Fwd: Any tips?

Hello everyone,

Take a look at the following letter. Can you help??????

Karen Koster (now Munsen) was a lifeguard back in the late 70s to the mid 80s.  She now lives in Sweden.  Is there anyone who can help her son and his friends?  They will just be here for a week.  Can you take them in or know someone who might want to share some time with some top skiers who would take them.  If you can't take all three, but perhaps could take one or two then let me know and I will try to coordinate finding them housing.  If you know someone who wants a house sitter for a week that might work too.

Dale Ghere

guarded 1960-74

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Karen Monsén <karen.monsen@telia.com>
Date: Fri, May 16, 2014 at 11:13 AM
Subject: Any tips?
To: Dale and Marilyn Ghere <dmghere@gmail.com>
Cc: Mark Klosterman 

Hi Dale, 

So enjoy all your e-mails and all the stories! Hope you are staying somewhat cool in the current heat wave! Must be some sort of record for Laguna! Not the best start for a Summer season (thinking of fire risk). And we are still skiing here in Northern Sweden!! 

I was just wondering if I could ask the Lifeguard community for a bit of advice, don´t mean to use you as a travel service, but my third son, Felix, who is on the Swedish National Ski Team and two of his teammates are planning a California road trip (first time for his two teammates). And I am wondering if anybody has a simple place they might consider renting out for the dates of June 28th - July 5th. They will be coming from Park City, where they are doing some training at the US Ski Team Center.  Felix surfs a bit and they just want to enjoy the beaches for a week before heading back to Sweden. 

I know Laguna isn´t the "simple" place anymore and rentals are very pricey… but I appreciate any tips that I can go on!! 

Here is a picture of Felix, who was the Swedish champion this year in Giant Slalom, second in Super G and third in Downhill. 

Thanks so much! 

Karen Koster Monsén

karen.monsen@telia.com

Story from Robin Williams - My Path to Laguna

Hello everyone,

Enjoy this story from Robin Williams.  It contains history of Laguna and the world before WWII. The stories of how each of us got to Laguna are convoluted and colorful.  How about writing your story.

My Path To Laguna Beach

By Robin Williams

Guarded in the 1950s

Let me see.  You want a story of being born someplace else?   Let's try this on for size.  My mother and father met each other at the Pomona International Club.  Both of them were drawn toward countries and peoples and languages.  They were married in 1935 and he went off to Moscow to study cinematography at the Institute of Cinema Research under Sergei Isenstein, the great Russian director.   

She went to Japan and found a ferry to Vladivostok.   From there she took the Siberian railway to Moscow.   I was conceived in Moscow which means I was eating Borscht before y'all.    

She went on to Nazi Germany and had a close shave with the Nazis.   They came looking for her when it was discovered she was a visiting American with cable privileges.   She was sending articles home to the LA Times.  The concierge of her hotel told her to leave the country immediately.   He placed flowers in the window when the coast was clear.   (Nazis could arrest foreigners on the sidewalk but not on private property at that time). The concierge just waited until the Nazi agents were not in the lobby.

Finally the flowers were there and she walked to the train station and took a train to Paris and on to Calais and across the channel to Dover.  The British would not let her enter the country because she was coming from Nazi Germany.   She showed them a letter from the British newspapers offering her a job as a writer.  They let her in and she got the job.   I was born nine months later in 1936.   

She knew the war was coming so she got on a transatlantic ocean liner and sailed for New York and a train to Los Angeles.  We lived with her mother in the Historic West Adams district of Los Angeles and then she moved to Laguna Beach where she started LAGUNA REALTY and ran the business for 50 years.  Now I am a driver/guide for Los Angeles.   I was only living in Los Angeles for eight years but I seemed to absorb a lot.  

She moved to Laguna Beach in 1943 so I guess it is almost as if I were born here.  I grew up at Wood's Cove and then Cress Street and climbed on every rock and every cliff and dove into every pool from high rocks.  That is why I was able to run pell mell from Woods to Moss whenever I got the call when lifeguarding.  I walked the hills of Laguna and gained strength for walking, climbing and swimming among the swirls of rough water in the coves.  But, if your throw me into 58 degree water and let me swim for a mile, I will probably cancel Christmas.  Skinny kids in cold water, run out of steam fairly quickly.  

Loved your story and want to thank you for writing it.   You are much more of a water person than many of us who have lived here 70 years.  Many of us just utilized the water during our youth and then took off for everywhere else.   

But, I sure did utilize the water of the Mediterranean Sea when I operated my YACHT CRUISE.   I took students on the yacht and gave them the Roman Empire on a silver platter.  Then I dragged adults to Italy, including Tuscany, Greek Islands and Turkey in Fiat vans that I rented over there.  Living in Laguna gave me all the ammunition for running tours in Europe for 50 years. The French Riviera is so similar to Laguna Beach it ain't funny.

Bob Kellogg gave me excellent training on the Sea Scout boat for operating my own yacht cruise in the Med. Jim Boka and I were both on the Sea Scout boat when a huge Liberty ship almost rammed us in the middle of the night in the Catalina Channel.  Jim Boka and I were lifeguards at the Beachcomber's Club at Capo Beach.

Jim went into the US Navy Seabees and spent quality  time in the Marshall Islands and I went to the Mediterranean Sea.   When Jim returned to Laguna Beach he was already trained in big trucks and he got a job on the Laguna Streetsweeper and was showing off his skills immediately.  

It is ironic that the Beachcomber's Club was built by Edward Laurence Doheny where Jim Boka and I worked when we were 16 years old.  Now, I am leading tours to his mansions in Los Angeles and telling the tour members his full life story including the fact that he was the first to discover oil in Los Angeles in 1892 and soon after became the richest person on the planet.

