In the Water for Life, and After : ‘40s Lifeguard Plummer Gets Send-Off in Surf

Perched on a surfboard and clad in a wet suit, Carla Plummer dipped her hand into a bag of gray ashes and whispered, “I love you” before releasing her father’s remains into the murky water, her eyes filling with tears as the ocean licked the powder from her palm.

From the next surfboard, her brother took his turn. “Bye, Dad,” Clark Plummer said. “Love you.”

In a ceremony that was as heartfelt as it was unconventional, friends and family of former Laguna Beach lifeguard Capt. Charles L. Plummer paddled past pounding surf Friday morning to scatter his remains on the sea he had loved with a passion. Plummer, 70, died a week ago after suffering a stroke.

“This is where it all began and this is where it all ends, in the water,” said Ernie Polte, 70, a white-haired San Clemente resident and Plummer’s friend for 50 years. “My wife said, ‘Are you going to paddle out?’ and I said, ‘Yeah, because Charlie would do the same for me.’ ”

Friends said they could imagine no more fitting tribute for Plummer than the one held in his honor Friday morning, attended by about 60 men and women who gathered in front of the lifeguard headquarters at this city’s Main Beach.

Most watched from shore as seven surfers, one with

Plummer’s ashes tucked into his backpack, waded into 60-degree water darkened by “red tide,” a condition caused by blooming plankton, and hoisted themselves onto their boards.

In the quintessential Southern California ritual known as a “paddle-out,” the surfers formed a circle and held hands as they recounted their memories of Plummer, recollections that were more likely to elicit a “bitchen” than an “amen.”

One link in the bobbing circle was Laguna Beach Marine Safety Supervisor Mark Klosterman, who, on behalf of the community, thanked his predecessor for his service as a city lifeguard from 1944 to 1948.

“Charlie made a difference in this world; he saved lives,” Klosterman said before bidding his farewell: “Go big. Sorry about the red tide.”

Plummer, an eighth-generation Californian, first became known to this stretch of beach when he joined a band of local surfers in the 1940s, a time when surfboards were longer and heavier and, some say, men had to be tougher to ride them.

Today’s younger surfers speak reverently of what one of them called the “founding fathers” of their sport.

“They were the watermen,” said Leonard Nash, 49, a Dana Point surfer who never met Plummer but heard of his passing. “We look at them as iron men. . . . Nowadays, anybody can surf.”

Laguna Beach resident Craig Lockwood, 59, who helped scatter Plummer’s ashes Friday, said Plummer left a lasting mark as a Laguna Beach lifeguard by pioneering many of the safety practices that were precursors to today’s techniques.

“He insisted on a high level of first aid training; he instituted daily condition and weekly training programs,” Lockwood said. “All of that was quite unusual.”

Although he traveled extensively and lived in many areas--including Florida, Colorado and Nevada--friends say Plummer’s life was inextricably linked to Orange County. His father--also named Charles L. Plummer--was a Newport Beach lifeguard in the 1920s who was famed for helping save a dozen lives when a boat capsized in Newport Harbor.

Ruthelyn Plummer, a past Newport Beach mayor, attended Friday’s service for her cousin, who was known in the family as “Little Charlie.” She said her cousin descended from a long list of prominent California pioneers, families that were involved in the state’s politics, military and land holdings for more than a century.

Plummer, who is survived by three children, was a surveyor by trade and also loved prospecting and dabbled in writing.

But it was his affinity for the water that friends said defined him.

“He was an enormously skillful waterman--he bodysurfed, sailed, dove, rowed and paddled,” Lockwood said. “On the beach, Charlie was the man.”

And he would have been happy with his send-off Friday morning, Plummer’s friends agreed.

“How do you bury a Viking? This is a fitting way,” Polte said. “I think it’s a very beautiful ceremony, something people remember for a long time.”