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Makaha International, 1958

Behind the scenes at the Makaha International Surfing Championships in 1958


August 14th, 2010  · John Lind Collection

The temperature in Honolulu rose to 86 degrees on August 19, 1958, but it probably seemed hotter as members of the International Surfing Championship Committee began arriving at the old Pearl City police station for their first planning meeting looking ahead to the next annual event at Makaha, considered the premier and most prestigious surfing contest in the world at the time.
Members of the committee represented the event’s co-sponsors, the Waikiki Surf Club and the Waianae Lions Club. The groups had worked together on the annual event for five years. In 1958, the committee’s chair was Waianae Lion’s president, William Jackman, who had come to Hawaii twenty years earlier and was stationed at Wheeler Army Airfield. He later became a senior civil service employee at Hickam Air Force Base.
Fireworks started as soon as Jackman called the meeting to order and announced the Lions had a proposal. He passed a copy of a written statement to Waikiki Surf Club president John Lind, then asked another Lion, David Klausmeyer, to read the prepared statement.
Klausmeyer announce the Lions had voted to withdraw as co-sponsors and instead take over and put on the event on their own.
The statement began by pleading inexperience and their own failure to follow rules established by the Internaional Association of Lions Clubs, which were described as “strongly opposed to any Lions Club co-sponsoring any project with another organization.”
But the Lions’ statement also cited “other pressures beyond our control,” which were not specified. One clue might be the reference to an interest in “fair unbiased competition”, possibly alluding to criticism already being heard from Austalian and California surfers who went home saying the local judges were biased in favor of Hawaiian surfers.
The Lions offered to turn the event back over to the surf club if, in the future, the Lions were unable to continue.
The Lions did not disclose that, prior to this meeting, they had already applied on their own for a permit from the city to use the Makaha Beach area for the event.
Lind, speaking on behalf of the Waikiki Surf Club, said he was shocked by the proposal and had no choice but to flatly reject it and, instead, accept the Lions’ decision to withdraw co-sponsor, minutes of the meeting show.
After a brief private meeting, the WSC members announced their official decision to reject the proposal and instead “carry on the project alone.”
During an open discussion that followed, Klausmeyer claimed the idea of the Makaha championships had originated with the Lions Club. This was quickly challenged by WSC members, who said the idea was originally floated by Lind, during an invited presentation to the Waianae Lions about the organization of the Waikiki Surf Club.
Following the meeting, the WSC executive committee immediately moved to register the Makaha event name, negotiate the beach permit with the city, and assigning responsibilities for everything from security to food to judging, pushing ahead without their former co-sponsor.
On September 20, 1958, Lind wrote Jackman to confirm that the Lions were now out of the picture and to “arrange an early impeccable settlement with the Waianae Lions Club in connection with all the property relating to the project which we at present jointly own.”
Operating on a tight timeline, Lind said the program had been set for the weekends of November 22-23 and November 29-30.
Jackman responded with a request for a joint audit of the finances by the treasurers of the groups, and the audit was quickly set in motion.
What is most striking, from today’s perspective, is how little equipment and money was held after putting on the event for five years. There was $494.54 in the bank as of October 12, 1958, along with three umbrellas for judges, 20 event vests, 18 judges shirts and hats, and 13 souvenir shirts. Total current value of these items was estimated at $72.76.
The accounting also notes that Chinn Ho has not followed through with a donation promised in 1957, and had advised he would not contribute more than $250.
Ho had been a backer of the Makaha Championships from the beginning, apparently believing that the public attention and news coverage would increase the worth of his land holdings in the area.
The partnership between the two organizations officially came to an end on October 22, 1958, when a check for $247.27 was sent to the Lions Club from the championships account and another $82.12 from the Waikiki Surf Club “in full settlement of International Surfing Championships funds and property.”
Documents of these events can be viewed in pdf format.

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Donald Takayama

Glenn Sakamoto interviewed legendary surfer and shaper Donald Takayama for Liquid Salt:


Donald Takayama




Don­ald Takayama is a leg­endary surfer/shaper born in Hawaii. After work­ing with Dale Velzy at the age of 11, Don­ald quickly became a world-renowned shaper as well as a top ranked surf­ing com­peti­tor. Over the last six decades, he has men­tored such surf­ing greats as David Nuuhiwa, Joel Tudor, and Kas­sia Meador. We spoke with Don­ald to learn more about his amaz­ing life.


What was it like grow­ing up?

We lived in Hon­olulu sur­rounded by the Pacific Ocean. Grow­ing up in Hawaii back in the day – it was nice and mel­low. The ocean was where we found our recre­ation. We would go fish­ing or find shells. Then we got into rid­ing waves.

Tell us about what attracted you to surf­ing

Surf­ing was really excit­ing. We would watch the Waikiki Beach Boys ride the waves in, so nat­u­rally we wanted to do the same. But we couldn’t afford it. If you wanted to go surf­ing you’d have to become inno­v­a­tive, cre­ate some­thing – like build­ing your own surf­board. It wasn’t like it is today where – mate­ri­als were sim­ply not avail­able. You really had to scrape the bot­tom or beat the alley­ways to get any­thing. We made paipos out of ply­wood, just so we could ride a wave.



Do you remem­ber the first time you stood up on a board?

Yes. It was on a paipo board. And it was a rush! I said to myself, my God that was fun! I just wanted to catch another one. It was so addict­ing. And you know, it never ceases to end – you are always learn­ing some­thing new.

What does surf­ing mean to you?

Surf­ing has been my life. It’s all I’ve done. It really doesn’t mat­ter how big or small the waves are. When you are out there surf­ing you are really com­pet­ing with your­self. Let’s say you are in a bad mood and you go out surf­ing, you catch one good wave and it makes your whole day – heck, it makes your whole week.

Also you are com­pet­ing with the ele­ments. There are no two waves are alike. So it becomes really chal­leng­ing. And it sim­ply puts a smile on your face when you get that ride. You get one good ride and nat­u­rally you want to try to bet­ter it.



Surf­ing is just there for total enjoy­ment. It gives you peace of mind. Phys­i­cally it’s good and men­tally it keeps you focused. For exam­ple, if you are both­ered by some­thing and you go surf­ing – it’s a release. You can for­get about every­thing. It’s just very, very enjoyable.

What about shap­ing?

Surf­ing is also a design thing. Since I cre­ate things, it’s about the equip­ment I am rid­ing. For dif­fer­ent styles of waves you design dif­fer­ent kinds of boards. You can change the length and make it longer. Or you can change the out­lines, the bot­toms and every­thing else. I design boards for dif­fer­ent types of peo­ple and their surf styles. To be able to build a board that com­ple­ments their rid­ing is very exciting.
When I think about design­ing a board for some­one, it’s a real chal­lenge. Where will they be surf­ing at? What are the con­di­tions? To me, shap­ing is a feat in itself. And I love the feed­back I get from my rid­ers! It’s a real accom­plish­ment and it just keeps going on and on. Luck­ily I’ve been able to make a liv­ing at shap­ing boards. It’s not a money-making thing by any means, but it is very rewarding.



What was Dale Velzy like?

