Tom Barnett, Lifeguard I had the great honor on Nov. 16th to speak at the memorial service for Tom Barnett at Hermosa Beach. Due to time constraints, I had to leave out a lot of Barney stories. I want to share some of those with you in this forum. These past weeks, I’ve been thinking about just why it is that Tom Barnett was called home at this point in his life, especially when there are so many others of us left behind who could be spared with so much less impact. He was a man at the apex of his life, with a young family, at the peak of his vocational career and making the maximum contribution to his community that he would ever make. Of course, it’s a question that has no answer. As we all learn, it doesn’t matter that it’s unjust, a tragedy, or grossly unfair; it’s just life. And he was one of those guys that crawls into your soul and never leaves. He will always be there. I knew Tom for 32 years. I was there the first day he showed up in June, 1982 to his new job as a lifeguard at San Clemente State Beach. Assigned to orient the rookies that day, I spent the day driving them around to all the beaches, telling them horror stories and assuring them that it would indeed be hell out there. Other rookies that year were Pat Higginson, Steve Schatzi, Chris Graff, Brad Bierbaum, Steve Halus, Craig Larsen, and Bill Raymont, among others. There wasn’t much surf that day, but there was a strong outside current pushing downcoast, and knowing that the rookies wouldn’t perceive it, Tom Snyder and I led them in a buoy swim at Tower One. Sure enough, the rookie class was swept downcoast, and Snyder and I reached the buoy, 500 yards offshore, just before Barney and the others. The pack approached, the first of them Barnett. Ten yards away, he saw that we had arrived before him, and he was incensed. He stopped and yelled at us. “How did you guys get out here? You can’t beat us! This is just wrong!” His tone indicated that he thought we cheated somehow. Snyder and I were reveling so completely in our clever triumph, we didn’t really notice, or care. Of course, we were thoroughly trounced on the return swim. It was the only time I ever beat Tom Barnett at anything. Thus began a friendship that lasted for the rest of his life, and will endure for the rest of mine. That day, Tom was 29 years old. His dream was to become a famous musician, and in typical Barney fashion, he threw himself into it, body and soul. He studied music at USC, specializing in the classical guitar, and studied under some of the most accomplished musicians of the era. He could, and did, play anything. When his career as a classical guitarist had stalled, and needing to pay the bills, he tested to become a state lifeguard, and ended up at San Clemente State Beach. He was a Valley kid, went to Taft High. As an old rookie, he was able to immediately gain the respect of his peers. He was a phenom from the outset. To say that he had a high standard would be the understatement of the year. I’ve never known a man who was so disciplined and so intent on achieving perfection in everything he did. He lived a full and almost mythically accomplished life. He lived in the parallel universes of lifeguarding and music, and achieved greatness in both. This is a man who could play a 10 minute Bach guitar concerto by heart, but somehow managed to maintain a level of conditioning that enabled him to win the Recheck swims at San Clemente and Huntington State Beaches EIGHT times. His influence on his peers in both disciplines was enormous. As a classical guitarist, his repertoire was extraordinary. He would play long, difficult pieces of music written by Bach, Paganini, Scarlatti, Villa Lobos, Albeniz; pieces that were not only complicated but nuanced, arduous. And he would play them from memory, without sheet music. He knew scores of them, by heart. It’s like quoting Shakespeare or Thoreau verbatim, or being a biblical scholar and knowing by heart the full volume, chapter and verse. It was incredible to watch him with a guitar. You might think I’m exaggerating, but it was like seeing a cross between Jimmy Page and Pepe Romero. He was a virtuoso on all the guitars, classical, steel string acoustic, electric. In addition to classical music, he could play pop, top 40, jazz, country, reggae. He could sing, he could play the piano, he wrote the words, composed music. His musical side was a career in itself. He used to drive around town with a guitar in the passenger seat and practice his right hand technique, finger picking, strumming. My sons remember vividly his visits in the 90’s when he would play or fake whatever song they requested. He totally invested himself in his music, and gave his best effort at becoming a famous musician. His musical career is a monument to the difficulty of making a substantial living at being a musician. I figure to this day that if a guy like Tom couldn’t make it big, it must all be a matter of luck and who you know. He was that good. One of his substantial legacies is that he trained and influenced a new generation of musicians coming up behind him. You never had to prod Tom to break out in song. Barney was a unique man. If there is an occupation that contrasts with classical music more than lifeguarding, I don’t know what it is. In his new profession, sometimes a hotbed of frat house pranks and masculine humor, he labored a bit to adapt. His legendary intensity sometimes made it a struggle for him to get along. But Tom had a deep -seated compassionate side. He didn’t like bullies, he didn’t like hazing, and he had no problem confronting those who visited such things on his peers. He railed at some of the sophomoric hi-jinks of the lifeguard locker room. Coming as he did at a time when women were starting to become lifeguards, he didn’t bridge disrespect or harassment aimed at them. He considered these aspects of lifeguarding