern of walking along the beach. Part of our daily routine was to walk along the boardwalk, to the playground on the south side of Main Beach. As Davie grew older, we’d go for treasure hunts; looking for sea glass and then cashing the glass in for ice - cream cones.

Davie grew up saying hello to lifeguards. They became his friends at a very early age. One of the things I love most about Laguna is that you develop these casual “Friendships” over time. It’s those little daily encounters with people that enrich our lives. How little those lifeguards knew, how impressionable they were to my little boy.

Davie eventually grew more interested in the ocean. The ocean was his backyard. On our way to El Morrow Elementary School, we’d have to stop first at Divers Cove to skim board. I’d sit on the beach with my coffee, while Davie and his buddy Tanner would burn off some energy. I figured I was doing his teachers a service, by giving him this opportunity.

I gave him his first swimming lessons at the pool down the street from our home. He eventually took lessons locally and then joined the swim team and water polo team at the High School level.

I’ll never forget the day he tried out for his first job as a lifeguard. The tryouts were on his 16^th birthday; you had to be 16 to try out. The day before tryouts, he and his Dad decided to do a practice swim. Don went out in the kayak with a stop watch and paddled alongside Davie. He completed the practice swim in the required time. This gave him the confidence he needed, for the tryouts the next day. On the day of tryouts, the swells were huge! As all the boys started coming in from their swim, my anticipation grew. Where is he? Then I spotted him…he was on the backside of a huge set a waves! Would he be able to ride in on those waves? Did he know what he was doing? He could swim but could he get in safely in surf like that? He timed his run in perfectly and somehow seemed to dodge the dangerous swells. I realized then how perfectly in sink he was with the sounds and rhythms of the sea. He had an understanding of the ocean, which I had not realized until that day.

I still take my walks along the boardwalk, but not with my son. He’s the guy I say hello to up in the Lifeguard tower. He’s the guy that now encourages and inspires other little boys to one day pursue the job as a Laguna Beach Lifeguard. He’s the guy that can now give back, what was once given to him as a child.

The training he received helped develop him into a responsible young man. I will forever be grateful for the Laguna Beach Lifeguard Department and the Jr. Lifeguard programs.

Sincerely,

Susan Campbell

Davie Campbell lifeguarded from 2003 to 2007

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.

An Appreciation for the Sea

An Appreciation for the Sea

By - Dirk Van Deusen

July 31, 2004

Looking back over the past 50 years, it’s obvious that the ocean, and those who are drawn to it, have been the most powerful influences in my life. I was a Crescent Bay Beach Rat, sprawled out in the summer sun on the hot sand, not a care in the world except for where I’d left my fins and when the next big swell was coming. My biggest idols were my Dad, who taught me fishing, diving and bodysurfing, my Mom who always took good care of us, and the guards who sat in the big orange towers on the sand, watching over the water and the invading hordes of tourists, saving the sorry flatlanders from drowning in their ignorance of the ocean.

I joined the Junior Lifeguards and remember lectures and workouts with the late greats, Dean Westguard, Laverne Dugger and Bruce Baird, together with many other great watermen. I was lucky to have been part of the first group of rookies recruited from the high school swimming and water polo teams in an inspired effort by Dale Ghere to groom a few young local swimmers and surfers for the force. It was a great idea and as a result of going through the rookie program, I gained a new perspective on life in and around the ocean, and my responsibility to others who seek recreation within its blue sanctuary.

Everything I learned growing up in and around The Laguna Beach Lifeguard Department has carried throughout my life and into the present. I was certified in scuba diving during the rookie program and later worked as a commercial diver for abalone, sea urchin and underwater construction. I became a NAUI instructor and taught classes in resorts and on boats in Kona. I’m obsessed with swimming and don’t feel right if I can’t get in a mile swim in Kailua Bay every day. When I sit on the beach, my head auto-scans over the sand and water, looking for accidents waiting to happen and I’ve been able to assist in some situations.

