Glory Days— Part One
Hopeful young ladies in strapless, crinoline-puffed gowns and carefully-styled page boys chatted excitedly with neighbors and friends on the front lawn of the Long Beach Township Municipal Building. The young lifeguards, looking sharp in their white dinner jackets, all tanned faces and broad smiles, strutted and mingled with the enthusiastic crowd of nearly 2000 that gathered on that warm summer evening, September 1, 1950.
The big event, of course, was the annual lifeguard dance, the main purpose of which was to help supplement the lifeguards' salaries. However, the main attraction was the Miss Long Beach Island beauty contest where Patricia Howard took the grand title from five lovely finalists that had been chosen from contestants nominated by the lifeguards at the mid-season dance in August. With refreshments served at banquet tables on the front lawn, Dance Chairman and senior lifeguard Bob Moore opened the festivities by thanking everyone for coming and expressed the guards' appreciation to the local businessmen for their gifts and support. Joe Grady acted as Master of Ceremonies, and he and his orchestra provided musical entertainment for what had become the definitive ritual of summer.
Without a doubt the Township lifeguards knew how to have a good time, but Long Beach Island was not insulated from the rest of the country or the world. Everyday American life was changing rapidly in the 1950s as communism and democracy locked in bitter conflict across the globe. On June 25, 1950, a massive communist invasion force from North Korea moved into South Korea. On July 1, Major General William F. Dean landed in Pusan with an advanced battalion of the 24th infantry division, and for the second time in five years, the Unites States was at war. Draftboards once again stepped up their calls, and some of the young men who spent their summers protecting lives on the beaches of Long Beach Township now found themselves protecting American lives from the wave of communism. Air raid drills became routine in public schools in the 50s, bomb shelters were built, and a generation grew up under the threat of the mushroom cloud.
While Curt Kelley held the title of Captain of the Lifeguards through 1951, the administrative functions of the Beach Patrol were conducted by Norman Frommer, Director of the Beach Patrol, and Township Commissioner Robert Fritsch. As reported in the June 20, 1950 issue of the Beach Haven Times , 17 guards had been appointed to the squad that year, including eight veterans. Although it was not required, preference was given to the young men who had earned American Red Cross senior lifesaving certification.
The beach patrol report for the summer of 1950, filed by Norman Frommer to Mayor Howard E. Shifler, stated that the Township lifeguards had effected 58 rescues on Long Beach Township beaches. Frommer commended the squad for a perfect record of no lives lost on these protected beaches despite the ocean being more rough than in the previous year.
The lifeguards worked a strenuous 7-day, 49 hour work week for which they were paid from $120.00 to $160.00 a month depending on their seniority. Out of necessity the young men all had second jobs and sideline businesses to subsidize their incomes. Many began their day at 8 a.m. giving swimming lessons at the bay, and then guarded the beach from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. After grabbing a quick dinner at the West Lawn Dinner (Nollers) in Beach Haven, it was not unusual for a guard to work a third job in the evening.
To further augment their salaries, the Township guards held two summer dances a season. Local merchants helped by purchasing advertising space on a large cardboard sign, and every lifeguard was entitled to half of each $2 ticket he sold. Tips from beach patrons helped to round out what was otherwise meager pay.
A lifeguard in those days was a lone sentry guarding a post for seven long hours in the scorching sun without let up. There were no relief guards. There were no bathrooms and no lunch breaks. The best a man could hope for was knowing the owners of an oceanfront home on the beach he guarded. It was there that he could stow his lifesaving equipment and, when necessary, could use the facilities.
Lifeguard stands were stationed according to popularity of the beach, and rescue equipment was limited and unregulated. The stands were minimally equipped with a diamond buoy or rescue torpedo, tow rope, two flags and a basic first aid kit. A few of the lifeguards experimented with 12 foot rescue boards, and no lifeguard boats were in use.
