From the early 20th century, Santa Monica Bay was the magnet that attracted tourists from all over the world, who came to enjoy a bit of fun in the sun. Back then, so many of these beachgoers were unaccustomed to the wiles of ocean swimming that precarious rescues and drownings often dominated local headlines. These well-publicized tragedies hurt the local coastal tourist and real estate industries, and efforts to encourage beachgoers to swim in the plunges adjacent to the beach were helpful, but not enough to keep people away from the ocean. In 1907, Abbot Kinney, whose neighboring ‘Venice-of-America’ was particularly dependent on tourist dollars and home sales, took the lead in organizing a trained lifeguard force. Kinney invited a young Hawaiian named George Freeth, who introduced surfing to California, to teach local lifesavers a wide array of techniques that later revolutionized ocean lifeguarding along the Southern California coastline. The history of the Santa Monica lifeguards is chronicled in Arthur Verge’s book ‘Images of America: Santa Monica Lifeguards.’ Verge, a Los Angeles County lifeguard since 1974 and professor of history at El Camino College, uses a wide range of historic photographs, including the scrapbooks of numerous lifeguards, to tell the story. He will talk about his book on Thursday, September 13 at 7 p.m. at the Ocean Park branch of the Santa Monica Public Library, 2601 Main St. In the early days, young men who enjoyed playing water polo and swimming in the Ocean Park and Venice plunges were asked to volunteer as lifeguards along the shoreline. It wasn’t until the 1920s and early 1930s that modern lifeguard services were in place year-round. During the Depression, many lifeguards enjoyed their time on the beach, surfing, fishing and diving when they were not on duty. The war years, however, cut into the public service, as most lifeguards went into the military. Palisadian Dick Orr, who served almost 50 years as a part-time lifeguard, working summers and holidays, enjoyed what are now considered the golden years for Santa Monica lifeguards, from 1945 to 1960. For a kid from Compton, spending his summers at the beach was attractive. ‘I was home for the summer from Brigham Young University, where I was playing football and studying to be a physical education teacher, and I noticed an advertisement in the gym at Compton High School for a lifeguard’$1.87 an hour,’ Orr recalls. ‘That was 1953.’ Training in those days was consolidated into a ‘rookie week,’ Orr says. He was taught mostly first-aid techniques, such as how to apply direct pressure, fix cuts, and perform CPR, as well as rescue procedures using the rescue tube. ‘I did my rookie year at Cabrillo Beach in San Pedro,’ Orr says, ‘and after that I wanted to be closer to home so I was transferred to Venice, where I met [my wife] Inga,’ whom he ‘beguiled’ with his lifeguard sweet talk. ‘I saw this tall, beautiful blonde, and told her that I had forgotten my soda and knew that I was going to be very thirsty. She was there with her niece and uncle and offered me a soda.’ In 1960, Orr graduated from BYU and got a job teaching PE and history at Airport Junior High, but stayed on with the lifeguard service as a ‘recurrent’ lifeguard. He worked his way up to Will Rogers State Beach, spending the remaining years of his career at towers 6, 7 and 8, near the Bel-Air Bay Club. While lifeguarding equipment has become more technological these days, thanks to ‘Baywatch’ creator Greg Bonann (who introduced the Jet ski and fast boat), the dangers remain the same, says Orr. He recalls a double rescue. ‘I was working at the Fire Pit at Playa del Rey when two kids were caught in a riptide. I contacted headquarters to tell them that I was leaving my station to make the rescue and ran into the water. One kid made it back by himself, but I brought in the other one with a rescue tube.’ Beyond strength and skill, Orr possesses a friendly, relaxed manner that is key in helping victims, who are often panicked. Riptides are particularly dangerous, especially near a jetty, Orr says. On one occasion, he was making a rescue on an especially tricky day and noticed that to his left and right other lifeguards were in the water rescuing struggling swimmers. These days, the Los Angeles County Lifeguards are a division of the Los Angeles County Fire Department. Qualifications for the job are rigorous. ‘To get on a crew,’ Orr says, ‘men and women candidates have to swim 1,000 meters around a buoy, get out of the water, run around the headquarters tower and then back into the water and repeat the swim. The training is fantastic.’ Orr retired in 1995 (making $100 a day), believing it was time to let younger people do the job. While he doesn’t swim in the ocean these days, he does still enjoy his home swimming pool and recalling those years at the beach.

