THE VERDICT:A look at lifeguards of Newport’s past

I recently attended a gathering during which our local lifeguards received some well-deserved recognition.

It caused me to remember some of the more memorable lifeguards I have known during my lifetime on the beach.

First, I would like to mention Will Lippincott, far and away the most casual guard in my memory. In his day, the guard tower was simply a wooden tub on stilts. The guard sat there all day, literally sweating it out.

All except Lippincott. Will stretched a couple of boards across that tub, stretched out on those boards and took it easy.

If a swimmer got in trouble, someone ran to Will, who somewhat reluctantly sat up and gestured for the swimmer to come in.

At this, the distressed bather often swam in. I guess he figured if the guard wasn’t nervous, then he wasn’t in that much trouble. Of course, if a swimmer really got into trouble despite Will’s best directions from the tower, Will would climb down, swim out and save the guy. It worked. No drownings during Lippincott’s tour of duty.

Then there was his polar opposite, Jim Adams. Jim would rush out and save some poor soul who had merely waved to a friend on the beach. You learned to keep your hands in the water with Jim around. I forgot once and spent the next 10 minutes trying to fend Jim off.

Another memorable guard was Bubba Broering. Bubba never lost a swimmer, either. The reason? Bubba was legally blind, and we all knew it, so we acted as water-going guide dogs when he had to assist someone.

“A little to the left, Bubba. About 6 feet more. No, not that one. Yeah, you got him.”

But my all-time favorite guard was Wes Armand. Wes had his own way of doing everything. One day, someone brought a dog to the beach, a beagle.

In those days, there was no ban on dogs at the beach. The person tied the dog to the guard tower and went for a swim. As anyone who has had beagles knows, they resent any restriction on their personal freedom, and this one was no exception.

It started howling its protest, much to everyone’s dismay. Wes sternly commanded the dog to be quiet, which the dog ignored. After several more admonitions, Wes upended the trash can and placed it over the beagle. Golden silence.

Wes is most famous for one particular incident. A man who was obviously from Iowa or some other flat state came down to the beach.

He came up to Wes, pointed out at the Pacific Ocean and said, “How deep is it out there?”

“It’s over your head, sir,” was Wes’ reply. Now that’s diplomacy.