While environmental factors on the job were good for the most part, there were several minor annoyances. Lifeguarding could become pretty grim when there was a land breeze because of the huge fly population that swarmed the undeveloped marshy areas of the mainland and island. Although vacationers could stay away from the beach when it was overwhelmed by these hard-biting flies, guards were required to stay for a day of swatting, wiping, scratching and spraying with insect repellent. At the end of the day, gasoline and turpentine were used to clean feet and bathing suits of tar and oil left by passing ships flushing their bilges.
Despite arduous working conditions, potential life-threatening situations, and chronically limited funds, lifeguarding was still an immensely popular summer job, for to be a member of the fraternity of lifeguards was to be spontaneously endowed with privilege and celebrity. They were adored by girls on the beach, were sought-after guests at beach parties and barbecues, and easily caught hitchhike rides when wearing their distinctive red wool lifeguard jackets. Whether it was the trunks or the tan, the tousled hair or the muscular build, being a guard meant getting the girls and also the respect of youngsters and parents alike. In the 1950s being a lifeguard was cool. And whether on the beach or hanging-out at the West Lawn Diner in Beach Haven or Kaszner's Tavern in Beach Haven Terrace, these young men were the undisputed Kings of summer.
In the modest beginnings of the Long Beach Township Beach Patrol, boys as young as 16 were recruited to patrol the beaches. However in the early 1950's, there were many ex-service men attending college on the GI bill, and some of them came for summer employment.
One such man was Bud Benhayon who worked as a Township guard in 1949 in Beach Haven Crest, and 1950 and 1951 in Spray Beach. Bud intuitively sensed the real importance of being a lifeguard from the first day sitting alone on the stand. No certificate, no practice rescues in a pool, no textbook could have prepared him for the profound realization of his responsibilities.
Not only were the duties monumental, but they were all the more important as each stand was manned by a solitary lifeguard. As the sole protector of the beach, the guard often depended upon an inexperienced but eager-to-help public, and many successful rescues were performed as a collaborative effort between the two. However the individual lifeguard's skill, training and bravery was the force that maintained control in a crisis situation and saved lives, as evidenced in one of Bud Benhayon's more memorable rescues: A young girl and her father swimming at Bud's beach in Beach Haven Crest got caught up in the current and were being swept far off shore. Father and daughter, now seriously in trouble, began flashing their arms and calling for help. Bud was off his stand in an instant, diving into the water and stroking swiftly through the choppy surf with 800 feet of rescue line. It seemed like it was taking forever to get to the victims when Bud realized that, quite literally, he was at the end of his rope and still a distance from the people. While lifeguard and victims were struggling valiantly toward each other in the churning waters, people on the beach made a human chain into the breaking surf, holding onto one end of the rope to help extend Bud's reach. Exhausted, but finally reaching them, Bud put his arms around the two, and the enthusiastic crowd on the shore began to pull in the tow rope. A trained lifeguard knows not to haul the line in quickly, as the people being towed in would be pulled under the water. In their eagerness, the crowd nearly caused such a calamity, but Bud's strength, lifeguard training and composure brought all three to safety.
With the increased development of Long Beach Island over the last two decades and the booming prosperity of the 50s, many middle income families were able to own a second home at the shore. It was commonplace for mothers and children to spend the entire summer at this vacation home, with fathers commuting on weekends. A typical day for these families meant bringing a picnic lunch to the beach along with an umbrella, chairs, towels, a blanket, and some change for the ice cream man. In an atmosphere of trust and honesty, homes could be left unlocked and beach gear unattended. At the end of the day, a sandy blanket tucked under one arm and kids in tow, the beach was left as clean as it was found.
