For most New Yorkers, Labor Day marks the end of the beach season, slamming the door shut on summer and shooing the crowds back to work and school.
But for some, the holiday marks the beginning of the choicest time on New York City’s beaches.
“We call September prime time,” said Dennis Sendek, as he prepared to take a dip in the ocean on a weekday when the sea gulls outnumbered the beachgoers on Rockaway Beach, in Queens.
“The water is primo right now,” said Mr. Sendek, 59, of Kew Gardens, who has been a Rockaway Beach regular for 40 years, the past 17 spent in the company of a group of avid beachgoers who call themselves the Rocka-Pulco crew, adding a touch of jet-set glamour to the urban beach in the shadow of high rises and housing projects.
The crew is one of a number of groups around the city determined to pursue an endless summer, or at least stretch it well past the first days of fall, despite the city’s official policy of closing all the beaches to swimming after Labor Day. The lifeguards might be gone, and the concession stands steadily curtailing their hours, but these enthusiasts refuse to cede the beachfront.
There are the Russian locals at Brighton Beach who swim all winter long, and the fishermen who hold sway on Coney Island’s Steeplechase Pier. There is also the Wall Gang at Orchard Beach, an extended family of longtime Bronx residents who hang out on the boardwalk, sunbathing and listening to music. As their name implies, they are not much for the sand and swimming, preferring to mingle around the benches on the promenade, grooving to Latin music and dance tunes from the 1970s and ’80s blasted from a large radio placed on the wall along the promenade.
“We’re unified by the music,” said Charlie Ojeda, 51, a sanitation worker from Co-op City who has come just about daily for the past eight years. “We’re a bunch of friends who are like family.”
Jack Valencia, 53, a personal trainer from City Island and a longtime regular, said there was only rule for joining the group: “You have to like music and be positive.”
“If you just lean against the wall and don’t shake hands, we don’t want you,” he said with a laugh.
As with the Wall Gang, the Rocka-Pulco crew has no official membership. Many regulars come almost daily, as long as the sun is out which, given the run of summery weather after Labor Day, has been often this season.
“You can come here anytime and there’s always someone here,” said Mr. Sendek recently at the group’s usual location near Beach 84th Street, down by the water and marked by an American flag in the sand.
The group regards September and October as the best beach months of the year, with crowds gone, heat and humidity easing and the water at its warmest. There is no more traffic or fighting for parking spots. Surfing and fishing conditions improve, and there are even whale and dolphin sightings.
The city’s parks department prohibits swimming after Labor Day, a rule that is enforced by its officers and the city’s Police Department, though somewhat intermittently, which means devoted beachgoers have little trouble going undetected into the water. Disobeying the no-swimming regulation could result in a $50 summons, which could increase to $200 if not paid on time.
In the absence of lifeguards, the group brings its own lifesaving equipment: a pair of red rescue buoys that group members say they have used to save swimmers.
Rocka-Pulco has been around for about 20 years, with some core regulars, as well as others who have drifted in and out over time. These days, there are perhaps 40, mostly working-class members, who are retirees or night-shift workers.
Most members of the Rocka-Pulco group live in Queens and brag about their quick access to the beach by car. They’ll keep up their daily routine, which includes smoking cigars for the men and playing Scrabble for the women, usually through the end of October, when the water temperature drops below 58 degrees; Mr. Sendek brings a pool thermometer to keep track. The group continues to socialize during the winter, indoors, with house parties, including an annual swimsuits-only shindig in February. Then there are the New Year’s Day dips in the ocean.
In the Bronx, some members of the Wall Gang are even more devoted. Though the group does dwindle after Thanksgiving, a few dedicated sun worshipers gather near the snack bar, out of the wind, and soak up the rays all winter.
“The snow can be covering the park benches and you still have people out here,” said Manny Perez, 65, a retired electrician from the Bronx. “At least you don’t need a cooler for your beer.” Mr. Perez said the group has been around at least since he was a teenager hanging out by the wall.
Rocka-Pulco members eschew vacations except in the winter, since good attendance is crucial to one’s standing in the group. Consider Bobby Stack, 55, of Middle Village, who earned his nickname, “Bobby Beach,” by showing up most days for 25 years. Then a string of absences led to a stripping of his nickname “until he earned it back” by returning faithfully, Mr. Sendek said.
And just showing up isn’t enough. “You have to go in the water or it doesn’t count,” said Mr. Sendek.
Tom Syron, 65, of Woodhaven, a retired Verizon worker, takes a slow daily swim for about an hour. He was struck last September by a motorboat and badly cut by its propeller, necessitating hospitalization and stitches, he said. But he was back swimming a month later.
Kim Russo, 49, a Queens native, spends winters in Florida but logs many more beach days during summers at Rockaway Beach with the group because of the camaraderie, she said. “The water in Florida is prettier but it’s more fun here.”
Many members come without their spouses, who lack the same enthusiasm for the beach.
Mr. Sendek, a retired National Grid worker, said he showed up six days a week, much to the consternation of his wife, Susan. He called her on his cellphone and then handed the phone over.
“These guys are crazy,” Ms. Sendek said. “They go to the beach obsessively. They don’t take a day off. I live with sand in the bed every night.”
Mr. Sendek laughed and pulled out his pool thermometer. The water was 76 degrees.
