Their blue haven

In these last days of summer, the dazzling turquoise water welcomes all.

This is not a leisurely afternoon at the club or the Y or the backyard pool. This is a public pool, and as good as it gets in this gritty neighborhood of apartment buildings and small houses on small lots. As gorgeous as it is, it is not an oasis for grown men and women silently doing laps to stay in shape. This is a place for loud, happy children to play.

And they pay nothing.

Southern California has more private swimming pools than any other region, but few can be found in this low-income neighborhood near Manchester and Hoover in South-Central Los Angeles. For children who live around here, about 11 miles from LAX, a public pool may provide the only chance to feel the sun on their backs as they swim.

“It’s like our own personal resort,” pool director Kenneth Brown says.

Big and beautiful and hidden deep in the park behind the basketball court, it looks like one.

“We check the chlorine level three times a day,” pool manager and lifeguard Sean Welch says, “to make sure the water is crystal blue.”

It is.

The temperature is kept between 76 and 82 degrees. “Not too cold,” he says, “and not too warm.”

The Algin Sutton pool is one of 35 seasonal pools operated this summer by the Los Angeles Department of Recreation and Parks. Six remained closed for major repairs, but this pool has already benefited from two major renovations.

“I actually swam in this pool back in the day when it had a big lion’s head that protruded into the pool,” says Andre Brent, referring to a fountain that was removed during a makeover. He grew up in the city aquatic program and now supervises four public pools, including this one.

On a recent weekday morning, the number of swimmers is well under the capacity of 375, and Brent explains why.

“There are a lot of year-round schools,” he says. Because the traditional September to June calendar can’t accommodate all students, a large group goes back to public school in July.

So on this morning, before the kids from day camp and child care arrive, about three dozen children have this pool to themselves -- all 50 feet by 150 feet, all 216,000 gallons of water.

Only one, 10-year-old Deborah Vines, swims in deep water, in the center of the pool. “I like to get in the water,” she says before taking a running leap.

“Deborah really learned how to swim this summer,” says Welch, who is also an instructor. “She learned the backstroke, how to tread water, how to breathe, how to swim back and forth the length of the pool. She went from beginner to advanced.”

Wearing an aqua two-piece swimming suit, she swims freestyle, while lifeguard Warren Roberts encourages her. Working on stamina and endurance, she crosses the width of the pool 10 times. Flipping over, she does the backstroke, her favorite because her face is not in the water. Playfully, she heads to a shallow end, where she sprays her younger brothers, Devon, 9, Eugene, 6, and Gregory, 5, who are also at the pool for swimming lessons.

Holding red and blue kickboards, the two youngest boys keep their heads out of water as they glide toward lifeguard Julio Pozuelos. “C’mon, kick, kick, there you go,” he says as four brown legs and feet slosh about. “Keep your legs straight. You’re not tired, are you?”

Devon joins his sister, who is practicing the breaststroke.

The children are here with their caregiver, Zakiyah Jeelan. Wearing neon-green goggles, she’s in the pool with them, even though she can’t swim, because an adult must accompany children under 7.

“We swim all summer long. They really like it. It really calms them down,” she says. “It’s really important for children to learn how to swim. You don’t know what kind of situation they’re going to encounter in life.”

She wishes more youngsters would swim here. “I know if our kids have things to do,” she says, “they don’t get in trouble.”

Still, she likes the pool best when it’s nearly empty.

“When all the children are here,” she says, “it’s crazy.”

Like late afternoon, when the year-round schools let out. Children come from Manchester Avenue Elementary, which is next door, and from middle schools Bret Harte and Bethune. And on a hot weekend, as many as 300 children pack the pool.

No one has needed to be rescued this summer, says Brown, the director. And there has been no trouble, no problems with gangs.

Algin Sutton may be an inner-city pool, but it has an illustrious history. Actress Esther Williams swam here as a child, when the pool opened in 1931, on her way to becoming Hollywood’s star mermaid.

When Brown learns that, he asks his deputy, Welch, if he knows who she is.

“Black-and-white movies. I’ve heard of her,” Welch says.

The city’s summer pool season is scheduled to end today, although the lifeguards and youngsters hope it will be extended through the hot days of September to mid-October, like last year.

On one of her last days of freedom before she starts the fifth grade at Cornerstone, a church-affiliated school, Deborah Vines cuts through the broad expanse of sparkling water.