Category Archives: Beach

Finally, A New Seawall

After all the “sound and fury” after Hurricane Irene, it looks like the town has made its decision on a new seawall:

Now that ought to keep the floodwaters away from Soundview Drive!

Sound And Fury, Part II

Much to the chagrin of certain “06880″ commenters — who believe that the “rich” Compo Beach residents should repair the Hurricane Irene-damaged seawall at their own expense — the town has undertaken the project.

Just like the town should — and will — do any time there’s damage to public property.

No matter where in Westport it occurs.

Ashes And Asses At Compo

Today is the 1st day of fall.  But before we break out cider and carve up pumpkins, we should take one last look at summer.

The Compo Beach seawall, after trying to protect Soundview Avenue from Hurricane Irene.

A Compo Beach resident — and alert “06880″ reader — did just that the other day.  The occasion was a story here about the seawall — it was damaged by Hurricane Irene, and of course Westporters are divided over how to repair it, who should pay for it, and whether beach dwellers are actual human beings deserving of help, or over-entitled rich folks deserving of having their homes washed away.

The Compo resident lands squarely (and naturally) on the side of the seawall being every Westporter’s business.

“The blog comments were of course typical of non-understanding Westporters,” the resident says.

They don’t realize that if the wall is washed away Soundview Avenue gets washed out too, and they can’t get down to do their triathlons here, eat at Joey’s, party on South Beach, walk their dogs (and poop on our plants), see the fireworks (and try to crash our party), stroll on the boulevard (and snoop at our BBQs), or just drive by and gawk at storm damage.

But our Soundview reader was just getting started.

A follow-up email noted:

They also come catapulting over walls and fences, when not watching where they’re going on bicycles, skateboards, etc.

They leave all their litter on the beach — and often leave new $100 beach chairs with price tags attached.  And brand new toys galore.

They try to join our late-night, festively lit outside gatherings, assuming this is “Splash.”

They ask for diapers, Band-Aids, ice, corkscrews, bathrooms, warm clothes, mixer, water, booze, mustard , mayo, towels, rides home, parking spaces, and baby sitters.

Two families (sans nannies that weekend) have actually left the beach at dusk, and forgotten a child — for extended periods of time.

We probably can’t mention the obvious sex acts under blankets, or just plain parking on side streets, running into the water and “doing it” in the water with clothes on while folks are having early evening cocktails, or in the moon path on the shoreline (sans blanket).

Living on Soundview sounds pretty exciting!

But wait — there’s more!

A 3rd email added:

I forgot to mention people who drive by at dusk and drop their home garbage bags into beach cans, and think we don’t see them.

And those who come and take the plants we plant in our border gardens, thinking they are theirs for some reason, and pick all our blossoms that hang into the streets, and play thumping music so loud on their car radios that they bounces us out of bed.

Or unwanted church services set up in front of houses.

And someone’s ashes dumped where we sit to sunbathe, or that are blown by the wind onto our patio.

Without the seawall, Soundview Drive would be gone.

No more drivers.  No more ash-scatterers.  No more fornicators.

Just peace and quiet.

And the occasional house-destroying hurricane.

Not all beachgoers are this considerate and civil, Compo residents know.

Sound And Fury

Gail Cunningham Coen has lived most of her life on Soundview Drive — the Compo Beach exit road.

She’s acutely aware of the beauty of Long Island Sound — and the power of nature.

She knows when a storm is coming, and what to do when it hits.

And as a former president of the Compo Beach Improvement Association, she’s been intimately involved in the political process of protecting the beach — and the residents across the street.

Gail can recite the history of the retaining wall that runs from the boardwalk all the way to Schlaet’s Point jetty at Hillspoint Road.

In 1998 Gail Cunningham Coen -- a tall woman -- demonstrated how high the Compo Beach seawall had once been.

It was built over 70 years ago to retain the seawaters and protect the new community of homes at Compo Beach, stretching all the way to the Minuteman statue.

Since that time, sand has built up against the seawall.

A nor’easter in December 1992 caused memorable devastation on Soundview and side streets.  After that storm, many residents raised the heights of their homes.

In 1998 the CBIA staged a “Save the Seawall” event to show town officials how tall the wall had once been.

Last week — in the aftermath of Hurricane Irene — Gail was meeting with her insurance adjuster.  She saw a group of men at the roped-off site by the wall.

When she asked if they were going to take the opportunity to repair and restore the entire wall — “since Mother Nature had so kindly excavated it with surgeon-like precision along its entire length,” Gail notes — they said no.  They’d work only on the part that was roped off.

Hurricane Irene swept away plenty of Compo Beach sand -- and exposed long-lost footings for the seawall.

Gail is concerned that town officials will “do a patch job and then push sand back up against the wall to hide the cracks and crevices, leaving us with a weak little pie crust of a wall — poised and ready to find our homes and possessions in a bowl of seawater and sludge all over again.”