Dale was a haole – but he was alright (laughs). When I started my busi­ness in San Diego, he would always look after me.

He would call me up and ask “Hey small kid, what’s up? How’s every­thing? – okay, good!” and he would hang up the phone. He was just really good peo­ple. I would give the shirt off my back for him. He gave me my first job when I was 13 years old. I would sleep in his fac­tory in a card­board box. He would also come to Hawaii and say “Hey small kid! Let’s go surfing!”

In return, when a cus­tomer would come into my shop and piss me off, I would call up Dale. I would say “Hey, Dale. It’s all your fault!” I would blame him because he started this whole surf­ing indus­try (laughs). He was just a really good per­son. I loved the guy and I miss him.

You were a shaper that was also an accom­plished surfer. Tell us about your com­pe­ti­tion days

Well, I sort of got turned off to com­pet­ing. It got to a point where it didn’t really prove any­thing. I could go into more detail, but I am sav­ing it for a book.



Tell us about your expe­ri­ence with Joel Tudor

Joel took surf­ing a new level. His abil­ity and skills are just phe­nom­e­nal. And he was a really good kid. When he was lit­tle, he used to pull on my trunks and say to me, “Hey, can you make me a board?” I would look at him and say some­thing like, “Oh piss off, kid!” As time went on, I would watch him and he would bring out his log and God, could he ride a long­board well.

Later, when we cre­ated the Ocean­side Long­board Club, it brought together all the old peo­ple back. We would gather and do bar­be­cue and all that. That’s when the long­board resur­gence started. And Joel and his abil­ity, opened the door to what long­board­ing is today. To this day, I wish we could have stuck it out. But then again, everybody’s gotta do their own thing.

What is your rela­tion­ship with Linda Ben­son?

Linda has always been my dear­est friend. I couldn’t have done much with­out her. Over the years she has given me moral sup­port and treated me as a good friend. I just love her to death.



Tell us a lit­tle about some of the peo­ple that ride for you

Well, there is Noah Shimabukuro. He’s like my hanai (adopted son). He really helps me with the design of my boards and he is just a won­der­ful, hum­ble per­son. I wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Kas­sia Meador is one-of-a-kind. She’s not a dreamer. She fol­lows through with her thoughts. And she is very ambi­tious. She doesn’t just sit around and think of things and wait to for it to fall into her lap – she works hard for it. Diane and I are very proud of what she has accomplished.

And then there is also Leah Daw­son, Cori Schu­macher, Kai Sal­las, Melissa Combo, and Chelsea Williams, too. All of these young peo­ple are build­ing futures for them­selves, which I admire. I really look for­ward to see­ing their future.

What’s your most mem­o­rable wave?

That’s really hard to say. You have your good days and bad days. Just like every wave is dif­fer­ent so is every day, so I really can’t say. There might be a day where I do a nice maneu­ver so I’d want to recre­ate it or bet­ter it. It never ceases to stop. I just always want to progress my surfing.



There has been a lot of good waves. And you know, I just want to get another one. But the age thing is creep­ing up. I’m start­ing to slow down. I’m not as agile and quick as when I was 20. But surf­ing still is a lot of fun. Just rid­ing a wave is such a thrill – it’s just bitchin’… it’s fab­u­lous! (laughs)

What are you most proud of?

It’s hard to say. I’m just proud to be here – the surf­ing envi­ron­ment, this lifestyle. I’ve had a lot of friends come and go. But I don’t take life for granted. There is only one life to live and if I had to live it all over again – I would do it all the same way.

What is the most mem­o­rable place you’ve been?

Through surf­ing I’ve got­ten to travel a lot. I’ve been to Europe, the East Coast, South Amer­ica, Aus­tralia, Japan, and back. I’ve got­ten to meet so many nice peo­ple and to learn about so many dif­fer­ent cul­tures. Mostly I’m happy to have been in the mecca of surf­ing – Cal­i­for­nia and Hawaii.

How impor­tant is the Hawai­ian word “aloha” and what does it mean to you?

Aloha is really impor­tant to me. I was brought up with it. To me, it means giv­ing, shar­ing, help­ing one another, and show­ing that you care. It means just try to be on equal level with peo­ple that you meet. That’s aloha.



You’re still stoked…

Yeah, I’m so stoked. For me, it’s really nice to be able to turn some­one on to surf­ing – like the feel­ing I got when I was surf­ing. I can just pass it on to some­body else. And I will be able to enjoy the same thrill and joy that I got out of surfing.

Shar­ing surf­ing with other peo­ple is such an awe­some feel­ing. I get turned on by it. It keeps the stoke going. For exam­ple, some­one comes in the shop and shouts “Don­ald, the board you made me works and the waves are so bitchin’ – let’s go out and ride!” – for me, THAT is the stoke.

Archive pho­tog­ra­phy pro­vided by Steve Wilk­ings. Con­tem­po­rary pho­tog­ra­phy by Glenn Sakamoto.

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Larry Bertlemann

Jason Borte updated his biography of Larry Bertlemann for Surfline, in December 2009. View the original, with images and links, at: Surfline: Larry Bertleman:



Larry Bertlemann (August 7, 1955-)

The Rubberman opened the door. Arriving amid a period of flux, he demonstrated that no limits exist beyond our imagination. He didn't invent the shortboard; he just showed us how to ride it. No one had a greater influence on the way people surf -- from the best in the world on down -- than Larry Bertlemann.

The only son (he has four sisters) of a former survival instructor for the U.S. Air Force, Lawrence Mehau Bertlemann was drawn to adventure at an early age. Born in Hilo, on Hawaii's big island, where his father ran an auto shop, Larry spent his early childhood hunting pigs and fishing with handlines, without so much as a thought on surfing. At age 11, he came to Oahu with his mother, putting Larry in proximity to Waikiki and the forces that would shape his life. "I still remember my first wave at Queens," he reflects. "I rented a board for an hour and stayed out all day. They had to chase me in. Rabbit Kekai was up there yelling at me, but then my mom told him who I was. Our family had a lot of pull at the time -- on both sides of the law, so he left me alone."

Longboards were still all that was known, and Bertlemann borrowed anything he could get his hands on. He eventually found a 9'6" in the bushes and rode it for a month before snapping it. Rather than mend the hulking plank, he glassed a fin on the front half and set out for some serious fun. By this time, school had become a nuisance, so after eighth grade, he dropped out in favor of the beach. The only graduating he was interested in was going from the bunny slopes of Waikiki to the bowl at Ala Moana. Without conforming to the restraints of competition, he experienced success by the early '70s. In the 1972 World Contest in San Diego, he finished third, followed by a victory in the 1973 U.S. Championships. Contrary to advice from his shaper, coach and mentor Ben Aipa, Bertlemann turned professional.

At the time, Gerry Lopez' subtle, Zen-like approach was considered the quintessential style, meshing with the wave being the ultimate goal. But Bertlemann, an avid skateboarder, envisioned translating his land-based repertoire of tricks to the water. "Visualization," he insists, was what separated him from the pack. "A friend of ours used to take Super 8 movies of us, and I would watch them thinking, wow, I could cut that line shorter. Anything is possible. I knew what I wanted to do; I just had to get the boards to do it."

