OCEANSIDE: Surf pioneer Emil Sigler turns 100

Not too many 100-year-olds can be found sporting a tattoo of a great white shark, but Emil Sigler has one, in faded blue ink on his left foot.

Though the tattoo's appearance has dulled, Sigler's memories remain sharp. He can still recall in amazing detail his adventures as a pioneer San Diego lifeguard, surfer and commercial fisherman.

Sigler recently celebrated his 100th birthday at an intimate yet boisterous party Saturday at his grandson's Oceanside home. While a live band belted out surf-rock ballads, he sipped beer and sake and held court before a gathering of adoring family members and California beach culture historians.

Nobody famous showed up, unless you count Jane Schmauss, founder of the Oceanside-based California Surf Museum.

"He has the heart of a poet," said Schmauss. "When he's talking, he's able to take you there with him to the sea. Obviously, it is in his blood."

Born to German immigrant parents, Sigler grew up in San Francisco, where he was introduced to the ocean and learned to swim. A local lifeguard, Eddie Kamoku, became Emil's mentor and regaled him with stories of Hawaiian surfers.

When his family moved to San Diego in 1928, Sigler borrowed a 140-pound wooden board from Charlie Wright, San Diego's first surfer, and taught himself how to glide in the waves off Mission Beach.

After being hired as a lifeguard, Sigler became a formidable "waterman," fully skilled in ocean swimming, paddle boarding, free diving and rowing a dory.

He accomplished this despite having vision in just one eye, having lost the use of his right eye in a childhood accident.

Surfers in the 1920s and '30s were a rare breed. At that time, there were perhaps only a few hundred surfers in the entire world, most in Hawaii, California or Australia.

The youngsters who hung out at Mission Beach admired Sigler, but played a cat-and-mouse game with the formidable lifeguard. Sigler nicknamed these latchkey kids and beach rats, "The OB Vandals."

One of the not-so-notorious 'vandals', Kimball Daun of Encinitas, showed up at Sigler's birthday party to pay homage to the iron waterman whom he had idolized.

Also in attendance was Encinitas resident Jack "Woody" Ekstrom, who recalled that Sigler and fellow Mission Beach lifeguard Bill Rumsey "were the tops ---- the No. 1 guys at the beach."

Counting the few silverback surfers of his era at the party, Ekstrom became momentarily emotional.

"I like to keep in touch," he said. "They are family to me."

No one at the party was more effusive than David Aguirre, a San Diego surfer who a decade ago found some photographs at a yard sale that Sigler had taken of beach life the 1930s and '40s.

Aguirre became obsessed by the photos and eventually traced them to Sigler. The two struck up a friendship, and the result was "Waterman's Eye," a 100-page book recounting Sigler's life and how he helped to define and develop California beach culture.

"He's not only a friend. He's like the grandfather I never had," said Aguirre.

Elsa Sigler, Emil's daughter, said she had no clue her father was such a seminal figure in California beach culture until she read Aguirre's biography.

"Growing up, he wasn't one to brag or talk about himself," said Elsa. "He was very low key."

Her most vivid memory of her dad? "Well, he liked to eat ---- a lot," she said.

Interviewing Emil Sigler on his birthday wasn't easy.

Early on, he was preoccupied signing copies of his biography and posing for photos. Later he ate an enormous plate of Mexican food, including carne asada tacos and pinto beans.

When presented with a large sheet cake decorated with an image of him surfing on his wooden board, he said: "Hey, I remember that."

Then he answered the question on everyone's mind.

"No, I never thought I'd make it to 100," he said.

Earlier at the party, he joked with those who huddled close to hear his sage words.

"Next, I'm gonna go for 200," he said, eliciting chuckles and smiles.

But folks noticed that he said it without a wink.