Town officials and the state Department of Environmental Protection have had many discussions about the seawall.  Their engineers say it’s not the height of the sand that affects whether water overtops the wall — it’s the height of the water.

In other words, if tides are 12 feet above normal, they’ll be 12 feet above the normal sound height — not 12 feet above the sand.  Water will flow over the wall regardless.

Water seeks its own level.  So too, apparently, do storms at Compo Beach.

Compo Beach: Exposed!

The waters have receded from Compo Beach.  So have the crowds.

What remains is incredible to see.

Here, for example, is the seawall along Soundview Drive:

I’d heard stories of how, years ago, the wall was much higher — and the beach much lower.

Now, thanks to Irene’s fury, we can actually see how high it once was.  Many more steps have been uncovered, along with concrete footings buried for decades.

And we can understand that, when it was built, the seawall was actually a “breakwater” — not the ramp it turned into, rocketing water and sand over the top, past Soundview and onto the roads and homes beyond.

Meanwhile, over on Bradley Street — and in much of the neighborhood — the scene looks like this:

In a matter of hours saltwater killed grass, plants and leaves.  Lawns and yards look like it’s mid-October (without the color) — not early September.

Longtime residents say the greenery will return next spring.

That’s many months from now.  This fall, Compo’s usual fantastic foliage will bear a distinctly different hue.

Weathering Irene

When you live near the beach — as Hillspoint Road resident Cornelia Olsen has done for 32 years, not far from Old Mill — you’re used to people walking by.  They point, and make comments about your house and grounds.

“You screen them out,” she says.  “Otherwise, you feel like an animal in a zoo.”

Recently, though, Cornelia had 2 interesting experiences with her push lawnmower.  Passersby — including a guy and his girlfriend, and another woman — started chatting.  They asked questions about the mower.  Cornelia offered to let them try it.  They did, and helped cut her grass.

Days later, Cornelia and her husband evacuated during Hurricane Irene.  When they returned, the seawall was gone.  Debris was everywhere.  Their Lark sailboat was filled with water and sand.

Though the police blocked access to the beach, a constant stream of walkers and cyclists gaped at the damage.

The post-storm scene on Bradley Street, not far from the Olsens' Hillspoint Road home. (Photo/Chris Rueli, Westport Patch)

Cornelia asked a bunch of men in their 40s to help move the boat.  They couldn’t budge it.

The Olsens did their best to dig it out.  A younger group — including a couple of women — wandered by.  One carried a box.

Intrigued, Cornelia asked what was in it.  Turns out it was from a wedding scheduled for the day before — on the Jersey shore.  Of course, it had been canceled.

Cornelia asked who the groom was.  Together, they commiserated about the storm.  Then the group heaved and hoed.  The boat was freed.

Soon, the woman who a few days earlier had helped mow Cornelia’s lawn walked by, with 2 dogs and her boyfriend.  The women hugged.

“What happened to our grass?” the woman asked.

Later, a boy with a ladder strolled past.  It was the Olsens’.  Cornelia’s husband asked for it back.

“Okay,” the young man said.  “But I found it on Compo Beach.”

The storm “rearranged” a lot of things, Cornelia notes.

But it also made for great random encounters.  And for a few intriguing, folkloric stories that will be told over and over again, for years and years to come.

Stuart McCarthy’s Summer

For many Westporters, the end of Labor Day weekend is bittersweet.  Summer is “officially” over.

Stuart McCarthy calls it — only partly in jest — the best day of the year.

At 6 p.m. the lifeguards leave for the last time.  Finally, the veteran Parks and Recreation director can stop worrying about the safety of thousands of beachgoers.  When the sun sets that Monday, McCarthy will relax for the first time since May.

It’s been quite a summer.  The weather has been spectacular — until this coming weekend, anyway.  The beaches were packed.  And — with the notable exception of a parking lot-rage attendant-shoving incident during the fireworks — it’s been a remarkably incident-free season.

Stuart McCarthy (Photo/Paul Schott for the Westport News)

Compo has been “as busy as it’s ever been,” McCarthy says.  He’s seen a noticeable uptick in non-resident parking.  Other non-residents take the train to Saugatuck, then ride taxis — or walk.

Over the past few years, McCarthy notes, there’s been a change in the way people use the beach.  Gone are the days when you slathered on coconut oil, and baked in the sun for hours.

“People now come in stages,” the parks director says.  There’s far greater use of the picnic area, athletic facilities, playground and pavilion.

Not to mention bikers, joggers, strollers and dogs (on leashes, of course).

More folks come at night, too.  “What better place is there than South Beach during a beautiful sunset?” McCarthy asks.  “There’s a lot of people, food, action.”

