Why New York City’s lifeguard shortage is even worse this year

As New York City’s 14 miles of public beaches open for Memorial Day weekend, the city is facing its worst ever lifeguard shortage — something officials say is partly the result of a bitter battle between the city and the little-known but extremely powerful unions that represent lifeguards.

Millions of New Yorkers face the prospect of partial beach closures and limited access to swimming pools when they open next month. Parks Department officials say they currently have fewer than 500 lifeguards ready to work, about a third of the number they say is needed to fully staff beaches and pools.

The lifeguard shortage, which also stems from perennial problems such as low salaries, a difficult qualification test and a pandemic-induced slowdown in the lifeguard pipeline, follows months of off-season maneuvering between city officials and an obscure pair of local lifeguards.

It’s a stubborn and bizarre union beef that stands out even in a city full of them and one that has left town — locked into collective bargaining with union officials to negotiate a new contract — blaming the unions for leaving workers understaffed. important swimming spots.

The unions have a troubled past marked by sordid headlines, investigations and damning government reports. But they effectively monitor all lifeguard operations, right down to determining who is eligible to work each summer.

Lifeguard coverage is critical in New York City, where beaches and pools are some of the only sources of relief for crowds of often inexperienced swimmers from sweltering neighborhoods with few public bathing facilities.

An inability to swim and the dangerous surf can be a fatal combination, especially in places like the Rockaways, where the ocean beaches have dangerous rip currents that often prove deadly, especially in the evening hours after lifeguards are off duty.

Last summer, amid a nationwide shortage of lifeguards, the city had 529 lifeguards by the time public outdoor pools opened in late June, but it continued to certify lifeguards to 900 through early July.

This year, only 480 lifeguards have been on duty so far, including 280 returning guards and 200 new recruits, park officials said. They are rushing to add more before the pools open.

By comparison, in 2016, the city hired nearly 1,500 lifeguards. Even in 2021, there were just over 1,000.

Park officials said they would still be able to complete the usual eight-hour days at pools and beaches, and expected a late wave of returning lifeguards in early July, when summer crowds begin to peak. But swimmers can expect partial closures.

To kick-start recruiting for this summer, park officials had introduced incentives such as pay raises and retention bonuses, and facilitated the notoriously difficult swim test. Advertisements were placed in public high schools, job fairs and bus shelters.

Two city officials who asked for anonymity to discuss private negotiations said their recruiting efforts had been met with obstructive tactics by union leaders, who canceled meetings and insisted on communicating primarily by fax.

But Thea Setterbo, a spokeswoman for District Council 37, disputed the city’s negative claims.

She said lifeguard totals — reduced by the national shortage and not labor unrest — would surpass last year’s numbers within weeks, especially as returning students become certified.

“Our members have a common goal, to keep the beaches staffed and the public safe,” she said. “The fact that we have had no drownings in eight years proves that our lifeguards are doing their jobs efficiently and maintaining safety standards that have been in place for decades.”

The shortage has given oxygen to perennial union critics and their persistent claim that union leaders run lifeguard operations based on favoritism and revenge.

One of them, Janet Fash, 63, a longtime head lifeguard in the Rockaways, said union leaders had a unique gatekeeper role that has kept them in power.

“It’s a shame that the union has such a stranglehold on the whole operation,” said Ms. Fashion. “It’s dysfunctional. They make it so hard for people to reaffirm that lifeguards are disgusted and just leave.”

Ms. Fash said: “As long as the lifeguard school is run by the union, which uses it to maintain its power and as a tool of retaliation, you will have shortages.”

Although the lifeguard program falls under the jurisdiction of the park, it has long been run almost autonomously by the leaders of two local residents: Local 461 for regular lifeguards and Local 508 for supervisors.

The locals, who are part of District Council 37, the city’s largest municipal union, wield excessive power over training, certifying, and even assigning and supervising lifeguards.

Henry A. Garrido, executive director of District Council 37, dismissed Ms. Fash’s criticisms as tirades from a disgruntled dissident.

He praised the union’s stewardship, saying a major reason for the problem was that park officials were having their “worst year ever” bringing back guards from previous years, largely due to salary issues.

By the time some contractual matters were resolved and park officials announced lifeguard increases in early April — hourly wages for newer lifeguards rose from $16.10 to $21.26, with a $1,000 bonus for those who stay after mid-August — many returning guards were already looking for better-paying jobs on beaches and pools outside the city, Mr. Garrido said.

“Before Covid, 500 lifeguards would return,” he said. “This year you have about half.”

When asked about the unions, a spokeswoman for the park declined to comment on the record. But in a statement, the agency’s first deputy commissioner, Iris Rodriguez-Rosa, noted its “extensive recruiting efforts” and said it was “doing everything it could to attract new lifeguards.”

Relations between the unions and the city have long been fraught. But park officials’ efforts to gain more control over some aspects of operations appear to have worsened the already difficult working relationship, likely leaving the city well short of its goal of staffing beaches and pools with 1,400 lifeguards.

The idea of ​​a powerful lifeguard union may seem contradictory to the job’s place in the public imagination: a strange image of teens in swimsuits working for pocket money and free time to surf. But leaders of the city’s local population are leading a brutal operation.

The unions have been investigated over the years by the city’s comptroller and public attorney, who in 1994 described a culture of corruption based in part on a months-long undercover investigation at the lifeguard school.

In 2021, the city Research Department found “the structure, history and culture of the Lifeguard Division reveals systemic dysfunction in management and accountability.”

At the center of it all is the enigmatic union boss Peter Stein, who heads the supervisors’ union, but also holds sway over the local lifeguard.

Mr. Stein, who did not respond to requests for comment, has survived decades of headlines, scandals and investigations about union oversight, training and hiring.

a Article in New York Magazine in 2020director Darren Aronofsky’s production company adapts now in a television series, described the history of the union as a “Tammany Hall by the Sea” from which Mr. Stein ran things according to a “playbook of patronage, power brokerage and intimidation”.

The city had begun trying to bring union officials to the table in November to discuss the contract, including hiring issues, the two city officials said. But the union repeatedly agreed to meetings only to cancel them and finally sat down to negotiate on Jan. 12, officials said. The union also caused delays in recertifying lifeguards, the officials said.

The shortfall has defied park officials’ attempts to smooth over a certification process that has come under criticism.

Parks officials had been trying to attract more new guards this summer by simplifying the rigorous test prospective lifeguards must pass to qualify for the 16-week, 40-hour training.

The test eliminates many potential recruits largely due to the 50-meter dive, which historically had to end in 35 seconds.

Faced with high failure rates — only about 26 percent of 900 applicants passed the test last year — and complaints from applicants, park officials extended the eligibility time for this summer’s applicants to 45 seconds.

They also pushed for more transparency by requiring applicants to be notified of their swim times, rather than just whether they passed or failed.

Howard Carswell, a former rescue diver with the city’s police department, said his 16-year-old son, a competitive swimmer, withdrew from lifeguard training this year because the officers supervising it were surly and “generally the kids who tried the certificate gave a difficult time.”

He said his son had chosen to spend the summer as a lifeguard at a lake in the state, for better pay.

“It wasn’t worth the annoyance,” he said. “It was just a generally depressing environment for kids who want to be lifeguards in New York City.”