Lifeguard Key Takeaways

Lifeguard culture in 1970s Rockaway was anarchic and dangerous – heavy drinking, minimal supervision, and a pecking order that prized the surf beach as the elite (and wildest) assignment.

Standing your ground was essential – Janet’s Dr. Scholl’s sandal incident taught her that aggression could be defused by refusing to back down.

Real training often came from peers, not official programs – Barbara taught the practical skills: reading water, porpoising, knowing when to rescue.

The job carried serious responsibility despite the partying – the buoy-first rule, the chair rotations, and the constant awareness of swimmers’ safety were non-negotiable.

The beach offered a different kind of freedom – a stark contrast to corporate life, where saving lives felt more meaningful than trading stocks.

Being a “horn” meant constant grunt work, drilling, and hazing, but it forged resilience and skill.

The Rockaway beach community was divided by geography, class, and social cliques—outsiders like the Brooklyn sisters had to fight for respect.

Harassment of female lifeguards was rampant, from locker room humiliation to blame-shifting by male colleagues.

The author’s moment of heroism—saving her own chief—went unrecognized by him, but she reclaimed her story at the bar.

Helen, the quiet rule-follower, delivered the summer’s most satisfying punch, proving that sometimes the angel has a breaking point.

Lifeguarding demanded intense, sustained partnership that felt like family, complete with dysfunction and fierce loyalty.

Prank-based training, however harsh, was a deliberate method to sharpen vigilance and response time.

The job carried a heavy psychological toll with no institutional support, leading to dark coping rituals like death parties.

Structural failures—absent chiefs, inconsistent protocols, silent supervisors—undermined the lifeguards’ ability to do their best work.

Even unrecognized, lifeguards saw themselves as essential public servants, a truth reinforced by their own community and traditions.

A hazing tradition turned dangerous when oil-based paint was used, leading to a near-fatal poisoning.

Janet regrets not calling 911 and learns to be more vigilant about protecting her staff.

The Parks Department investigation ended hazing as it had been practiced, marking a turning point in the culture.

A single drowning changed the lieutenant’s approach to leadership: he stopped waiting for permission and started enforcing safety protocols that saved lives for nearly two decades.

Peter Stein built a power structure by combining union leadership with an unapproved management role, stacking allies in borough coordinator positions, and keeping the rank-and-file union under his thumb.

Stein’s control extended beyond the beach—he controlled teaching jobs, favors, and even the lifeguards’ availability forms, leaving no doubt that the system was designed to benefit him, not the swimmers.

Grief can be silent and invisible, like drowning—people don’t always flail or call for help; they just go under. The author’s description of the instinctive drowning response applies as much to emotional loss as to water.

Love sometimes crystallizes in crisis. The author’s relationship with Bob was faltering until John’s death proved his steadiness. The question of whether he was “the one” simply dissolved.

Losses can pile up without mercy, but healing is possible in small, concrete acts: a house, a volleyball league, a morning swim, a mended piece of clothing that feels like a message from beyond.

Family rituals—funerals, weddings, standing shoulder to shoulder—mark both endings and beginnings, often in the same spaces.

Her promotion to first female chief is both a milestone and a manipulation, highlighting how Stein uses titles as tools of control.

Building a cohesive, well-trained lifeguard team requires rejecting favoritism and prioritizing real ocean skills over appearances.

Stein’s leadership is hollow: obsessed with optics, ignorant of safety, and protected by a loyalist clique.

The 1990 drowning of two Black teenagers exposes a pattern of negligence and cover-ups that the Parks Department enables.

Systemic failures allow preventable deaths to continue, while authorities choose superficial fixes over accountability.

Balancing motherhood, lifeguarding, and community activism required constant improvisation—the beach became a second home for John and Caitlin, and the lifeguard team doubled as a village.

Rockaway’s civic landscape was fractured into dozens of groups, making it easy for politicians to ignore, but she learned to use FOIA, zoning codes, and public pressure to keep them accountable.

Despite her love for the community, the lack of good local schools forced a painful move—a reminder that even committed activists sometimes have to put their children’s needs first.

Mark Green’s 1994 report exposed systemic failures: inadequate training, test manipulation, lack of discipline, and nine drownings linked to understaffing.

Stein’s dual role as union president and manager made him nearly untouchable; Parks’ attempt to install an overseer (Thompson) failed within a year.

Union corruption under DC 37 went far beyond lifeguards, including embezzlement and voter fraud to pass Giuliani’s wage freeze—but Stein always escaped consequences.