My kids grew up surrounded by my oceanic addictions and have the same appreciation for the sea, although less a necessity for them as it is for me. Damon is an aspiring film director in UCLA’s graduate film program. I look forward to doing an underwater project with him sometime. Corrina is an amazing mom who’s worked in the legal profession and is now studying metaphysics. Her daughter Jillian seems to be the fish that skipped a generation and I’m looking forward to teaching her scuba diving.

Today I went fishing with Mom and Dad, like we do whenever I’m off work, if they’re not busy snorkeling or hanging out on the beach. They’re waiting for me to finish this so they can proofread it.

Looking back over the past 50 years, it becomes obvious that the ocean and the people drawn to it have been the most powerful influences in my life.

Aloha,

Dirk Van Deusen

P.S. Wish I could be in Laguna for the party. Come visit me in Kona!

The White Hat

The White Hat

By Dale Ghere

2004

When I first came to Laguna Beach to guard in 1960 there were a variety of hats worn by the guards. Some were straw hats from Tahiti or some other South Pacific island. Some were from Mexico. Some guards just wore visors. Some didn’t ever want to wear a hat. The hat that was offered by the department was a white cardboard pith helmet. No one seemed to mind what hat was used, so I tried a wide variety of shapes and styles through those first few years. Some hats were to hot, or they wouldn’t stay on when there was a wind. Some turned out to be too heavy when worn all day. Cloth hats got too dirty. It didn’t take too long to figure out that I was looking for some type straw-like hat. Finding the right combination of crown shape and brim design seemed to be puzzling for me. There were many shapes available from Carpenter’s and the Toy Store on Main Beach. Some hats lasted most of the season while others fell apart in a couple of weeks. Through a process of trial and error I finally settled on a cowboy hat that was made for children. The first thing I did to the hat was to soak it in the ocean long enough to reform the brim. I wanted the brim to curve down in the front and back instead of curving up on the sides like a cowboy’s hat. Once the hat was wet and reshaped it took only a few minutes for the sun to make the new shape permanent. It worked fine. It kept both my face and the back of my neck shaded. With a little care and no accidents I could make it through the summer with two hats. Each hat cost me sixty-nine cents. That might not sound like much by toady’s standards, but we were only making a $1.60 an hour when I started. To some degree that hat became my trademark on the beach. People got use to looking for the hat when they wanted to find me. Although the pith helmets were always available few people used them, I hated them. Forty-four years later I still use the same style hat when I am on the beach.

Around 1970 Skip was on one of his tirades to get rid of the older guards. One morning I was the one he thought that he would try to intimidate. As I was preparing to leave the headquarters (the old Boy’s Club at the north end of Main Beach) he said, “Ghere I don’t want you to wear that straw hat anymore. Get rid of it!” He went on to say that it was not professional looking and I should wear a pith helmet so the other guards would also. I explained that I wasn’t about to go to his choice of a hat. He got very mad and said a lot of things about how I was holding the lifeguard department back from being as professional as the police and fire departments. He finished with the threatening statement, “I am going to a meeting at city hall and when I get back if you are not wearing a white hat you’re fired.” After he left everyone asked me what I was going to do. Without much thought I simply walked into the back room, got a can of white spay paint, put my hat on my index finger and gave the hat a spin. As the hat went around I sprayed the crown and brim white. In a short time the paint was dry. I put the hat on and went to work at the Main Beach Tower. Skip never said anything about the hat again.

A few years after I stopped guarding Jim Stauffer and Bruce Baird were trying to decide on a type of hat that would provide good sun protection for the guards and something that everyone would be willing to wear. By the mid-70’s people were beginning to get serious about reducing the possibility skin cancer. Jim and Bruce finally decided on a straw hat that had a brim that was larger than my hat, is heavier and more durable than the one I use. Bruce thought that the straw was a good material, but he thought that it might not be visible enough for people to quickly identify a guard among all the other people on the beach. He wanted a hat that was recognizable by everyone on the beach. Jim then suggested that they spray the crown and brim white like Ghere did. Thus was born the “Lifeguard White Straw Hat.”

Bruce eventually gave some hats to the staffs at Huntington Beach and Newport Beach. Jim took the hat idea with him when he started Lifeguards International and started guarding the county beaches. In quick succession the white hat moved along the coast to other departments.