Edward Doheny gave Doheny State Beach to the state of California in exchange for naming it after his son, Ned.   That is where we all learned to surf because the waves are similar to Waikiki.  Much more conducive to learning surfing  than Laguna Beach where they break too fast for slow thinkers.  Ha ha.  

It is also ironic that Jerry Johnson just happened to bump into Edward Doheny's grandson up-country from Santa Barbara and was invited to go fishing in his pond where he caught a fish every time he cast in his line.  Jerry Johnson met a real Doheny!  This proves that the world is very small.  All of us have somehow touched upon the Doheny family.  

They made all three SPIDERMAN movies at Greystone Mansion.   Greystone Mansion in Beverly Hills was built for Ned Doheny and Number 8 Chester Place is where they all lived alongside the oilman Harry F.  SINCLAIR.  His daughter, Virginia Sinclair, almost went with me to the Mediterranean Sea on my chartered yacht.  All of those mansions in Chester Place are now called Mount St. Mary's College for Women next door to USC.   Edward's wife, Estelle, lived at Number 8 Chester Place until three years after we graduated from LBHS.  

Laguna has it all.   It is everything.  I used our city as a launching pad for great escapades throughout the world.  And so did Jim Boka and Jerry Johnson.

Fwd: A story from Charlie Ware

Hello everyone,

Here is a story from Charlie Ware about his path to Laguna. Tomorrow I will send a story from Robin Williams about his path to Laguna.  Who will be the next person to send me their story?

​

My Mom Made Me Do It

By Charlie Ware

Guarded 1968-78

​     ​

When my folks decided to move to Laguna Beach in early June of 1965 with 5 children( 4 boys and an older sister), my mother knew we would sprint to the water as soon as we pulled into our new rental on lower Bluebird. No sooner than she dug out our swim suits we were running down the hill to  hit the sand and surf. No towel, no sunscreen (Sunscreen? Wasn't even invented yet) no hat, sunglasses, fins, snack money. Not a thing.  Just bare white skins and a bucket of energy and no clue. For the first few days of that first Summer it was all beach and water from early morning until hunger drove us home before sunset. If we didn't get home before the sun went down then dinner was given to the dogs my Mom would warn. " I'm no short order cook" she would demand. We would eagerly tell her what we did that day at the beach while we woofed down pil​es of family size meals. And with each tail, she got more and more alarmed. Needless to say, four young adventurous boys and a few friends could come up with stunts both in and out of the water that would make any mother shriek with horror. My mom was a American Red Cross swim instructor when we lived in Tustin and gave free swim and lifesaving lessons to the neighborhood kids. All she asked was a towel as a registration fee. Seemed we lost a lot of towels as we hopped from one neighborhood pool to the next. So, she quickly recognized the need for some real ocean training if we were going to survive our new playground. Back yard pool savvy wasn't going to cut it.

​     ​Then one morning she loaded us in the car and gave us each a towel and one check made out to LBLG Jr. Guard Program and dropped us off at Main Tower and said, "This is what you four boys will be doing until you come back with better respect for the ocean." "I'm not going to worry any more".  We had no idea what this twice a week summer camp meant, but took to it instantly. Dale Ghere, Jim Heardman, John Cunningham and others drilled into us all the subjects necessary to enjoy the ocean environment and learn basic lifeguarding skills as well. Fantastic fun and adventure too!!

​      ​The long and the short of it is, My Mom Made Me Do It. She introduced us to the world of lifeguarding without really knowing it and set in motion an envious lifestyle and indelible memories, that both enriched our lives as well as keep us safe and happy.

Thanks Mom,​

Charlie

​

Fwd: A better photo version

​Good morning everyone,

This story is from John Slowsky.  The story is about the original group of Rookies, 1969.  There are good photos of the the original group of Rookies, the Main Tower as it was in the 50s and John Bachman's Ironman competition.  If one ponders on the the story and photos a lot of history will unfold and changes throughout the years will be remembered.

Will someone send me the names of the people in the last picture?  Does anyone have one of Bachman's Ironman metals?  Will you take a picture of it and send me copy? 

Dale​

 

Fwd: old stories

After sending out the picture of Jeff Quams board I received a reply from Earle Richmond.  Here is his letter and my reply.

from Rich:

That is a beautiful board, but it reminds me of the redwood log of a paddle board that sat on the deck of the main tower in the summer of 1960. Early in the summer I was on duty at the main tower as the relief guard and day off guard my first year.   We all looked up and saw a person parachuting out of a small plane.   He was aiming for the beach but landed  hundreds of  yards out beyond the buoy.  I was told to go get him.  Paddling that big log out to get the culprit was hard enough.  But, when I got to him he said he wanted to save his parachute so he climbed on to the board with his chute.  I told him he was going to have to pay his way back in by helping to paddle.  By the time we got back to the beach my arms felt like they were going to fall off.  Of course the board we were using was a lot bigger and heavier than the one Jeff made.  But looking at his beautiful board brings back bad memories of another red wood board.    I don't surf,  But, even if I did, because of its beauty and my past memories I would probably use it as a coffee table. 

My reply:

I rescued one of the other guys who parachuted that day.  I swam out from Saint Ann's to pick up my guy.  When he said,  "I need to bring the chute in because it was rented."  I simply said, "Are you kidding?  I can take you or the chute, but not both."  He dropped the chute and I swam him back to the beach.

Fwd: Fwd: photographs

Hello everyone,

This morning started out well with friends celebrating Easter.  When I got home I received the following email.  Then Marilyn and I spent the rest of the day with our mothers.  This has been a great day.