The forward-thinking Aipa was the perfect match, creating wide, short (less than 6-foot) swallowtail and stinger designs that offered Bertlemann total freedom of movement. Always running at top speed and on the verge of spinning out, Bertlemann's low gravity cutbacks, 360s and switchfoot antics were spontaneous, yet completely functional. As he was joined by fellow test pilots Buttons Kaluhiokalani, Mark Liddell and later his cousin Dane Kealoha, Ala Moana and the more rippable North Shore venues became ground zero for progressive surfing.

From the time he was a cheeky grom, hanging out at Sparky's Surf Shop, Bertlemann was interested in design. He shaped his first board inside a friend's house, much to the dismay of the boy's parents. After watching Sparky and working with Aipa, he began shaping regularly, collaborating with Town and Country, George Downing, Hawaiian Pro Designs and others. A driving force in creating the swallowtail, Bertlemann also helped in the revival of ultra-short twin-fins around 1980. Donald Takayama, who runs the Hawaiian Pro Designs label, has a retro Bertlemann model on the market today.

Despite his distaste for the conformity of competition, Bertlemann became one of the most popular and well-paid professionals of the early pro era. He managed to finish in the IPS Top 16 in both 1976 and 1979, but his focus remained on progression and visibility. "I surfed for myself and the public, not for five judges," he insists. "How do you score a maneuver you've never seen before?"

His popularity, including a starring role in Hal Jepsen's 1975 film Super Session and nine cover shots between 1974 and 1984 -- the most of any surfer -- enabled him to attract lucrative endorsements outside the industry. With no managerial assistance, Bertlemann struck deals with Op, Toyota, United Airlines and others, enabling him to dictate his own schedule so long as he remained in the public eye.

Staying visible was simple for a surfer of such caliber, so long as he wanted to. Somewhere during the mid-'80s, Bertlemann vanished from the surfing radar, with rumors of his whereabouts fluctuating wildly. Says Bertlemann, "I wanted to see how the world is without water. I went skysurfing in Arizona, lived in Palm Beach, Florida, on the PGA National Course, but kept my deal with United and Southwest Air so I could go surf in Mexico, Puerto Rico or Rio on the weekends. I've surfed places nobody has ever seen."

Finally, around 1998, his need for speed and adventure got the better of him. The years of bodily abuse from skateboarding, surfing and motorcycle and truck racing resulted in two degenerating discs, leaving the right side of his body paralyzed. He has since regained motion through surgery and therapy, but he is far from the Rubberman of old.

After returning to Oahu, he began tinkering with computers and shaping as much as his body would allow. Twice divorced with three children and as many grandchildren, he never planned for his roots to sink too deep. "Home is wherever you leave your bags," he contended. But in the summer of 2001, he was arrested on robbery and firearms charges and spent the next xx years in jail, resulting in a popular "Free Bert" Campaign of bumper stickers and t-shirts.

Upon his release in xx, Bertlemann began making surfboards again - even forming mass-production deals with Rebel Boards and Santa Cruz. But, ironically, his biggest influence in terms of numbers may be on skateboarding. 2001's award-winning documentary Dogtown and Z-Boys, which chronicles the rise of vert skating begins with names like Tony Alva, Stacy Peralta and Jay Adams trying to take Larry's approach on a wave to streets and parks; they even call their slide-out turns, "Berts."

As for himself, the most progressive surfer of his generation still gets in the water occasionally, but he adds, "Only cruising." Perhaps that's for the best. When asked about alleged contemporary surfing in 2001, he contended, "What they're calling maneuvers, we called mistakes."

-- Jason Borte (updated, December 2009)


Some reflections from Larry Bertlemann at the 2009 ASR show in San Diego, California:



From "Standing Room Only" (Produced by Allan Main and Hugh Thomas in 1978), features Rabbit Bartholemew and Larry Bertlemann:

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1st (USA) National Surfing and Paddleboard Championship, 1938

First National Surfing and Paddleboard Championship
Long Beach, California • November-December 1938
For the past couple of years, Ian Lind -- John Lind's son -- has been posting his dad's photographic archives up on the Net. Recently, Ian "found these yellowed newspaper clippings and related items among my father's papers. They help document the first national surfing champtionship competition held in Long Beach in late 1938. My father, John Lind, was active in both the Long Beach Surfing Club and the Junior Chamber of Commerce, and he sparked the two groups into sponsoring and organizing this event. These tell the story. Click here for photographs of the event."

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Australian Surf Mags, 1961-62

"Australian Surfing Magazines: The First Wave (1961-1962)"

by Peter Bowes, for KURUNGABAA, July 17, 2010


Reprinting a refereed paper presented to the Journalism Education Conference, Griffith University, 29 November – 2 December 2005 by Mr. Paul Scott, School of Design, Communication and Information Technology, The University of Newcastle


Abstract

An editor of a prominent American surfing magazine recently remarked that Australian surfing magazines have ‘reduced themselves from sources of national pride to cleverly packaged smut, pandering to the fantasies of adolescent males,’ (George 2001, p. 148). However, the first wave of Australian surfing magazines campaigned against ‘hooliganism’ and anti-social behaviour, seeking to instill national pride and present the sport favourably so as to attract the attention of the clothing, fashion, and entertainment industries. A trans-Pacific youth phenomenon, surf culture has had a significant impact in Australia and like rock’n’roll in the 1950s, cultural artefacts including movies, music, language and fashion were communicated through specialist magazines. This paper seeks to trace, examine and analyse three Australian surfing magazines that emerged in the period from 1961-1962.


The Californian Connection – Screen Mean – Teen to Screen Clean – Teen

Surfboard riding’s popular imagery and its symbolic association with youth, adventure, individuality, freedom from conformity and freedom of spirit over the past fifty years have provided numerous narrative and aesthetic opportunities for media. The swift rise of surfing’s appeal in popular culture can be traced to the September, 1957 publication of Frederick Kohner’s novel Gidget. The novel was based on stories told to Kohner by his teenage daughter Kathy about a surfing fraternity at Malibu Point in California. The novel sold half a million copies (Warshaw, 2003) and Kohner was subsequently hired by Columbia Pictures to write a script for a film of the novel. The film Gidget was released in March 1959 and was so commercially triumphant that there were sequels and television series created for the next three decades. Gabbard writes (2000, p. 33) that to the ‘chagrin of surfers suddenly having to share waves with the hordes, and to the delight of those who would create business out of surfing, Gidget lured inland America to the beach.’ Pezman notes (cited in Kampion, 1997, p.73) the film directed mainstream attention to surfing at ‘a time when it was ready to accommodate new interest thanks to foam, wetsuits and accessibility.’ Australian surf media entrepreneur Bob Evans argues (1967, p.23) that after Gidget’s mainstream success, the awakening of interest in surfing ‘overnight became a raging psychadalic [sic] giant.’

Surfing provided a timely and convenient backdrop for remapping wholesome depictions of American youth that had been hijacked and derailed by the rash of juvenile delinquent films of the 1950s such as The Wild One (1954), Blackboard Jungle (1955) and Rebel Without a Cause (1955). Doherty (2002) reminds us that juvenile delinquency was a national preoccupation in the 1950s and FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover had claimed that the domestic menace of delinquency was second only to Communism as a threat to the American way of life.