“About time for another dip,” he said, and headed down to the still-summery sea.
But for some, the holiday marks the beginning of the choicest time on New York City’s beaches.
“We call September prime time,” said Dennis Sendek, as he prepared to take a dip in the ocean on a weekday when the sea gulls outnumbered the beachgoers on Rockaway Beach, in Queens.
“The water is primo right now,” said Mr. Sendek, 59, of Kew Gardens, who has been a Rockaway Beach regular for 40 years, the past 17 spent in the company of a group of avid beachgoers who call themselves the Rocka-Pulco crew, adding a touch of jet-set glamour to the urban beach in the shadow of high rises and housing projects.
The crew is one of a number of groups around the city determined to pursue an endless summer, or at least stretch it well past the first days of fall, despite the city’s official policy of closing all the beaches to swimming after Labor Day. The lifeguards might be gone, and the concession stands steadily curtailing their hours, but these enthusiasts refuse to cede the beachfront.
There are the Russian locals at Brighton Beach who swim all winter long, and the fishermen who hold sway on Coney Island’s Steeplechase Pier. There is also the Wall Gang at Orchard Beach, an extended family of longtime Bronx residents who hang out on the boardwalk, sunbathing and listening to music. As their name implies, they are not much for the sand and swimming, preferring to mingle around the benches on the promenade, grooving to Latin music and dance tunes from the 1970s and ’80s blasted from a large radio placed on the wall along the promenade.
“We’re unified by the music,” said Charlie Ojeda, 51, a sanitation worker from Co-op City who has come just about daily for the past eight years. “We’re a bunch of friends who are like family.”
Jack Valencia, 53, a personal trainer from City Island and a longtime regular, said there was only rule for joining the group: “You have to like music and be positive.”
“If you just lean against the wall and don’t shake hands, we don’t want you,” he said with a laugh.
As with the Wall Gang, the Rocka-Pulco crew has no official membership. Many regulars come almost daily, as long as the sun is out which, given the run of summery weather after Labor Day, has been often this season.
“You can come here anytime and there’s always someone here,” said Mr. Sendek recently at the group’s usual location near Beach 84th Street, down by the water and marked by an American flag in the sand.
The group regards September and October as the best beach months of the year, with crowds gone, heat and humidity easing and the water at its warmest. There is no more traffic or fighting for parking spots. Surfing and fishing conditions improve, and there are even whale and dolphin sightings.
The city’s parks department prohibits swimming after Labor Day, a rule that is enforced by its officers and the city’s Police Department, though somewhat intermittently, which means devoted beachgoers have little trouble going undetected into the water. Disobeying the no-swimming regulation could result in a $50 summons, which could increase to $200 if not paid on time.
In the absence of lifeguards, the group brings its own lifesaving equipment: a pair of red rescue buoys that group members say they have used to save swimmers.
Rocka-Pulco has been around for about 20 years, with some core regulars, as well as others who have drifted in and out over time. These days, there are perhaps 40, mostly working-class members, who are retirees or night-shift workers.
Most members of the Rocka-Pulco group live in Queens and brag about their quick access to the beach by car. They’ll keep up their daily routine, which includes smoking cigars for the men and playing Scrabble for the women, usually through the end of October, when the water temperature drops below 58 degrees; Mr. Sendek brings a pool thermometer to keep track. The group continues to socialize during the winter, indoors, with house parties, including an annual swimsuits-only shindig in February. Then there are the New Year’s Day dips in the ocean.
In the Bronx, some members of the Wall Gang are even more devoted. Though the group does dwindle after Thanksgiving, a few dedicated sun worshipers gather near the snack bar, out of the wind, and soak up the rays all winter.
“The snow can be covering the park benches and you still have people out here,” said Manny Perez, 65, a retired electrician from the Bronx. “At least you don’t need a cooler for your beer.” Mr. Perez said the group has been around at least since he was a teenager hanging out by the wall.
Rocka-Pulco members eschew vacations except in the winter, since good attendance is crucial to one’s standing in the group. Consider Bobby Stack, 55, of Middle Village, who earned his nickname, “Bobby Beach,” by showing up most days for 25 years. Then a string of absences led to a stripping of his nickname “until he earned it back” by returning faithfully, Mr. Sendek said.
And just showing up isn’t enough. “You have to go in the water or it doesn’t count,” said Mr. Sendek.
Tom Syron, 65, of Woodhaven, a retired Verizon worker, takes a slow daily swim for about an hour. He was struck last September by a motorboat and badly cut by its propeller, necessitating hospitalization and stitches, he said. But he was back swimming a month later.
Kim Russo, 49, a Queens native, spends winters in Florida but logs many more beach days during summers at Rockaway Beach with the group because of the camaraderie, she said. “The water in Florida is prettier but it’s more fun here.”
Many members come without their spouses, who lack the same enthusiasm for the beach.
Mr. Sendek, a retired National Grid worker, said he showed up six days a week, much to the consternation of his wife, Susan. He called her on his cellphone and then handed the phone over.
“These guys are crazy,” Ms. Sendek said. “They go to the beach obsessively. They don’t take a day off. I live with sand in the bed every night.”
Mr. Sendek laughed and pulled out his pool thermometer. The water was 76 degrees.
“About time for another dip,” he said, and headed down to the still-summery sea.
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