Trending
They say not all heroes wear capes. Some wear red swimming trunks.
It's hard to imagine a fifteen-year-old kid rescuing another, younger kid from drowning. Now imagine this fifteen-year-old rescuing two younger kids. Imagine him rescuing two younger kids on his very first day on his very first job.
This is that story.
Before my father grew up and was Dr. Philip Quinn, Reedsville's country doctor from 1960-2000, who was a hero in that time, helping and saving his patients, he was just Phil, a fifteen-year-old kid from Netcong who performed a heroic act.
The year was 1947 and the war, World War II, was over. People were returning to the beaches around Budd Lake, in Morris County, New Jersey.
In late June of that year, several township supervisors met at Budd Lake to discuss the need for lifeguards around the lake. The lake drew residents from the surrounding townships and the different supervisors agreed to help with funding the lifeguards and so they met with Chot Morrison, the local swim coach who trained the lifeguards.
Phil was in the vicinity of the meeting because his father was one of the supervisors. "We need more kids," one of them was saying. "July Fourth will be a big weekend this year."
Another pointed to my dad, "How about that kid? He's tall and skinny. Looks like a good swimmer."
Phil's father was annoyed. "That kid is my son. He just turned 15. He's too young."
Chot turned to look. "That kid?" he asked. "I trained that kid in lifesaving. He can do it."
Phil's mom was one of those mothers who had her son in everything: piano lessons, which he hated; church activities, which he didn't mind but there were a lot of them; and swimming lessons, which he loved. He started swimming lessons very young, every year taking the next, more advanced class until at age 14, he was in the lifeguard class with junior and senior high school boys.
The supervisors called Phil over and offered him a job. He was thrilled; what kid wouldn't be, to be offered a job and a job as a lifeguard. But his father... not so much. "You can't take this job. You're too young. You can't do this job." It wasn't that Phil's father didn't believe in him. That wasn't it at all. The truth of the matter was that he couldn't swim. And his own father (Phil's grandfather) died in a drowning accident. Phil's father was worried for his son.
But the other supervisors insisted and the Fourth of July weekend, 1947, was Phil's first day at work.
The day was beautiful, warm and sunny, the beach packed with families. Budd Lake is a glacial lake, not a man-made lake, covering an area of 372 acres, and as deep as 12 feet in spots. In 1947, the lake had a floating dock several yards out. The teenagers loved to hang out there. The younger kids loved to try to hang out there.
Blowing his whistle, Phil noticed two kids, about 10 and eight, trying to swim to the dock. He waved them back into shallower water. "I had told those kids," he recalls, "that if they wanted to go to the dock, I'd swim with them and help them get out there. Just not on that day. Another day. I was too busy that day."
You know how kids are. Phil's attention was diverted for just a minute and when he turned back, there was trouble. The younger boy was flailing in the deep water with the older boy turning to see what was keeping him. The distance to the dock was far for an eight-year-old.
Phil jumped off his high seat and ran, diving into the lake. His training kicked in. He remembered those training days with the older boys and with Chot, recalling his words, "When someone is drowning, they panic. They'll grab onto you and take you down with them. You have to learn how to break their hold." Chot made them practice but the older boys wouldn't let Phil break their hold. Chot was also the Hackettstown High School football coach and all of the other boys were football players and had at least 40 pounds on Phil. (As a sidebar, Charles "Chot" Morrison was inducted into the Warren County Hall of Fame for 231 career wins, for thirteen seasons undefeated and for ten seasons once defeated. He coached a 29-wins-in-a row streak, twice. The man liked his team to win.)
But when it came to laps, Phil had them beat every time. He could swim faster out to the dock and back than any of the other boys. He was made to swim.
And he took off now, like a fish he swam, all the while, assessing those two little kids. The younger, smaller kid was the weaker of the two. By the time Phil got to them, he had his brother in the death grip and they were both panicking and struggling to stay above the water. Phil came up from behind him and slid his hand under the younger boy's chin and lifted it out of the water. He heard Chot's gruff voice in his head. "Stay behind them. Don't let them get their hands on you or you'll go under too. And separate them! You got to separate the two. Leave the strongest and go back later if needed."
Just as he was trained, he brought his leg up and in between both boys and gently, but firmly, pushed the older boy away. Getting his elbow under the younger's chin, he towed him back to shore and dumped him on the sand. Not missing a beat, he turned and, wouldn't you know, the older boy couldn't keep himself above the water now either. Phil took off again. Just as he was going under, Phil grabbed him from behind, swimming and towing him to the beach.
Breathless, he checked that the two boys were alright as his father rushed up to him. Smiling and relieved, he said to his son, "Well, I guess you can do this job after all."