It is always interesting to me to see how an event unfolds like a flower until it is fully developed. There was no single event or situation that generated the “White Hat”, it was a series of things that occurred over a period of several years, which brought about the final product. Because the outcome was good the White Hat has endured.

Today as I travel along the coast and see guards walking to work or sitting in their towers with their straw hats I am reminded of friends that I admire like Bruce and Jim. I think about the young people wearing the hats and I admire them for their dedication, talent and preparation. I know that each of them has been willing to pay a high price for the right to wear the hat. I was given many gifts as I learned to be a guard. There were men willing to take the time and make the effort to prepare me to be capable of accepting the baton that I would be handed. That hat is no longer just a hat. It is part of the mantle that is offered to those who have qualified to become part of the brotherhood of beach lifeguards. I am pleased that for so many years I had a roll in the process of training capable, talented and determined young men who wanted to become lifeguards (sorry girls, we were not enlightened in those days).

Dale Ghere

Guarded 1960-1974

I guarded at St. Ann’s Beach for several years and eventually moved to Main Beach where I took on the Junior Lifeguard Program. Eventually, with LaVern Dugger’s blessing, I started the Rookie Training Program in 1968 The Rookie program is still used today, July 8, 2004.

Being accepted as a Lifeguard was an honor, being accepted among your peers was priceless.

Competitive as Young Lions

By John Slowsky

2004

Story Author: John Slowsky
Lifeguard from 1969 – 1973
Notable achievements:
Member of 1st Rookie Team
National Champion in Lifeguard Competition
Brother of the first Female Beach Lifeguard in Modern Era

