By Mark Schwed
Palm Beach Post (Florida)
Yanking a girl’s hair is usually considered impolite. But Jason Dare didn’t have a choice.
The teenage girl was drowning and Dare - having already battled the rip current to save a man on a boogie board and the girl’s friend - didn’t have time to play Mr. Nice Guy. He swam over to the spot where the girl’s head went under, thrust his hand into the water, grabbed a fist-full of long hair and pulled up hard.
“She took the deepest breath I ever saw,” says Dare, an ocean lifeguard who, at 26 years old, is already a lieutenant in St. Lucie County’s Department of Marine Safety.
But Dare wasn’t finished.
“As I got the girls in, I was dead tired. I turned around and there’s a lady and her two kids headed out right in the same spot.”
He dived back in and rescued the two kids. Another lifeguard, who had arrived as backup, dealt with the mom.
If you’re keeping track, Dare saved five lives in 15 minutes.
Not bad for a beach bum.
Like Rodney Dangerfield, lifeguards get no respect. If they’re not taking knocks because of a cheesy TV show called Baywatch, then David Letterman is giving them grief on The Late Show: (Top 10 Lifeguard Pick-up Lines: “Can I buy you a glass of Coppertone?” Or, Top 10 Signs Your Lifeguard is Nuts: “Instead of a whistle, uses a tuba.”)
“We get a bum rap,” says Jennifer Noonan, 31, a nine-year veteran.
“Most people think we’re working on our tans and chasing women,” says Paul Drucker, 53, who’s a bit tired of the beach bum rap after 28 years in the lifeguard tower.
Some lifeguards say that even Palm Beach County doesn’t treat lifeguards right, lumping them together with gardeners and pool cleaners in the Parks and Recreation Department. Many other lifeguard agencies, including those in Martin and St. Lucie counties, are part of the same departments that house police and fire-rescue.
Which is exactly where Drucker says Palm Beach County’s 90-plus lifeguards belong.
They are first responders, equipped with radios, specialized vehicles, flotation equipment, cervical collars, spine boards, suction devices, emergency oxygen, bandages, dressings and more. Like half his brethren in Palm Beach County, and all lifeguards in Martin and St. Lucie, he is a certified Emergency Medical Technician who must deal with heart failure, shark bites, jellyfish stings, women going into labor, and drug overdoses, as well as drowning victims.
But Don May, chief ocean lifeguard for Palm Beach County and Drucker’s boss, says the attitude about the arrangement is, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” He points out that the county won the United States Lifesaving Association national championships in Daytona two years ago, and another championship in Orlando where they beat out “firefighters, police and other rescue agencies. . . . We’re doing very well where we are.”
Of course, the business of lifeguarding isn’t about winning contests, but keeping people safe.
Mike Mammen, 30, who works full-time in Martin County and two days a week in St. Lucie, saved four people in one day. The last one - a man who didn’t know how to swim - had slipped off the back of a sandbar and “started drowning immediately. I sprinted as fast as I have ever run in my life, porpoise-dove out to him, grabbed him by the armpit, and hoisted him up so he could breathe.” As Mammen brought him ashore, “He proceeded to thank me after which he walked right back into the water. I had to yell at him. People don’t know what we do until they see us in action.”
In all, Martin County lifeguards chalked up 435 rescues last year - 179 in October alone - because beach re-nourishment to fix hurricane damage had altered the sand and created dangerous rip currents - the No. 1 reason for rescues. St. Lucie County recorded 17 rescues. Palm Beach County lifeguards took part in 74 rescues.
“We deal with life and death on a moment’s notice,” Drucker says.
Drucker’s last big rescue - Jan. 29, 2005 - could have cost him his own life.
On that winter day, marine police had warned boaters not to attempt to pass through the murderously rough Jupiter Inlet, but one captain went for it anyway. His boat capsized, sending four people into the rolling surf.
Drucker and Lt. Frank Cowper donned wet-suits and powered up the inflatable rescue boat. Drucker jumped in the churning water at great risk to himself and helped bring all swimmers to safety, earning a Real Heroes Award from the American Red Cross.
“When you save someone, you see the results of what you’ve done immediately,” he says.
The pay isn’t great - from about $25,000 to $45,000 depending on experience - and it is a young man’s, or woman’s, game. All lifeguards must pass the same grueling water and land tests to keep their jobs. Which may explain why not a single one has reached the 30-year retirement mark in Palm Beach County.