Wedged between the ‘mean-teen’ films and anti-establishment and counter-cultural films such as Hallucination Generation (1966), The Hooked Generation (1968), Psych Out (1968) and Easy Rider (1969) were more than two dozen Hollywood sand and surf (or beach party) films that caricatured surfing. Examples of such films included Beach Party (1963), Muscle Beach Party (1964), How to Stuff a Wild Bikini (1965) and Beach Blanket Bingo (1965). Lueras writes (1984, p.127) that the ‘plots woven into those early Hollywood ‘surfing movies’ were unbearably thin.’ Kampion points out (1997, p.74) that none of these films ‘captured anything remotely real about the people and the sport. But because of their success, every year there were thousands of new surfers buying boards and wetsuits.’ Indeed, the success of the films fostered other forms of popular culture, such as the music of the Beach Boys, that exploited a nexus with surfing.

The existence of these low-budget Hollywood surf and sand films owe a legacy to the Californian cult success of the early fifties’ non-fictional films about surfing that helped develop a subculture through the celebration and exploration of a shared experience at independent screenings. There were surfing ‘home movies’ created by Californians including Dr John Ball, John Larronde and Don James in the 1930s, but they were not intended to be profitable as were the films of the fifties made by filmmakers such as Bud Browne, Greg Noll and John Severson. The commercial success of the surf movies of the 1950s stimulated further demand for commodities that might be used to signify some association with surfing and the films helped to transform the individual, physical act of surfboard riding into a communal or ‘tribal’ experience that could be symbolically celebrated out of the water and away from the beach. George claims (2001, p.8) surfers of the early 1960s were ‘a tribe yearning to be brought together.’ According to Carroll (1991, p.208), surf movies were one of the ‘few reasons surfers would gather in public off the beach.

Commenting on the surf films from the 1950s, Carroll writes (1992, p.208) that ‘[F]ew of the movies were any good, either in film quality or structure, but that was hardly the point... They were communication – first between Hawaii and California, then between California and Australia, then all over the world.’ While they were most certainly a type of communication that cemented common interests among surfers in Hawaii, California and Australia, the film events in halls and school auditoriums were, as George argues (2001, p.8), ‘too fleeting, too ephemeral, to galvanise a generation.’

A number of other United States surf filmmakers including Californian trio Bruce Brown (who would direct surfing’s most widely known film, The Endless Summer (1966)), big-wave pioneer Greg Noll and art teacher John Severson emerged in the period from 1953 until Gidget premiered in 1959. Brown released Slippery When Wet in 1957 and Noll released Search for Surf in the same year. Severson, who had commercial success with the film Surf in 1958, released Surf Safari in 1959. Severson viewed Surf Safari as ‘the first surf movie’ because it contained ‘continuity, a score, sound effects, animation and optical effects’ (Severson, 1985, p.110). Severson realised that surfing and its associated commodities were becoming of interest to those who came to see his films. Severson wrote (1985, p.110) that he noticed an immediate demand for any type of surfing paraphernalia and artefacts and saw that ‘surfers would devour any image of wave or surfer. Posters had to be behind glass to last an hour’. Despite its Polynesian origins, surfing was becoming intrinsically linked with white middle class youth and consumerism. Surfing’s links with globalisation, tourism, nationalism, individualism and masculinity would also emerge as dominant discourses in the developing subculture.

In 1960, Severson released his third film, Surf Fever. To promote the film, he organised Parker and Son Printers in Los Angeles to print a 36-page, black and white promotional booklet called The Surfer. Severson set a wholesale price of one dollar per unit and arranged for a print run of 10 000 copies in a unique horizontal format, which Warshaw (1996) claims was unbelievably ambitious for a start-up project in 1960. He took a few new photographs for The Surfer, but mostly used frames from his film stock. The magazine contained only two articles. ‘Malibu Lizards’ was a fictional piece and ‘Surfing for Beginners’ was instructional. There was a photo of a man looking at the surf dressed in a women’s knee-length fur coat and Mad Magazine’s Alfred E. Neuman made an appearance. The Surfer immediately combined a flair for innovation and irreverence with conservatism. Early editions contained none of the sections that would later become the staple of the magazine such as letters, contest reports, editorials, travel reports or interviews with surfers. Severson later noted (cited in Gault-Williams, 2003) that he had ‘problems with distribution, mailing, personnel, taxes, printing, finances, politics, competition, advertising pressure, ad infinitum . . .’ While Warshaw notes (2003, p. xiv) at least three Southern-Californian surf magazines were founded in 1960, only The Surfer would continue beyond that year

Assembling particular photos thematically and writing captions, Severson sold 12 advertisements (two full-page at $400 each and 10 partial pages). Warshaw notes (1996, p.89) that Severson played with the layout and design for months (he had started the project just before Christmas, 1959) and that:
"each page of The Surfer was given life by Severson’s money, ego and aesthetic. He photographed and developed the cover shot of Jose Angel at Sunset, for example, then shamelessly tilted up the left-hand corner during the design process, effectively doubling the size of the wave."
Severson and his brother loaded up Severson’s van and hand distributed the magazine to surf shops and bookstores along the Californian coast. Five thousand copies were sold. George claims (2002, p.8).that the relative success of the magazine was due to Severson’s recognition that surfers ‘needed something they could hold in their hands, a banner under which they could make their barefoot stand against the conformity of the age.’

A second version of the magazine was published in the Spring of 1961. Five thousand copies were printed and sold out in less than twelve weeks. In 1962 the magazine became bi-monthly and two years later it changed its masthead to Surfer. Warshaw notes that ‘[W]ithout pause, Severson’s creation went from upstart to institution.’



California Down Under

In 1956, the same year that Kathy Kohner was relating her experiences of a developing surfing culture at California’s Malibu Beach to her screenwriter father Frederick and television was introduced to Australia, teams of surfers from Hawaii and the United States were invited by the Surf Life Saving Association (SLSA) to attend a special Queen’s International Carnival in late November. The carnival was staged at Torquay in Victoria and held in conjunction with the Melbourne Olympic Games. Other countries to compete in that carnival included Hawaii, Ceylon, Great Britain, New Zealand and South Africa.