Lifeguards who cooperated with investigators or refused to sign fraudulent documents faced retaliation; dissent was suppressed through threats and control of the swim test.

Stein and Sher’s leadership prioritized loyalty over competence, creating conditions for preventable tragedies.

Mahin’s drowning was a direct result of systemic failures—understaffing, poor supervision, and ignored warnings.

Janet’s water safety video succeeded because it bypassed the Parks Department’s dysfunction, reaching over 100,000 students.

The lifeguard development program was sabotaged at the final test stage, with nineteen out of twenty prepared students deliberately failed to maintain control.

The chapter underscores a painful lesson: even when you find a way to do the right thing, those in power will find a way to stop you.

Stein’s retaliation after the lifeguard development program was systematic: cutting staff from 35 to 16, sending untrained pool lifeguards, creating unsafe conditions that drove my team to emotional breakdowns.

The community board committee uncovered a deep system of patronage—promotions based on loyalty, inflated salaries for cronies, and total opacity in union governance.

Calling a union meeting isolated me further; the physical intimidation and lack of support made the enormity of the fight clear, but also hardened my resolve to stay.

Whistleblowing through the Daily News drew public attention to racial disparities in beach staffing, yet high-level meetings with Parks Department officials yielded nothing—they refused to challenge Stein’s grip on the system.

The chapter captures a

Hurricane Sandy erased the physical landscape of Rockaway and disrupted the beach operations for years, forcing a reassignment to 32nd Street

The makeshift team at 32nd—castoffs and "troublesome" lifeguards—became a loyal, functional unit that thrived away from bureaucratic oversight

Staffing cuts and detailed lifeguards created dangerous conditions, with untrained or unmotivated replacements failing to perform rescues

Barbara's leukemia diagnosis and decade-long fight underscored the fragility of life, with her death bringing a sense of peace and closure through a final sign from the ocean

Freddie Bomhoff's death signaled the aging of Stein's regime, but also provided a moment to confront Stein about manpower issues

Stein's strange, two-hour visit to Janet's shack revealed his attempts to rationalize his legacy while refusing accountability

The formation of the "Justice League" WhatsApp group connected lifeguards across beaches and pools who'd been individually targeted

FOIA requests exposed how Bubba Paige's borough coordinator salary made him ineligible for the union presidency

The first real victory came when AFSCME removed Bubba as Local 461 president, but Stein loyalists manipulated election timing to bar reform candidates

Cumulative physical toll: Lifeguarding causes chronic shoulder, back, and skin problems, aggravated by a lack of basic protective gear for decades.

2018 skin cancer diagnosis: The author caught melanoma early, but faced resistance from management for medical leave.

Systemic neglect: Only full-time lifeguards have healthcare; union reform could address sun protection, breaks, and equipment like fins.

Aging gracefully: Running speed fades, but swimming remains a constant, ageless skill—a refuge from the years of wear.

Sexual misconduct within the lifeguard system was rampant and enabled by Stein’s union machine, which covered up complaints and punished whistleblowers.

The 2006 assault of Boris Braverman and the 1998 assault of Jenny Pereira show a pattern of violent hazing and predation that went unpunished for years.

She wishes she had demanded that bosses communicate only through her to protect her staff.

Even after the New York Magazine exposé, women who spoke out were still subjected to retaliation, as shown by the failed swim tests in 2021.

Many victims never reported out of shame or fear, and some stories only surfaced decades later, if at all.

Escalation through legal channels: Filing unfair labor practice charges and union charges forced Stein’s misconduct onto the official record, even when outcomes were limited.

The lifeguard shortage was man-made: Stein’s control over training and his retaliation against qualified veterans drove away desperately needed staff, leading to preventable drownings.

Small victories can be reversed: The return of the Shack Olympics showed what was possible with supportive leadership, but retaliation against the organizer proved the system’s deep resistance to change.

Leaders leave but the structure remains: Sher and Stein retired without meaningful accountability; their deputies stayed in power, ensuring business as usual.

The fight is generational: Younger lifeguards like Kristoff Borrell are picking up the baton, using the same tactics the author pioneered—and that persistence is the only path to real reform.

Returning to Rockaway reveals both how much and how little has changed in the neighborhood and the beach culture

The public beach serves as a rare equalizer where diverse New Yorkers share space peacefully, appreciating what they worked to reach

Bureaucratic mismanagement persists despite decades of advocacy, but I've learned to channel frustration into the water

True respect for the ocean means understanding your limits and accepting when your body can't do what it once could

The ocean remains the ultimate meditation and refuge, even as I acknowledge my time in it has boundaries I can't control