I have been waitng for these pictures.  So here they are. These are pictures of the board that Jeff Quam made out of the redwood I gave him.  I figure the wood is more than a thousand years old.  The board was shaped by Josh Martin.  It is about 8' long and weighs about 30 pounds.  I will give more details about the board in a future email.

I had this wood sitting in the rafters of my garage for more than thirty years because could never figure out what to do with it.  I offered the wood to several people and never could get anyone to take it.  I showed it to Jeff and in 3 second he saw a surfboard hidden in the pile of sticks. I am so glad someone finally figured out what to make that would be worthy of this quality of wood.  Thank you Jeff.  Thank you Josh.  Thank you Mitch for the pictures.

I hope your day was as enjoyable as mine.

Dale Ghere

guarded 1960-1974

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: SUN DOLPHIN SURFBOARDS
Date: Sat, Apr 19, 2014 at 11:11 PM
Subject: Re: photographs
To: Dale and Marilyn Ghere <dmghere@gmail.com>

​I ​

am sorry for delay.　I couldn't send larger photos,so these are smaller sized photos.

Mitch

On Apr 8, 2014 9:20 PM, "Dale and Marilyn Ghere" <dmghere@gmail.com> wrote:

When I sent the board pictures I asked if anyone had a Rock Story.  Here are two I received.  the first one is from Jonh Slowsky and the next one is from Tony Verdecia.  Not all rock stories include danger.  

Rocks are your Friends

By John Slowsky - Lifeguard 69-73

There was this one spring day where I had gone to Bluebird beach for a day of delight with other 

schoolmates from Thurston Jr. High had gathered. I remember it being quite a gaggle of young 

boys and girls beginning their departure from childhood and into the brave unknown of being an 

adolescent. It was on this particular day that a change in my life was about to happen. I was the 

smallest kid in school and I always struggled to be accepted by my peers. I felt the surest way to 

win their approval today was to go where they went without hesitation and do what they did. But 

where did they go and what did they do? They swam way out to sea to go bodysurfing where 

the college guys did. Yeow! I had never left the shore before this day and I didn't want anyone 

to know how scared and intimidated I was.

It sounds so simple and silly now but when you have grown accustomed to the world as you 

know it and about to enter the world that you don't… well the idea of leaving the shore for the 

first time is horrifying. I can remember the other guys already out in the water and I remember 

that I needed to prove to myself that I could do this. I never let on to them that I had never done 

this before… so I faked it. I just swam out as fast I could and screamed at the waves like I 

was stoked, when in reality I was freaked out of my mind. A collection of rocks were directly 

in front of us and when you took off on a wave you had to successfully navigate left to avoid 

being smeared across them. With each passing wave of success it became easier and more 

enjoyable; I didn't want to get out of the water. This leap into the abyss has continued to this 

day. The more I learn to expand my world; greater the depth of life I get to enjoy. 

By the time summertime came around I had begun bodysurfing at most of the beaches that 

were closed to surfing during the day (Brooks, Oak and Thalia Street) with my best friend Bill 

Brown. I can still remember the first day he took me out to the reef at Thalia Street. Billy had 

been swimming in front of me and when he arrived to the reef's shelve he turned and to my 

surprise… stood up. I didn't know that you could stand all the way out there and so I yelled 

to him "are you standing on sand"? And he yelled back "No Rocks!" "Rocks are your friends". 

Proving that if you needed to catch your breath; just stand on a rock.

By the following year my small band of friends had become quite proud with our ability to 

navigate over, around and through any rock surface, hole or cliff found on the shore or off-

shore. With deliberate intention we would zoom past tourists struggling to get over the rock 

glades at Cress Street in our bare feet to show-off how invincible our feet had become. We 

would jump off the Arch or a number of other smaller ledges. We would catch waves from 

partially submerged rocks at Woods. And to really top it off, wait for some unsuspecting tourist 

to walk towards the Blow Hole when we would run past them and "fall" into the Hole. We would 

then pretend we were getting sucked down and out of sight all the while screaming for our lives. 

It was all a grand theatrical performance played over and over to our amusement. 

Then came August, lazy, lazy August. Watermelons, beach chairs, sandy swimsuits, ebony 

tanned children with too much time on our hands. It would be time for a swim to First Reef. We 

grabbed our beach chairs and slung them over one shoulder while we held our Duck Feet (the 

yellow ones) with the other hand and with finesse would roll a watermelon down to the water. 

The group of us would slip on our fins and balancing the beach chairs on our shoulders we 

would lumber out to First Reef with this awkward floating rolling watermelon. There must have 

been a dozen of us both girls and boys: The Slowsky's, the Parson's, the Gleason's and more 

I'm sure, all giggling and laughing the whole way out. We had all become quite natural how to 

use the swell to lift us high onto the reef in perfect rhythm and timing. How to quickly "hold still" 

while the remaining surge rushed past us and then receded off the sharp face we were clinging 

onto. Then quickly scamper up the face and to the top surface of the reef (running with our fins 

on) where it was hot and dry and free from the surf because of the low tide. There we uncurled 

our beach chairs, pushed our watermelon into a tidal pool to keep cool, proceed to remove our 

fins and rest in our chairs. Within a short time we would become comfortably hot once again and 

the idea of eating a cold watermelon was on everyone's tongue. We would need to "crack" open 

the watermelon; use our child-size hands to carve out a delicious helping for ourselves (being 

as messy as we wanted to be). When everyone was stuffed and with the remaining melon it 

was time for a last minute food fight before grabbing our chairs and fins and leaping back into 

that incredible sea. Yep… that was great! I would give anything to relive that same experience 

today.

