By Michael E. Miller
By Allie Conti
By Keegan Hamilton and Francisco Alvarado
By Jake Rossen
By Allie Conti
By Kyle Swenson
By Chris Joseph
By Michael E. Miller
He sits on Hollywood Beach all day, and on the really slow days, there's no one there to guard. So he just watches the green seawater roll up and smack the beach, over and over again. Ankle-slappers, he calls the waves, and they slap on while he sits in the creaking wooden lifeguard shack.
"We got some inshore wind-flow today," the lifeguard says as he peers out into the sea, his fit, relaxed body a perfect golden brown.
Neither he nor the sea, however, is at perfect ease. Out farther into the surf, the water goes dark under thick gray clouds. Might storm soon. A note of desperation creeps into the lifeguard's voice as he talks about the city's investigation into the Beach Patrol.
"Nothing's going to change," he says. "The Beach Patrol will get a black eye, and things the city already knows about will come out, and nothing will change. It'll be like it never happened. And guess who's still going to be sitting here? Me. Do you think I'm going to jeopardize my livelihood to talk about this stuff? No way. I've got a family."
The lifeguard sits behind a veil of anonymity for good reason. You could hang ten on the paranoia at the beach these days. Amid chattering seagulls there's talk of vendettas and revenge and vandalism and violence.
The Beach Patrol seems to be out of control, like a cross between Baywatch and the French Revolution. Lifeguards are wondering whose head might roll. It seems melodramatic, but the anonymous lifeguard brings up a key point: People's livelihoods are getting screwed with, and that has gotten some laid-back beach folk very upset.
The focal point of the consternation is Jim Shoemaker, the chief of the patrol, who has worked on Hollywood Beach for 22 years. Rumors are swirling about the man everyone calls "Shoe," and city officials have confirmed that a human resources department investigation into his conduct is continuing. Beach Patrol employees have alleged that Shoemaker is greedy for power and will stoop to breaking city rules and suppressing city records to get his way. He plays favorites with employees, and he's wrecked lives in the process.
Shoemaker counters that he is the victim of some bad employees who are out to destroy his career. He says he's been terrorized off and on for more than a year now. All four tires on his 1994 Lexus have been slashed -- twice. One morning he woke up and found the paint on the car's hood melting away. Someone had poured paint remover on it during the night. He says he regularly gets threatening phone calls. Anonymous letters about him have been sent to the city. City officials have investigated these incidents and say it isn't known who is responsible.
"Somebody is trying to carve my heart out," Shoemaker says.
One thing on which everyone agrees is that all the internal strife is ripping the Beach Patrol apart and that that can't be good for the public, who depends on those lifeguards to protect beachgoers.
Jim Carnicella, the director of the city's human resources department, says the investigation should be concluded soon. The investigation has involved much of the department, which includes Shoemaker, an assistant chief, 4 lieutenants, about 25 full-time marine-safety officers (who are basically senior lifeguards), and roughly 40 lifeguards, many of them parttime.
The investigation was indirectly sparked by a dispute between two marine-safety officers, William Fox and Rick Fiorillo, over a girlfriend. Fox, who has worked on the patrol for more than 20 years, says that Fiorillo accused him of calling Fiorillo's girlfriend and then chased him with an iron weight at Beach Patrol headquarters.
After the incident, Fox, who wasn't hurt, immediately filed a violence-in-the-workplace report with the city. After Fox filed his report, Fiorillo also filed a violence report in his own defense. But it was only Fox who ended up getting fully investigated, and he suspects that Shoemaker was behind it. Why? Because Fiorillo is an excellent lifeguard, a rising star at Beach Patrol, and one of Shoemaker's favorites, says Fox, adding that he holds no grudge against Fiorillo.
At the end of the investigation into Fox, which was conducted by the city's equal-opportunity manager, Denise Edsel, it was determined that Fox, rather than being violent in any way, was "overfriendly" with his coworkers. The problem with the investigation, Fox says, is that Edsel was never supplied with the violence report he filed. Instead she was armed only with Fiorillo's report. Fox says that when Edsel found out about his report, she began investigating what happened to it. City officials confirm that the more lifeguards Edsel talked to, the more allegations were volunteered against Shoemaker. Soon the investigation was firmly focused on the chief.
"There were a lot of accusations," Carnicella says. "It snowballed."
Carnicella won't say exactly what has been alleged against Shoemaker, but Wayne Snellgrove, another lifeguard, says he's one of the complainants. "Jim Shoemaker has made it his job to make my life miserable," Snellgrove says. "And he's done a pretty good job of it."
Snellgrove says his relationship with Shoemaker went bad last year when Shoemaker pressured him to move into his house while Shoemaker was divorcing his wife. Once Snellgrove moved in, Shoemaker incrementally raised the rent from $350 to more than $700 over a 12-month period. Finally Snellgrove moved out, much to Shoemaker's chagrin. Later, Snellgrove claims, Shoemaker got his revenge by tearing up Snellgrove's glowing job evaluation and writing a new one that disparaged him. Snellgrove says Shoemaker's evaluation cut what was supposed to be a 5 percent raise for Snellgrove in half.