Many lifeguards of the 1950s only have their memories of those days. Others like Foster Sanford III, still have their red wool lifeguard jackets and a handful of pictures carefully preserved in a favorite photo album. Foster, then called Sandy, was a Long Beach Township lifeguard in 1950 at the 16th St. beach, and in 1951 and 52 at the 30th St. beach during his sophomore, junior and senior years at Penn State. Every day Sandy posted the water temperature and the times of high tide and low tide on the chalkboard on the back of his stand right next to his advertisement for swimming lessons for $2 a half hour. The beach was populated mostly with families who treated Sandy like the cop on the corner, with friendliness and respect. Everyday a different family would deliver lunch to Sandy on the beach, and when it was brought by two attractive young ladies on the same day, he was obliged to eat both.
The Long Beach Township lifeguards undertook significant responsibilities at great personal risk, and the families didn't hesitate to show their gratitude, especially after a loved one was rescued: It was August, 1951, a balmy late afternoon, the sun retreating over the island. Sandy Sanford was on duty, keeping vigil on his 30th St. beach stand wearing his white nylon trunks with the blue stripe down the side, his red wool lifeguard jacket, his pith helmet and his watch. Surveying the water, he spotted a 12 year old boy being thrashed about in the waves 20 yards out. Sandy jumped off the stand, and as he sprinted quickly in a diagonal direction across the beach, he flung off his jacket, helmet, and watch. Calculating the point on the beach where he could most efficiently get to the boy, Sandy cut through the waves with a powerful dive, and reached the boy directly. To the great relief of the boy's parents waiting anxiously on the shore, the young victim was brought in and needed no resuscitation as he was belching water. The excitement over, Sandy discovered his watch had been lost on the run down the beach. However, selfless heroism was rewarded as he was given a new watch the following week by the grateful parents of the young boy whose life he had saved.
With sincere dedication, pride in a job well done and commitment to their fellow lifeguards, the men of Long Beach Township Beach Patrol were ready to do whatever was necessary to protect the people on their beach. And what the public considered heroism was just all in a day's work to these men.
However lifeguards were gaining a reputation, not so much for their rescues, as for burning the candle at both ends. While most of the lifeguards of the 1930s and 1940s lived with their parents, the trend of the 1950s was for young men to come to the shore independently. Some of the guards stayed at Britt's (Green Gables) in Beach Haven, while others teamed up to rent apartments together. After working several jobs, the end of their day meant "Party". Good times and great memories were made having a brew at the Antlers (the Ketch) in Beach Haven where beer was 10 cents a glass, tipping a few at the Dutchman's, and congregating at Kaszner's Tavern (Nardi's) where the guys played shuffleboard and enjoyed the island's best ham and cheese sandwiches. As hard as the guards worked, they played hard, too. Many of them fondly recall the custom of "A Beer a Bar", starting at one end of the island, and having a beer at each of the 18 bars. All done in the spirit of fun and with youthful exuberance and stamina, it was a rite of passage for many young men of the 1950s.
It was a new age for Long Beach Island. Millside Farms ice cream store on the causeway served Atomic Milk Shakes, and civil defense air spotters watched for Russian planes 24 hours a day in Operation Skywatch. Yet the age old traffic problem at the Causeway circle still persisted, and account of water pollution haunted the pages of the Beach Haven Times. In the summer of 1952, the Surflight Summer Theatre opened its third season with "Sand in My Shoes". The headlines of the Beach Haven Times of August 26 touted "Huge Labor Day Crowds to Climax Island Summer Season!" And the Long Beach Township Beach Patrol mourned the loss of Director of Beachfront Safety Norman Frommer who had served his time well.
With the island's summer population explosion came a greater emphasis on beach safety and the need to develop a more professional lifesaving corps. Former football champion Art Jocher was recruited to tackle the job of Long Beach Township Beach Patrol Supervisor. A vigorous, no-nonsense leader, Jocher was just what the beach patrol needed. As a young man in the 1930s, Jocher had been a lifeguard in Beach Haven and was physically strong and accomplished in his own right. He took his responsibilities as patrol captain very seriously, developing new programs and setting new standards of excellence for the growing staff of lifeguards to achieve.