Wow, many stories, many experiences and all of them were molding a young man into adulthood with responsibilities beyond his age. Being accepted as a Lifeguard was an honor, being accepted among your peers was priceless.
My simple joyous story begins on Bluebird Beach in the middle of the summer when the water is warm and beautiful. Bluebird was an easy beach to guard, mostly because it was so small and with the locals to your left (playing volleyball) and the numerous rocks straight out in front, the only real area to keep your eye for danger was to the north in front of the Surf and Sand Hotel. Charlie Ware, my best friend and fellow Lifeguard was guarding at Mountain Road to the North, with the Surf and Sand sandwiched between us in equal distance. Although we were the best of friends, we were also as competitive as young lions. Charlie could swim circles around me, but I could do the same to him on foot. Charlie was easily the fastest in the water on the force, and I the quickest on foot. (That's how I won the Nationals).
I remember always having a fancy for Fudgesicle, the ice cream. I still have a problem with ice cream and my body shows it. But on this particular day there was no fear in the tower, beautiful summer day, sparkling water with an occasional set of substantial size waves, but really no rips or cares. From training with Dale Ghere and Jack Lincke, we were taught as guards that if a rescue was questionable, hit the water anyway and check it out before it became an issue. Anticipate the problem when it was still in doubt and resolve it before it became an emergency. The worst thing that could happen was that you took a swim in the element that you loved so much anyway.
So there I am with a Fudgesicle in my mouth when I see a little girl in front of the Surf and Sand beyond the shore breakers on one of those suicidal, flimsy, blow-up rafts. The little girl was about 10 years of age and obviously unfamiliar with the water by the way she struggled on her little raft. From my vantage point I could see a set coming in its slow march towards shore. I could also see that this little girl appeared to be in the perfect spot to catch the impact zone when this wave finally made it to shore. So I hit it, jumping out of my tower to take an easy jog down the beach without my fins and still with my almost consumed Fudgesicle in my mouth. Don’t ask me why I remember the ice cream but it’s true. Well as soon as I started making my move down the incline of the beach I looked way up North and saw Charlie Ware in the same action and motivation from Mountain Road. We must have both saw it at the same time and at the same time looked for each other in the distance.
Then the testosterone kicked in and it was off to the races! Damn, no way I’m going to let Charlie beat me to that little girl, no way! I suck down the last of the Fudgesicle and toss the stick out of the way as I’m bolting at full speed. Charlie fired into high gear exactly the same time I did and the both of us are completely oblivious to anybody else on the beach. I'm grinning just telling this story all over again. I know I have an advantage over Charlie while we’re still on land, but I know he’ll surely catch me and possibly pass me in the water unless I keep a spark of a lead.
I always try to imagine what this might have looked like if you were staying at the Surf and Sand Hotel from your balcony. Two, young, blond stallions charging down the beach in their sunbathed red trunks carrying their bright red emergency tubes; I mean the contrast to everyone else slowly moving on this beautiful day compared to two red blurs descending on one obvious location. Where are they going? Where's the emergency?
Sure enough that lumbering wave finally made it to the shelf right in front of that little girl on her suicide raft. It must have looked huge to her and even more impressive to the people on the beach that never even saw it forming. This next part, try to read it really fast :) Wham! I pop my tube and in one motion I have it across my body while I’m still in midair before making my first plunge. Wham! Charlie hits the water next to me in almost the exact same time which alarms me so I have to sprint like there's no tomorrow. The wave has reached its peak and is cresting to break; the little girl is sideways and at the bottom of the impact zone. You could see her little eyes the size of saucers. Stroke, stroke, stroke goes the two sprinters with their trailing red tubes. I’m not gonna give Charlie the satisfaction of getting to her first... Crash goes the wave onto the little girl and almost instantaneously two lifeguards have dove below the crashing wave, caught the little girl under that lip, pulled her through the other side and lift her out of the water. She is both stunned and relieved as she becomes aware that she is suspended by a lifeguard on either arm.
It was a tie; both Charlie and I are staring at each other as this little girl is raised over our heads. We both have grins surrounding our faces and the satisfaction that this race was so much fun. We both make the short swim in with this little girl and are greeted by her parents that are too grateful for what they just saw. Charlie and I wrap our tubes before setting off in opposite directions back to our separate towers. With a wave and a smile I bid my friend farewell knowing I’ll probably see him later after work as we spent many a summer evening together. On the walk back to Bluebird I find my stick from my Fudgesicle (no kidding, I really did) and make my way back to my tower thinking to myself, “That was so much fun”.
The next morning was one of those days where the entire Lifeguard Squad met at Main Beach for training and briefing from Dino Westgaard (you remember those?). Well, while sitting there with the rest of the guys in the sand as Dino standing on the deck of the main tower, began to make an announcement that yesterday the Headquarters received more phone calls from citizen’s praising how good their Lifeguards were than any other time in recent history and that it was on a Green Flag day. On top of that, all of the phone calls came from visitors staying at the Surf and Sand Hotel. I remember it was bothering him to know what happened. He points to the both of us sitting in the sand with the other 50 guards and asks if we could illuminate. I remember the both of us staring at each other with this dumb look on our faces because to the both of us, we didn’t have a clue. There was nothing special yesterday… then we both flash on the little girl at the same time “Ah… it was this rescue of that little girl” and I remember the both of us feeling almost embarrassed. We had accidentally made a small thing a big thing and we were just having fun. I know we didn't tell the whole story and Dino was suspicious. We figured it best we keep it to ourselves. Lifeguarding was a lot of fun and I'm a better person because of it.

“Danger in Paradise”

“Danger in Paradise”