When Dale asked if there were any rock stories we would like to share. I felt he was suggesting 

some scary rescues (which we all have had at least one) or some in-training group experience 

with some psycho mentor that threw us off of Seal Rock (yea, that tall cliff part) but my first 

thoughts were indeed "Rocks are your friends" and what good friends they have been.

End

Here is another rock story by Tony Verdecia

I have a funny rock story.

I was guarding Picnic beach on a somewhat slow day. I called the Diver's Cove guard to let them know I was going to take quick peek around the rocks to the south to make sure there was no one out there as the tide was coming in and I was going to put my rocks closed sign up. Once I got around the corner, I spotted a grown man standing on the rocks. I began navigating my way towards him (mostly watching my foot placement on the rocks as I made some progress). As I look back up in his direction, I am now within the distance to slightly yell and motion for him to come back around to Picnic, but at the moment I look up, I see him drop his pants and squat. At this point, he sees me and holds up a hand with his index finger extended, signing,  "give me a minute", and before I could say anything, he proceeded to poop on the dry rock in the hot sun. Not even in the tide pool, but literally pooped on the peak of the rock that he was standing on. 

It caught me so off guard, I didn't say anything right away. I turned away (shocked) to give him privacy for a minute and when I looked back, he was pulling up his pants. And that's when it happened.

BAM! A basketball flew down from the Heisler park bluff and hit this man right in the head nearly knocking him off his feet to land in his own waste. It then bounced of the rocks and landed in the water. I didn't know how to react. I asked if he was ok, he nodded, and I walked back around to Picnic dumbfounded. 

That is my rock story.

Fwd: Correction... RE: Hi Dale...

Hello everyone,

Here is a memory written by Al Mendez.  His story is classic of all the stories I have received over the past ten years.  His story contains all four of the themes I see repeated in lifeguard stories.

1. Becoming a lifeguard was an important part of growing up.

2. Someone became a mentor.

3. Lifelong friendships were developed.

4. The ocean remains an important part of life.

Most of you live within 50 miles of the beach or some body of water you  like.

Most of you live along the Pacific coast between Oregon and Mexico.  The biggest group remains near Orange County.  There are two other groups; one in the south Pacific and the other group of guards are in places associated with skiing.  There are very few who live east of California.

Enjoy Al's story.  Hopefully it will encourage you to send me your story.

Dale Ghere

guarded 1960-1974

Lifeguard Try-out Memory

The following story was written by Jim Kelly in March 2014.  The reference to Eric Jensen's health relates to his fight with a major bacterial infection that has been going on for more than two months. 

Hi Dale:

          Now that Eric is getting better, I feel like I can tell the story of our guard try-outs. Eric and I swam together. We had both been working out in the pool and in the ocean to get used to the temperature for a couple of months before the try-outs. The day in March 1961 that we swam it was very cold and foggy and the water temperature was 53 degrees. There was a northward setting counter-current that must have been running at a half knot or so, because I could normally swim a mile in about 25 minutes and that day it took us over an hour. So we were in the water a long time. I remember Eugene DePaulis and other guards pulling a lot of people out along the way, most of them hypothermic. Eric and I swam together and kept each other going. He thought we should swim backstroke to keep our faces out of the water so we wouldn’t get so cold and it worked. We finally finished and could barely walk up the beach we were so cold. We just sat and shook for at least an hour before we continued with the try-outs. As I recall, everyone who finished the mile swim made the force that day, but there were not many of us. I could not have done it alone. Eric and I kept each other going through the whole swim and I have always been really glad he was swimming next to be the whole way.

Cheers. Jim

 

Lifeguard History

from Kai Weisser

Here is a 1958 photo

to

 share and spread the word again

that I am looking for historical photos and stories about Laguna Beach lifeguards.  We are 

still plugging along on the

Arcadia Publishing

history

book and any new/old lost/found images are welcome.  Cheers, Kai

If you have any of these items, please contact Dale Ghere, dmghere@gmail.com

Bunky Scores A 10

By Robert Potter

April 19, 2012

 

          Dale has said its ok to tell another story since it is raining in Wales again and I have the time I will beg your indulgence for a brief tale of Cajones.

 

          I cannot recall the exact circumstances that led us to the Aliso Pier that day but I think it was perhaps a training day. I know it was not during the training to become a guard as Conley Ware was there and he became a guard before me so if anyone else remembers this let me know.

 

          I recall an event that gave me a ton of respect for my elder guards when John Cunningham set the bar pretty high. John or "Bunky" as he was affectionately called by his students, first at Thurston, where he was a PE teacher along with Jim Herdman and our guard long distance runner Art Smart. Not sure if he got that name before teaching or why he received that moniker but I felt it was because it rhymed with Chunky. Bunky was very stout and solid as a rock so I was surprised when during an outdoor assembly at Thurston he was chosen by Chuck Norris to be part of the demonstration.

 

      Chuck Norris who was at the time the worlds champion in full contact Karate was doing assemblies and showing off the talents of his well trained body. He told Bunky who was on the grass at Thurston with half of the student body watching in a large circle to just relax and "DO NOT MOVE"...he said it again, "DO NOT MOVE". Chuck then put his hands on Bunky shoulders and positioned him with his wind breaker jacket standing oh so still. Bunky’s jacket had ties that went around the base of the jacket and the tied string was dangling and literally touching his pants coincidentally on top of his baby maker area.

    Chuck then stepped back and did a slow motion extension of his karate kick which was aimed at Bunky's "package". As he did this the whole assembly, teachers included, gave a spontaneous "OOOOOOWWWWWWW" with a nervous twitter and murmur for good measure. Bunky gulped but he was in it now and was too brave to back down so he just smiled like it was all good. Before anyone realized what had happened, including the Bunkster, Chuck Norris (this is a young studly Chuck under 30 at the time) had made a Cobra lightening strike towards Bunky and all the student body saw was the string on his jacket dance and jump up twice as Chuck had with the exacting precision of a surgeon made 2 ;count’em, 2 kicks before Bunky could even react to the first one.

