Talk about a true Waterman.

Talk about a true Waterman.

By Tim Houts

December 13, 2010

I remember Earle Wellsfry from my rookie summer. It was my first time running relief. It was either big yellow or solid red flag surf. I come running down to the tower at South Crescent Bay. The guard isn't there. The waves are huge. Thick, heavy waves, as I'd learn later, like that always at Crescent Bay. But, as a rookie, the adrenalin is pumping, and I feel like I'm about to piss my speedos.

I look out at the water, and a monstrous set is pounding through. Inside the impact zone is the lifeguard, Earle Welsfrey. He's holds two kids wrapped in his tube with one hand, and a third tucked in close to him with his other hand. The wave crushes down on them. They disappear beneath the towing white water. Then, a moment later, pop up in waist deep water, closer to shore. He holds his ground with the three against the rush of the back wash, and walks them out, like a giant bear cradling three dolls. One lifeguard. Three rescues.

He comes to the tower. Makes a casual comment. Then laughs a deep, jovial chuckle from his large frame. Strips to his speedos and heads out to body surf during his break, repeatedly dropping in backwards into huge faces.

And later, after I'd become a regular guard working Crescent, often, I'd see him walk down from his parents house up the hill. He'd have a Hawaiian sling spear in one hand, and mask and snorkel in the other. He'd disappear into the water briefly, before emerging with dinner, a nice halibut, or corbina. It was as though he were the embodiment of Neptune himself.

(FYI, my sister Cindy got acquainted with him a few years back, when she found his vacation rental on vrbo. It had been his parent's duplex, right at the top of the Crescent Bay ramp; and after their passing, he came back to Laguna after living somewhere else (Northwest?), bought his siblings out, and moved in with his family upstairs and rented the downstairs. I met him again when Cindy was there, maybe five years ago. I recounted this story to him. As is often the way of the older guard/rookie, he didn't remember me, or that day. But, he laughed his jovial bellow as I recounted it for him. And, he looked almost exactly as I had remembered him, with his large, stout build, and reddish brown hair. And that jovial bellow of a laugh. Classic.)

Stay huge men. Everyday. Charge it.

Tim Houts

A Memory of Dick Johnson

A Memory of Dick Johnson

By John Gill

August 30, 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 treeline 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 New Guy Gets a Great Assignment

The New Guy Gets a Great Assignment

By Dan Henry

2010

“This is a god’s beach” pronounced veteran guard, Jack Lincke, in a not unfriendly tone, although he did seem to be suggesting that it was highly unusual for a first-year guard to get such a prized assignment. St. Ann’s was, after all, very popular with the local beach-goers and the lifeguards as well. Not a particularly boastful sort, as I recall, I think that his reference to the deities had more to do with his rating of the beach than any exalted self-opinion. His many loyal fans, however, from the mothers who felt confident that their children were safe under his watch, to the lovely young ladies clustered around his tower, would no doubt have agreed that he was, at the very least, the king of that beach.

There was more that made it a too-good-to-be-true work schedule for a new guy. Two days at St. Ann’s, two at Oak Street and one day walking relief. A busy beach with a lot going on, a chance to watch some first class surfing while on the job at another, and one day giving each guard at the beaches either south or north of Main Beach a thirty minute break was a fine arrangement indeed. I think that it was my brother-in-law, Dale Ghere, who created that assignment for me. Maybe I lucked into it because he was spending a lot of time directing the rookie guard program that year.

In any case, the 18 year-old kid from an inland suburb (derided as “the flatlands” by the locals - a term whose origins I never fully understood) was thrilled to be a lifeguard in Laguna Beach with any sort of assignment at all. I was a decent swimmer, with four years of water polo and competitive swimming experience and I loved to spend as much time at the beach as I could, but I was far from being a competent “water man”. But by the start of the summer season in 1967, extensive, well-designed training provided by veteran guards, many of whom were also teachers in their other lives, had me feeling pretty confident that I could handle most things that might come my way.

