First Place Trophy. Courtesy of Loyd Pettegrew
The Day SMLG Beat LACO in the Ironman Championship Race
The Day SMLG Beat LACO in the Ironman Championship Race
Loyd S. Pettegrew
The plaque on the wall in my university office has been staring
at me for 32 years, and for 6 years before that at Vanderbilt University. Long
gone are all the swimming trophies and medals about which I lost interest
decades ago. Just this lone symbol of a very special time and event, when after
six years of having our butts kicked if not crushed by L.A. County in the
Ironman relay, we won decisively. The smallest lifeguard service had beaten the
biggest.
Beach lifeguards back then were made up of three classes of
young men. First were the watermen who grew up at the beach and knew their way
around body surfing, surfing and running. Some had come up through the junior
guard program, others like Jim Oppliger, Herb Thacker, Doug Smith, and Mike
Doyle before them, were really good surfers. Because they weren’t competitive
swimmers, they never led the lifeguard pack in the try-outs, but they were good
enough to make the force and brought us important “local beach knowledge.”
Collegiate swimmers populated the second group. In the beginning they were from
places like Santa Monica City College, UCLA, USC and the like. Larry Raffaelli,
who was a scholarship swimmer at the University of Utah, became the pied piper
for SMLG to Utah, bringing in the likes of the Shepherd boys, Rummerfield,
Troxler and probably some others. The third group was a hybrid of the first
two. These guys were collegiate swimmers, who also surfed and knew their way
around the beach and a dory. The very best collegiate swimmers usually didn’t
cut it in the Ironman. It is this group, for L.A. City, LACO and SMLG, that had
the unique skill set necessary for the Ironman Relay.
By mid-June each year, SMLG Captain Jim Richards was
plotting a strategy for us to win the Santa Monica Sports, Arts & Recreation
“National Lifeguard Championships”— the Ironman Relay. Richards would designate
a team based on who was entering ironman individual events like Mike Kent.
In about 1971 a second team of guys who hadn’t been selected as the first
team by the brass, beat the first team and Richards conceded the flaw and told
us we should figure the team selection process for the following year. Every
year since Palma, Ando and I completed rookie school, Richards, Rigby and
Johnson would hope for an Ironman win, and every year we let them down.
1972 was different. We set up a tryout that would duplicate
the actual race as closely as possible: it had timed rest between legs
just like the race, helping us realize how much rest we would have before the
next leg. It also favored sprinters over distance guys because each leg of the
Ironman is essentially a sprint. Ron Richmond was starting his second season
at SMLG. He had grown up on the beaches of Maui and had spent time surfing the
North Shore. But he was also an All American swimmer and had, with some
practice, great facility in a dory. He had his game on and won a spot on the
team along with Terry Palma, Steve Saylors, Bill Mount and me. Saylors had been
on the team the previous year when Spike Beck and crew crushed us. Steve was an
All American swimmer at SMC and one of the very best dory men around. We needed
that because in the Ironman, someone has to row twice. If you could win the
Long Beach to Catalina dory race in 4-foot chop, two 600 yard in-and-outs
through the surf is a piece of cake. Steve was our guy. Bill Mount had never
been on the Ironman relay before because while he was arguably one of two best paddlers around (Mike Stevenson being his only true rival), and he was
pretty good in a dory, his swimming was just O.K. But Bill was a really
competitive guy, and if he set his mind to something, he wouldn’t stop until he
did it. So between May and the first week in September, Mount went crazy. He
worked out with the UCLA swimming guys and on days off he did two-a-days with
them. He also started rowing; I could see him come around the Santa Monica Pier
after he was off work and row to Pacific Palisades and back. He challenged Mike
Kent, an accomplished rower and swimmer and won the fifth spot. Richmond, Palma
and I started a month later because we knew the drill (Palma and I had suffered
defeats at the hands of LACO since we finished rookie school in 1967). I was
the ringer in the dory.
The Ringer
Unbeknownst to the team, I had spent my childhood summers
rowing. My grandfather had a beach house on Carnation Cove in Corona Del Mar
and the family would move down there for the summer. At about the age of 8, a
neighbor kid got a small boat with an outboard engine to tool around the bay.