    Pandemonium erupted and the school was laughing and shocked with a nervous relief that Mr. Cunningham was still intact. I was really impressed at how he had handled that and was glad it was not me up there. Bunky also liked to kick field goals and practice punting with one of the Los Angeles Rams kickers. I think his name was Tom Haas? He and the Bunkster practiced on the field up at Thurston and we used to shag the balls that Bunky and Tom kicked. Bunky was really good at it and those giant thighs were very competitive with the pro and if he was serious into practicing I think Bunky could have made the pros.

 

        I know I digress in these stories but it is cold and I got time on my hands. What can I say! I used to be a diver on the swim team with Conley Ware, Keith Carlson and Mark van Buren. Conley was the king and he was fearless on the 3 meter throwing 2 and a half pikes and 1 and a half back layouts and other such dives with twists etc. The three meter can be an unforgiving teacher for if ye miss ye pay the price with some serious smacks. Our teacher was state guard and waterpolo coach George Carey, who made nationals as a diver. So Conley had a good teacher and was probably the best diver Laguna ever had. 

   

                                   BUNKY THROWS DOWN THE GUANTLET

    So there we were all the young guards and some senior trainers not sure who but Bunky was one of the old west present.  We were there to learn how to officially do a pier jump for rescue purposes. Many of us had done this drunk, naked, many times but some of the inlanders like Robert Judge from Downey needed official training.

 

      I think Stauffer or someone else was talking and Bunky kind of hopped onto rail as we were looking down in the center of the pier where we knew we were all to jump. The atmosphere was jovial as we were on the clock and lighthearted banter was going on as the official instructions were being given. I was the closest to Bunky’s feet on his left and noticed him hands on his knees and focusing. I sensed he was going to kick it off with a dive when Stauffer finished but I was astounded when he got his "mark" and just dove without warning or notice. Keep in mind the pier height railing was about 7 meters or so!

     

       It was a magic slow motion moment as Bunky threw a perfect 1 and a half forward pike and absolutely nailed it! A perfect 10 was my score and I am sure some people might have missed some of the dive as he did it unexpectedly. I am not sure if he was ever officially trained or practiced as a diver but a great athlete for sure.

 

       Conley was aroused and as he was truly a great diver and his competitive side came up and of course he did another 1 and a half pike. He did land it quite well though I have to say it was more like a 8 and a half to Bunky’s 10 on this particular dive.

 

          I also knew that those around me were going to cry for my blood to step up so I quickly anticipated the cajoling that would ensue. So before one or 2 people started looking at me and began the peer pressure to keep up with the Joneses. I am sure it would have turned into a chant wanting a double or something. So I leaped of the pier and did a perfect..........(wait for it ) swan dive. Sorry Charlie but there was no way I would have risked a splat from that height I had to preserve good looks. So my hat is off to Bunky and Conley both for a dive show to equal the wide world of sports coverage of Puerto Rican Cliff Diving ...........ok, well sort of, kind of anyway.

Fondly recalled by Pottsman, aka Potsy

Early Morning in March, 1959

by Robin Williams

Early morning in March.   Water temperature 58 degrees.  Year, 1959?  (Help me here)

Sky grey and cloud cover over the entire sky.

Art Fizette was head of the Lifeguard department?  (Help me here)

We all hit the water and started swimming from Main Beach to Coast Inn Beach.

Boys begin dropping out and swimming to shore at St. Ann's.   Then more at Oak Street.

I remember seeing a great surfer having fun all by himself at Oak Street.  (Later he opened the Chart House.  Can't think of his name at this moment.)  Waves were big and tide was fairly high giving the swells ample size.  

I am not doing too bad so far.  But, I noticed that I am a slow swimmer because my legs don't have enough flesh to paddle me.   My legs are very skinny.   My arms are hauling me through the water.  My arms are skinny too but both together allow me to swim the test.

Oh oh, real rough water ahead at Cress Street.   I grew up on that beach with Jerry Johnson and Jim Boka. (Both are Laguna Beach Firemen -- retired)   I know the suction of the rocks.   When I pushed through the Brooks Street waves, I analyzed the Cress Street rocks before entering the roiling white water.   I think about swimming around the Cress Street rock, but when I feel the power leaving my shoulders, I think again.   All I can do is swim right through the rocks to the other side.   Now, the cold water is taking its toll.  My shoulders and arms have not enough power to help me get through the worst part of the suction.  It will only be just a few feet but I can tell that I won't make it if there is the slightest bit of current or suction.   I know without a doubt there will be a tremendous amount of water moving toward the sea.  It will pull me with it and it is likely to pull me under water too.   It was very big surf conditions and the Cress Street beach was all white water.  One more analyzing moment and I knew I was foolish to try to keep going.  I can't make it around the big rock and I sure won't be able to recover if I am pulled by the current further out to sea.  I might stand the possibility of disappearing under water.   I must take action while I still have strength enough to stay on the surface until help arrives.   So, my arm goes up and John is launched on a surfboard and is arriving to haul me aboard within 15 seconds.  That's it.  That's the end of my life guarding career.   I am finished. 

