Jones Beach Lifeguard Corps rookies learn to keep crowds safe in the waves

As bright and energizing as the first rays of sun piercing the marine layer on this foggy Tuesday morning, Cary Epstein strides onto the deck of the West Bathhouse pool at Jones Beach State Park.

Holding a thermos of coffee in one hand, he smiles as he looks out at the assembled group of 52 young men and women sitting on fold-up chairs arranged under a temporary awning.

“Good morning!” booms Epstein, a 26-year veteran of the Jones Beach Lifeguard Corps. “How’s everyone doing?”

Heads bowed, hoodies pulled over their heads, the group — mostly in their late teens — looks subdued and serious, as if they were about to take a Regents exam. Only the word stenciled in yellow capital letters on the backs of their navy blue shirts proclaims their soon-to-be-exalted status here on the beach: LIFEGUARD.

These are the rookies — primarily 18- and 19-year-olds about to enter a nearly 95-year-old fraternity: The Jones Beach Lifeguard Corps, which is recognized nationally as one of the top lifesaving organizations in the country.

On a typical Sunday in summer, Epstein estimates that lifeguards at Central Mall — near parking field 4 and one of the park’s busiest oceanfront stretches — will make about 50 rescues between 9 a.m. and 7 p.m., when the guards are typically on duty.

The corps prides itself on its professionalism and effectiveness in keeping the beach’s 8 million annual visitors safe.

“The Jones Beach Lifeguard Corps is part of the fabric of Jones Beach,” says George Gorman Jr., regional director for the New York State Office of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation. “When you think of Jones Beach, you think of the magnificent facilities, but you also think about the women and men of the lifeguard corps. Their legacy is second to none.”

A NATIONAL REPUTATION

And that legacy is known coast to coast. “The Jones Beach Lifeguard Corps has an outstanding and deserved reputation,” says Arthur Verge, author of a book on the history of lifeguarding in Los Angeles County and himself a 42-year veteran lifeguard on the beaches of Santa Monica and Venice, California. Jones Beach, Verge says, is “not an easy beach to work, and you’re dealing with large crowds. And when it involves the ocean, as we know in L.A., anything and everything can happen. So the Jones Beach Lifeguard Corps has our complete respect out here.”

While flattered to hear these assessments, James Rooney, the corps’ unofficial historian, points out a big difference.

“We’re a seasonal operation,” he says, noting that Jones Beach lifeguards are on duty from around Memorial Day to Labor Day. “It’s hard to compare us with Miami Beach and Hawaii and L.A. County, where they’re working year-round.”

Still, he says that in national lifeguard fitness competitions, guards from Jones Beach and other Long Island state parks have performed at the same level as those from the year-round beaches. And the crowds at Jones Beach can still reach epic proportions.

“On a hot summer day, we could have 500,000 people out here,” says Rooney. “And when the surf is rough we get some challenging rescue conditions. So I do think we’re on a par with them.”

With that kind of reputation to uphold, it’s no wonder the rookies look a bit nervous. But they’re already well on their way to earning their whistles: All of these young men and women have passed a rigorous new-hire test demonstrating their fitness, speed and proficiency as swimmers.

5 DAYS, 40 HOURS

On this week in mid-June — just before the full opening of the summer season at the state parks — they’ve been attending a sort of Jones Beach lifeguard boot camp: 40 hours over five days in which Epstein and some of the other senior guards teach the rookies about the tools, techniques and traditions of the corps.

“This is hard work and a serious week,” Epstein says to the group. “We want you to have fun, but you need to know this is real.”

As much as it has been glamorized in popular culture, lifeguarding is a serious occupation — as Epstein and fellow Jones Beach lifeguard Cameron DeGuzman discuss in “Lifeguarding for Dummies,” the latest installment of the famous how-to series of books, which they have co-authored.

That reality kicks in when Epstein’s associate, the mustachioed Ed Costigan — in his 50th year as a Jones Beach lifeguard — leads the group out of the West Bathhouse and onto the boardwalk for a run. Suddenly, Jones Beach Island becomes Parris Island, as Costigan — who may have missed his calling as a Marine Corps drill instructor — begins a series of call-and-response chants that are echoed by his young charges as they rumble along the boards.

“We are lifeguards,” he calls.

“We are lifeguards,” the group echoes.

“Mighty, mighty lifeguards.”

“Mighty, mighty lifeguards.”