Although specifically invited by the SLSA to contest paddleboard races, the surfboards the United States’ team brought with them ranged in length from approximately eight feet six inches to eleven feet, were constructed of balsa wood, covered in fibreglass, and had a fin centrally located at the rear of the board on the bottom underside. These surfboards were commonly known as ‘malibus’. Since the mid-1930s, Australian surfers had mostly used the finless redwood surfboard known as the ‘Australian Racing Sixteen’, also known as the ‘toothpick’. The board ranged in size from approximately fourteen to sixteen feet. United State’s team member Greg Noll claims (1989, p.70) that until the arrival of the visiting teams and their fibreglass balsa boards at Torquay, Australians surfed ‘a surf ski type of board, and the idea was to go out and take off on some white water and come straight in the soup, while all the girls on the beach squealed.’ Thousands of spectators attended the Torquay carnival, and at the conclusion of the paddling events, the Americans began surfing in front of the Torquay surf club. Noll (1989, p.71) wrote that the exhibition created a good deal of excitement on the beach and that:
"word got round in the parking lot as people were leaving, ‘The Yanks are surfing, you ought to see the Yanks.’ People turned around and came back to watch. Ampol Oil took films…The films and our boards became the basis of the modern surfboard movement in Australia."
Over the next few years, newsreels and television played a significant role in awakening Australian enthusiasm for surfboard riding. Such fervor was further exacerbated when Movietone News 18/3 (1956) recorded the visitors for a newsreel that was shown in Australian cinemas. Thoms claims (2000, p.64) footage of the American surfers in the film Service in the Sun (1957) at Bondi was ‘a truly decisive moment in Australian surf history.’ Made by Cinesound and sponsored by Ampol, the film was produced to stimulate interest among potential recruits for the Surf Life Saving Association (SLSA).

Yet the inclusion of the surfing sequences of the Americans was perhaps an anathema to the purpose of the film, because the performances on the Malibu boards that the film included ‘inspired many young Australians to ignore the SLSA’s demand for duty in the surf, and pursue surf for pleasure’ (Thoms, 2000, p.63). Booth provides statistics (2001, p.97) that illustrate his contention that it is incorrect to subscribe to the popular mythology that the Malibu boards lead to a ‘mass exodus of youth from lifesaving’; that ‘fears that young men would ‘break away’ from lifesaving did not materialise’, and that ‘[A]ctive membership of the SLSA increased’ in 1958-59. The introduction of the Malibu surfboard, combined with political, social and economic factors, did result in a broadening of opportunities for youth involvement in surf culture beyond the SLSA. Pearson points out (1979, p.57) that burgeoning demand for malibu surfboards was influenced by Australians experiencing the ‘release from the restraints of war; technological advances in surfing equipment; improvements in transport; and a greater degree of consumer affluence.’

While newsreels played a significant role in awakening Australian’s enthusiasm for surfboard riding, Bud Browne’s visit to Australia in 1957 accompanied by his films dedicated to surfboard riding clearly demonstrated that Australian surfboard riders had developed a desire for surf media. Browne created Surfing in Hawaii and The Big Surf during his trip to Australia via an ocean liner by re-editing footage from his earlier films in his cabin. The films ‘premiered’ at Sydney’s Queenscliff Surf Life Saving Club (SLSC) on December 14, where an overflowing audience of 600 people gathered to see footage of male and female surfers ride waves on a screen. The Queenscliff screenings were followed by screenings at other Sydney SLSCs. Bob Evans wrote (1967, p.21) that the response from those in attendance:
"was unbelievable. Surfers stood and yelled, they fell on the floor, jumped up and down – in short they were stoked out of their tiny brains . . . The technique of the surfers was revolutionary and immediately everyone was aware that our sport had suddenly opened up for us... Surfboard manufacturers who had been part time backyard operators, were suddenly fulltime production units."


The Australian Surfer

In late July or early August 1961, 19 year-old Bronte surfer Lee Cross published The Australian Surfer. With a background in advertising and print production, Cross had begun surfing at Bronte in Sydney’s eastern suburbs on a fourteen foot toothpick in 1955 and was a member of the Bronte Surf Lifesaving Club, where surfers including Bill Wallace, Serge Denman, Dick Thornett and Charlie Davis ‘enjoyed status as ‘surf legends’’ (Cross, 2001). Cross wrote (2001) that he and his surfer mates were ‘always blown away by any pictorial material on surfing... When Severson’s magazine reached Australia I recall thinking, well if they can do it in the States... we can do it here.’ Cross claims Bob Evans, who was then selling life insurance, was ‘inspirational’ in his support in getting the issue printed by Advertising and Commercial Printers Pty. Ltd. in Sydney

Financed by Cross and his father, the thirty-six page first edition of The Australian Surfer had a pressrun of 3000 copies and was very similar to The Surfer in content and layout. Cross claims (Cross, 2001) the number of copies to be printed was determined because ‘our estimates were that there weren’t many more than that number of surfers actively engaged in the sport at that time.’ After selling approximately half the number of copies printed, Cross reduced the second issue’s run to 2000. The magazine was sold throughout Australia, through both consignment to surf shops and mail order, with requests for the magazine coming from both Hawaii and the United States and from several Australian libraries. Cross handled the distribution of the first issue, while Gordon and Gotch handled distribution of a limited number of copies of the second.

There was difficulty in attracting advertisers interested in forming a nexus with the surfing lifestyle beyond surfboard manufacturers. The first issue of The Australian Surfer contained four full-page, five half-page and two quarter-page advertisements. Advertising included the promotion of balsa by Arthur Milner & Co. Pty. Ltd based in Double Bay, Sydney and Springvale, Victoria. The possibilities of enhanced surf photography through the use of a telephoto lens were pointed to in an advertisement for Vic Joyce’s Camera Store based in Dee Why, Sydney. An advertisement for the Ferris Factory in Caringbah, Sydney announced that one could ‘look like a rider’ in Ferris Bermuda Shorts; ‘feel like a rider’ in a Ferris Rubber Suit and ‘be a rider’ on a new 1962 Ferris Surfboard: Balsa or Poly. Advertisements for surfboard manufacturers included Barry Bennett, McDonagh Scott Dillon and Gordon Woods in Brookvale, Sydney; Bill Wallace in Waverley, Sydney and The Surf Shop in King George Square, Brisbane. The issue also contained a full-page cartoon of sharks threatening surfers, an article on surfing spots around Sydney and an article on surfing for beginners, similar to that published in The Surfer. There was no introduction, editorial, letters page or promise of further issues.

A second issue of The Australian Surfer was released in December 1961. Cross was credited with role of publisher and editor and there were credits for a cartoonist and photographer. The horizontal A4 format and length of thirty-six pages remained the same but the second edition’s cover was not produced on gloss paper. There were articles with pictorials on surfing destinations including North Avalon in Sydney and a celebration of big-wave spot the Bombora, a surf break one kilometer out to sea from Queenscliff, Sydney. The article claims the Bombora has attained ‘ legendary stature in the eyes of the Australian surfer – few have accepted and certainly very few have ridden its mighty curls’. ‘Surfing Interstate’ announces the better known surfing spots of Victoria, South Australia and Queensland. There is a four page liftout section consisting of ‘full page photos – 2 Australian and 2 American – suitable for framing or sticking in scrapbooks’ (p.16). A short article titled ‘Surfers You Should Know’ profiled Sydney surfer Michael Dooley and American Bob Cooper, both of whom were involved in surfboard production. Cartoonist Damo Letts contributed ‘Gilbert the Gremlin Ghost’ in which surfers and rockers fought on the beach after the rockers threw stones at the surfers’ boards. This was timely considering there had been some disturbances between surfers and rockers on Sydney’s northern beaches, but these were not to erupt until early 1962 (Walding, 2003).