Well I wanted one so bad, but my mom was very protective of me and after I’d
been nagging her for weeks, a small boat showed up at the house. I looked at
it, but there was no motor, just a set of oarlocks and oars. For the next 4
summers I rowed myself around Balboa Bay, often fighting wind and tide to get
where I wanted to go, sometimes 3 miles down the bay. I got really good at my
only mode of water transportation. My mother, as if sensing my later calling,
also got me a hollow Joe Quigg paddleboard and before I finally got a motor for
my boat, I would paddle across the bay to the Wedge to body surf. My protective
mother had no idea how much more dangerous that was than a motor!
By early August, the team started working out, rowing
together. I think Chavez put a bug in Palma’s ear when they were out on the
boats, and Terry, ever the strategist decided that the big guys should lead off
our Ironman. I started ocean swimming under the coaching of Tug Carlton in 1964.
I had also been a pretty good freestyle sprinter at BYU. Chavez played the
angle that size mattered through the surf and getting a lead on LACO. I would
go first at 6’4”and Saylors at 6’3” second; we would row the first dory leg and
Steve would then finish the third dory leg with Bill Mount. Palma and Richmond
would row the second leg. The Chavez-Palma brain trust convinced us that having
big guys through the surf first would get us a lead over LACO and that having
Mount finish the paddling would stretch any lead we had. As we got closer to
the September 2nd date we had to do more surf exchanges and
in-and-outs through waves. This was the high season for south swells and the
surf could be a big factor; Beck and most of the LACO guys worked Zuma, where
the waves and surf conditions were perpetually more challenging than in than
Santa Monica Bay, and they would be in their element.
On or about the last
week of August, Chavez called a meeting and reassured Richards, Rigby and
Johnson that he thought we were ready and the plan would work as designed.
Chavez seldom made promises that he couldn’t keep! A quick aside about Bobby: He was one hell of an ocean swimmer, and one
day he saw an opportunity to sucker a new guard into a challenge. We were in
Tower 8 one gloomy May Monday with a rookie from Utah (Biff Rummerfield I
think), Chavez starting talking about how good a swimmer he was. After a few
minutes the rookie, tall, thin and muscular, couldn’t believe that this old,
paunchy guy was a good swimmer and called bullshit on Bobby. Chavez seized the
opportunity and said: “I’ll tell you what, I’ll bet I can beat you in a swim
from here to the pier after work and the loser pays the winner $100. The rookie
was on this sure bet like white on rice. What the rookie didn’t know was that
Chavez knew a mile swim in the Pacific Ocean in May wasn’t like a 1500 in a
pool. The water was still about 63 degrees and by 6 p.m. when they would start,
the onshore winds were forecast to climb to 15 knots. Bobby beat the rookie by 50
yards and the rookie coughed up salt water for at least 5 minutes afterward.
You would underestimate Bobby Chavez at
your own peril. RIP!
The day before the Ironman dawned early. I had the 7-3 shift
and the north beach jeep until the beach lieutenant came on at 8. I had already
checked out north beach, opened up Tower 8 and patrolled the beach restrooms
for any of the flora and fauna who might have spent the night there. About 7:30
I get a radio call from Tom Johnson who said he needed me to come in and talk
to him. When I get to headquarters our new dory is sitting out on its trailer
and Tom is there with a newspaper photographer, someone from the SM Recreation
Department, John Howe and some cutie with a towel wrapped around her. Johnson
informs me (never break the chain of command!) that Chief Howe wants a
publicity photo of the SMLG Ironman team. It turns out that Saylors was off
that day and that Mount and Palma were working the boats at 9. That left only Richmond
who was working the 2-man tower by the POP pier and me available for this shot.
Ron was brought up to headquarters and we took the dory to the water’s edge, where
the newspaper photographer and the recreation publicists were each trying out
ideas on the photo shoot. Richmond spoke up and said we were both working and
had important other things to do and that we had to get this done in 5 minutes.
What resulted was the cheesecake photo that appeared in that evening’s Santa
Monica Evening Outlook with Ron and me holding up the dory and Miss Santa
Monica giving her best beauty pageant smile for the camera—the things guards
have to do to feed the government publicity machine!
Throughout that day and the next, Bill Beattie had to field
calls from everyone up and down the SMLG hierarchy to each of us, asking how we
were doing, if we were ready to beat LACO and any last minute thoughts or suggestions.
The solemnity felt more like an execution than an Ironman race. Mount and Palma
were on the boats and so were spared the calls. There was something in the wind
that maybe we finally had a chance and everyone was charged up with nervous energy.
As was his way, Richards never said anything, he just smiled...but you never
knew if that was a good or bad thing because smiling was his habitual affect.