Big crowds can mean big headaches.  A major part of the beach staff’s job is keeping problems to a minimum.

Back in the day, Parks and Rec employees were called “security.”  Now, they’re “guest services.”

The change is far more than cosmetic.

“The edge is off the way our employees interact with people,” McCarthy says.  “The first rule we follow now is:  See if you can figure out how to say ‘yes.’”

There is constant activity on Compo Beach.

McCarthy knows that some beachgoers would like stronger enforcement of regulations like no alcohol on the main beach, and no glass bottles everywhere.

“Our staff does not have enforcement capabilities,” he says.  “We can’t give out tickets.  So we say, very nicely, ‘please don’t do that.’  We ask for cooperation.  Sometimes it’s effective, sometimes not.”

But, McCarthy notes, “people go to the beach to have fun.  We try to create a fun environment, so long as what they do does not negatively impact other people.”

McCarthy is proud of his “guest services” staff.  Many return year after year, bringing continuity and experience.

Lifeguards too are in the guest services business.  They pick up litter, resolve conflicts before they escalate, and help create a positive, friendly environment.

The job of a Parks and Rec director includes collecting fireworks tickets -- and doing some guest services work himself.

“For years we always said ‘no’ to things like playing ball on the beach, skimboarding and boogie boards,” McCarthy says.  “The reason was because maybe one person complained.

“Now we say those things are okay — so long as people don’t go crazy.  And our employees use discretion, to make sure no one gets close to crazy.”

Dan DeVito — who manages guest services, lifeguards and the marina staff — has helped set the positive tone, McCarthy says.  DeVito’s assistant, Lee Halpern, is also “tremendous.”

Crucial contributions come too from the maintenance staff.  Trash crews work 7 days a week.  On the busiest days, collection continues for 12 hours.

The most impressive maintenance job of all begins immediately after the fireworks, as soon as the huge crowd leaves.  By early morning — a few hours later — the beach is as pristine as on opening day.

With its pop-up tents, babble of languages and dawn-to-way-past-dusk action, Compo is “more welcoming” than in the past, McCarthy says.

“I love that it’s busy,” he adds.  “A huge variety of people use it in a huge variety of ways.”

And — much as he likes what he sees every day during the summer — after Labor Day, they’re on their own.

Joey Scores At The Shore

It was the dream summer job:  working at the Compo Beach concession stand.  Back in the day, it was run by Chubby Lane — an outpost of his Post Road hamburger restaurant.

The ramshackle shed — located where the volleyball courts are now — was the place to see and be seen.  (You didn’t even need a sticker; you parked right in front.)

I flipped burgers, fried fries and poured sodas for a couple of teenage summers.  Like I said, it was a dream job — except when Chubby’s kids wandered in at 7:59 p.m., seconds before closing, and ordered food as soon as we’d cleaned the grill.

It’s now a few several many years later.   Chubby’s gave way to Arcudi’s, then another concessionaire no one remembers.  Since 1989, Joey Romeo has run the place.  He upgraded it from a stand to a restaurant.  He added menu items, lengthened the hours, stretched out the calendar.

But some things never change.  Something about eating at the beach still makes food taste special.  It’s still an insanely weather-dependent business.

And it’s still a great job for high school and college students.

Joey Romeo, by the shore.

Joey comes by his burger chops naturally.  His father ran the food concessions at Cummings Beach and Cole Island in Stamford; his uncle spent many years as the concessionaire at Greenwich’s Tod’s Point.

Growing up, Joey worked at the beaches — and loved it.

He became the 1st tenant after the town of Westport renovated the old bathhouses, and moved the concession stand to its present location.  So far, he’s the only one.

What’s kept him here?  “I love the water.  I love being here in the summer.  I love Compo Beach!” he says.

And beach-goers love Joey.

For one thing, he’s got great food.

For another, he listens to those customers.  Lobster rolls (now one of his most popular items), fish and chips, Boar’s Head cold cuts, portobello mozzarella sandwiches — those and many more selections resulted directly from requests.

To serve those customers, Joey’s now opens earlier (9 a.m.) and closes later (9 p.m.) each summer.  He fires up the grill in late March, and is there on weekends through November — sometimes beyond.

Kelly Petropulos, Paul Van Zanten and Sam Reiner carry on the Compo concession tradition.

The concessionaire is a firm believer in “buy local.”  When area resident Adrian Pace brought over Forte — a new healthy, high-protein gelato — Joey snapped it up.

There’s local art and photography on the walls, local T-shirts and postcards at the counter.

He even sells Melissa & Doug toys.  Hey, they’re local too.

But — behind the lobster rolls and trendy toys — Joey’s is still a beach joint.

“Honestly, I haven’t seen much change — in my customers or employees — over the years,” Joey says.

“If you look around, it’s really no different than it was 20 years ago.”

