In 1957, at the dawn of the space race, Edward Chandler, an army veteran of both World War II and the Korean War, came to Indialantic with his family – and saved a life.
The day started out quite normal. His wife had recently given birth to their second child and he wanted to give her some quiet time while the baby napped. So, he scooped up their 6-year-old daughter and took her to the beach at 5th Avenue in Indialantic, right near the hotel where they rented a room while house hunting in the area.
He had come to Brevard County with a set of highly coveted mathematical and engineering skills, eventually taking a position at Kennedy Space Center, where he would work as an IBM Test Conductor, Launch Complex Manager and a participant in the Apollo, Apollo Soyuz, Skylab and Space Shuttle programs.
But on this summer day, he was simply a father, taking his daughter to the beach.
As she played in the sand, Chandler’s military-trained eye noticed something troubling out in the surf. A young couple seemed to be splashing around a bit too much. He got up and walked closer – quickly ascertaining they were in trouble.
Instructing his daughter not to move from her spot, he ran out into the water and pulled a struggling young woman to the safety of the beach. She survived – but her partner, whom another beachgoer had attempted to rescue, did not.
It was a pivotal day for Chandler. The beach had no lifeguards or safety buoys of any kind. And he decided he was going to change that.
“I considered it absolutely ridiculous that the beach didn’t have torpedo buoys at a bare minimum,” Chandler said. “If I had just one of those I probably could have saved both of them.”
He reached out to a man he recently met who was a member of the Jaycees, a nonprofit civic organization, and asked for help.
After learning of the situation, the Jaycees agreed to assist. Chandler became a member himself and was soon chosen to be part of a new water safety group. Instead of just torpedo buoys, Chandler and the Jaycees wanted to bring lifeguards to the south beaches – and that meant they needed lifeguard towers.
Along with the Jaycees, Chandler worked to organize volunteers to help construct two towers – one in Indialantic and other in Melbourne Beach. Local carpenters donated their time to the cause, and local citizens contributed materials and money to fund the project. A third tower was later completed.
But funding lifeguards to fill them was another challenge.
In a 1957 letter to Indialantic Councilman James Reinman, the Special Ways and Means Committee wrote that “Melbourne Beach, Melbourne and Indialantic have no budgeted funds available for lifeguard salaries,” but unanimously agreed “that each municipality had a moral obligation of beach safety.”
At the time, it cost about $63 a week for two guards, at $31.50 each. Together with the Red Cross and various city officials, the Jaycees solicited contributions and were given permission to charge parking tolls at the beach – which were used to fund the salaries.
Eventually the entire lifeguard program came under the control and funding of the county, now known as Brevard Ocean Rescue.
Today, there are five full-time lifeguard stations and 20 seasonal stations with 14 full-time lifeguards, 100 seasonal lifeguards and three full-time supervisors.
Eisen Witcher serves as Ocean Rescue Chief. He started lifeguarding at the age of 16, and is coming up on 16 years of service.
“As a lifeguard I have strived to become more familiar with the history of lifeguards. The first ocean rescue lifeguards used their aquatic skills, with little formal training, or equipment to rescue people that were shipwrecked or in other peril,” Witcher said. “Throughout the years, standards were created, and equipment improved to create professional public safety services.”
He says today’s lifeguards need to be mentally and physically ready to take on the task. Just as a preliminary test, they must be able to swim 500 meters in 10 minutes and run one mile in 10 minutes or less.
“As an organization, I feel strongly that we have made an impact on people’s lives,” Witcher said. “I have seen this program go from a seasonal service to a year-round service and am proud to be a part of a great organization.”
Today, Chandler is 96 years old and lives in Melbourne Beach with his daughter Cathy Lott. His other daughter, the one who was on the beach with him that fateful day, Kelly Brown, visits often from her home in Atlanta. Chandler doesn’t get to the beach very often these days, but occasionally he’ll make the trek.
Earlier this month during one such visit, he had the chance to share some stories with a young lifeguard at Spessard Holland beach, Lieutenant Tommy Carroll.
“It’s cool to learn how everything started,” Carroll said. “I never knew.”
And that’s exactly what Chandler’s daughters hope for. They want more people to know about their father. A man who served his country in two wars, helped send a man to the moon – and helped bring lifeguards to the south beaches.
“He’s a special man,” Lott said. “Our dad is a real hero.”
