Robert Gardner’s verdicts

In my day, antisocial behavior usually consisted of getting drunk or

getting into a fight. While not endorsing either activity, I must

admit that it was sort of fun to go out on the beach in front of the

Rendezvous nearly every Saturday night to watch a couple of young

bucks slug it out. Well, slug it out may be a touch of hyperbole. On

that dark beach, the antagonists seldom connected. One did, and

knocked all the front teeth out of the mouth of my law school buddy,

Greg Bautzer. Afterward, Greg had a highly publicized affair with

Joan Crawford and became a famous Hollywood lawyer. I think the

Balboa incident may have helped. Greg’s false teeth were a big

improvement on his old ones.

*

I see Sports Illustrated has once again focused on the Wedge.

Thirty years ago, the magazine decided to do an article on the place.

I had recently written a book about bodysurfing, and they contacted

me, asking if I would agree to appear in the article.

Agree? What red-blooded American boy wouldn’t agree to be in

Sports Illustrated, especially one who was so small that he was on

the C swim team all through high school, who played golf with his

wife only to inevitably hear, “You’re away, Bob.” This was my big

chance, and there was a certain amount of poetic justice about it. I

had been part of the group that pioneered that sport -- an unwilling

part, but a part nevertheless.

Back in the early days, bodysurfing was the water sport of choice,

and one of the premier spots was the Balboa Pier. The waves were so

good then that on a big day, if you took off and looked to your

right, you would see water running down the surface of the pier. Look

straight ahead, and you had a good view of the Pavilion. When they

dredged the harbor, however, they had to put all that sand someplace.

They dumped it all along the peninsula and in the process destroyed

the Balboa Pier for surfing. Nothing was left but a shore break.

*

Now, there are rules and there are rules. The city has certain

rules -- when the beaches are open and when they’re closed, when

surfboards are allowed, the amount for parking fees. These are all

written on signs or in ordinances, so everybody knows them, but

there’s a whole body of unwritten common law that lays out the real

rules of the beach.

For example, the Rule of Right of Way. This rule states that when

you’re in the water, the person farthest out has the right of way.

This means that when this person catches a wave, it is the

responsibility of everyone in front of that person to get out of his

or her way -- swimming to the side, ducking under, whatever.

Now, it’s not sporting to try to hit someone, but the rule is

clear: You are not required to pull out of the wave or mess up a good

ride simply because someone oblivious to the rule is in front of you.

Every regular beachgoer knows the Rule of Right of Way, and they

probably learned it the hard way -- by getting run over a few times.

But new times demand new methods, so I propose creating the USBA --

short for United States Beach Assn. -- charged with the

responsibility of collecting these rules of common law and printing

them in a booklet for public distribution. Novice beachgoers could

get a copy and save themselves all sorts of dunkings and bruises.

*

In 1513, a Spanish explorer named Vasco Nunez de Balboa slogged

for 25 days through the jungles of Central America and came upon the

biggest ocean in the world. History tells us that he was the first

white man to gaze upon the Pacific Ocean and so ... forget all the

indigenous people who were quite aware of this large body of water.

Forget the Polynesians, Micronesians and Melanesians who’d been

sailing across this watery expanse. In the history books, Balboa gets

credit for having “discovered” it. His reward for this discovery? A

few years later he was convicted of treason, beheaded in a public

square and his remains “thrown to the vultures.” I always like that

“thrown to the vultures” bit. That has a lot more pizazz than being

interred in Forest Lawn.

Why this particular bit of historic trivia? To lament that this

city is named Newport rather than Balboa. Other than a town in Panama

and this village, the name Balboa seems to have lost out. On the

other hand, Newport seems to be a very popular name, even though I

can think of nothing or no one of note connected with the name. Let’s

face it. Newport is blah, yet there are Newports in Arkansas,

Kentucky, Nebraska, North Carolina, Indiana, Vermont, New Hampshire,

Oregon, Washington and Rhode Island, and I’ve probably missed a few.

While I haven’t been to most of them, I would like to visit Newport,

Kentucky. They publicize the Newport Aquarium on the Ohio River.

Admission is $10, and that includes a cocktail. Now that’s my kind of

aquarium.