D.J. Out of Bounds
Several weeks ago, we briefly described an ostentatious party on one of East Hampton Town’s ocean beaches and suggested that a little more restraint by all concerned would not be a bad thing. At the time, we wondered how such an elaborate party — thumping reggae band and all — was allowed, but took it more as a curiosity than a symbol of an underlying problem with law enforcement.
As frequent evening beach visitors, it was inevitable that we would encounter more of the same, and a week later stopped at Indian Wells Beach in Amagansett to find another party, this time with a three-piece, electrified calypso band playing a few steps off to the right, costumed hula performers, and guests wearing leis. The rest of the beach was oddly deserted.
Stopping in the parking lot to check the town code online confirmed what we had only half recalled: Amplified music is prohibited at large gatherings for which permits must be obtained. Driving on, we paused at Atlantic Avenue. The beach there was quiet, with a familiar summer evening contingent of people enjoying a picnic or just relaxing. “Refugees,” we thought, “from the racket at Indian Wells.”
At around 10 the next night, a Saturday, however, we dropped in on a friend’s clambake at Atlantic Avenue as guests were finishing their dinner around a bonfire and a D.J. played dance music. Nearby, a good dozen or more gatherings were happening, most with their own fires. Two town Marine Patrol officers were hanging around, and at one point asked the D.J. to lower the volume — and here we have to pause in the narrative to make a point.
Our friend had obtained and signed the necessary permit, which is unambiguous: “Assemblies that include amplified music shall not be permitted on any beach.” In asking that the music be turned down, the officers were exercising latitude that under the town code they simply did not have. Agree with the prohibition or not, that is the law.
It is difficult to say what went through the two officers’ minds as they allowed the music to go on, but it points to an apparent breakdown in town authority. Regardless of how you look at it, there is real reason for concern. Either the officers used inappropriate discretion, or they had been told by their superiors in the Police Department that this section of the law need not apply. And it was not a case of their being rushed or called to another location. During the hour or more that we were there, the officers hung around. After a long time in the cab of his truck, one emerged with a slip of paper and walked off into the dark in the opposite direction of the D.J. party, apparently to issue a citation to someone who had built a fire too close to a lifeguard stand.
Did the officers not know about the prohibition on amplified music? Or did they know the law but figure that since no angry calls had come in, they didn’t have to bother? Had someone told them to go easy on parties? Hard to say. What is clear, however, is that any town’s laws are only as good as how they are enforced; if that Saturday night at Atlantic Avenue Beach in Amagansett is any indication, the law is none too good.
What is unfortunate is that the town police log for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday of that weekend showed 40 noise complaints. What if it became known that consistent, hefty fines were to be levied on those who fail to comply with the town’s party permits. You know, broken windows policing and all that. Were word to get out that the rules are being enforced, it might reduce the number of complaints and help free officers to respond to other, higher-priority incidents. And, of course, ignoring the law is not limited to the beaches.
Since a post-July 4 public uprising about tackling the summertime din, town officers have spoken out about public drunkenness and mayhem in general. It is very clear, though, that much more has to be done to make sure the get-tough words are heeded on the enforcers’ front lines.