Where It’s Sitting Room Only

Alice Harmon and Maria Yury are relaxing in lawn chairs in the middle of Bluebird Park in Laguna Beach, toasting in the sun as they watch the grass around them being swallowed by a sea of empty blankets.

On any given Sunday afternoon through late summer, when the community’s free and popular concert series is in full swing, villagers turn out in droves hours before the show to stake out their turf, covering just about every nook and cranny of the park with their blankets and chairs, and then leaving until the music starts.

Harmon and Yury even turned down an invitation to a barbecue so they could get to the park before other regular “squatters” arrived, worried they might not secure the space Harmon wanted for a large group of friends and relatives.

“Today, there’s a whole lot of us, as you can see from the real estate we’ve set up here,” Harmon says, pointing to the four beach blankets sprawled out in front of her. “We’re expecting about 12 other adults and seven kids.”

Now in its 21st season, Music in the Park is a giant community picnic that bridges generations and attracts all kinds -- including the mysterious older man who arrives the minute the music starts, strips to his shorts and dances nonstop until the last note is played. He is variously known as Dan the Running Man, the Laguna Dude or the Energizer Bunny.

“I don’t think that there’s a lot of places you can go to these days where you can see and be with the people in community like this,” said Lauryl Schumacher, 44, who is married to another Dan most locals seem to know: Dan the Tile Man. “There’s such a camaraderie.”

The shows, held for nine straight Sundays, feature a different genre each week -- including swing, soul and surfer music -- to appeal to the cross section of the crowd. The shoestring annual budget of $30,000 is covered through a partnership between the city and Music in the Park Inc., a private organization founded in 1991 to solicit donors.

The series, which this year runs through Sept. 19, coincides with the peak of the city’s tourist season. And for many villagers, it has become a cathartic way to unwind as weekends come to a close, and the crowds that have invaded their streets, beaches and arts festivals form long processions out of town.

Until a new rule was imposed this year, many regulars were coming as early as 7 a.m. to lay down their blankets, keeping other people from enjoying the park most of the day. Now, the land grab cannot start until 3 p.m., and blankets or chairs that are abandoned before that are scooped up by city crews.

Harmon and Yury, both 63, showed up minutes before the safe hour on a recent Sunday to grab a spot in front of a jungle gym because so many children would be among their group. Harmon, who has come to the shows regularly since 1988, said that in previous years she would have left her blanket by 2 p.m.

After setting up a small island of beach blankets and lawn chairs, the two walked a few blocks back to Harmon’s home to pack up the champagne, wine, cheese and crackers on their menu. Harmon always brings flowers as an extra touch. And this time, when they returned a little after 4 p.m., she came with chrysanthemums.

“I’ve been coming as much as I can since 1988,” said Harmon, who used to bring her two boys to the park before that. “It’s just another example of the ‘small townness’ Laguna has.”

About 10 blankets away, Jennifer Welch, her boyfriend and a group of their friends are setting up earlier than usual, knowing that this week’s theme of reggae is usually one of the biggest draws. Welch, a 24-year-old photographer who grew up in Laguna, attends as many shows as she can. She and her crew bring food and drink to match the music. Today, for example, they are serving up mangoes, papayas, fruit punch and rum.

“It’s just fun to see all the people from Laguna,” Welch said. “It’s the one thing to do in Laguna that’s all locals.”

Lion Heart, the reggae band scheduled to play this day, canceled after its drummer was recently killed in a car accident.

Jason Feddy, a local musician, came to the rescue of concert director Sian Poeschl. Feddy threw together a band over the weekend and learned a few reggae tunes too, knowing that that’s what everyone wanted to hear.

The group opened with Bob Marley’s “No Woman, No Cry.” And by intermission, there was hardly any room on the grassy dance floor.