By AMANDA MEDRESS Palisadian-Post Contributor As 21-year-old Sean Friar plays his composition “Elastic Loops” in his Pacific Palisades home, his hands leap deliberately across the piano. His sandaled feet rest atop the pedals, his eyes close, and his arms tense. It’s no surprise he describes his music as energetic. This fall, Friar will begin his doctoral degree in music composition at Princeton University, as part of a four-year Roger Sessions Fellowship. The contemporary classical music program, which accepts only four students a year, normally admits students who already have a master’s degree. Friar, who is soft-spoken and articulate, has other honors on his resume. In June, he won a prestigious Morton Gould Young Composer Award from the American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers, an award he accepted at Lincoln Center in New York. In 2003 he won the PTA’s national Reflections contest in composition and received his award in Charlotte, North Carolina. Friar was Mr. Palisades as a tenth grader at Palisades High and still has a picture with then-Honorary Mayor Anthony Hopkins pinned in his room. The experience of being the youngest person at monthly Chamber of Commerce mixers gave Friar valuable social skills. “It was a pretty different social environment than what an average teenager is used to,” he says. “You learn to schmooze. I was a lot more confident and comfortable talking to with all kinds of people after that.” A graduate of Marquez, Paul Revere, and PaliHi, Friar received bachelor’s degrees in music composition and psychology from UCLA, where he graduated summa cum laude in May. Although he applied to numerous graduate programs, Princeton’s proximity to the New York music scene, performance opportunities and freedom of composing style made the school his top choice. Last week, Friar drove cross-country to Princeton with his older sister, Christine (also a Palisades High graduate) and a friend. At Princeton, he hopes to gain teaching experience, which is one of the few ways to make a living as a classical composer. “I won’t hold out for being famous,” he says. “Even the most famous classical composers now aren’t really famous.” Instead of focusing on fame and awards, Friar plans to hone his compositional voice, and continue experimenting with different music styles. “It is especially important for young composers not to get stuck doing the same thing too early,” he notes. Friar started his career as a musician when he was five. “I got really impatient practicing piano when I was young,” he recalls. His mother Linda, a pianist herself, “worked out a lot of deals with me–like ‘practice for one minute and I’ll give you a nickel, practice for twenty minutes and you can go down and buy a pack of cards.'” As a young pianist, Friar focused on blues and rock and roll–in middle school, he played “Great Balls of Fire” at a recital, and dressed up as Jerry Lee Lewis for Halloween. His first teacher emphasized the importance of rhythm. “We would get up from the piano and she’d have me walk around and march and clap rhythms. I have a lot of tapes of me playing really frenetic blues, wild and almost uncontrolled, but it was what got me excited about music.” From early on, Friar’s teachers encouraged him to improvise, which eventually led him to composition. Although Friar began jotting down ideas in late elementary school, he started classical composition in high school. His pieces transitioned from a traditional style similar to Beethoven, then to a Romantic style, and eventually to more contemporary pieces. Friar, who currently writes most of his music for solo piano and small to medium chamber ensembles, says there’s no instrumentation he doesn’t like to write for. “A lot of composers say, every time you start a new piece, it’s like how do you do this again? You forget how it goes,” says Friar, whose pieces are technically rigorous, rhythm-oriented, and contain bluesy references. “I have my ways of building pieces, but really that’s all just a means to an end. I don’t want people to pay attention to how I put a piece together, I just want them to enjoy it, whether they know anything about music or not.” In his spare time, Friar enjoys playing tennis, reading about astronomy, and traveling. Since he was three, his family has exchanged houses every summer in Europe. Switzerland is one of his favorite countries, but not all destinations are clear in his memory. “A lot of places I’d like to see again. When you’re five you just want to play Gameboy in the car, even if you’re in the Alps with some incredible views.” Friar relates well to fellow musicians. “Musicians are all a little weird–they work really hard, spend a lot of time on music at odd hours. Being with musicians, there are a lot of things we already know and understand about each other,” he says. Furthermore, being a composer allows Friar artistic freedom. “Even though I think there are a lot of pianists who are better than me, I just really understand my pieces. I may hit some wrong notes, but I’ll always have the character right. I get a little nervous playing–that’s why I like composing. Once you’ve finished it, the piece is done and nothing can ruin it. With playing, a bad performance can erase a lot of hard work.” To listen to Friar’s compositions, please visit www.seanfriar.com.