The swell had been building for the previous two days and on
the day of the race it was a solid 5 feet, not huge, but challenging, and
possibly catastrophic in the dory. None of us got together on race day because
there were lots of rescues and everyone was busy. Chavez stopped by my tower
once at mid-afternoon and stuck his head out of the jeep, squinted his eyes and
just smiled and shook his head yes. At 3 p.m. I drove back to my place at Topanga Beach for
some early dinner and last minute kibitzing with Doug Smith and Topanga
residents Paul Lovas and Carl Barlow. About 6:30 I headed to Bay Street where
the crowd was building. I waded out to waist high water making mental notes of
any holes or ditches. At 7 they started the introductory hoopla and then the
musical flags and pillow fight. The Navy Seals brought a team of scary looking
guys and we were sure that they had wreaked havoc in Vietnam and had their eyes
set on us. You definitely didn’t want to pillow fight these guys because they
had that “I’ll die before I give up” look in their eyes. I think they swept
that event but the lifeguards split with them in musical flags. I can’t
remember if they competed in the Ironman, not that they weren’t ironmen, but
they just had different skill sets, and weapons were of no use here. The
evening was upon us and the spotlights were turned on.
It was completely dark by now. They announced the Ironman
event and our team assembled for a quick last minute strategy huddle. Palma,
ever the swim coach and team leader, quickly reviewed the strategy and told us
that the number one way we could beat LACO was to catch waves in the swimming
and paddling legs and if we were ahead to be very careful of other boats coming
out in the dory and to make sure to keep it upright. Just before the start, the
surf was averaging 4-5 feet and thumping in the incoming tide. We looked at
each other and knew we had to give it our best and make our own luck. Above the
din of the crowd I could hear LMLGs biggest cheerleader, Larry Rafaelli,
screaming to give it our all.
Then the air horn blew. I led off for SMLG and hurdled by
way out to thigh deep water and started dolphining through the waves until the
depth made it impossible and I started sprinting. Some 3-footers came through
and I just made it under one and kept on swimming for all I was worth. I was
first around the buoy but Spike Beck was a close second. I headed back for
shore and the third light from the right, put my head down and took 20 more
strokes before I raised my head for another look. I could feel the lumps coming
in as I got closer to the beach and new a set was coming, so I turned over for
two backstroke pulls to spot the swells. There was a big wave starting to form
about 30 feet in back of me. I took a gulp of air, rolled over and sprinted as
hard as I could—I had to catch this wave and knew I couldn’t yet stand up so I
kicked it up another notch and all of a sudden I felt the ocean surface pull
back from me and I knew the wave was
about to break. I just couldn’t stop
swimming for fear I might lose it. All of a sudden the top of the wave started
to break just behind me so I just kept my head down and planed so I wouldn’t
lose it and be stuck treading in deep water while Beck would be passing me by
on the next wave. By this time I needed
air in the worst way and raised my head and got a breath and a mouthful of
water but was able to stay with the wave. I could feel that my forward motion
was decreasing but I kept planed and stayed with the wave as long as possible
and finally raised up and felt the bottom. I was in waste deep water so I sunk
down and dolphined three times and got up and ran for Saylors who was bending
over with his hand outstretched (big targets matter!). I made the tag and
looked around. I was first, but Beck had caught a better wave behind me and he
was only about 20 feet back.
Steve was off like a scalded rabbit and was able to muscle
through the incoming set. Chavez and Palma had been right! He caught even a
better wave than I did and doubled our lead. Palma went next and increased the
lead to about 50 feet then Richmond also caught a wave, maintaining it. Mount
swam the final leg and held a good lead; it was time for the paddle leg. Mount came
up the beach on my left side as we had practiced and I was off, trying to
extend our lead by paddling while the other teams were still swimming. I took
off knee paddling through shallow water and made it through the surf without
any big waves hindering me. I settled in to a fast but even rhythm despite the
increasing chop, hit the flag at full tilt, pulled the board out, turned it,
took three strokes on my stomach and then back up on my knees, heading for that
third spotlight. I still had a sizable lead and the other teams had begun to
spread out behind me. When I hit the impact area there were no waves to help so
I kept stroking until almost to the beach, picked the board up and gave it to Steve
and off he went. Steve’s leg was good but there were no waves to help him
either. Palma had to roll his board through the first wave of a set gaining ground
on the LACO guy (I think Dan Matthies) who got hammered further inside. Richmond
got caught a little bit inside on a really big wave, but he sat back on his
board so as not to go over the falls and pearl; he pulled it out and rode the
whitewater in to increase our lead a little more. Then Mount went and he smoked
it through the surf showing why he was about to become the premier paddler in
California. On the way in another set was building and Billy kicked it into a
higher gear, caught a 5-footer and rode it to the sand on his knees, increasing
our lead.
