He won’t bow for all the tea in Boston Harbor

I was polishing off a turkey sandwich at an outdoor patio table last week when a man pacing nearby caught my ear as he talked into his cellphone.

If they want the $400, they’re going to have to take it forcibly.

Then later: If that’s true, then maybe it’s time to leave the country.

Even in vacation mode, I smelled a story and asked him if had one to tell. He said he sure did.

His name is Leonard Porto, and he’s one of those guys who convinces himself he has been wronged and must fight, even when most people hear an inner voice that tells them to surrender.

The beauty is that Porto’s dilemma is spun from that most wonderful of California experiences: a walk on the beach.

In August 2003, he was strolling the sidewalk at Corona del Mar State Beach. Porto knew the curfew started at 10 p.m. but felt like he needed a walk at 1:15 a.m. and believed the beaches belonged to the public any time of day. It’s the beach, he says, that gives him comfort and “is something I bonded to as a child.”

A Newport Beach police officer wrote him up. The ticket called for a fine of $110; most of us would have cursed the fates and paid.

Not Porto. “I had no doubt that it was a constitutionally protected activity,” he says today, four years later. “I didn’t have my car in the lot, I wasn’t building a raging fire, I don’t drink or smoke, I wasn’t there with a group of friends and a boombox. I was there by myself. I don’t really look for trouble.”

But you knew it was illegal, so why not pay? “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he says. “Why would I pay for taking a walk along the beach in the United States of America? Why would that be a crime?”

Uh, because Newport Beach says it is? Doesn’t society depend on our obeying laws? “Are they the only authority that we’re under?” Porto asks. “Is a city ordinance the supreme law of the land, or is the Constitution?”

I see some of you readers rolling your eyes and others saying, “Give ‘em hell, Leonard!”

Before I tell you how this played out, it’s helpful to know how much Porto, 51, values the ocean. “It was the only thing I had close to me when I was a kid,” he says. “The only thing I could rely on. I had a very turbulent childhood, and I got that behind me, but the beach is still dear to my heart, because that was my strength when I was a kid and it’s still a strength to me now.”

Fair enough, but willful lawbreaking? A bit arrogant, perhaps?

This is where the plot thickens. Turns out that Porto isn’t just whistling Dixie. Whether he’s 100% correct or not, he’s at least onto something.

Porto took his case to Orange County Superior Court, but the judge wouldn’t let him argue its finer points and upheld the fine. Porto appealed to the court’s appellate branch, where two sitting judges ruled without elaboration that Newport Beach was within its rights.

However, the third judge dissented. Gail Andler, then the court’s presiding judge, concluded that the ordinance closing the beach between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. “is unconstitutionally restrictive.” Citing precedent, she essentially accepted Porto’s argument that any restrictions placed on beach access “must be narrowly tailored to achieve legitimate regulatory purposes and must not entirely eliminate access.”

Still, Porto was on the short end of a 2-1 stick and remained on the hook for the fine. He prepared more legal briefs for the state appeals court, but was told months later that the paperwork couldn’t be found in what should have been a routine transfer from the Superior Court.

That, in late 2004, ended Porto’s shot at vindication. However, he has yet to pay the fine, which now has grown, with penalties, to $376. The last notice Porto received was in 2005, when he was told a collection agency would take over.

Porto, who says he builds computer networks for businesses, has no intention of paying a dime. He realizes the case may have submerged never to be seen again, but he isn’t sure. This month he’s scheduled to go to court for disobeying a Laguna Beach lifeguard’s order not to scuba dive in a certain area. He fears the beach-walking case will resurface.

Porto insists he and his dive partner did indeed get permission to dive and chuckles when I suggest his record sounds like that of a troublemaker.

“If our forefathers would have just paid their taxes instead of throwing tea into Boston Harbor, everybody could have just gotten along, couldn’t they?” he says. “Things have gotten out of hand for too long a period of time, because nobody stood up and said, ‘This is not right.’ I think this is a result of complacency from folks who, for whatever reasons, aren’t dealing with issues. It’s easier for them to pay the fine than go through the incredible stress and expense of fighting the system.”

Newport Beach City Atty. Robin Clauson agrees that total access to public beaches is an accepted premise, but says local jurisdictions have the discretion to regulate access for public health and safety. In Newport Beach’s case, she says, the city has expansive beach areas that can’t be patrolled at all hours and that crime in the past led police to ask for the curfew. The boardwalk and pier still provide “pretty good public access,” she says.

I’m not here to declare a winner. I’m here only to acknowledge Leonard Porto, who probably sounds a bit nutty but also may know what he’s talking about.

Or, at least, is convinced he does and won’t back down.

And yes, he says he’s thinking about escaping to Costa Rica, where they don’t have restrictions on strolling the beach. He has read the country’s constitution.

But I had to ask him if, in his private moments, he doesn’t wonder if he’s losing his mind. All this for the initial $110?

“I have no doubt I’ve lost my mind,” he says, laughing.

Knowing that might not translate in print, I suggest elaboration.

“Anyone who bucks the system or stands out in a crowd is usually considered nuts,” he says, “so I guess I’m in good company. People who would call me nuts can’t walk on the beach at night. They probably don’t care. That’s fine. Those people have freedom of choice to have that opinion, but they don’t have to pay $110 to have that opinion.”

Dana Parsons’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. He can be reached at (714) 966-7821 or at dana.parsons@latimes.com. An archive of his recent columns: www.latimes.com/parsons