Eight new paintings by Pacific Palisades artist Glenn Ossiander are on exhibit at George Billis Gallery in Culver City. Ossiander, who works in a studio at his home in Marquez Knolls, creates medium- to large-scale paintings in acrylic. He paints in a non-objective abstract style. A reception will be held on Saturday, September 8 from 5 to 8 p.m. and the exhibit runs through October 6. Work by San Francisco painter Stanley Goldstein and New York painter Derek Buckner will also be in the exhibit. George Billis, who also has a gallery in New York’s Chelsea district, was among the first to open in Culver City. The gallery, located at 2716 La Cienega Blvd., is open Tuesday through Saturday from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. Contact: (310) 838-3685 or visit: www.georgebillis.com.

When Palisadian Dana Torrey submitted a painting of the Pacific Palisades coastline to Gladstone’s as a possible menu cover design, he believed that diners might enjoy his artwork briefly before perusing the restaurant’s fare. However, managers at Gladstone’s had loftier plans for his beautiful landscape painting, and when they decided to remodel the back room they asked him if he could expand his menu design into a mural. Soon, Torrey was diligently working on a plan for such a large-scale painting, which now covers the upper portion of the north and south walls in the back room at Gladstone’s. He began with his original painting, altered the vertical image to a horizontal and expanded its magnitude before creating giant sketches that would serve as his guide for the final painting. ‘I had pretty much the whole thing planned out before I started,’ Torrey said. ‘The real work started before the painting, not during the process itself.’ Still, despite his thorough preparation, painting was no easy task. To avoid any discord with customers, Torrey began painting at night, when the restaurant was closed. He started with his sketch, wash and blocking, but it quickly became apparent that nighttime did not provide enough good light, which was crucial for the realization of his vision. ‘I told them that I just couldn’t work at night. I need the daylight to see how it’s going to look,’ Torrey said. Since Gladstone’s wished to keep the back room open for business, Torrey’s only option was to paint, carefully, around patrons. Fortunately, Torrey had chosen acrylic paint as his medium, so diners would not have to deal with any pungent smells during their meal. Still, Torrey’s biggest obstacle was not the customers, but rather the height of the mural, which is located about 12 feet from the floor on the upper walls, and extends another eight to 10 feet, just below the ceiling. The only way to paint it was from a ladder. ‘I would climb the ladder 200 times a day and that was my limit,’ Torrey said. ‘After that I was done, physically done.’ That many climbs kept Torrey painting between two and four hours daily, over a course of several weeks. Midway through completion, a buildup of floor wax began to form on the bottom of the ladder, unbeknownst to Torrey. Then one afternoon, while perched on one of the highest rungs, the ladder began to slip. Torrey had just enough time to scream, ‘Get out of the way!’ to his two daughters, who were on the floor below him, before he and his ladder came crashing to the ground, breaking a chair and a table in the process. Torrey landed between two rungs, on his feet, brush and palette still in hand. ‘The thing just shot out from under me,’ Torrey said. ‘Nothing else happened, but it scared the heck out of me.’ The following week Torrey purchased non-skid padding for the floor and ropes to secure the ladder to the wall before continuing his work on the mural. ‘For the next week I was pretty nervous,’ he said. Still, painting at Gladstone’s was a job Torrey thoroughly enjoyed, especially his commute. ‘It was the first time I’ve had a job where I could drive five minutes and be at work,’ Torrey said. ‘I appreciated that a lot.’ Torrey began his career at the University of Vermont Teaching Hospital, where he worked with cadavers, creating medical illustrations. In 1982, he moved to Los Angeles to broaden his creative skills, and began studying commercial art at Art Center in Pasadena. He soon landed a job as a cityscape backdrop painter for Hollywood movie studios. He also worked as an art director for several feature films, painted the King Kong exhibit mural at Universal tours and animated a video game based on ‘The Simpsons.’ Tired of illustrating and painting the ideas of others, Torrey took the next step in his career, choosing to pursue his own creative interests. Soon he was painting stunning landscapes and portraits all around Los Angeles. He even painted two angels for the ‘A Community of Angels’ project several years ago. One was displayed at LAX and the other at City Hall. He painted former Los Angeles Mayor Richard Riordan’s official portrait, but the city lost it after Riordan left office. ‘If anyone knows where it is, let me know,’ said Torrey, whose other portrait of Riordan is on display at the Richard Riordan Central Library downtown. He also has paintings on display at the Getty House, the mayor’s official residence. ‘Now I’m doing what I want, but I do miss the artist camaraderie of a film set where all these artists were working together,’ Torrey said. This time around, though, at Gladstone’s, Torrey had the good fortune to work with two budding artists, his daughters Jes, 8 and Liz, 5 who not only kept him company, but helped him paint. Liz assisted with the wash, and Jes with the blocking. Their likenesses appear in the mural, on the south wall, sitting on a park bench overlooking the ocean, alongside the likeness of their grandfather, Richard Riordan, owner of Gladstone’s restaurant. Torrey’s favorite part of the painting, in addition to his family member’s images, are the personal items he painted near them, including bicycles and helmets the same colors as his daughters’ favorites. ‘As long as the paintings last,’ Torrey said, ‘they have a memory of their childhood.’ The rest of the mural features a beautiful panorama of Pacific Palisades. To create his realistic landscape, Torrey visited and photographed the coastline frequently, focusing on the dramatic interplay of light, shadow and haze on an environment that is constantly changing. ‘Impressionism is about going to the place and painting the feeling of that place,’ said Torrey, whose mural certainly captures the essence of the region.

When Neil Baker was tossing around possible titles for his recently published book of photographic impressions of Provincetown, he thought, “Stop and Smell the Light.” “Too corny,’ his wife said. He agreed, but in choosing “The Quality of Light,” Baker kept his eye on the sunrises and sunsets that shape the light on this tiny spit of land at the tip of Cape Cod. Geography plays a large role in reflecting the light as the town is tucked between Cape Cod Bay and Massachusetts Bay. For almost 14 years Neil, his wife Gail and their daughter Maisy have rented a house on the beach in Provincetown, an excursion they initiated when friends introduced them to the resort town. Neil grew up in Newton, a suburb of Boston, and was familiar with East Coast beaches, the tufted sand dunes and long, shallow tides. “It’s a navigable place to be,” Neil says, explaining that when the family is there, not in Pacific Palisades, they get around on foot or by bicycle. “When you’re walking down the street early in the morning, not only are you seeing and feeling things, but you’re smelling things.” Baker’s large-format photos reflect this slowed pace that lends itself to quiet observation and attention to the subtle changes of the seasons. Observed from a distance, the photos could be watercolors, washed in an endless spectrum of gray and green, with the unexpected colors of manmade objects caught by the lens. Baker still uses the Nikon 8200 manually operated zoom he bought almost 40 years ago. He says that the zoom captures the detail he was looking for, but the size and weight of the lens outlived two Nikon camera bodies. ‘This lens enables me to look through the aperture and frame the picture in the way I want. When it’s printed, 4×6, and it represents what I want, I’m happy.’ Baker confesses to being a Luddite when it comes to technology. He owns a basic cell phone without the camera, so he eschews all electronic manipulation of photos as well. He has the film negatives scanned in high definition and put on a CD. ‘When I need a large print, I can do it. I’ve gone as large as 30×40 for posters of my prints, and some of these shots cry for large format.’ Although Baker has no immediate plans to continue his chronicle of Provincetown, he has begun to think about observing his own community more closely. ‘Life goes by pretty quickly,’ he says. ‘Even on my street Oracle Place, where there is a wonderful view and deer on the street. I’m now thinking about how wonderful it is to live here or in Santa Monica and I should take my bike and do the same thing I’ve done on our summer vacation.’ Baker studied economics in college, but says that he always wanted to work with his father, which is what he did, and ended up working in the same industry. He designs automated plants for factories that do electroplating. He moved to Los Angeles 20 years ago and relocated to Pacific Palisades in 1990, the year he and his wife, Gail Strickland’an actress with many Google listings’were married. ‘For years I have been taking pictures. The wall along the hallway to our master bedroom is lined with them,’ Baker says, adding that a gallery in Provincetown exhibited works from the current collection in mid-August. Now trying to catch up after a month away, Baker looks forward to next summer in Provincetown. ‘Where we live is a quiet, lovely, isolated place,’ he says. ‘It’s that calm I love.’ Baker will be talking about and signing ‘The Quality of Light’ on Thursday, September 6 at 7:30 p.m. at Village Books on Swarthmore.