My home is at the top of the cliff on the highway and I simply went home and laid down on my wooden porch (It is a very old historic Laguna house.)   Used to be a restaurant in the 1930s called the TRAP DOOR.   I laid down in the sun and shook for two hours.  When I was rested up and strong enough to walk, I went straight to work on building my own business called COAST DELIVERY--PHONE-A-MEAL.  Then the CITY of LAGUNA BEACH appointed me to be the Winter Emergency Life Guard since I was mobile all over the city and available to rescue people at a moment's notice.  That was when I rescued those two fellows off of Boat Canyon who were fishing from a canoe.  Even though it was a glassy day they should realize that canoes tip over in the ocean with the slightest disturbance in the water.  They tipped themselves over and screamed for help.  I was called and told they were far out to sea.   I drove to Jim Boka's house and grabbed his surfboard out of his garage, drove on to Fisherman's Cove and hit the water and paddled out to the canoe which was sticking straight up out of the water.   When I arrived one of the fellows sank.   I was able to reach down and grab his hair and bring him to the surface to enjoy a long life.  At that moment the Newport Beach Harbor Patrol arrived and got the boys out of the water and they offered to take me to the beach which I thought was darn nice of them.

I would have had to go through a lot of gymnastics to get that canoe out of the water and back in business.  But, I welcomed the challenge.   I could have draped the two boys over my surfboard while I tried to get it up and over and back down into the water right-side-up.  I could have used my surf board to slide it up and tip it over to drain out the water and then back down.   But, how would I have loaded the boys back into the canoe without it tipping over again and again?   Boy, I guess I need to practice this maneuver.   It is all a mystery.  It might even be impossible.  Thank goodness for the Harbor Patrol!!!

New lifeguard headquarters

Hello everyone,

There is an update on the progression of the new HQ on the lifguard facebook web site.

New lifeguard headquarters (ground level & subterranean basement) with public restrooms under construction at the north end of Main Beach. Completion expected late March.

© Mitch Ridder Photography - All Rights Reserved 2014.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/100238871644/

DEAN WESTGAARD: FEARLESS IN THE FACE OF DANGER

By Jim Carnett

Thursday, May 05, 2005 (Jim was an Orange Coast College student in the early 1960s. He's been Director of Community Relations for 33 years. He is editor of Coast-to-Coast. This is a regular column that focuses on OCC's history and distinctive characteristics and characters.)

Dean Westgaard

He was a member of the Orange Coast College faculty for just 16 years, until his untimely death in 1982 at the age of 52.

He was Dean Westgaard, a professor of physical education and the college's first athletic trainer. His professional resume also included lifeguard, lifeguard supervisor and fearless man of adventure. He was known throughout the world for "pushing-the-envelope" in his perilous pursuits.

"We always called him 'The Mercenary,'" says Fred Hokanson, who was an OCC track and field coach and physical education professor for more than 30 years. Fred served his last several years as the college's athletic director, and retired two years ago. He is currently OCC's interim vice president of instruction. "We knew that if we ever had to go to war, we wanted Dean with us."

"He was an all-time guy," says Leon Skeie, who succeeded Westgaard as the college's athletic trainer in 1973, and has been an OCC staffer for 32 years. "Dean has been gone for 23 years now, yet we still regularly talk about him in the Athletic Department. That tells you something about the impact he had on this place. We retell his old stories all the time."

I'd only been an OCC staff member for a few months, in November of 1971, when I received my first introduction to "Deano."

I'd seen him around campus, to be sure, and knew who he was. But I hadn't had an opportunity to chat one-on-one with the rugged adventurer. Then, the Saturday following Thanksgiving, we sat side-by-side on a 90-minute bus ride from Santa Rosa to the San Francisco International Airport, and for another hour after that on a plane from San Francisco to Long Beach.

We'd traveled the previous morning with OCC's football team to the Bay Area to participate in a state-playoff football game against Santa Rosa Junior College. Dean made the trip as the team's athletic trainer, and I was sports information director. It was my responsibility to report the game to the Southern California media.

In a less than artistic performance, Orange Coast College's gridders turned the ball over seven times and lost a frustrating 26-22 verdict to Santa Rosa's Bearcubs.

Dean and I talked all the way down the Coast that day...well, he talked and I mostly listened. You might think that the topic of discussion was football. It wasn't. Dean spent the entire time regaling me with stories about his favorite subject...himself.

I don't mean that in a derogatory way. I quickly discovered that Dean was living the most thrilling life of anyone I had ever met. People loved to hear his stories. That Saturday, he enumerated one fascinating tale after another, all the way home. I was transfixed. He'd accomplished things that I realized I could never come close to experiencing.

He told me of his dream to one day jump off Yosemite's famed El Capitan (with a parachute strapped to his back, of course!). That's just crazy, I thought. He actually ended up accomplishing that goal nine years later.

Following our trip south, I was Dean Westgaard's newest and biggest fan.

"Dean was a true daredevil," says George Mattias, who was an OCC assistant football coach and physical education professor for 30 years, from 1963-93. "He did things that most of us can only dream of doing."

Jack Fair, the defensive coordinator for OCC's football team from 1966 through 1986 – and himself a pretty macho guy – once called Westgaard "the most memorable guy I ever met on a community college campus."

Born in Minneapolis, Dean seemed as "un-Minnesotan" as one could be. He was a Californian to the core (or dare I say, Corps?).

Dean attended Ripon College out of high school, a small, private liberal arts and sciences institution in Ripon, Wisc. At the age of 21, he left school to join the United States Marine Corps. That's when he first encountered the Golden State...and became hooked. He served three years at Camp Pendleton and El Toro, and played three years of Marine football. He was a weapons instructor at Pendleton. While moving up and down the coast, he began a lifelong love affair with Laguna Beach, sitting like a jewel on the bluffs and hills above the Pacific.

Following his military service, he attended the University of Redlands where he was a star football player for the Bulldogs. He earned a B.A. degree in physical education, and went on to complete an M.A. at California State University at Los Angeles.