“Our oldest lifeguard is 63 years old,” explains Julia Leo, an ocean rescue captain in Palm Beach County. “He has to meet the same physical requirements as our lifeguards that are 18.”
At 28 years, Drucker is close to retirement. But the real joy won’t come if he makes it. He gets his kicks out of being on the beach every day, and sometimes - maybe a couple times a year - saving someone’s life.
“A lot of people are embarrassed,” he says. “A lot of people will deny they were in trouble even though their eyes were as big as plates. A lot of people won’t thank us.”
Which is fine by Drucker. Just don’t call him a beach bum.
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LIFEGUARDS ON DUTY
FORGET THE FANTASY OF ‘BAYWATCH’
These men and women - grizzled pros as old as 53 and 103-pound featherweights as young as 19 - are the real ocean lifeguards. If you’re on the beach and something goes wrong, whether it’s a heart attack or severe sunburn, they will be the first on the scene to help. Their training, and actions, can make the difference between a great day at the beach and death.
Paul Drucker, 53, Palm Beach County
Service: 28 years, two shy of retirement.
Lifesaving moment: A boat capsized off Jupiter Inlet with a couple and their 2-year-old girl aboard. First Drucker rescued the father. Then he pulled out the mother, who was unconscious and not breathing. While the father administered CPR, Drucker dove under and found the girl crying in an air pocket of the capsized boat, which was still being battered by 6-foot waves. ‘I told her to hold on, we’re going to be all right. I grabbed her so she couldn’t breathe any water, swam out from under the boat, brought her with me, climbed into the (rescue boat) and off we went.’
Why life’s a beach: He saw the stress his father endured as a salesman for General Motors and decided to become a lifeguard. ‘It’s a beautiful place to work and it’s doing a service for the public, a very needed service.’
Best day: Any day at the beach. ‘We have a corps of older lifeguards who have stuck with it as a career. They’re dedicated to marine rescue. I’m one of those guys.’
Chief Don May, 55, Palm Beach County
Service: Ten years in Jersey; 38 years in all. He’s the county’s chief ocean lifeguard.
Lifesaving moment: His first. As a 16-year-old lifeguard, he saw a woman get smashed in the head by a surfboard. ‘I came out of the water with her, carrying her, covered in blood and everything. It made a big impression on me. She ended up being OK.’
Why life’s a beach: He took a job as a teacher ‘so I could lifeguard in the summer.’ Then he took a sabbatical from teaching for a year to get lifeguarding out of his system ‘and go back to what everybody called a real job. That was 1978 and I haven’t looked back.’
Best day: ‘It’s a great job. You get to be outside. You’re paid to work out. You get to help the public.’
Jennifer Noonan, 31, Palm Beach County
Service: 6 years on the Jersey shore, 3 in Florida.
Lifesaving moment: While scanning the water from her tower, she saw a 19-year-old man in trouble. ‘Right when I got there the gentleman went under and actually seized up. He felt like rigor mortis. It was pretty scary. I got him out, opened the airway up. . . . Had we not responded he absolutely would have died. I remember that day. That was my first true rescue.’
Why life’s a beach: ‘It means a lot to people on the beach to see women up here in the tower. I get little girls all the time that get so happy to see a female lifeguard up there. Or the moms that see us working out with the men. Even the young boys that look up there.’
Best day: ‘Last year at the (lifeguard) regionals, I was the high point female. I was really proud of that.’
‘You’re snatching somebody out of the grips of death and you don’t have to carry a gun.’'I met my wife at Stuart public beach five years ago.’
- lifeguard Mike Mammen
Mike Mammen, 30, Martin County (part-time at St. Lucie)
Service: 11 years on the ocean; 1 at a pool. ‘I was a swimmer like most lifeguards. I just followed around the senior guard every day until he gave me a job as a beach boy.’
Lifesaving moment: Saved three members of a family from a rip current. He swam to the couple and the woman said, ‘Get my father first.’ Mammen did just that, then returned to rescue the couple. ‘While I was bringing them in, the old man ended up back in the rip current. I don’t know how. He just sailed right past me.’ Another lifeguard rescued him - for the second time in 10 minutes.
Why life’s a beach: ‘You’re snatching somebody out of the grips of death and you don’t have to carry a gun.’
Best day: ‘I met my wife right here at Stuart public beach five years ago. It was the best day of my life. She asked me if it was going to rain. We’ve been together ever since.’