That brings us to one day early that summer when my Mother brought my younger brother and a Japanese exchange student for a day at the beach at St. Ann’s. It was a perfect, blue-sky day with a light to moderate swell and a beach full of water and sun worshipers. For a few hours, I went through the standard routine: scanned the water, walked up and down the beach on an occasional patrol, and took a swim or two to keep myself alert.

One of the many topics included in our training was the identification of rip tides (“rips”) and an understanding of the methods used to escape them. St. Ann’s was probably a case study for the training because it had one of the more consistently active and easily identifiable rips in town: that river of foam heading straight out from the beach through a gap in the rock reef after a set of waves of any size at all was easy to see.

So when I looked up to see a young man attempting to swim toward the shore with a flailing stroke and not making any progress, I was excited, but not surprised. I jumped out of my tower, popped my rescue tube when I got to the water, got my duck feet fins on without fumbling too much (as least that’s how I remember it now) and swam toward the tiring swimmer that I now recognized as our guest from Japan. Later I learned from my Mother that she was also excited to see me taking off on a rescue and then much more urgently concerned when she looked around and figured out that it was our exchange student who was moving steadily toward Catalina in the St. Ann’s rip.

The rescue itself was actually uneventful, with the tired exchange student happy to grasp the offered tube as opposed grabbing me or taking any of the other undesirable actions described in our training. I swam toward the beach at an angle away from the rip and we made it back without going over the falls or making a particularly awkward exit from the water. I was happy to have made a successful rescue (possibly my first) and Mom was both proud of me and relieved that we had avoided an international incident.

Memorial to Earle Wellsfry

Earle Wellsfry Died December 16, 2010. I was asked to speak at his memorial service. The following are my notes for the speech.

By Dale Ghere

Talk About a True Waterman.

By Tim Houts

I remember Earle from my rookie summer, 1976. It was my first time running relief. It was either big yellow or solid red flag surf. I ran down to the tower at South Crescent Bay. The guard wasn’t there. The waves were huge, thick and heavy. As a rookie the adrenalin was pumping and I was scared.

I looked out at the water, and a monstrous set was pounding through. Inside the impact zone was the lifeguard. He had hold of two kids wrapped in his tube with one hand, and a third tucked in close to him with his other. The wave crushed down on them. They disappeared beneath the towering white water. Then, a moment later they all popped up closer to shore in waist deep water. Earle held his ground with the three in his arms against the rush of the back wash and walked them out like a giant bear cradling three dolls. One lifeguard, three rescues.

He came to the tower, made a casual comment and then laughed a deep, jovial, chuckle from his large frame. After stripping to his speedos he headed out to body surf during his break. He repeatedly dropped in backwards into huge faces. Wow!

Later, after I'd become a regular guard working Crescent, I would see him walk down from his parents house. He'd have a Hawaiian sling spear in one hand and mask and snorkel in the other. He'd disappear into the water briefly before emerging with dinner, a nice halibut or corbina. It was as though he were the embodiment of Neptune himself.

John Slowsky wrote this story about a 3 ½ mile swim he and Earle made from Victoria Beach to Crescent Bay in 1969.

I remember I finished 30 seconds behind Earle. To be that close to someone who was so good at long distance swimming was gratifying. I have always taken that as a great achievement.

At the finish line his parents were there to meet us. I was surprised anybody would think to support our efforts. I was shocked and overjoyed that someone took the time to come watch us finish. After the race Earle invited me to his home and his mother made us hot chocolate. What a sweet memory.

In 2004 the lifeguard department had a reunion and the following day I spent the afternoon on the Beach with three great watermen; Craig Parsons, Kim Seaman and Earle. That evening when I got home I wrote something about each of them. This is what I recorded about Earle.