to be unnecessarily primitive. These were social justice issues for him, and he would do anything in his power to defend the underdog. He was a gentleman. But he soon realized that he wasn’t going to be able to impose his will on everyone, and that it wasn’t going to be a perfect and ultra-disciplined world, which is what he expected from his surroundings. He came to grips with it and adapted. He was universally respected for his incredible discipline, his laser like focus on tasks, his training regimen, his competitive nature, his focus on the task at hand. He was one of the best lifeguards ever to don the reds in South Orange County. I’m certain the LA County guards would say the same. The thing about Tom is that he took his life seriously. He wanted to be the best at what he did, whatever it was. He was endowed with a work ethic the likes of which few men are blessed with. As a lifeguard, he did his best…….every single day he worked. He was an idealist, who fully understood the unspoken pact that he shared with his fellow man while on duty, and he did his best to uphold it. He anguished over his on duty actions, and whether he could have responded more effectively, more efficiently. After a controversial drowning at an LA beach some years ago, he agonized over his role, his decisions, for years. I’m convinced such things haunted him to the end of his days. There was never a day he didn’t show up to give his best effort and make a contribution. Some of the best days I had as a lifeguard were spent in the company of Tom. One day in April in the early 90’s, during Easter vacation, we experienced a period of early south swells, hot weather and 70 degree water, to say nothing of substantial crowds and a dearth of lifeguards. Tom and I paired with Steve Halus and David Groos, working one hot six -foot day at San Clemente that was one of the finest and most challenging days of lifeguarding I ever experienced. We split into 2 -man patrol cars because no towers had been put on the beach yet. Between us, we probably had 60 or 70 rescues that day, and of course Tom made the most of any of us. Halus and I backed up Tom and Dave on a multiple victim rescue at Riviera Beach that day. Riviera is a local beach populated by indigenous residents and families, many of whom have been going there since the 1950’s, a place where generations have passed down a tradition of appreciation for the customary skills of watermen. They’ve seen lifeguards come and go; they know the gifted from the incompetent. They watch the actions of lifeguards like fans at the ballpark on a summer day, and have a much better than average understanding of the function that lifeguards perform, as well as the challenges they face. They know when the tower guard goes late, or the boat is out of position on a rescue. It’s a jaded crowd, not given to praise, even in the face of the most heroic acts. As Tom came out of the water, on what was probably his 15th rescue of the day, the crowd on the beach stood and gave him an ovation. They had been watching him go out on rescue after rescue, and finally, like a cynical multitude at Madison Square Garden, finally seeing the real deal, they gave him his due. It was a sweet moment. This is not to say that Tom didn’t have the stray eccentricity. In fact, Tom had some delightful idiosyncrasies. He did things his way at all times, and one of the things that illustrated who he was is the fact that he was a man who never pulled his punches. You always knew where you stood with Tom. At San Clemente, he was the great communicator. He always had questions about your actions. He wanted to know why you did the things you did, and if you crossed him, he confronted you. He wanted clarity in his life and relations. Many men are uncomplicated, and are willing to roll with things, or completely ignore things that bother them because they don’t want to be truculent or cause a ruckus. Tom was not built that way. With Tom, everything was hashed out, everything was vetted, grievances were aired, no conflict was allowed to fester. It was his greatest strength…… and his greatest difficulty. For many lifeguards, who are generally non- confrontational, it was difficult to understand, but that was the way he was. He could not, would not, just roll with things, or turn the other cheek. He would talk to you about it. So, of course, He found himself a niche as a dispatcher, where he could talk to everyone. He was the carbohydrate king. He would show up to work with a hunk of cheese, a candy bar and a loaf of Hawaiian King’s bread – and he’d mow down the entire loaf of bread during the course of the day. He was like a hummingbird, he could eat huge amounts of food, but his constitution was such that he burned it all and then some. Once Tom became an LA County guard, he adopted their approach to business. He could live with the differences in flotation devices, the emphasis on competition and focus on lifesaving to the exclusion of all peripheral items. But from the day he became an LA County guard, he was never again able to deal with sand being tracked in to a tower by the feet of a lifeguard. In the ancient past, it was apparently decided at LA County that keeping the tower as free of sand as possible was important, and to facilitate this, a large bucket of seawater was placed at the base of every tower on the Los Angeles County coastline. The state’s thing was to let it all fly during your shift, and sweep it out at the end of the day. Well, of course, this only got done once a week, but as a State Guard, you lived with it….that was the program. So, in 1998, we found ourselves subjected to the new order of Barney- the sand monitoring and foot bucket treatment. He placed a foot bucket (that he bought with his own money) at the base of any tower he worked, and if you ran up to the tower to give him a break, or came