“Jones Beach lifeguards.”

“Jones Beach lifeguards.”

“Yeah!”

“Oh yeah!”

“All right . . . push-ups!”

The rookies hit the deck as Costigan inspects their form. (“That is not a push-up,” he says with mock severity to one grinning teen. “You gotta go lower!”)

KNOWING THE PARK

Then, it’s up and back to the run, which will eventually cover about 2½ miles. But it’s not a random route through the 2,400-acre state park. Costigan and Epstein bring the group to a halt periodically to point out important landmarks.

They stop first to admire the Jones Beach Water Tower soaring 231 feet skyward. It’s the “iconic water tower,” emphasizes Epstein. “It’s not a ‘pencil,’ as many Long Islanders refer to it.”

The young guards chuckle as Costigan spurs them onward to their next stop: a plaque near the lifeguard shack at the East Bathhouse honoring the late Reggie Jones, the longest-serving lifeguard in Jones Beach history. “He worked down here for 64 years,” says Costigan, pausing to let that number sink in to a group of teenagers. “Sixty-four years!”

More running, more chants, more push-ups. The group takes a detour north of the Central Mall to the tiled sidewalk mosaic depicting the entire Long Island state parks system, where Costigan points out some of the other beach parks: Heckscher, Sunken Meadow and the nearby state park named for the man who created Jones Beach, Robert Moses. (The Jones Beach Lifeguard Corps also counts the guards at these other state parks among its members, for a combined total of 522.)

Then it’s through the tunnel under Ocean Parkway and on to Zach’s Bay, not one of the ocean fields at Jones Beach but, as Epstein points out, a place that “still sees a lot of action.” In September, this will be the staging area for an Ironman triathlon.

“There will be 3,800 triathletes entering this body of water that day,” says Epstein. “And it’s our job as Jones Beach lifeguards to make sure they all come out.”

It’s a job the corps has taken seriously since its inception: When Jones Beach State Park was being developed in the late 1920s, a German-born, U.S. Navy veteran named William Carl Johns was hired to organize a lifeguard “patrol” as it was called then. Johns had swum competitively with Olympic swimmer (and, later, “Tarzan” movie star) Johnny Weissmuller, and he helped train boxing champ Jack Dempsey. He had also worked as a professional lifeguard — then a new concept — at such locales as Waikiki Beach in Hawaii, Miami Beach and Coronado Beach in San Diego, California. It was Johns who created the hierarchical structure that makes the corps, as Epstein says, “a kind of paramilitary organization, in the best sense.”

That’s how Reggie Jones remembered it, when he first reported for work at the beach in 1944.

“It was the closest thing to military camp you could imagine,” recalled Jones in a 1998 interview (he died in 2021). “We lined up like soldiers at the Central Mall, at stiff attention, and we had to stand inspection. I was a young kid, facing the Atlantic, scared to death!”

Jones, a wrestling star at Baldwin High School, had been inspired to pursue a lifeguarding career by meeting some of the young guards who stopped by his father’s filling station in Baldwin. “They looked like gods to me,” Jones recalled.

The goddesses came along later: The first female lifeguards at Jones Beach were hired in 1968, but they were restricted to pool duty. It took another decade before female guards were assigned the more challenging ocean beaches. Now they represent a third of the corps.

‘I ALWAYS KNEW'

“It’s a serious gig, we’re here to save lives,” says Kate O’Brien, 18, of Babylon, one of the rookies in this year’s class. “I’ve learned a lot this week, and it’s not easy, but I always knew I wanted to be a lifeguard.”

O’Brien and her rookie colleagues would continue their training for several hours: Following their run along the boardwalk, they headed down to the water for training on how to stabilize and treat swimmers with spinal injuries (not uncommon, when someone is picked up and hurled to the bottom by a wave). In small groups, they dove into the water, practicing the correct holds for a swimmer who may have a broken neck, and then positioning them correctly on a backboard until medical assistance arrives.

“The work never stops,” says Ernie Kopec, 18, of Copiague. “But I love it. I still can’t believe I’m here.”

As Epstein nods approvingly, Kopec sprints out into the water to participate in another rescue drill.

Soon, he’ll be doing it for real. And, says Epstein, anyone planning to step into the surf at Jones Beach or the other Long Island state parks this summer can do so with full confidence.

“I couldn’t be more pleased with this year’s class of rookies,” he says. “The future of the lifeguard corps is in great hands.”