By Charlie Ware

September 28, 2009

As one of the first four Rookies in 1968, my duty was to report to Main HQ each morning by 10am and work out for the first hour prior to hiking to the outer beaches to provide relief to the “regular guards” through out the day. At 16 years old, each and every day, lifeguarding was met with great appreciation. Most of my first few days on the job were filled with learning from the veterans on each beach and attending routine training sessions. I was told by most seasoned guards that many had not had to respond to a major incident each summer and that outside of the occasional big surf rescue, the days in the sun were mundane. I believed that, except Dale Ghere’s training had emphasized constant vigilance. Even more so, when the surf was flat and all appeared well. Those words couldn’t have rang more true than on a packed 4^th of July weekend my first summer in the chair. Getting to the Dante’s tower (that’s what it was called back then due to it’s location right in front of Dante’s Bar and Restaurant next to Hotel Laguna) by early afternoon to spell the guard for an half hour would be just as simple as the previous three stations on that Coney Island like day, I thought. The gay party was raging at Dante’s with an over flow crowd on the patio and music blasting through out the beach. A large luxury sail boat had anchored a few dozen yards out just to the south of the tower with strapping young party goers swimming back and forth to the beach and up to grab a cocktail or two. I followed each swimmer back and forth as they churned in the water and each group managed to make the trek with some degree of effort, except for one. After slowly dog paddling to shore a slender, Speedo clad reveler, began crawling on all fours up the wet sand only to collapse face up with exhaustion. I threw the phone to alert the need for back up and raced to the waters edge and notice he was unresponsive I gave him two puffs of air and his eyes flashed open and he calmly remarked he was OK and just need to rest a bit. Was this some sick ploy? His buddies carried him to the dry sand as Punky Parlett arrived in the unit with the resuscitator. He waved us off and said he was fine. The ambulance was sent away and Punky advised me to watch him as he laid there trying to recover from his taxing swim. Not two minutes had passed and along with the gathering crowd, I noticed his eyes closed and his lips turning blue. I began rescue breathing and by the short time Punky had returned with oxygen he was self breathing and transported to SC Hospital for a full recovery. My first real medical aid rescue and I almost walked a way too early thinking I had done it right. As I let my nerves settle down a bit in the chair, I recalled Dale’s training words of being constantly vigilant even in the most pristine settings. I learned very early that looks can be deceiving and that there is the possibility of danger in paradise.

Red Cross “Youth Good Samaritan” award.

Chris Kennedy Letter (Letter to the editor, Independent)

By Dale Ghere

March 28, 2006

I want to congratulate Christopher Kennedy for his nomination for the Red Cross “Youth Good Samaritan” award. I also want to thank him for taking the opportunity to gain the experience that allowed him to act appropriately in a time of crisis. Chris, like so many other watermen before him, was able to help another person because of the hours of preparation he was willing to do to become skilled. I commend him for the attitude that allows him to want to help others. I know the endless hours of training it took to develop good swimming skills.

Chris, how many laps have you done in the pool? How many hours have you played water polo? How many days have you spent body surfing, boogie boarding or surfing? How many summers have you spent in the junior guard program? How many mentors have been willing to teach you ocean skills? How many of your friends are also skilled watermen? Before you were able to help Trever you made a lot of good choices that prepared you for that moment. Well done Chris!

I would also like to congratulate all of those who have been willing to help young people like Chris develop good water skills. Chris did not just magically know how to help someone else. His ability to help was taught to him by a whole group of other people that call themselves teachers. As a community we should all take time to thank those people who have taught our kids to become skilled watermen. Our community is blessed to have many different opportunities available for our children: the city’s recreational summer swim programs, private swim teachers, youth swim and water polo programs, high school swim and water polo programs, local surfing, diving and kayaking schools and all of the various youth programs that are offered by the lifeguard department are designed to help kids become better waterman. Thanks to all of you who have taken the time to teach!

Summer is coming. Parents I encourage you to get your kids involved in one of the programs that will help your sons and daughters to become skilled watermen. It will enrich their lives. Chris’ mom was correct when she said, “They have to look out for each other.” I believe that the more skilled watermen there are on the beach the safer the beach becomes for everyone.

Dale Ghere

915 Meadowlark Ln.

Laguna Beach

Hello Stu and Andrea,

Here is a letter for the "Letters to the Editor". I was impressed by the story about Chris Kennedy's rescue (page A1, 3/24/06). It was appropriate that it came out the same time as the lifeguard exchange training program article.

Dale Ghere

Hank Butch By Robin Williams

Hank Butch

By Robin Williams

The Sandpiper was the hang out for all the Marine pilots from El Toro during the Korean War and Vietnam and maybe even WWII for all I know. My first beer upon turning 21 years of age was celebrated in the Sandpiper!

One night I was sitting at the bar in the Sandpiper and enjoying conversation with the bar tender while a dozen or so Laguna High School people were hustling some great looking girls from South Pasadena. You can always tell the Pasadena girls...they are the ones with white shoes...and pink lipstick...and the scent of an uplifting odor in their neck and shoulders that sends us beach boys into a wild man frenzy of "head banging" on the nearest wall.