The fourth member of the group was Earle Wellsfry, a waterman’s waterman. Big, barrel-chested and strong, he is confident and capable in every way when he is in the water. He is the kind of person who 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 the quick and capable skills of Earle. When I arrived at Wood’s Cove Earle was not on the beach. He was in the water with two of his kids: Sam 10 and Sarah 9. They were all in the water free diving their way to Victoria Beach. Later, when they returned, I was told that Sam had found six lobsters on a night dive just a few nights earlier. They had released all of them because it had been just a training dive for Sam. Lobster season will start in October. Earle is getting him ready. This is the tradition of great watermen; they take pleasure in teaching their skills to younger people. This is how a new generation watermen is developed. The baton is passed and the tradition continue

This story was written by Earle in 2004.

Four things Earle learned while lifeguarding

1. Setting priorities

2. Communication skills

3. Courage

4. Once a lifeguard always a lifeguard (you cannot go to the beach and not be a lifeguard)

The rescue I always remember was at Crescent Bay on a big day. It was late in the day and although the beach was packed, most of the people were out of the water. The rips were working, going about 1 block out to sea. The surf was about 10 to 12 feet. I was at the north tower, Digger Ware at the south.

We had been busy that day. Digger was finally able to eat a sandwich late in the afternoon. The sun was coming at an angle that was blinding him with its reflection coming off of the water. He could not see what I could from the north tower.

Towards the end of a large set when water had stacked up at the shore, setting up a massive rip, I saw an 8-9 year old kid knocked off of his feet. No guard wants to dive into the water in front of another guard, but I jumped off my tower and charged towards the water in front of Digger’s tower. Digger saw me, jumped to his feet and spat the sandwich out of his mouth while running towards what by now was a kid moving out to sea, about 40 feet from the shore, in a massive rip. When Digger hit the water, he was about 25 yards or so from the kid who was moving extremely fast, swirling in the middle of the rip. Meanwhile another set was coming in. A big one.

At the waters edge, I realized that if I hit the water as well as Digger, there would be no coverage on the beach. I hesitated. Digger could get that kid. If something else happened, I would get the next guy. My hesitation saved the boy’s life.

In what seemed like seconds, Digger and the victim were about a block out to sea. Digger got to about 10 feet from the kid and the kid went down in the swirling dirty water of the rip. The whole beach was watching. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. So did Digger. He turned around, looked at me and raised his hands in a manner that said, “Where is he?”

By this time, the crowd at the beach that August day was on its feet watching the terrible drama. I hit the water and in seconds I was about half a block out. Digger was way outside. Something made me stop swimming. I briefly turned to look towards shore. The rip was still taking me out. It was my last time to see the shore as a large wave was just about to hit. I wanted to make sure the kid wasn’t inside of me before foam covered the beach.

Just then, looking up into the wave I saw a body silhouetted in the wall of the wave. Going up the side of the wave I had just enough time to grab the body before going over the falls. The body was so far away from where I expected it to be that fear covered me. My thought at the time was, “Could there be more than one body floating out here?”

Adrenaline allowed me to hold onto that kid. When we came to the surface, he was not breathing. I was between the shore and another large wave while being worked by the rip. I was able to give him a puff just before the next wave hit us. I covered his mouth with my hand just as we were tumbled. Happily the foam was carrying us closer to shore. After that wave I was able to give him another puff. He started breathing. By this time, I realized the kid in my arms was the one I had seen knocked down on shore only 5 or 10 minutes before. I started feeling a lot better about life. I am sure Digger was as well!

When I walked out of the water, the kid was in my arms coughing out water and I was receiving a standing ovation from the crowd on shore. The mother and father of this kid were in tears. It was one of the best feelings I have ever had in my life. Once the father realized his son was alive and safe, he ran back to his blanket and tried to give me all the money he had in his wallet.

Now that I am a father of kids about the same age as that kid was, I totally understand his actions and feelings. Thank God that this turned out to be a happy ending. It could have easily ended up ugly.

The following was sent to Earle in December by Rob Patterson.

Please know that you are known as a powerful waterman who inspired many of us to venture out and try to match the power you demonstrated so effortlessly in the surf off Crescent Bay.

For those you saved and for those like me that you inspired on those all-to-scary red flag days I thank you.