Dean taught history at Santa Ana High School for a year, then was a physical education instructor and assistant football coach at Upland High School for seven years. Beginning in 1955, he worked summers as a Laguna Beach lifeguard. He spent 16 years as Laguna's supervisor of guards.

A big man with a deep voice – and a demeanor that blended the best of "macho" with "cool" – Dean was hired at Orange Coast College in the fall of 1966.

"He was one of those guys that you instantly liked," Fred Hokanson said. "He was a man's man, with a barrel chest, a huge walrus mustache and a booming laugh.

"He loved to joke and he loved to laugh."

Leon Skeie refers to him as "the life of the party."

"Dean was fun to be around," Skeie says. "We attended lots of post-game OCC football parties – frequented by coaches, their wives and staff members – and he kept everyone entertained with his stories. They were mostly stories about parachuting, skydiving and scuba diving. The funny thing is, he told the same stories over and over, but that didn't seem to matter. We never grew tired of them. The more we heard them, the more fascinating they became."

Westgaard taught physical education classes and served as athletic trainer for six years.

"Athletic director, Wendell Pickens, asked me to fill in as trainer during the spring semester of 1966," George Mattias said. "I did, and that summer he went out and hired Deano to become the college's first full-time athletic trainer. We really needed him, and Dean did an excellent job. He had a great personality and the athletes loved him. He was bigger than life."

In 1971, Dean gave a first aid and CPR lecture to the entire faculty.

"That was before we'd begun to teach first aid and CPR in our division," Hokanson says. "He did a fantastic job. I remember that Jim Fitzgerald, our VP of instruction at the time, told the faculty at the conclusion of the presentation: 'As you can see, coaches aren't a bunch of dummies.' Dean made our division proud."

"Dean once gave CPR to a young drowning victim on the beach at Laguna," Skeie recalls. "He worked over the young man furiously until the paramedics arrived...then they worked on him. Finally, they looked at Dean and said, 'He's gone. There's no hope. Let's call it off.'

"Dean wouldn't have it. He kept working. They finally transported the kid to a hospital and he ended up living because of Dean's tenacity. The kid came to campus a few months later and spoke to one of our classes. He told the students, 'I heard the paramedics say that I was a goner. I heard that! Dean didn't give up. He saved my life.'"

Westgaard went into the PE classroom on a fulltime basis when Skeie was hired as trainer in '73.

The OCC hotshot was addicted to adrenaline rushes and high adventure. He was an avid scuba and sky diver. An outdoorsman, he also loved fishing and hunting, and was a river runner. He body surfed up and down the coast and enjoyed climbing mountains. And, he had a stockpile of stories for each adventure category.

"Dean was one of those guys you could plop on the highest peak in the Sierra – outfit him with just a knife – and he'd be fine," says Don Jacobs, who was an OCC public relations professional and political science professor from 1965-95. "He was self-sufficient – one of a kind."

Westgaard taught scuba diving on OCC's campus and was advisor to the Scuba Club and Sky Diving Club.

"Dean is the one who started the college's scuba classes in the 1960s," says Hokanson. "We had a thriving scuba program for years, until insurance premiums made the program prohibitively expensive."

"Dean loved to dive," Mattias says. "He went throughout the South Pacific on a sabbatical leave and dove many of the old World War II wrecks. He also dove up and down the Pacific Coast. He particularly enjoyed going after lobster. And he had a number of close shaves along the way."

In addition to teaching scuba, Westgaard trained hundreds of sky divers through his own private business, Westgaard Parachute Enterprises, Inc. He opened the company shortly after he learned to sky dive in 1969. Under his guidance, not a single student ever died or was seriously injured in an accident. He might have been daring, but never reckless.

Dean soon became an internationally-renowned sky diver...and that's no exaggeration. He ended up logging nearly 2,500 jumps. He jumped in exhibitions and demonstrations around the globe, and made numerous jumps with skydiving teams in formation. Westgaard made jumps on every continent except Antarctica, and appeared in several Hollywood films as a stunt man. His daring exploits can be seen in a sky-diving sequence in the 1980 Peter O'Toole film, "Stunt Man."

"Deano actually took part in a number of film projects," Jacobs says. "He did all the parachute jumps in Dino De Laurentis' 1976 movie, 'King Kong.' De Laurentis never actually paid him for his hard work and Westgaard was ticked. De Laurentis stiffed him!"

Westgaard once asked OCC football coach, George Mattias, to fly him to Lake Elsinore. Mattias was a private pilot, and kept a plane at Orange County Airport.

"He asked me one afternoon if I would fly him to Elsinore," Mattias remembers. "I told him sure. He took a parachute along. After we took off, he informed me that we didn't have to actually land at Elsinore. 'I'll just open the door and jump out,' he said. 'Naw, Dean,' I nervously replied. 'I haven't cleared this with the FAA, and can't take the risk!' He let me take him down to the runway. But he would have jumped had I let him."

During the 1974 football campaign, Dean eagerly agreed to skydive into LeBard Stadium for OCC's homecoming. At half time, he was to deliver an envelope to the 50 yard line. The envelope contained the names of the winning homecoming king and queen candidates.

"I went out to LeBard Stadium at 4 p.m. that afternoon to watch his practice jump," Hokanson said. "It was perfect. He landed right on the 50. I was impressed."

Five hours later, as half time approached, the wind began to gust. It was coming out of the west.

"OCC's Dean of Students, Joe Kroll, was on the P.A.," Hokanson remembers. "He was the game and half time announcer, and the stands were packed."

Westgaard dropped a couple of streamers out of the plane to test the wind. Because of the breeze, the jump had to begin west of the stadium. "Look to the west...look to the west" Kroll exhorted the crowd. He whipped them into a near frenzy.

