Portrayals of bronzed gods and goddesses reigning over thousands of sunbathing subjects have come to us over the years from TV and movies, from Frankie and Annette in ”Beach Blanket Bingo” (give or take a few inane twists on the image) to ”Baywatch.”
Most lifeguards do say it`s a great job, but it`s hardly the romantic scene moviemakers have painted.
”People say you work on the beach and get paid for getting a tan,” said Bruce Keon, 23, a guard at Rainbow Beach on the South Side. ”They think it`s fun. But it`s more than just a job. It`s a responsibility.”
”They think you sit up there and twirl your whistle and get paid to sit out in the sun,” said Claudette Smith, 20, a guard at Whelan Forest Preserve Pool on the Northwest Side. ”They don`t realize you`re yelling at people all the time and you do actually go in to save people.”
This year`s 4th of July, for example, a holiday for relaxation and celebration, was a nightmare for lifeguards across the area as crowds came to beaches and pools to escape the heat. There were 500 lost children at the Chicago Park District`s 33 beaches on the 4th of July, said Joe Pecararo, general superintendent for the Park District`s beaches and pools.
”It was a wild day,” he said. ”We`re the biggest babysitting service in the world. Parents say, `Go ahead, just stay in front of the lifeguard.` ” Lifeguards must go through rigorous training and tests, so rigorous, in fact, that there is a shortage of lifeguards nationwide, said Pecararo, who is also the president of the United States Lifesaving Association, based in Chicago. Many students would rather flip hamburgers at a fast-food restaurant for less money than go through the guard training and tests, he said.
Even on a relatively routine day, a guard must be ever vigilant. On a recent afternoon, sunglasses positioned, arms crossed, a lifeguard stood watch on Oak Street Beach. Occasionally, he swung his arms or shifted his weight from one leg to the other during his hour vigil. His head constantly moved back and forth scanning the water.
Screams of a group of teenagers dunking each other rose over the booming radio nearby. Two little girls darted back and forth to the edge of the water, filling their buckets with the ingredients for a delicious sand cake.
”Hey! Move in!” was the warning to an errant swimmer who had strayed too far.
No sitting allowed
After standing for an hour (Chicago Park District guards are not allowed to sit while on duty), the guard was relieved. Another guard shed his civilian clothes to reveal the bright orange lifeguard uniform and crawled up on the perch after the other climbed down, with the regularity if not the precision of Buckingham Palace`s counterparts.
While the work of a guard is not always physically taxing, the responsibility of protecting lives is mentally demanding.
”You have to keep an eye on people all the time,” said lifeguard Kevin Kane, 21. A guard at Oak Street Beach, Kane scans the water from side to side and counts people in groups to keep watch over swimmers` safety. It`s easy to know the difference when someone is playing and drowning.
”There`s a look,” Kane said. ”You can see death coming on their face.”
The first time Kane saw that look was his first rescue, six years ago. Four small children asked him if they could dive into the lake. He said if they could swim they could go into the water. All four dived in. All four couldn`t swim. All four had the look.
Kane jumped in and grabbed three of them, and one jumped on his back.
Little children at the beach are ”entertaining,” Kane said. ”But they are also your biggest concern.”
Recently, Smith saved a little boy who came to the pool with one of the many day-camp groups that visit every week throughout the summer.
”He dove in right underneath the chair,” Smith said. ”He looked at me
(as if to say), `Help.` ” She jumped down and put her leg out for him to hold onto but the panicked child wouldn`t reach for anything, she said. Smith jumped in and pulled out the boy, who held on to her for dear life.
Since then, every time he comes to the pool, she said, he points her out to his friends and says, ”That`s the lifeguard who saved my life.”
Smith, an education major at Northeastern University, has had 20 saves since she became a guard five years ago, most of whom were small children who fell or jumped into the water. Her sister, Donnette, 21, is also a guard at Whelan.
Lifeguards believe that parents increasingly rely too heavily on the lifeguard instead of keeping a close watch themselves.
”They think we`re babysitters,” Claudette Smith said. ”They just drop them off and let them go.”
Some lifeguards say the same often happens when older siblings or friends bring children to the beach or pools. They wander off and leave the youngsters to fend for themselves.
Fortunately for lifeguards, children tend to listen and follow commands more quickly than older people.
”I`d rather deal with little kids than older people,” said Ron Slovick, 20, a guard at Whelan pool. ”If you tell a little kids to do something, they will do it most of the time. With an adult, it`s in one ear and out the other.”
Children are also more appreciative. Smith recalled that a little boy whom she had rescued once brought her a bouquet of dandelions.
Awash with requirements
Besides vigilance, being a lifeguard requires dedication. Even on cool, rainy days the beaches still have to be patrolled. The only time it gets boring is on colder days, one guard said. ”On hot days you`re too busy to be bored.”
Sometimes lifeguards have to deal with suicide attempts and drunks who fall into the water. Female lifeguards have to put up with comments like,
”How about some mouth-to-mouth, baby?”
”Sometimes I get hassled,” said Darlene Warta, 22, a guard at Montrose Beach, ”but it`s nothing I can`t handle.”
Lifeguarding is a tradition in the Warta family. Warta and her two brothers followed in their mother`s footsteps. Now, all four are lifeguards.
Tom Warta, 16, is a guard at Norwood Park pool on the Northwest Side. Last year, he was a junior lifeguard. The junior lifeguard program, which starts training children at age 8 to be guards, provides the majority of the guards for the Chicago Park District. By the time the junior guards reach 16, the age most become lifeguards, they know that`s what they want to do.
”It`s hard work,” said Pecoraro, 57, who started out as a lifeguard 41 years ago.
To be a Park District guard, applicants must be able to:
– Swim 200 yards in less than 3 1/2 minutes.
– Swim 20 yards underwater and pick up a 16-pound weight.
– Break a stranglehold and tow an instructor out of the water.
– Pass a physical exam.
Then the real work begins. Those who survive the preliminary testing and still want to be a guard must attend six days of lifeguard training school where they earn Red Cross certification. At the end of the six days, applicants take three tests and are hired in order of their scores. About 850 guards are hired every summer for $6.77 an hour.
”We need 1,200 applicants to hire 850,” Pecararo said. ”You`d be surprised how many people think they can swim.”
Guard Dan Herrera, 17, of the Southeast Side of Chicago, said he was attracted to his job because it keeps him out of trouble with gangs in his neighborhood. His two brothers were guards before him at Rainbow Beach, where he works.
Some are attracted to the job because it helps them stay in shape and lets them use their swimming skills.
For whatever reason lifeguards are attracted to the job, they share a common bond in their commitment to saving lives.
Last year, there were 5,712 rescues at the Chicago Park District`s 33 beaches and 90 pools. There hasn`t been a drowning at a Park District beach in 12 years, or at a pool in two years.
Donnette Smith puts it this way: ”When you have a save, you feel good that you were there. The question pops into my mind, `What would happen if I weren`t there?”`