Bill Lloyd, 44, St. Lucie County
Service: He’s a teacher at South Fork High School in Martin County and a part-time lifeguard for 28 years. ‘It’s kept me in shape, kept me young, keeps me from burning out in the school system.’
Lifesaving moment: ‘He was only 15 to 20 yards from shore but he couldn’t swim and his bodily motions told me he was drowning. I went in and got him. The paramedics came and took him to the hospital to make sure he didn’t have water in his lungs. You can get up and walk away and still drown. It was the most significant rescue in my 28 years. If I wasn’t there, he definitely would have drowned.’
Why life’s a beach: ‘I suppose it’s a little bit like firefighting. You can go whole days, even whole summers without rescuing anybody.’
Best day: This one. Where else can you get paid for doing headstands?
‘There was a lot of blood.’
Capt. Julia Leo, 45, Palm Beach County
Service: 21 years, 18 with the county.
Lifesaving moment: Too many to remember. But the most recent was helping rescue a couple from a rip current. ‘I grabbed a rescue tube and went out and got them. They were panicked. They were grateful.’
Why life’s a beach: ‘My husband (Peter) is a lifeguard. He works on Singer Island at Ocean Reef Park.’
Best day: ‘When I first came out to the beach, the men weren’t happy to see (women) out there. They had a little bit of an attitude. All of that has changed. We’ve proven ourselves.’
Lt. Rick Welch, 41, Palm Beach County
Service: 16 years.
Lifesaving moment: Big waves disabled a boat carrying four people at the Jupiter Inlet, and a man and his wife were washed overboard. Welch jumped from the jetty into a inflatable rescue boat, and began a search pattern. ‘We’re driving blind, trying to survive in the cauldron of danger,’ he says. ‘Then we found them - both of them are in cardiac arrest. One of the saddest things about the whole thing is he made it to his wife, then they both drowned. We pulled their heads out of the water and his arm is draped over her back.’ They tried CPR, as did paramedics onshore. She was revived, but died the next day. ‘It does affect you. You dream about it. I’ve had those dreams where you try to save them. The reason they’re dead is because they didn’t have life jackets on. The sheer frustration of that is what affects me the most.’
Why life’s a beach: ‘I don’t know of any other job where you show up and get bitten by a shark.’
Best day: ‘I’m doing my morning workout, paddling in pretty rough seas. Blustery. Choppy. Nasty. A spinner shark jumps out, lands on my back and bites my leg - 20 stitches, 18 days off. Lot of fanfare. Just the idea that you go to work and there’s a chance you’re going to get bit by a live animal - not many professions that I can think of where that happens.’
Kimberly Nicolini, 19, Palm Beach County
Service: She’s a rookie, mainly working Peanut Island.
Lifesaving moment: Her only one - one month ago. A snorkeler got caught in a current. ‘I was thinking, “Hey, he’s looking funny.” It was my first day at Peanut Island.’ She paddled out and he grabbed onto the board. ‘He said, “Thank you. I didn’t think I was going to make it.” ’
Why life’s a beach: ‘You get to be in a place that you love, going out swimming in the nice ocean instead of getting stuck somewhere in a cubicle.’
Best day: ‘I get plenty of reaction since I’m small (5 foot 3, 105 pounds). Last week a guy came up to me and said, “You work here? You’re kind of young, aren’t you? You’re not a junior lifeguard?” ’ But one day that guy will be in trouble and, ‘I’ll have to go get him and he’ll say, “Thank you, junior lifeguard.” ’
Lt. Jason Dare, 26, St. Lucie County
Service: 6 1/2 years.
Lifesaving moment: A kite-surfer was bitten by a shark. Dare alerted fire-rescue, grabbed his medical bag, raced to the scene and managed to stop the bleeding. ‘There was a lot of blood. He was writhing in pain on the ground. I mean, it was pretty bad,’ Dare says. ‘I calmed him down and let him know that help was on the way.’
Why life’s a beach: ‘I’ve been surfing since I was 6. When I got out of high school I wanted to find a career path. I saw a lifeguard and liked what I saw.’ Dare has since gotten his associate’s degree and is a certified Emergency Medical Technician, like all lifeguards in Martin and St. Lucie counties and more than half the lifeguards in Palm Beach County.
Best day: When he met his future fiancee on the beach. ‘She was wearing a thong and I just went and talked to her.’