Captain Jocher put new recruits for the beach patrol through their paces. Applicants were invited down for the day for a personal interview and rigorous performance tests that included swimming a course in the ocean and running for speed and endurance. In the earlier days of the guard, rumor had it that an unqualified applicant had slipped into the squad, unable to swim and dreading a calamity on the beach. This young man would never have made it past Jocher.
Thanks to all the new training and policies instituted by Captain Jocher, lifesaving methods were always fresh in the guards' minds. A senior Red Cross lifesaving certificate was now prerequisite to employment, and live rescues were practiced on the beach once a week. Twice weekly at the Township building, demonstrations, dry runs, drills and techniques of water safety including the new prone pressure arm-lift method of artificial respiration further enabled the men to cope with all aspects of their duties.
Art Jocher was known to be a hard task-master but always fair, and the men knew where they stood with him. It was a common practice for Art to jog 10 blocks between stands in the hot summer sun to check on every guard on the Long Beach Township beaches. And as one guard who served under Jocher put it "God help you if you weren't there."
While knowing techniques of lifesaving was of foremost importance when guarding the beach, quick thinking and resourcefulness often saved the day. This was the case with Dick Grob who guarded the beach at 44th Street in Brant Beach from 1950 to 1953: On the last beach before Ship Bottom, two children on rafts were in trouble out at the sandbar that is visible at low tide from many beaches on the island. While the shore to the sandbar has a rather shallow gully at low tide, this area becomes hazardous with eddies and whirlpools from the backlash of water as the tide comes in. The guard at this beach was out 25 yards trying to bring the children in through this rough surf when Dick, keeping an eye on the situation from his beach, sensed he was in trouble. Dick jumped from his stand, raced down the beach, and realized there was no tow rope in sight. Thinking quickly, he ran to an oceanfront home and grabbed a clothesline from the back yard. Sprinting back to the water, he plunged into the waves swimming for the children and his fellow lifeguard. Working as a team the guards brought the children to the safety of land.
As physically fit and skilled as the Township lifeguards had grown to be, there were still times when fate and current took its course, drawing even the strongest swimmer into a battle for his own life. A nor'easter had blown toward the coast for the last several days. Stirring up the sea with erratic currents and powerful waves, and Dick Grob was keeping the people on his 44th Street beach out of the ocean. Alone on his stand, Dick spotted an object that might be a body being tossed about in the water and went in to investigate. Discovering only a broken-off buoy, he looked up to find his bearings and swim to shore. A paralyzing sight greeted him... the beach was a ribbon of sand bobbing up and down in the distance, and the faceless miniatures on the shore were unaware oh his peril. He had no tow rope, no life preserver— only his lifeguard training and his courage. With this to rely on, Dick talked himself out of the overwhelming urge to panic. Instead he set about the long exhaustive task of getting to shore against a strong current. He swam and rested, swam and rested, using the currents and wave patterns rather than fighting them, to bring himself on a diagonal pattern to the beach. Dick finally succeeded in catching that last wave that cast him into the wash, or choppy part of the surf. Exhausted, he staggered to the safety of land with the help of several people on shore, and realized that his struggle with the ocean had carried him all the way to the beach at 36th Street.
With a remarkable record of no lives lost on the protected beaches of Long Beach Township, the lifeguards were contending with the new surge of vacationers. As reported in the Beach Haven Times in the summer of 1952, a record number of 2500 daily bathers, and 5000 weekend bathers frequented the 16 stations maintained by the Township guards. The stations were located at Beach Haven Heights (Holgate); 16th Street in North Beach Haven; 23rd Street in Spray Beach; 31st Street in Beach Haven Gardens; Delaware Avenue, New Jersey Avenue, and the Bay in Beach Haven Terrace; Ryerson Avenue in the Dunes; Tennessee Avenue in Haven Beach; Louisiana Avenue and Alabama Avenue in Beach Haven Park; Cape Cod Lane in Peahala Park; Jeanette Avenue in Beach Haven Crest; and 55th, 44th and 35th Streets in Brant Beach.