This doesn’t change either:   talking about the weather.

“The summer started slowly.  We had a wet spring, but since then it’s been very good,” Joey says.

“People complain about the heat, but it’s better than rain.  Any day it’s not raining, I’m happy.”

The same words could have come straight from the mouths of Joey’s father and uncle.

Or Chubby Lane, back when I was working the grill for countless Compo customers.

Plus Chubby’s @#$%^&* kids.

The Guards Of Summer

One minute there’s a jellyfish sting to treat.

Then a swimmer ventures too far from shore.

Next, someone asks where to buy a beach chair.

Welcome to the world of a Compo Beach lifeguard.

Westport’s few dozen guards — male and female; high school, college age and older; Westporters, Westonites, Norwalkers, Wiltonites and beyond — are like the salt air:  an important part of the beach experience, but often overlooked.  And seldom noted.

It’s time that changed.

Assistant directors Kaitlyn Mello and Jamie Whittendale take a brief break on the boardwalk.

Kaitlyn Mello is a 2005 Staples graduate who is one of 2 assistant waterfront directors, serving under director Brandon Ogiba.  The other day she sat in the lifeguard station and talked about her job.

It was a choppy interview — walkie-talkies squawked, and Kaitlyn’s eyes kept roaming the beach — but that’s the way it should be.

“We’ve had a really good summer so far,” she says.  “The staff is really strong — a lot of senior guards, and the newcomers are stepping up.”

Compo lifeguards work 8-hour shifts, 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.:  1 hour in the chair, 1 hour off (sweeping the beach, tending to first aid, etc.).  Each hour, the new shift walks to their posts as a team, then come back in together at the end.

(Burying Hill has 2 full-time guards — important, because of the treacherous tides and elderly population.  The Longshore pool has its own staff.)

This summer’s weather has been great.  One result:  Compo is crammed.

Things get hectic.  Vigilance is particularly important during camp hours.  “We work as a team with the counselors,” Kaitlyn says.  “There’s constant communication.”

Justin Rende, at the ready.

Guards also communicate with parents, when the parents communicate in their own way.  “We see moms talking with their friends, or on their cell phones, with their backs to the water when their kids are playing or swimming,” she says as diplomatically as possible.  “We try to make sure everyone is watching.”

A major guard issue is swimmers who think the buoys are too close — especially at low tide.  “It’s our discretion how far out to allow people,” Kaitlyn explains.  “High tide can get pretty deep.  There’s no reason to go too far.”

Also big:  enforcing the no-fishing ban, and keeping boats from coming too near.

Injuries have been minor this year.  One man slipped on the jetty; a volleyball player dislocated his shoulder.  The guards are primary caregivers until EMS arrives.

Guards drill every weekday, unless the beach is too crowded or they can’t spare anyone.  They practice rescues, CPR and other emergencies.  The time always changes; sometimes volunteers of different ages help out.

A typical scene at the Compo Beach lifeguard station.

Much of the guards’ job is public relations.  They answer questions, explain and enforce rules, and do their best to make the beach experience a great one for the enormous variety of folks who swim, play, stroll, picnic and do whatever else they do every day.

That’s not always easy, particularly this year with its surge of out-of-town guests.

“We’ve seen, and the main gate agrees, a lot of people from New York and other places,” Kaitlyn says.  “And a lot of people walk over from the train station, or take a taxi.  When they ask if they can buy beach chairs, we know they’re not from here.”

The best part of the job is being outside.  And, Kaitlyn adds, “I love being able to help people.  I think I’m prepared for every situation.”

Including requests like, “Can you remove the jellyfish?”

“I don’t think so,” Kaitlyn says.  “They were here first.”

Why We Love Westport

It’s been a great summer, weather-wise.  Weekend after weekend — and most :)   weekdays too — Mother Nature has hooked us up.

Our always-beautiful town has, in many ways, never looked better.  Say what you will about the ills that buffet Westport, and the country; this has been a kick-ass summer.

Before it gets away, we should reflect on a few familiar summer scenes.  And think, for a moment, how lucky we are to have them.

Sure, it's a downtown business district, with chain stores up the wazoo. But a few steps away flows a fine little river. And there are plenty of places to watch it go by.

The inlet leading to -- and, when the tide turns, from -- Sherwood Mill Pond is one of Westport's hidden wonders. The wooden bridge leading to Compo Cove is a special place to see (and span) it.

The stretch of land at the end of Compo Beach is called Schlaet's Point. Countless bikers, joggers, walkers and slowing drivers know it as one of the prettiest spots in town. This summer, for the first time in memory, it's even attracted swimmers.

There's nothing like a sunset on Compo's South Beach. Though a moonrise there is pretty cool too.

Every day at the beach is not, well, a day at the beach. But even storm clouds can be beautiful.