THE VERDICT -- Robert Gardner

Barney Lehman was a character. A superb boat handler, the Lehman

dinghy was named after him.

For years, Barney was the lifeguard at main beach in Balboa Peninsula.

At the time it was the busiest beach in town, and it was a tribute to

Barney’s ability as a guard that he was given that position. Later, he

and I lived together for a year in the shack on top of the Knight

Apartments in Balboa.

It was when we were living together that he found out that although I

grew up in Balboa, I had never sailed. And so Barney took me out for my

first lesson in boat handling.

We were about in the middle of the Catalina channel when the line got

tangled near the top of the mast and we came to a stop. There was a good

swell running, and the boat was rocking so madly that the mast almost

laid in the water at each roll.

“Shimmy up there and untangle that line,” ordered Barney.

I looked at the rolling mast. “It’s your boat. You untangle the line,”

I responded.

“It is my boat, and as its skipper, I order you to shimmy up that mast

and untangle it,” Barney ordered in his best Captain Bligh tones.

“Besides,” he added, “you’re smaller. If I climb up there, that mast is

going to lay in the water, and it’ll never come up.”

I could see his point, so I reluctantly climbed up the mast, hanging

on for dear life as I untangled the line. Once down, I swore I would

never get in a sailboat again. I haven’t.

In addition to his repute as a sailor and lifeguard, Barney was also a

notorious tightwad. He would never buy a drink. When the bill was about

to appear, Barney always managed to be elsewhere. And so it was that Tagg

Atwood, Spenny Richardson and I decided to take Barney with us on a tour

of all the bars in town and see if we couldn’t get him to buy a drink.

Hours went by, but every time the check came, Barney was gone. We would

leave the table, also, but no matter how long we stayed away, the check

was still there when we returned.

We kept hoping and drinking, and finally, just before closing time,

Barney looked at the three of us carefully and saw that we were each of

us the green tinge you get just before you throw up. That’s when he made

his grand gesture.

“I guess it’s about my turn to buy a round, guys,” he said.

We looked at each other, and in unison, chanted, “You win, Barney.”

Barney was a good man and a good friend.

The last time I saw him, in front of The Stag Bar in Newport Beach, he

seemed to have fallen on some pretty hard times.

* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge. His

column runs Tuesdays.