One of the biggest problems the Long Beach Township Beach Patrol faced was the beach at Holgate. Far from any real island activity, Holgate was dubbed "The Hell Hole" and "Siberia" by the guards who were scheduled for rotating duty to guard this beach. Holgate was frequented by "day-hops" or "day-trippers," people who came to the island just for the day. These folks were, for the most part, very inexperienced with the ocean, and had to be dragged to safety on a regular basis. Some were even downright fool-hardy, jumping off the jetty with inner tubes into the turbulent surf below.
The Long Beach Township Lifeguards, under the supervision of Jocher, had effected 37 rescues in the summer of 1952, mostly children on rafts getting caught in the waves and currents. These "toys," easily carried by the tide, allowed non-swimmers to go out beyond the distance where they could touch bottom. As inflated rubber tubes and rafts were enormously popular with kids, they were a perpetual problem for the lifeguards.
In 1952 Captain Jocher implemented the use of long, heavy surfboards in rescue techniques that enabled lifeguards to swiftly paddle out to victims. A person drowning in the ocean, gulping salt water that is burning their lungs, eyes and nostrils, will grasp for anything to keep their head above water. Instead of clinging in panic to the lifeguard and sometimes pulling him under, a victim could grip the surfboard or be laid across it, thus making for a more effective rescue.
By 1953 the Korean War had ended, and despite the Cold War with the U.S.S.R., the mid 1950s brought peace and prosperity to the country as President Eisenhower had promised. The average American earned $4,233 a year, gasoline could be bought for 29 cents a gallon, and Long Beach Island experienced the highest weekend and two-week rentals in history.
Weary of the worlds tensions brought on by the previous decade of war and by Soviet Premier Krushchev's shoe-pounding antics, Americans were eager to abandon bomb shelters in favor of finding security in their new -found affluence. The pursuit of happiness became a national pastime. Lawn, porch and patio furniture sales soared, and outboard motor use more than doubled as Americans moved out of doors for fun and recreation.
Young people had more financial clout than ever before, and by 1958 teenagers were responsible for 70% of all record sales. In this decade of ducktails and drive-ins, Davy Crockett and James Dean, college kids devised dozens of dizzy fads like swallowing goldfish, and cramming people into phone booths and Volkswagens. Bermuda shorts, 3-D movie glasses, and hula hoops were all the rage. While the mellow song stylings of Patti Page and Theresa Brewer ushered in the 50s, the heart-pounding rhythms of Little Richard and Chuck Berry were now burning up the air-waves, and rock and roll was here to stay.
The Garden State Parkway was officially opened in 1954, and by the end of the decade the new Causeway Bridge replaced the old rickety, two-lane crossing. Because more and more families were discovering Long Beach Island than ever before, the size of the Long Beach Township Beach Patrol was increased by five or more guards per year throughout the 1950s. Lifeguards were posted every four blocks between each jetty, and the beaches of Loveladies and North Beach were now protected by the beach patrol. In 1955 the bay beach across from the Township Building was opened for the safety and convenience of the Island's growing family-oriented population.
As the years progressed, Art Jocher's duties became increasingly demanding and diversified. He now made his rounds from stand to stand in a Jeep, and burgeoning administrative tasks required him to spend more time in the office. He was always on call to assist lifeguards and depended on the owners of the beach front homes with telephones to relay emergency messages to him via the police.
With Art Jocher's influence, the Long Beach Township administration began to regard the beach patrol as essential, rather than merely, necessary. Although budget problems persisted, Captain Jocher continually introduced the latest techniques and equipment to improve lifesaving skills, and he would make a decisive transformation in the Township Beach Patrol during the coming years. As a method of keeping his guards in top condition, Jocher organized lifeguard races. Little did he realize the lasting impact these races would have, as they were to become a thrilling annual competition for the lifeguards as well as for thousands of spectators who converged on the beach to cheer on their favorite team.