Garry Birdsall provided two cartoons commenting on the emerging surf culture. One of these cartoons features two youths in a van with surfboards on the roof and three youths outside the vehicle leering at a female in bikinis. Another youth looking in another direction states that the surf is flat and asks ‘now what’ll we do?’ While clear in its sexual suggestion, its connotation of group sex points to activity that Australian champion surfer Nat Young (1998) later recounted was occurring on Sydney’s beaches in the early 1960s. Birdsall’s other cartoon tackles the ‘ideal’ surfing image and provided five dot points on what one must first do to be a surfer. Birdsall sarcastically suggests authenticity of image can be achieved through never ever washing, spending all your money on lemons, not surfing unless your hair is white, not forgetting a necklace or what ever you call it and keeping away from barbers.

The magazine carried 13 advertisements for surfboard manufacturers and retailers. An advertisement for Pinke Zinke sunburn protection ‘for day long sun protection’ featured three surfboard riders on a wave. There was an advertisement for Bob Evans Legal & General Insurance and an advertisement for Vic Joyce’s camera store mentioning Bob Evans success since ‘changing to 16mm’. Surf photos and a ‘giant Makaha mural’ were offered for sale by mail order from the publisher of The Australian Surfer.

The second edition of The Australian Surfer carried an editorial that admonished the behaviour of those in attendance at the premier screening of Severson’s Big Wednesday at the Anzac House owned by the Returned Services League. The venue was inadequate for the crowd that came on a November night to view the films and the ANZAC mural in the foyer of the auditorium was dislodged (Thoms, 2000). The larger than expected interest in the films may have been stimulated by the media attention surrounding the release of Gidget Goes Hawaiian (1961) in the same month and the film’s promotion via a ‘Miss Gidget Contest’ held in Sydney’s State Theatre. The editorial stated:
"On Monday, the 20th November, 1961, hundreds of surfers gathered in the foyer of Anzac House, College Street, awaiting the screening of the first feature length film of surfriding in Hawaii and California to be shown in Australia. By 7p.m. the crowd had grown to 1,200 and when the doors to the auditorium were opened a riot almost broke out. A 8.p.m. the police were called in... Damage to the hall was estimated at £300... ANZAC HOUSE IS NOW CLOSED TO SURF MOVIES... Next time you have a spare minute, stop and think – is it really worth losing beaches and halls because of a few high spirits?" (The Australian Surfer, No. 2, p.3)
A letter concerning the same matter written by John Campbell of Newport Beach who attended the film night stated that he was ‘a little disturbed to see the damage that was done. It’s a shame nothing can be done to stop this desire to destroy – it’s giving the surfer a bad name.’

While an advertisement urged readers not to miss the next issue of The Australian Surfer, a third issue would not appear. Cross could not attract the advertisers required to make the magazine break even financially. Walding (2003) claims the short life of the magazine may have been due to the relatively high cover price of seven shillings and sixpence at a time when Australia’s biggest selling magazine, The Australian Womens Weekly, cost one shilling.



Surfabout: Australasian Surfer

In August 1962, Surfabout Australasian Surfer was published as a quarterly that would run for 24 issues until 1968. In the debut issue, editorial staff included Jack Eden who was credited as photographer and co-editor; Garry Birdsall was credited as cartoonist and co-editor, and Bob Weeks was credited as photographer. Like its American and Australian predecessors, it too was thirty-six pages in length. The magazine featured a pullout double – page poster of Sydney surfer Bobby Brown undertaking a ‘Quasimodo’ maneuver.

The magazine was distributed by Gordon and Gotch and the majority of surfing photos in the magazine were captured on Sydney’s southern beaches around Cronulla. Advertisements were mostly for surfboard maufacturers, with one quarter-page advertisement for W. Kopsen & Co. Pty Ltd, Marine Specialists in Kent Street, Sydney. Besides surfing photos and advertisements for surfboard manufacturers was a photograph of Bob Sutherland standing on a dead shark under a caption reading ‘Toes on the Nose’) and a clipping from the Sunday Mirror regarding a seal attacking and biting sixteen-year-old surfboard rider Ron Rudder off North Stockton Beach in New South Wales. There are six surfing cartoons in the magazine that have a surfing theme, an article on surfing the Queenscliff Bombora by surfboard manufacturer Scott Dillon, a pictorial featuring Bellambie south of Sydney and a report on the 1962 Metropolitan Board Championships held at Bondi. Surfing etiquette was outlined through the inclusion of five surfing tips. Surfers were urged to ‘surf with good manners and courtesy’; reminded to ‘never board ride between the flags’ and advised to ‘do the right thing by the person in authority, the beach inspector.’ This concern with behaviour was echoed in the following issue: ‘Let’s Keep the Sport Clean Fun’. The editorial outlined that a ‘get tough campaign’ would be embarked upon by council alderman and beach inspectors against offensive surfers and board riders at metropolitan beaches:
"The dastardly actions – ranging from burying bottles in the sand, to constantly endangering swimmers by catching waves into the surfing area – of these decadent types, as they have been deservedly described, are anything but promotional for the sport which was introduced to young Australians, primarily as a form of activity, both mental and physical." (Surfabout: Australasian Surfer, 1962, Issue 1, p. 4)
The second edition of Surfabout: Australasian Surfer, issued in December 1962, demonstrated a significant number of changes that would be influential in Australian surf magazine publishing. Sales of the first edition had been encouraging and despite this, or perhaps because of it, the cover price was dropped by one shilling. Inside the thirty-six page magazine the masthead carried the sub-heading: ‘Australia’s Premier Surfing Magazine’. Jack Eden was now listed as manager and John Morris-Thorne was listed as editor. There were staff listings for an advertising representative, staff photographers, contributing photographers, an overseas representative and interstate and overseas correspondents. The cover was a shot of American surfer Johnny Fain and there is an article on the sport’s history entitled ‘Ancient and Modern Surfing’ by Dr David Stern from the University of California. There were articles on surfing at Bronte, Maroubra, Dee Why and Cronulla Point in Sydney, the Woollongong area south of Sydney, as well as photos and articles on surfing in South Australia and Western Australia. There was an article on technique and turning, a centerfold pullout ‘Surfing Guide: Port Kembla to Palm Beach’ that listed all surf breaks and desirable swell and wind directions required for idyllic surf conditions. There was a page of surf-related cartoons. Lord James Blears contributed news items under the banner of ‘Hawaiian Scene’ and a gossip column regarding surfers and their travels entitled ‘Talkabout’ written by ‘Wanderer’. There were surfing tips that were to pave the way for surfing etiquette: ‘The rider on the inside of the wave has the rightaway – do not, at any stage, come down on top of him.

There were nineteen separate advertisements for surfboard materials and surfboards. Perhaps most significantly, in terms of the development of surfing as a vehicle for youth culture and consumer goods, were the advertisements and editorial comment that had expanded its interest beyond surfboards. The Australian Record Company Ltd. ‘wants lyrics for a surf song’ with the winning entry ‘set to music and recorded by a top local artist and released on the Coronet label.’ There were advertisements for a food outlet at Palm Beach; Louis Tailoring, a mail-order tailor based in Kowloon, Hong Kong; Kala roof racks; surf photos from ‘Bud Brown’s current movies’ and an invitation to Australian boardriders to attend the 1962 International Surfing Championships at Makaha Beach in Hawaii.