Dean made his exit at 15,000 feet, and was wearing a strobe light so that he could be seen by the crowd. All eyes were on the heavens...to the west. But Dean began to drift...to the east. Way to the east! It became evident that he wasn't going to make the 50 yard line. He wasn't, in fact, going to make the stadium!

Dean continued to drift east...over the stadium...over the track...over the tennis courts...over Fairview Rd. Gasps could be heard from the crowd. Kroll assured the masses that everything would be all right. But would they? We all feared that he might land on Fairview Road in 9 p.m. Saturday night traffic or, worse yet, get snagged by the electrical wires. Not to worry.

Westgaard landed safely amongst the rabbit hutches on the Costa Mesa High School Farm. He gathered his chute, walked across Fairview Rd. to LeBard Stadium and made a third-quarter appearance to assure the crowd that he was okay.

"For months after that, we'd kid Dean by saying, 'Look to the east...Look to the east," Hokanson said.

That spring, at the annual end-of-the-year PE Division banquet, Hokanson gave out the first-ever OCC Lame Duck Award. The dubious prize has been awarded annually to a person in the division who was not able to "deliver the goods on the proper spot" in a given year.

"That first Lame Duck went to Deano," Hokanson said.

To celebrate his 50th birthday, Dean fulfilled his dream of jumping off El Capitan. Though I'm not certain I ever specifically asked, it was my impression that Dean accomplished his feat without first seeking permission of the National Park Service.

During a 1973-74 sabbatical, Dean visited offshore oil locations in California and along the Gulf Coast. He also visited experimental diving stations in Washington, D.C. and at the University of Rhode Island. He spent time studying at the Marine Biological Laboratory in Woods Hole, Mass.

Deano attended an international conference on undersea education in Toronto, and went on scuba diving expeditions in and near Tahiti, New Zealand, Australia and South Africa.

He was a member of the National Association of Underwater Instructors, and the United States Parachute Association. He was an instructor and safety officer for the USPA.

Toward the end of his life, he used to tell me stories about his latest passion, "para-scuba." Dean would jump out of a plane over the ocean, land in the water, then submerge and go into full scuba-diving mode. It seemed like something out of "Dr. No" or "Goldfinger."

Dean became ill while sky and scuba diving in Indonesia in the early summer of 1982. He was forced to cut short his trip and return home. He took a battery of tests and the results came back as bad as they could possibly be. He had stomach cancer. Doctors gave him no hope. Westgaard died just three months later, on Sept. 26, 1982.

"Three weeks before his death, Dean attended the opening faculty meeting on campus," Hokanson said. "I sat with him, and he knew that he didn't have long to live. He was there to start off the academic year because he knew it would provide his wife, Juanita, with an additional year of insurance coverage.

"He'd lost weight, and his face was yellow with jaundice."

"The guy was always upbeat...in good times and bad," Skeie says. "In my early years on campus, we'd get dressed every morning in the coaches' locker room before class, and he always had a laugh and a story. I don't think I ever saw him down about anything.

"I saw him in the mail room after that opening faculty meeting in 1982. He looked thin and breathed heavily. He demonstrated a lot of courage, however. 'How are you doing, Deano,' I asked. 'I'm hanging in there,' he replied, upbeat as ever. He then told me about a trip he was planning to Hawaii.

"He used to kid me about my religious faith. We had lots of good-natured conversations. I told him that day, 'I'm praying for you, Deano.' He looked at me earnestly and said, 'Thanks, Leon.' He was appreciative. That was the last time I spoke to him."

Westgaard was soon hospitalized. Hokanson and many other OCC staffers visited him at Laguna Beach Hospital.

"I remember going there one brilliant fall afternoon," Hokanson said. "You could look out the window of his room and see the deep blue ocean. As we gazed out the window, an airplane flew by, low over the water, and dipped its wings in salute to Deano. It was a poignant tribute."

Seven days before he died, though he'd been in the hospital and could barely stand, he embarked upon his final sky diving adventure. He jumped with 15 friends – in an unauthorized jump – over Laguna's main beach.

"He was so weak that he had to be lifted off the floor of the airplane," said fellow jumper, Roy Holm, a former Laguna Beach mayor.

"Two jumpers helped him out of the plane and deployed his chute for him at 3,500 feet."

A crowd of more than a thousand waited on Main Beach, and cheered him with tears in their eyes as he struggled to the microphone after landing in the sand. He expressed his gratitude to all his friends...the residents of Laguna.

It was his last dive.

Following his death, Dean's ashes were scattered over Main Beach by several colleagues.

"Dean's loss is a tremendous blow to us all," said OCC's head football coach and athletic director, Dick Tucker, to the community. "He was a man who loved life and lived it fully. He was an inspiration to all."

A scholarship in his honor – the Dean Westgaard Memorial – was established in 1984. It's given annually to OCC's outstanding graduating scholar-athlete. Candidates are judged for their scholarship, citizenship and athletic participation. A U.S. Navy anchor and plaque were placed – during a ceremony – in Dean's honor in front of the Captain's Table on campus.

The Laguna Beach lifeguard headquarters was named after him.

Dean was survived by his wife, Juanita, sons, Guy, Scott and Kurt, and his daughter, Denise.

Dean lived an extraordinary life. He will be remembered on OCC's campus as long as people who knew him are still able to draw a breath. In fact, he'll probably be remembered long after they're gone. You don't forget a guy like Dean Westgaard, even if you've only heard of him second-hand.

I still feel Dean's presence when I stand in LeBard Stadium...and look to the east. What a memory! As Don Jacobs put it, he was one of a kind.