When I heard of Earle’s death I wrote the following:

Few men have graced the beach with the gentle courage and strength of Earle Wellsfry. Because of his quick and decisive actions many lives have been saved. Certainly there has never been a more capable person to body surf the giant waves of Crescent Bay. There has probably never been a diver who knew the waters of Crescent Bay as well as did Earle. He has done a good job of passing on to his children the strength of character and belief in Christ he so readily demonstrated through his own life. He has known a great love with Laura. Earle was a waterman who will be remembered by family and friends. His final words to me were: “This is the hardest thing I have ever had to endure, but I gain strength knowing God will take care of my family when I am gone. Goodbye Dale.”

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The following note was written by Earle's youngest daughter just after he died.

The following was written by Earle’s youngest daughter.

Daddy, i will always love you. you are always in my heart, even though you are with the lord now. Rivers of tears are running down my face this very instent. There is no one like you dad. love you

- Grace Wellsfry
12/16/10

What more could any father want from a child? Dale

First Rescue

Note for: Dale Ghere

June 23, 2004

From: Bob Likins

Subject: Laguna Beach Lifeguard Reunion

Thank you for writing me about the LBLG reunion. I heartily agree with your “Once a lifeguard always a lifeguard.” I have an event to attend in San Jose on September 1 but I hope to join you at the reunion on September 2.

Personal Information

Bob Likins

I guarded the summers and spring vacations of 1965-66-67-68-69. Starting pay was $2.20 per hour. I guarded primarily at Emerald Bay but during spring breaks guarded wherever needed including Crescent Bay and Main Beach.

Short Story - - First Rescue

In the spring of 1965 after passing the initial lifeguard test I was doing the practical training that would lead to final lifeguard selection. One overcast Saturday at the start of this training, I was assigned the beach just north (towards Newport) from Rock Pile and south of Boat Canyon. Naturally, even though there weren’t many people around, I was a bit nervous sitting on a tower for the first time.

I am ready in my trunks, sweatshirt and sun glasses with fins at my side and I am keeping a close eye on all going on, which is little. Suddenly from the north end of the beach, up on a condo porch overlooking Boat Canyon, someone is screaming that a man got knocked off the rocks down below and is in the water. It’s cool weather and cold water but that’s why they pay us the big bucks!

A quick call to the main tower and off I run with my fins and rescue buoy. When I get around the rocky cliff I notice the blowhole at the base and it is blowing pretty hard due to the surf and tide. The people on the balcony keep yelling, “man in the blowhole” and I see that a 20 something year old guy is in the water about 20 yards off the rocks. He has been knocked into the blowhole and sucked out into open water.

On with the fins and into the water I go, not even noticing the temperature. I speak with the guy and he is pretty scared and carved up a bit by the mussels lining the blowhole. I present him the buoy, tell him I am taking him around the rocks and into the beach, and do so, helping him out of the water on the beach. By that time the lifeguard lieutenants have arrived and note my rescue. The guy is approaching shock so we wrap him in a blanket and talk with him. He is a young Marine getting his training at Camp Pendleton. After first aid for the cuts and warming up he stops shaking and is ready to go.

I was the only one with a rescue during our entire spring training session so I figured that helped me get the job as a LBLG and I know it made me feel great. This job’s for me!

Tattletale Bribery

Conley Ware – Tattletale Bribery

December 29, 2009

Hi Dale:

Thanks for the update and photos. Woods Cove has always had a special, treasured place in my heart:

The great days when my brothers would challenge the neighborhood to a July 4^th firecracker/bottle rocket war. One team on Charlie’s big foam boat by South rock and other team on the sand; I was declared too young at first, but then after some tattletale bribery I was allowed 5 Lady Fingers, only to have a cherry bomb ricochet up my pant leg.

We lived in the motel on Diamond and Coast Hwy. In ’65-’66, when John Cunningham and Craig Lockwood were fishing great Hali’s with butter knives, you could still dive off south Rock.

Later, I guarded Woods ’74-’78 with a keen eye on the blow hole. I finally swam all 4 holes in 1 breath in ’74.

…so many fond memories

Thanks,

Con.

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