The Surfing World Monthly

The first edition of The Surfing World Monthly was distributed in September 1962. It was founded in Sydney by its editor and photographer Bob Evans and published by Evan Keegan Pty. Ltd. The magazine remains second only to the United States’ Surfing as the longest, continuously produced surfing magazine in the world. The Surfing World Monthly also shared Surfing’s 36 page length and that magazine’s origins as a medium to promote a film made by its editor. Evans was a successful competitive surfer and had organised the touring and screening of Bud Browne films in Sydney in the late 1950s. He arranged a trip of 20 Australian surfers to Hawaii in 1961, filmed it and sold footage to ABC-TV (Thoms, 2000). He used the footage from the trip to create Surf Trek to Hawaii (1962). A surfing magazine provided an ideal vehicle for him to tie in his various interests in films and contests, and his background as a lingerie salesman assisted him in negotiating advertising space and rates in the magazine. The magazine announced that it ‘will be of keen interest to the hundreds of thousands of Australians who find their sport and recreation by the sea. Surfboard riding, Australia’s fastest growing and perhaps most thrilling sport, will be largely featured.’

International adventure was covered by a four-page article titled ‘Surf Trek to Hawaii’ described as ‘the ambition of practically every boardman’. It featured photos of large waves being ridden by a ‘master surfman’ (p.5) and another of a surfer getting ‘set for a lightning descent to the boneyard’ (p.4) Local adventure was covered by a two-page article to northern New South Wales entitled ‘Discovery in the North’. The article claims it is ‘really important’ to record the pioneers opening up new areas and that ‘[Y]our Editor was typical of these explorers.’ Crowded surf was already viewed as a problem in Sydney in 1962 and travel to non-metropolitan areas was seen as a remedy to alleviate that problem:
"Easter of this year, saw the greatest exodus of surf board men ever to leave Sydney in search of surf. Frustrated by crowded beaches, overcrowded waters, no parking places, and other controls, the enthusiastic ‘surfie’ (like his compatriot ‘sports friends’ the fisherman, the spearman, boatmen, water-skiers and other refugees from pressure) are seeking newer and more secluded pastures..."(The Surfing World Monthly, 1962, Vol.1 (1), p.9)
An article dedicated to newcomers to surfing was deemed necessary because of the growth in the sport: ‘[E]very summer weekend that you go down to the beach there are at least 200 more boards than there were the previous week.’ The article urged surfers to cooperate with beach inspectors, not to park across drive-ways, leave boards on the footpath, refuse to pay exorbitant parking fees, swear audibly or walk through private property. Anti-social behaviour issues were further discussed under the heading: ‘Thoughtless actions of a few could handicap our sport’. Readers are urged to think about unwitting behaviour:
"With the rapid increase in the popularity of the sport, it seems that along with thousands of fine people associating themselves with surf riding, a certain small percentage of undesirables has infiltrated the ranks. High spirits are normal in the activities of healthy young people, but hooliganism is the product of unhealthy minds and has no place in a sport such as surfriding, in which good judgment, sound decisions, and physical alertness are primary requirements." (The Surfing World Monthly, 1962, Vol1 (1), p.28)
Articles included a contest report on the Metropolitan Surf Contest held at Bondi that attracted more than 200 entrants, a report on a week of good surf at Narrabeen (pp.16-17), an account of United States’ filmmaker Bruce Browne and surfer Phil Edwards trip to Australia shooting footage for The Endless Summer, a letters page, a comment on the beauty of surfing titled ‘Why Surf?’ and a tribute to Australian surfing pioneer Justin ‘Snow’ McAllister.

There is a three-page account of shark hunter Wal Gibbins including a photo of him holding a spear gun next to ‘nine foot grey nurse the way most people like to see them – out of the water.’ The article discusses Gibbins and ‘his diving mates’ killing a number of grey nurse sharks and points out they ‘they have speared many from as close a range as two feet’. An article on the financial problems being faced by the Surf Life Saving Association of Australia titled ‘Problems of the 56th Year’ discusses the ‘falling off in volunteer enrolments and suggests that there exists ‘a criticism by the youthful’ that ‘the association has not shown appreciation of surfriding as a skilled sport and that the clubs of today do not truly represent a cross section of the country’s surfing talent.’ Surfboards had required registration stickers on Sydney beaches at a cost of five shillings since November 1960, but there was no charge if the surfer belonged to a surf club (Walding, 2003, p.38). There was some tension between surfers and surf lifesaving clubs about fines, board confiscation and flag placement for swimmers and this tension would become a recurrent issue in Australian surfing magazines.

While there were advertisements for seven surfboard manufacturers, The Surfing World Monthly also attracted an advertisement for a camera store, roof racks and youth-oriented advertising for commodities including the Philips Ultraphil Sun Lamp which promised ‘a healthy real golden tan, even in the middle of winter.’ Fashion and clothing advertisements included Hollywood Beachwear, Speedo boardshorts and Speedo shirts. The advertisement for a credit account at Sydney’s Anthony Horderns proclaimed to readers that they did not have to ‘wait till midway through the season for that surfboard and beachwear‘ when credit of ‘up to £50 for young surfers’ was readily available. Borrowing a practice established by both Man and Post magazine, The Surfing World Monthly also included a full-page duotone photograph of a young woman wearing a bikini captioned ‘Surfing World Girl No.1.’ The back cover of the magazine featured a duotone shot of Sydney surfer Nipper Williams wearing Speedo ‘Beachnik’ boardshorts. This was the first advertisement in an Australian surfing magazine whereby a surfer endorsed a product other than a surfboard and can be seen as significant as it ushered in the era of surfers endorsing commodities.



Conclusion

Warshaw claims (1996, p, 92) that it is ‘true that ‘surf magazines everywhere are patterned after American-and to a lesser degree, Australian-models.’ While The Australian Surfer lasted only two issues and was a near direct copy of The Surfer, the following Australian surf magazines helmed by Eden and Evans laid down an archetype that would influence emerging surfing magazine content throughout the world. The hedonistic and anti-authoritarian pre-eminent image of surfers, while starting to gain sway in the mainstream media in 1962, was not dominant in these early magazines. The magazines campaigned actively against anti-social behaviour, viewed surfing almost exclusively as a healthy outdoor sport, emphasised the need to respect authority and promoted masculine values that were conducive to capitalism, including individualism, competition, adventure and risk. Surfing identity was already becoming tied to the consumption of commodities advertised in the magazines. While by the end of the 1950s adolescence had become an industry and popular Australian magazines such as Australasian Post, The Australian Women’s Weekly and People had features and liftouts for teenagers, Surfabout: Australasian Surfer and The Surfing World Monthly provided middle class males in their teenage years and early twenties with their own language, fashion and clothing, customs, hierarchy and a new common interest. This common interest saw mainstream companies view a cultural phenomenon as a consumer market to be exploited. That view, like surfing magazine titles and their contents, would continue to expand over the next forty years


References

Booth, D. (2001). Australian Beach Cultures: The History of Sun, Sand and Surf. UK: Routledge.

Carroll, N. (1991). The next wave: the world of surfing. New York, NY: Abbeville Press.