I was a Laguna Lifeguard and one of the types that grew up on the rocky coves of Laguna. I knew every handhold and every route through any rock mass which allowed me to rescue swimmers and scuba divers efficiently. In other words, I was before the LONG SWIM TESTS that allowed the big city pool swimmers to take our jobs and rule in our stead! I was of the era where we had the distinction of never losing a life to drowning. That was the same era as Westgaard and Sorrels and Jake Jacobsen and Phil Jones and Chad Burton. We all knew each other like the back of our own hands and when we called for help from the Main Tower we knew exactly who to send out on the long "RIPS" to pull three or four people in at one time. And we also knew whom to send over the rocks or into a swirling mass of white water and suction. We all knew each other's beach background and abilities.

Those were the great days of life guarding and they gave us a foundation for living our lives in the real world of swirling masses of business horror!

But one incident prepared me like no other. It happened at the Sandpiper. “The Captain” -- Hank Bucher, sat down beside me. Hank is the consummate man's man. He is the guy who should have been the star of every war movie ever made. If he looks at you without smiling, you find yourself running outside to puke. He scares the living puke out of anyone who receives his un-blinking gaze.

I was on Coast Inn beach that week. This is the beach where women come to drag us into their lair and turn us into either mountain men or send us into early retirement as unfit for duty...in anything other than lying in a fetal position and sobbing uncontrollably for the rest of our lives. The women of Coast Inn Beach should have been the recruiters for the Special Forces. They quickly determined the men from the piddlin' little boys. Coast Inn Beach was the dance of death for every lifeguard in Laguna.

Hank actually talked to me at the bar that night. I couldn't believe it. He actually engaged me in conversation. I was under the impression that he would only talk to me if he really wanted to know something important. But, here he was...talking and enjoying a beer right next to me at the Sandpiper!

Then he asked me a question. He said, "Volleyball sometimes is tempting isn't it? I mean, while you are on duty?" "Yeah!" I blurted out. But caught myself. "Yeah, but I never play volley ball no matter how tempting it is." I truly did not think I was lying. I truly believed what I had just said. I was probing my mind to see if I remembered playing volleyball while I was on duty but could not remember a single time. Hank said, "Good, that's good. Someone could just disappear under a wave and you would never see him if you were playing volleyball. I am glad you don't do it. Well, that's it for me. See you later, Robin." And....Hank walked out of the Sandpiper and disappeared into the night.

The next day at Coast Inn Beach, it was overcast and cool and nobody in the water. A game of volleyball started up and they all wanted me to play. I took a fast look around, saw that it was virtually void of swimmers and happily joined the game. I was having a great time and actually winning. Then I looked up and here came a vision akin to Tarzan walking up the beach with a cigar in his teeth and smiling at me with a broad smile. It was “The Captain”--Hank Bucher ...and I had no pulse. My mind went blank and I did not have any verbal skills whatsoever. He said a few words to me...no way to remember what they were...but it was something like..."Everything ok here?"

I said, "Oh braib dib the all right snuh fert if the sun hahshed moah cattinflaw braypte."

He didn't look at me....just whispered, 'Yeah, I thought so too. Well, keep on it. See you later." And he walked on toward Wood's Cove.

I stood by my tower for the rest of the day...not thinking. Not talking. Just standing there stunned at my own revelation about myself. It was beyond humiliation. It was heavier than any human emotion. It was pretty horrible. I felt something like a freight train that is stopped and just sitting on the tracks in the middle of the Mojave Desert. Eventually, my wheels began to turn and I began to move with a new vision.

I have never lied again in my damn life.

And nobody drowned during that time period. That was the “era.”

Thanks Hank!

And “thanks” all you big cats from the Main Tower who helped me out whenever I needed it. Especially that huge day at Crescent Cove on the 4th of July in 1957!

Gawd, I miss Westgaard. We ALL miss him.

Robin D. Williams

August 20, 2004

Laguna