I had the dory positioned in the shallow water, skulling to
keep it perfectly perpendicular to the waves as Mount came running up the beach
and tagged Steve. Palma kept yelling that we had a great lead and to be
conservative and don’t run into any other boats. We went out and back and
actually waited for a wave to pass before going into the surf break. I jumped
out while Steve turned the boat around for Palma and Richmond. They too took it
conservatively, but caught a 2-footer on the way back in and ran down the beach
a little. It was finally up to Saylors and Mount to bring it all back home. The
surf was building again and they just made it over a 4-footer SLAP! They rowed
like men possessed and turned it around and headed home. As they were coming in,
the last place dory was going out through the surf line and Saylors had a sharp
eye out and told Mount to pull his right oar to the side. Sure enough, that
boat rubbed our rail and might have broken both starboard oars had Steve not
seen the danger and adjusted. The incident turned our dory parallel to the
waves for a minute but Mount and Saylors straightened it back out, took four
more strokes and Mount performed a flying leap off the bow and ran up to a winner’s
finish. David had finally beaten Goliath!
Raffaelli was jumping up and down, screaming; Howe was
turning circles in the sand, Johnson was patting Rigby on the back, Jeff
Solomon was beside himself (or perhaps in back of himself if he was doing his
dancer pose), and Jim Richards stood motionless with his cat-that-ate-the canary
smile on his face.
The same team came together again in 1973, but couldn’t
repeat our performance. I had surfed from Biarritz, France to Kenitra, Morocco
that winter, finding out I had Type I diabetes, but recovered and worked that
summer. Jim Richards was my biggest supporter when the City of Santa Monica
wouldn’t let me guard. I owe him a great deal for sticking his neck out. Richmond
spent the winter surfing the North Shore and also came back for the summer. Palma
was heading to pursue swim coaching in parts east. Bill cemented his role as
the top paddler beating Stevenson several times, and Saylors graduated to
becoming a permanent lifeguard. Word on
the street was that the LACO boys had also been practicing since June and being
the fearsome competitors they always were, they wouldn’t be beaten again by
SMLG. In Steve Saylors’ words, “They smoked us!” That was the last summer SMLG
was independent of LACO. For two more summers I came back from Ann Arbor for
the recheck and a few weeks of guarding, working for Richards at Zuma. I stayed
at Topanga Beach with Doug Smith and Paul Lovas during those times, just before
the State paved paradise and put up a parking lot…and an LACO lifeguard
station.
Note: I received my doctorate from the University of
Michigan in 1977, spent six years at Vanderbilt University and have been at the
University of South Florida in Tampa ever since, where I’m a tenured full
professor of marketing and health communication. I am deeply indebted to Will
Maguire for putting me in touch with Steve Saylors, Terry Palma, Ron Richmond,
and Bill Mount with whom I have shared this story, asking questions and making
corrections and additions as needed. Doug Smith and Larry Raffaelli were also
helpful in filling in gaps that I had forgotten. We should all be indebted to
Will for setting up and continuing the County Recurrent, whereby the entire LACO family can keep in touch, as well as relive days
gone by.
Now, some 42 years later and a
continent away, I am still, as Norman Maclean wrote in the last line of A River Runs Through It, consumed by water.
*** Copyright Loyd Pettegrew 2014. All Rights Reserved. Published here with permission. ***
---
Wow! That was amazing! Thanks very much, Loyd! What a fantastic retelling of a great moment for SMLG! On behalf of our entire readership, thank you for your wonderful recollection.
*** and for the readers new to our blog, please see Loyd's earlier story posted on April 9, 2010 on County Recurrent, entitled, "Blinking At Santa Monica Beach" at:
http://countyrecurrent.blogspot.com/2010/04/blinking-at-santa-monica-beach-by-loyd.html
which in this editor's opinion should be mandatory reading.
---
10-4
Until next time.....
Will Maguire, Editor
"County Recurrent" News
http://CountyRecurrent.blogspot.com
*** *** ***
1 comment:
A great read about those in the ivory towers, or wooden towers at any rate. Strategies can indeed pay-off! Several familiar people from the past and present are mentioned here, although this particular comment is not from a lifeguard. gary bertram
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