out of the unit to visit, he would come from inside and wait on the deck to make certain you used the foot bucket if you intended to enter his domain. Since he worked headquarters most of the time, he focused particular interest on that building. He was on it like a Nazi. You knew Barney was in HQ any day when you pulled up and there was a foot bucket outside the building. You’d enter the building, and even if you had your shoes on and hadn’t been on the beach for a week, he’d yell down, “did you use the foot bucket?” It was like your wife nagging you about leaving your shoes in the living room, or turning off the bathroom lights. It was at once exasperating and endearing. It’s one of the reasons we loved him. I hope I’m not speaking out of school, and I apologize if I am, but in no arena of his life were Tom’s idiosyncrasies more on display than they were in his relationships with the many women he surrounded himself with. You see, Tom………….was very popular with the ladies. He was comfortable in the presence of women, he liked to talk with them, liked their company. He didn’t care about their age, their ethnicity, or their background, or if they were athletic or girly girls. The one thing they all had in common was that they were all high spirits, like wild mustangs who refused to be broken; women who would stand up for themselves, who were not afraid to verbalize their feelings, whose spirit in many ways mirrored his. And the higher their spirit, the more interested he was. It was observed by some that Tom’s relationships with women seemed to take a similar course. There was the initial blush of enthusiasm –she was the greatest thing since sliced bread, he couldn’t live without her. There were constant references to her, and what they had done the day before and what they would do tomorrow, and his plans for their future. Then, there would be a period of relative silence as the routine set in, shortly followed by the enumeration of the problems, and then a growing chorus of complaint about the shortcomings. That would sometimes be followed by a horrendous, plate throwing, profanity - filled breakup that would end with his departure from the love nest for good, with coffee cups and stemware pursuing in his wake. Then would follow several months of recounting the betrayal, questions about how he couldn’t have seen this coming. He would go into a funk for a while, but then…… the next greatest thing would appear on the scene. I will refrain from saying that it was high entertainment, because people’s lives and feelings were involved. So we’ve got this guy, a lifeguard, a public servant, a musician, struggling most of his life to make financial ends meet, so you’re thinking “liberal hack.” Votes the Democratic ticket. A Jon Stewart fan, interspersed during commercials with a little Anderson Cooper. Ed Schultz and the Daily Kos. New York Times. A Prius driving, tree hugging champion of the downtrodden, supporter of all things leftist, probably a vegan to top it all off. But no….. There are those who say that Tom’s politics were somewhere to the right of Attila the Hun. And, on the face of it, that was the case, and most often it was best to intercede early in the building tirade, and steer the conversation towards the Dodgers, this year’s Taft High football squad, or the latest musical offerings of Sting or Neil Young, even the weather. And, if you failed in the deflection, he would engage you on the questions, and would corner you until you responded. He loved the give and take and the debate. Tom also loved to partake in a good, old-fashioned civil servant rant about the idiocies and unfairness of the workplace, the indecipherably silly politics of the bureaucracy, the colossally stupid actions and pronouncements of his fellow employees and bosses. He always had a villain du jour, someone who was screwing up, piking it or otherwise involved in a conspiracy to do under the rank and file or friends that shared his view. He always wanted you to take a side, and was prepared to defend his turf vigorously if you disagreed. I never felt like it was malignant, that it was in some ways a device to vet the operational procedures and pass the time on duty. I managed not to take any of it personally. I know I was probably one of the few. I want to say something about the LA County Lifeguards. This is kind of like a Dodger fan admitting that the Giants are actually OK, but…….it’s time our brothers and sisters from the Mothership get their due. In the 80’s and 90’s, I was a lifeguard trainer for the State, and when Tom went through LA County’s training he returned with many stories of the experiences he had there. He told me that the most riveting moment of the session came when he heard a speech given at the county training by Buddy Bohn, that went something like this. “ Look around you. The people in this room will populate your life from henceforward in ways that you can’t imagine. You will go through experiences with them that will seal your friendship. You will save lives together and change people’s destinies, and sometimes you will fail and commiserate. Your safety, and sometimes your survival will hinge on the decisions that they make in supporting you. They will be there when you graduate from college, get married, buy your first home. They will stand by you when you do or say stupid things, and counsel you to seek the moderate life. They will be there when you have your children, and when you confront the challenges of family and life through your middle age. You will see each other on your best and worst days, and, sometimes against all odds you will remain lifelong friends. They will be there when you retire from your job, and will live with you through all the drama that family and age can throw at you. And, in the end, you will be at their bedside when they pass – and some of them will be at