In Jacksonville, Fla., there is a four-mile stretch of beach that has been continually guarded, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, since 1912. The American Red Cross Volunteer Life Saving Corps has been on duty, nonstop, for 90 years.

The Corps was founded in 1912 by Lyman G. Haskell, a medical doctor, and Clarence H. MacDonald, Jacksonville’s playground director, in response to the large number of drownings at the beach and because of the 25-mile trek to the nearest medical facility. Originally called the United States Life Saving Corps, the name was changed in 1914, when the Red Cross entered the lifesaving field. The Corps was inaugurated as the group’s first unit and received its charter from the National Chapter of the Red Cross in April 1914. Today, it is the only remaining chartered organization in the United States.

The Corps has been credited with 1.2 million volunteer hours of service to the Jacksonville community and recently received a commendation from the city. What’s more important is that it has been credited with saving nearly 5,000 lives.

Being in the forefront in the early 1900s, the Corps has had the honor of working with some of the pioneers of lifesaving, such as Henry Walters. In 1919, while working with the Corps, Walters developed the Walters’ Torpedo Buoy, which was a lifesaving staple until the 1990s.

Pictures line the walls of the clubhouse, faded black-and-whites encased in glass frames that stand as testaments to the spirit of the Corps. “The names and faces may change from time to time, but the esprit de corps remains the same,” says Sean Rampacek, a 19-year member. In fact, the Standard of Membership states: “Since we accept no pay, it is the love of our work and comradeship — esprit de corps — that makes membership so highly prized.”

Corps members Robert Dean, Tom Wright, Andrew "Big Daddy" Altee and Sean Rampacek (above, L-R) keep the beach safe, under the direction of Capt. Maurice Rudolf (far left).

Although the Corps actively recruits from area schools, membership is hard to attain. “Right now, an entry-level recruit has to undergo 120 hours of Open Water United States Lifesaving Association Training over a 12-week period,” says Maurice Rudolph, captain of the Corps. “We then have constant in-service training throughout the year.

“The Corps requires a great deal of dedication,” Rudolph adds. “We discipline from within — if you are 10 minutes late for your shift [without excuse] you are thrown off the unit. We save lives here and have to man those towers on time.”

Members often refer to themselves as “brothers” or “family members.”

After training, each recruit has to volunteer every weekend and holiday for the season, from March to October. Then the requirement is one day per week — for the next eight years. After that, members are honorably retired but can still volunteer (and many do).

The Corps can have up to 120 active members at a time. Currently, there are 60 active volunteers, with 10 percent being female. “Some of our best guards are female,” Rudolph says. “We find, though, that most of the females take paid positions in other environments.”

‘That was a tough save’
There are benefits to being a volunteer with the Corps. Volunteers can stay in the dormitory at the beachfront station anytime they want. The front rooms of the second floor are reserved for the retired members — they have an ocean view. The rear of the building has bunks for the newer members. There are separate quarters for women. The volunteers, however, remind you: If you are here and a call comes in — regardless of time or place — you go.

When asked why he does it, Robert Dean, a college student from Louisiana and a four-year member, says: “There’s a lot of legacy here. It’s the camaraderie.” Dean was encouraged by friends to join when he was new in town.

Without hesitation, Rudolph says, “The greatest thing in my life has been, and is now, saving another person’s life.”

He recalls the time in 1992 when he saw a single rescuer tow in a father and daughter while giving mouth-to-mouth to the family’s other daughter. And there was that time in 1987 when there were “33 flag drops and 22 flag waves in one day” (a flag drop is when a guard goes into the water for a save; a wave is when he assists a swimmer).

Other members have similar stories. “I do it because it’s a lot of fun — a great life,” says Andrew “Big Daddy” Altee, a 25-year member. “There was a guy who robbed the vending machines down on the pier. When the police came, the guy jumped into the ocean off of the pier. He forgot that he had pockets full of quarters! That was a tough save.”

Hearing such accounts is like standing with a group of sailors swapping stories. But even though these aren’t war stories, they tell of the same kinds of bravery and honor. The volunteers speak of codes of honor and dedication. They point to plaques honoring members who have passed away, such as Paul E. Reinhold.

In June 1944, Reinhold and his daughter attempted to save two young boys drowning at a nearby beach, but started drowning themselves. The Corps responded, saving the Reinholds. As a result, Paul became a 40-year member and played a very important role in the future refurbishment of the station.

“These are a great bunch of guys,” Rudolph says. “Any one of them could go one mile down the beach and get paid to do this with much less hassle. But they choose to pay dues of $30 a year, volunteer weekends and holidays and abide by the strict rules. The American Red Cross Life Saving Corps — they’re a great bunch of guys!”