Relay: ‘Baywatch Gone Bonacker,’ The Movie
It is no longer a secret. Nicknamed Lip, he’s involved. Man knows some moneyed types. The mayor and town supervisor won’t say — they have guaranteed use of the old rescue boats stashed at undisclosed locations.
Why let perfectly good East Hampton rescue boats sit unused, then get stuck in yet another local museum? Let the lifeguards, the young at heart, the disabled, the striped bass pole wackadoodles, the aging delusional lifeguards command the boats to the oceanfront, launch them, sink them, retrieve them.
It is a crime to deny the young ’uns a ride in those old wooden boats. Enough with the stupid Jet Skis, plastic-composite goof paddleboards, the BZ so-called soft surfboards. Every man, woman, young ’un, maybe a dog or two should get something wood-planked under their feet on open Atlantic waters. Get out and live for once in your boring lives! The ink’s not dry! Some of the ink could be invisible? No doubt it’s a deal!
A couple of stealth lawyers are involved — people you know! To get on the movie or pilot TV payroll an East Hampton car registration must be presented. For those without car registrations — lots of people lose their licenses round here for driving offenses — two bona fide residents must vouch, “Said person lives here.”
A couple of 1960s surfboards will be needed, pre-2005 Ford trucks, a couple of older Chevy trucks. No Toyotas, GMCs, Mitsubishis, none of those awful trucks allowed in the production area camera line of sight. Traditional sunhats are required, no CVS or Waldbaum’s $10 Panama Jack hats are allowed. Bathing suits the East Hampton lifeguards wear will be de rigueur. Bathing suits that do not meet athletic requirements will be banned from all sets.
The “Baywatch Gone Bonacker” film extravaganza begins. First scene! Village of East Hampton lifeguards rowing past the second jetty at Georgica Beach headed for Main Beach in one of the surviving antique East Hampton rescue boats. A whale surfaces nearby: They’ve seen them before and don’t care. All kinds of bluefish gnarl around 30 yards from rescue boat. It is early fall and the guards are due back at school. It has been one of those fishy summers: Bluefish eating everything in sight was common this summer past.
Other fish surface. The lifeguards, male and female, don’t care. Their tans are dark enough; a couple of the lifeguards are slightly sunburnt, wearing pasty white sunscreen and large hats. An outsider might say, “What are they from ‘Gilligan’s Island’ or something?”
A few of the young adults are thinking back to critical rescues they pulled off under hurricane conditions. The water temperature is warm, 70 degrees. The young lifeguards row along, picking up the southwest drift headed north on the incoming tide toward Main Beach. “Stellar beauty” could best describe it.
The second sandbars are visible under the boat 120 yards offshore. The low tide is turning to incoming. Clear visibility 12 feet down to the offshore sandbar under the rescue boat. It’s a lunar tide. A bonita makes a showing; oddly enough a parrotfish swirls by under the boat. One of the lifeguards says to his female friend, “Saw one of those last week.”
A lot of stuff happened this past summer, from the first jump into the frigid last-day-of-May waters off their hometown of East Hampton until this September day. Thank God no one was seriously injured! Five tropical depressions and one hurricane made swirl off Long Island — Atlantic-bound July and August storms. An 18-year-old lifeguard was called on to make a complicated rescue of a pregnant 29-year-old who got pulled off the beach by a freak tidal surge. He had to make a fast 50-yard sprint-swim and grab onto her; she was panicking, the surf was eight feet, one tumble through the nasty shore break and the ambulance would have been called — a miracle it was.
On the other hand, amusing situations arose on the rainiest days early in June. “Ha-ha, you’ve got to be kidding.” Boys will be boys, and girls will be girls. “O.M.G., did you see what Francine and Thomas did? Ha-ha, oh no.” It was the song: “We’ve been through some things together . . . we’ve found things to do in stormy weather . . . rollin’ down that empty ocean road, gettin’ to the surf on time. Long may you run.” Sing it, Neil!
In addition, lots of heavy stuff happened. One of the lifeguard’s parents took ill and died. One lifeguard’s parents lost steering on his 28-foot sport boat — flipped it — and managed to swim away unscratched. “There’s a light over my head, my Lord, let it shine, let it shine”: Neil Young. Nieces and nephews were born to families. A few lifeguards fell in love: storied days of summer.
A couple of super-strange characters showed up at a Village of East Hampton beach one week in late July. The F.B.I. paid the lifeguards a visit to ask about a couple of things concerning these visitors. Of course this was all hush-hush! The agent said wait two years, and if you want to make a movie about it, go for it.
He told the lifeguards, “Keep it under wraps with a lawyer and a movie guy. In two years our end of it will be totally wrapped up. You kids deserve to make some real money. We’re not going to interfere.” The F.B.I. man continued, “Thanks for the help! You’re all good kids. Try to do well enough in school and keep your day jobs. Ha-ha. Summer lifeguard jobs.”
He smiled, gave spin to his tires a bit, and off he drove in new dark-colored Ford Mustang.
Morgan McGivern is The Star’s staff photographer.