Londoners seeking distraction from the grim aftermath of World War II enthusiastically embraced Sandy Wilson’s frothy, infectiously entertaining show, ‘The Boy Friend,’ which ran for more than five years on the London stage. These days, some of us distract ourselves with heightened TV melodramas situated in hospitals or the haunts of the super-attenuated wannabe models. But there is a very lively audience for musical revivals: witness the recent success of ‘Anything Goes,’ ‘On Your Toes,’ and even ‘The Drowsy Chaperone,’ which revived a mythical old musical. These joyous musicals are guilelessly victorious in packing in audiences. Theatre Palisades made a wise choice by staging ‘The Boy Friend’ for this summer’s musical. While the limited cast lends itself well to the size and capability of Pierson Playhouse, each actor shoulders demanding performance expectations as singer, dancer and actor. ‘The Boy Friend,’ written in 1953, is a comical pastiche of the 1920’s shows’a golden age for Broadway musicals, many of which remain anchored in our memories through songs such as ‘When I’m Calling You’ from ‘Rose Marie,’ or ‘Tea For Two’ from ‘No, No, Nanette.’ Despite the wildest romantic plot possible, the set, costumes and score lure us into enjoying every bit of the ride. The situation is simple’lovely, fun-loving young ladies, eager young men; love abounds, but only after the disappointment and heartbreak of love thwarted. The scene is set in the south of France, simply and effectively designed by Gene Smith, who has created a score of sets for Theatre Palisades. Along with his talents, those of costume designer Joyce Gale Smith cannot be praised enough. The flappers dressed in a rainbow of pastel chemises, or flattering two-piece bathing attire evoke their privileged station in life. And the costumes for the dressy ball are spectacular, from the black- and-white satin suits for Pierrot and Pierette, to Marie Antoinette’s ensemble with headdress. The plot turns on Polly (Meredith M. Sweeney) and Tony (Drew Fitzsimmons), who find one another in the most preposterous circumstances. If being together were based on their singing and dancing alone, soulmates they’d be. They are aptly supported by a talented corps of girls and guys, with particular attention to Maisie (Sarah Mahoney), whose flirtatious seduction is irresistible, particularly to her sweetheart Bobby (Joshua Ziel). Their Charleston is, what the 1920s were all about. Speaking of seduction, for Lord Brockhurst (Bill Quade) hope burns eternal, and what a spin he takes with the fun-loving Dulcie (Amy Coles). The show, in three acts, moves along on the musical talents of pianist Anouich NeVart and her trio: Reed Phantom, saxophone and clarinet, and Dan Blum, drums. From the sing-along three-quarter time waltzes to the eight-count Charleston, this versatile orchestra maintains the upbeat pace this play deserves. Choreographer Victoria Miller matches talent with skill. Nicole Paolini (Nancy) and Allan Penales (Pierre) step out of their chorus roles into a tango that shows where their real passion lies. And Polly and Tony pay homage to Rogers and Astaire in tap shoes. ‘The Boy Friend’ continues Friday and Saturday nights at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 2 p.m. through October 14 at Pierson Playhouse, 941 Temescal Canyon Rd. For tickets ($16 to $22) contact (310) 454-1970.