Court Marshals

They make six bucks an hour, part time. No benefits. So their biggest challenge may be trying to trap the resident mouse or soothing a petulant tennis player.

All the more reason to be impressed with the work ethic and customer devotion of the seven public employees who run the prized Fullerton Tennis Center.

Did we mention this team’s maturity? The youngest is almost 60; the eldest is 80.

Nobody was sure who once left a dollar bill lying on the counter. For months it remained unclaimed and pinned to the cork bulletin board. Finally it was donated to the kitty the staff has for kids short on dough.

They notice when a net is hanging too low, or a court has a water spot on it, or the ball machine is broken, or the women’s toilet is clogged. They schedule the courts back-to-back at night and kill the lights on those not in use. Why? To save the city the $1 an hour in electricity costs. If a door isn’t closing right, they don’t call City Hall requesting a locksmith; they try first to fix it themselves.

When one of them suffers health trouble or needs a day off, the others circle in to help. Bob Hall, 80, has vision troubles. Without fuss, the crew ordered ultra-dark leaded pencils so Bob can better read the court schedule and other paperwork staffers keep in the on-site office.

Most of them have other things to do, from playing tennis themselves to performing in orchestras. Then there’s baby-sitting their legions of grandchildren. But they have found their niches in a tiny corner of Fullerton where they make government work.

For those who don’t play tennis, it may not seem a big deal to have well-run courts. But, aside from a set of public tennis courts at a park shared by a school, a senior center and boys and girls club, these are it for a city of 120,000. Anyone from anywhere can play on competition-quality courts for $5 or $6 an hour. Past players have included tennis hotshots Pete Sampras and Michael Chang.

Their own love for the game brought each of the seven staffers to the courts as players first. Only after years of play at the center did they come to be running it.

“They are the most dedicated people I have ever seen. I don’t know what will happen if they go,” says Jean Davenport, a retired Cal State Fullerton physical education professor who teaches private tennis lessons at the center and pinch-hits if the office staff needs time off.

“They take excellent care of those [customers]. I worked at a university for years. No college instructor would sweep off a wet court after a rain so a student could play, because the system is such that you aren’t supposed to do something that isn’t your job. They make sure it gets done. It’s not enough that they schedule the courts,” Davenport added.

The seven, for instance, studied usage of the courts then negotiated a discounted rate for private tennis leagues during lag hours of 10 a.m. and 3 p.m.

“And I thought, they work for the city! They are the most committed people I have ever been around. They spend every living hour there trying to figure out how to make the place better.”

Their boss, Fullerton Community Services Director Grace Miranda, agrees. And she admits she probably does not have a more overqualified staff working for her--all of them college-educated, some with master’s degrees.

“They bring from their other careers knowledge they apply to operating the tennis office,” says Miranda. “Some of them are engineers, one is a nurse, one used to be in marketing.”

Nobody ever needs to come down from City Hall to assign shifts. The crew would probably be horrified lest someone think they couldn’t manage such a task themselves.

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Loving what you do in life, low pay be danged, is what these seven staffers point to as part of the happiness of their later years. They are fortunate enough to have pensions that allowed them to pick a job purely for enjoyment. They all play tennis, as do their children and friends. Many of them have other hobbies and endeavors too. Stay engaged in life, they say. That’s key.

“All of us are not getting filthy rich working here,” Rich Tourne says with a laugh. “A fringe benefit is free tennis--the only fringe benefit. You could work here a looong time before your income would threaten your Social Security benefits.”

Still, he adds, “the $50 a week or so extra lets you run around town, go out to dinner, save up for a trip.”

Since Hall began working at the tennis center 18 years ago, profits and usage at the 11 tennis courts off Harbor Boulevard have risen 20%, says co-worker Tourne.

“It’s because we all worked for private industry and know what it takes to make a profit,” says Tourne, a retired aerospace executive who practices his trombone on quiet mornings in the tennis center office. He has worked at the tennis center seven years.

Hall is a retired cosmetics salesman and an expert at juggling many demands. For years he has made customer service a priority. His six children--whom he raised on his own after his wife died at age 39--all play tennis.

Rusty Dunn, also father of six tennis players, is a retired valve engineer with a wry sense of humor and a gift for stringing rackets on the side.

Tourne, an engineer who directed programs for Hughes Aircraft, plays in two orchestras and has returned to college for studies in computers and finance.

Willi Kruip, 64, and her husband had played tennis at the center since they moved from Holland to Fullerton in the 1970s. When her husband died a few years ago, the retired nurse knew she needed more ways to fill her time. She works most weekends now. The crew, quite particular about who works with them, asked her if she could replace a retiring co-worker.

Clayton Lee is a retired elementary school principal who has worked at the tennis center off and on for several years. Off and on because half the time he and his wife live in Idaho. But who can play tennis outdoors there all winter? So they summer there and spend the rest of their time in Fullerton. Lee, 74, and his wife are certified tennis umpires who officiate pro matches.

Clifton Churn, 68, is a retired marketing executive who employs his promotional talents in rounding up private league bookings at the facility. Got to keep those courts in use.

“They keep very careful records, like how many people came to the tennis center for the past three months. They track all that stuff, what percentage of time we are using night courts,” says boss Miranda. “It’s great.”

Especially considering she is getting two engineers with a few master’s degrees, a nurse, a master salesman, and so forth, for $6.44 per hour.

*

Each staffer works no more than 20 hours a week--city rules. The person on duty at any given time is answering phones, scheduling courts, taking rental payments and making change. Oh, and marking the end of each hour so the next round of players can take the court.

Rusty admits part of his fondness for the job is that it requires, shall we say, easy work. He gets to eat chocolate-covered doughnuts, he says with a pat to his tummy, and sometimes watch the small television in the office.

He glances at the clock then interrupts his own job description to shuffle over to the counter--he’s a bit stiff of knee since a recent surgery. It’s time to signal the new hour and he pushes a button twice, sounding two loud jolts of a buzzer, then grins en route back to his desk chair: “Yeah, that’s my big task around here.”

So it’s a no-stress job, but the tennis center staffers help ensure that.

When someone gets huffy and puffy about something--maybe their lucky court is already booked--most of the staffers “just pat you on the head and say, ‘Have fun out there,’ ” Davenport says.

Such tactics seem to defuse any tizzies.

“Everyone is equal here,” Davenport says, “and there is no big prize--it’s not like anyone is climbing to the top here--so that removes politics and a lot of the stuff that makes for stress on a job.”

As tennis players, they also understand what their customers are feeling. They know who likes what court, and why. Conversely, customers usually care back. Some players still remark about missing a veteran tennis center staffer, Bill, who resigned a few months ago after 14 years: His wife is losing her sight, and he is needed at home now.

When she fills in for someone else, Davenport says, she is peppered with questions her whole shift.

“I have to tell 20 people, ‘Rich is on vacation, Rich is on vacation,’ ” Davenport says with a sigh. “People really do care about them.”

Says their boss: “They really care about each other too. They’re just like rest of us as co-workers. Only instead of baby showers and weddings, they are making visits to the hospital sometimes for someone’s surgery. After Rusty’s surgery, everyone made sure his shift was covered and got him little presents. . . . I know how lucky I am.”