Beach Boys’ Salute to the Fourth of July

O say, can you see . . . 4 in the morning?

It was way before dawn’s early light on Saturday when the First Street Boys set about transforming one of the symbols of Southern California into a red, white and blue Fourth of July tribute.

In what has become an annual rite of summer in Manhattan Beach, the Boys--actually, eight guys, some already on the far side of 40--gussied up the lifeguard tower at 1st Street.

When they began, it was dark and the tower was its familiar drab blue-green. When they finished, just as the day’s first rays were appearing in the east, the tower was draped in a red and white plastic skirt and featured a bold blue paint job accented with white stars.

In honor of the original American colonies, one of the rails on the tower bore 13 stars. As if to prove that high school civics class had not been a lost cause, one of the Boys boasted, “We did that on purpose.”

The Fourth of July tradition dates to 1979, when most of the Boys were still in high school--all but one at Mira Costa High in Manhattan Beach, the lone straggler at South High in Torrance--and summer, like the future, seemed endless.

That year, the Boys painted the 1st Street tower a hot pink.

“We were just hanging out, didn’t have anything to do,” recalled one of the crew. “So we painted it pink. And that set this off. Who knew it would go on this long?”

This particular Boy once was a champion surfer and now, at 39, is a well-known South Bay chiropractor. But like the others, he insisted on anonymity, for their excursion borders on vandalism, they readily admit.

Over the past two decades, the Boys have gone on to a variety of careers--from real estate broker to executive in the surf wear industry. Through the highs and lows, they have remained close, in the way of friends who have been friends not just since high school, but since the fifth grade.

So each Fourth of July, they celebrate that friendship--as well as their dedication to the beach.

“It’s a piece of South Bay surf culture,” said one of the ringleaders, a 37-year-old painting contractor. “This, besides Malibu, is where surfing took off in the ‘50s and ‘60s. We’re doing our part to keep this going now.”

In the early years, the Boys stuck to painting the tower hot pink. Then they decided that was getting boring. Now variety is the watchword.

Some years, the tower becomes a kitschy kind of art, along the lines of a high school homecoming float.

Last year, the tower bore a distinctively island motif. In conception, it was supposed to be a thatched Hawaiian hut, evocative of the frequent surfing trips the Boys have made to the islands. In execution, with a leafy skirt in the Mira Costa colors of green and gold, it looked more like a set piece, as one of the Boys put it, from “Gilligan’s Island.”

Other years, the tower has served as forum for political commentary. Once, when the Boys believed that county lifeguards were overdue for a pay raise, the roof was dressed up with a 12-foot-tall papier-mache lifeguard set next to several of the Power Rangers cartoon characters. “Support your lifeguards--the real superheroes,” read an accompanying sign.

In still other years, the project has been just plain goofy. A likeness of the Bob’s Big Boy restaurant character was hoisted to the top of the tower in 1993. The Boys’ version of Bob, a 15-foot-tall float, had first appeared in public a few days before at a parade in Santa Barbara.

To get Bob to Manhattan Beach, they used a rented truck that wasn’t big enough. Bob’s arms had to be broken for him to fit--and even then, he stuck out the back as the truck chugged south along Pacific Coast Highway.

Ultimately, Bob’s stay atop the 1st Street tower was brief. He was torched at a beach party July 5.

“He died a Viking’s death,” one of the Boys noted.

This year, the Boys’ original plan was to turn the tower into a rocket. But the “engineering details simply didn’t happen,” the painting contractor said, so the Boys returned to a favorite theme, a patriotic red, white and blue.

Descending on the beach at 4 a.m. Saturday, they brought 10 gallons of blue paint, six cans of white spray paint and three star-shaped stencils, as well as an assortment of paintbrushes, ladders and power tools.

They worked fast. Most wore swim trunks so as to be able to dash into the surf should police arrive. “The police are not going to chase you into the water,” one of the Boys said.

The authorities in the beach cities know full well the identities of most, if not all, of the Boys. It would be hard not to know--since the Boys hung out for years on the Strand at 1st Street and one of their names has long been etched into the sidewalk there with surfboard resin.

The police, though, have never bothered to interfere. Nor have lifeguards. “I don’t know that I’d want them painting every tower on the coast,” Lifeguard Capt. Bob Schroeder said Saturday. “But it’s a great tradition.”

The Boys return the courtesy. For instance, they don’t paint the ramp that leads up to the tower from the sand; that way, lifeguards don’t get paint on the soles of their feet.

Though they did work fast, this year’s transformation took longer than expected. At 5:15, as the sky was turning from black to gray, the last few white stars were still being spray-painted onto a still-sticky blue background. A few of the Boys became edgy, eager to get off the sand and to a celebratory breakfast.

When the last of the stars was done and after they had cleaned the area thoroughly, they walked briskly to their cars. An hour later, they returned to admire their handiwork. Most brought their boards.

“This tower looks bitchin’,” said one of the Boys.

“It is beautiful,” agreed another. “Let’s surf.”