Much has changed through the years at Doheny State Beach – sand space is shrinking, palm trees have toppled, the surf breaks have shifted.

But one constant on the sand: the landmark lifeguard towers.

A change in the tower numbers by State Parks recently stirred strong feelings from locals who are petitioning to keep the tower numbers the way they had been for decades.

“Change is inevitable,” said Mike Foster, owner of Killer Dana Surf Shop and creator of the petition. “But there’s some things that keep this our home.”

The tower renumbering project was initiated last year to “reduce operational inefficiencies and increase overall public safety effectiveness,” State Parks Superintendent Todd Lewis said an email.

It’s a pilot project and resolves several issues, he said. Every tower in the south sector – Doheny, San Clemente and San Onofre state beaches – will have a numbering series specific to its location.

Especially bothered are groups who have for years gathered at Tower 7 and Tower 12. They recently came together to talk about the rich history and memorable moments at those towers.

Foster has been hanging at Tower 7 for decades, since he was a kid, he said, and started surfing at the spot just south of the campgrounds.

His dad had an auto shop next to the Mexican restaurant across the street and he’d sneak in through a hole in the fence, he said. “I cut my teeth surfing there, took my kids there.”

When people move away from the area and come back to a tower bearing the number they remember when they were kids, it gives a sense of comfort, he said.

“It almost makes them feel like they are not home,” Foster said of the changed numbers, with Tower 7 now becoming Tower 33. “People have a place in their heart for that spot, and renaming the towers makes it feel like it’s not home anymore.”

Old-timers remember an iconic surf break that formed in front of Tower 7 after big storms sent sand offshore in the ’70s, making a punchy beach break that rivaled Salt Creek.

Parties were held there decades ago, including a fundraiser, “Palms Not Bombs,” that brought all the palm trees to the area. It was $20 a head, which included donations for the trees and all you could drink from beer kegs. Those trees are now mostly gone due to sand erosion and storms that have battered the area.

“We have had so many changes going on already,” Foster said. “This is somewhere people can remember their roots, friendships.”

Up the beach at Tower 12, others are grappling with similar emotions seeing their beloved tower renumbered as 36.

Surfers who have gathered there for decades are known as the “Tower 12 crew,” a tight-knit group who formed friendships on the sand, gathering often for potlucks and surf sessions.

David Olive was one of the original Tower 12 surfers who started hanging out there, near the volleyball nets and the lifeguard headquarters, about 20 years ago.

“It’s a place to come together. We share everything, our personal lives. We like to break bread together, we eat a lot,” he said. “We surf together and we keep an eye out for each other. And that’s important.”

Two of the Tower 12 members have had heart attacks right in front of the blue tower, now a place they remember as the spot they got a second chance at life.

“Time is of the essence,” Olive noted, saying the surfers are still alive because first responders knew exactly where to go based on the longstanding tower numbers.  “Who knows, I might go sideways in the water. I hope my friends are there and I want that landmark there too, not only as a memory, but also so people know how to get there.”

Jay Haslett is one of the surfers who had a heart attack last year right next to Tower 12. He had just finished surfing and was on the sand when his breathing became labored. Nearby first responders rushed to him as friends called for help.

“Seconds matter,” Haslett reiterated.

Olive, once a State Parks employee, said new lifeguards are often locals who also grew up with the current number system and he worries changing them will cause confusion.

“This all comes down to public safety,” he said. “It’s super important. It’s going to throw them off. It doesn’t make sense.”

State Parks Superintendent Lewis said the previous system had multiple towers within the sector that had the same number, which also risked confusion for responding resources.  Also, he said there were some adjacent jurisdictions with the same tower number as the State Parks’ lifeguard towers further adding to the chances of confusion.

“The new system allows us to add or reduce towers to our operation without the need to renumber every tower in the sector,” he said.

“Some towers in our previous model were identified by name and did not have an associated tower number,” he said. “Having towers identified sequentially by number allows other agencies to identify the location of each lifeguard tower in their computer-aided dispatch more effectively.”

But, Mark Hansen met his wife at Tower 7 while she was sunbathing and he was playing horseshoes. They went to dinner that night and 37 years later are still on that first date, he said.

“I can’t imagine it being gone, it’s just silly they are going to do it,” he said. “There’s so many memories.”

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April Kailani, who on a recent day took a petition around to gather signatures, talked about the rich history that needs to be preserved. Tower 12 was once called “Pops,” after Pop Proctor, an early State Parks lifeguard and waterman in the ’40s.

Not only does she want to see the towers turned back, but hopes to get a plaque put in place in his honor.

“That man’s memory needs to stay alive,” she said. “It’s surf culture and history.”

The number changes started a few weeks ago will be compete before towers are put back on the beach for the busy season. Foster said he plans to present the petition to State Parks officials by the end of the month.