yours.” By this time, most of us have heard this well- worn phrase. But at the time, I thought Wow! It gave me goosebumps just hearing it. It was a concept that I had perceived in a roundabout way, but since the State service is young, we hadn’t seen many of our guys go through these milestones of life, work long careers, retire or die. It neatly summarized the essence of what being involved in this job means. This sentiment is a phenomenon that played out before our eyes these past couple of months as it relates to the passing of Tom Barnett. The amity and commitment that many of us were blessed to contribute during our visits to Barney is something that not many dying men get to have during their final days. It was like a comet was burning itself out before our eyes, and we felt the privilege of having shared a little part of it. Lifeguards from every agency came from all over, some of them driving hundreds of miles to visit and say goodbye. But, importantly, it was the Barnett family opening their doors, and the culture of the LA County Lifeguards that made it happen. Tom was so proud to be an LA County Lifeguard – I mean, he had the word ZUMA tattooed on his back for god’s sake. Tom was a State Lifeguard for 15 years before he jumped to the County, but as soon as he did it, we all knew that he was home. He loved the structure, he loved the professionalism, he loved the culture. He loved the focus of the county on open water lifesaving, but he mostly loved the men and women he worked with. And when Tom got sick, the LA County organization rallied in support of our friend, in a show of solidarity that was truly special and unique. From Steve Moseley to Erik Albertson, to the all the guards that drove hundreds of miles to visit, to the guys from South Bay and Santa Monica and Zuma, to the retired guys, who would all come up, men and women, Chiefs and seasonals, and chat and hold Tom’s hand and tell him they loved him. What the LA County Lifeguard Service did for our friend and his family in his time of need, as an organization and individually, was a true act of friendship and adoration. I want to thank you and applaud you for the role you played in bringing comfort to Tom and his family in his final days. I want to thank the Barnett family for sharing their brother, son, husband and dad with us in his last months. I know it was very difficult and inconvenient at times, but I believe it gave Tom a lot of comfort to see his friends and say goodbye. I know it meant a lot to all of us. To Tom’s wife Ellen, and their sons Phillip and Nolan, I want to say that you can’t imagine how much love there is for you in our community. Boys, you are your dad’s legacy. I could never explain the depth of the pride he had in you boys. He would want you to become who you are, and work hard at it. You are and always will be a part of the Lifeguard family. We love you. One final thanks needs to be made. There is a gentleman amongst us who made a profound contribution to Tom’s comfort and well being during the final chapter of his life. Kip Jerger, in a nearly biblical act of loyalty and friendship, was with Tom 6 days a week for the last month of his life. I want to thank Kip for bringing relief and support to our friend in his last days. Watching he and Tom interact was truly poignant; it moved me to tears more than once. The care and devotion he showed to Tom was a true act of love and friendship. I’d like to share with you the last moments I got to spend time with Tom, a time when he was still healthy. Despite his County schedule, Tom had made it a point to preserve his status with the State Lifeguards, and worked a reduced schedule for all the years since he had left for the County in 1997. As years went by, the distance between our homes and the obligations and commitment of family had intervened. We didn’t see much of each other anymore. On those occasions when he came to work at San Clemente, I would often make it my business to find out where he was stationed and visit him. It had gotten to be the only time we could find to catch up. It was a sunny, calm day in late August of 2013, my last year of lifeguarding. He was working again at Riviera Beach. I drove down to the tower. We had a lengthy visit. We talked about our families, our ailments as older men, our standing in the professional community. We took part in delicious and unsavory gossip. The surf was running 3 or 4 feet, there was a moderate crowd, and Tom on several occasions had to make forays to the water’s edge to make safety contacts or clear a rip. Just before I left, he asked me to cover his water while he made another safety contact. As he ran to the water’s edge, I had to marvel at the guy. At that time, he was 60 years old, sporting the appearance of a well-conditioned man in his early 30’s, charging down the beach to make these contacts. Despite his age, the man was in shape. He could still run, and was always still a top 5 finisher in the recheck swims, still competing at a high level in lifeguard competitions. His demeanor reflected his unwavering commitment to training and attending to his health. And as he returned to the tower that day, the sun on his back and a smile on his face, I watched him radiate the fact that he loved and reveled in what he was doing for a living. He was at the top of his game, despite his age. It’s that vision of him that I will take forward in my memory. He was a fascinating guy. He was a good friend. We loved him and he loved us back. He made a huge impact on me, and I think on nearly everyone he came in contact with. He was unapologetically himself. He was pure, undiluted emotion, love, integrity and dedication. It hurts so much to lose him. We miss you, Tom. We wish you warm breezes and following seas.
Posted on: Tue, 18 Nov 2014 05:57:29 +0000
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