Cross, L. (2001). Email correspondence with author, 26th November.

Doherty, T. (2002). Teenagers and teenpics: the juvenalisation of American movies in the 1950s. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press.

Evans, B. (1967). 1956-1966 – Ten years of surfing history (part 1). In The Surfing World, February, Vol. 8 (1). Sydney: Evan-Keegan Pty Ltd.

Gabbard, A. (2000). Girl in the curl: a century of women’s surfing. Seattle, WA: Seal Press.

Gault-Williams, M. (2002). Legendary surfer: Bud Browne. In Legendary surfers: a definitive history of surfing’s culture and heroes. Retrieved April 12, 2005, from http://www.legendarysurfers.com/surf/legends/bud.shtml

Gault-Williams, M. (2002). Second & third editions of the surfer. In Legendary surfers: a definitive history of surfing’s culture and heroes. Retrieved May 9, 2005, from http://www.legendarysurfers.com/surf/legends/lsc209.html

George, S. (2001). The perfect day: 40 years of Surfer magazine. San Francisco, CA: Chronicle Books.

Kampion, D. (1997). Stoked: a history of surf culture. Santa Monica, CA: General Publishing Group Inc.

Leuras, L. (1984). Surfing, the ultimate pleasure. New York, NY: Workman Publishing

Noll, G. and Gabbard, A. (1989). Da Bull: Life Over the Edge. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 1989.

Pearson, K. (1979). Surfing Subcultures of Australia and New Zealand. St Lucia: University of Queensland Press.

Severson, J. (1985). In the beginning. Surfer, Vol. 26 (1) (January). San Clement,CA: Surfer Publications.

Stillman, D. (2002). The real Gidget. In Colburn, B., Finney, B., Stallings, T., Stecyk, C.

Stillman, D., Wolfe, T., Surf culture: the art history of surfing. Corte Madera, CA: Gingko Press.

Thoms, A. (2000). Surfmovies: the history of the surf film in Australia. Noosa Heads: Shore Thing Publishing.

Walding, M. (2003). Blue heaven: the story of Australian surfing. South Yarra: Hardy Grant Books.

Warshaw, M. (1996). 30 years of surf magazines: articles of faith. In The Surfers Journal. Capistrano Beach, CA: S. Pezman.

Warshaw, M. (2003). The Encyclopedia of Surfing. Orlando, FL: Harcourt.

Young, N. (1998). Nat’s nat and that’s that: a surfing legend. Frenchs Forest: Nymboida Press, 1998.



To view the original reposting and comments, please go to:

Paul Scott: Australian Surfing Magazines

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James Apu, 1894

James Apu was a noted Hawaiian surfer in the 1880s and '90s.

Skipper Funderberg has unearthed documentation of Apu's exploits in 1884 and his surfing demonstrations in San Francisco in 1894, in a published article in the Wilkes-Barre Times, Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, February 20, 1894 (Volume 4, Issue 1249, Page 3):



In the process of viewing rolls upon rolls of microfilm and microfisch, Skipper has proven himself to be a sleuth who loves mysteries; a southern bloodhound searching on the old history road. Thank you for your on-going work, Skipper!

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SHF Oral History Committee

SHF's Oral History Committee has been working steadily over the years to help preserve surfing's history by recording the recollections of our elders. From the Los Angeles Times:


A plank slate for an oral surfing history

By Hector Tobar


The Surfing Heritage Foundation is undertaking an effort to collect the oral histories of wave riders from California and elsewhere. 'We're running out of the old-timers,' says a surfing writer.


Hawaiian legend Duke Kahanamoku, center, and other wave riders relax on the beach at San Onofre in the 1940s. Surfing’s roots are in Polynesia, but the lifestyle of modern surfing was born in Southern California.- Photo by Fritz Watson / Surfing Heritage Foundation


If you owned a surfboard 20, 40 or even 60 years ago, and used it often, there's a group of people in San Clemente who would really like to hear from you.

Maybe you surfed a stretch of coastline when the waves were taller than they are today — because a certain harbor and breakwater didn't exist back then.

Maybe you surfed in a time and place where few others did. Like Dick Huffman, now 98, who would go out to the beaches of Corona del Mar in the 1920s with a bathing suit, some lumber and an ax, and make his own board before heading into the water.

Or maybe you knew someone like Gordon "Mike" Howes, who in the 1930s was among the first to ride the waves in New Jersey — using his mother's ironing board. "It was just about the length and size and shape to ride the waves with," Howes said.

Howes spoke those words last year, not long before he died. His story was saved thanks to the Surfing Heritage Foundation, which is undertaking a big effort to collect the oral histories of surfers from California and elsewhere.

"We're running out of the old-timers," said Craig Lockwood, a veteran surfing writer and Laguna Beach native who is a bit of an old-timer himself. He's 72 and stopped surfing only last year. "The World War II generation is in their late 80s and 90s now," he told me. "They were the pioneers. They made surfing happen."

I met Lockwood last week at the Surfing Heritage Foundation's headquarters in San Clemente, amid a stunning collection of vintage surfboards, the oldest of which are massive planks of redwood and pine. I was there to discover things I didn't know about a rich and colorful culture created right here in California.

But I also learned something else: about the kind of work and dedication it takes to keep memories alive.

The Surfing Heritage Foundation is reaching out across the surfing world with a loud call: Send us your oral histories, your tales of beach campfires and "board shaping." They've even created an oral history manual, with some how-to tips on conducting interviews for posterity.

"It's the people we don't know that we're looking for," said Paul Holmes, a former editor of Surfer magazine and one of the leaders of the effort.

In four years of work, they've interviewed more than 100 men and women and have some great finds. Last year, their volunteer historians sat down with Tulie Clark and Fenton Scholes, who told them how the Palos Verdes Surfing Club was founded in the 1930s.

Back then, the boards were 11-foot-long behemoths that were 4 inches thick. Surfing culture was so new it seemed all the surfers in town knew one another.

"When we surfed, everyone who went for the wave got it," Scholes said. "There wasn't any 'This is my wave' stuff. Everybody rode together, four or five guys on a wave. If some guy was next to you, you pulled his board in. You didn't pull him out."

Surfing's roots are in Polynesia, but the sport and lifestyle of modern surfing were born right here in Southern California, during an especially affluent and hopeful time in our history. In the 1950s and '60s, good waves combined with local technology — the advent of plastic foam, especially — and the attention of the movie industry to make surfing a global phenomenon.

From the beginning, surfing attracted a certain kind of rebel unique to California.

Exhibit A could be the late Dale Velzy, who in his final days told his story to Holmes. "He was a surfer, a biker, a hot-rodder, a cowboy and a surf industry pioneer — all at once," said Holmes, the author of the biography "Dale Velzy is Hawk."

Because they tend to be outsiders, a lot of surfers never thought of what they were doing as history. The surfing media didn't get started until 1960, and everything we know about surfing before then begins with a spoken tale.

E.J. Oshier, who pioneered surfing in San Onofre and a beachside music scene called "The Bamboo Room Philharmonic," shared some of those stories with the oral history project in 2007.

He remembered throwing a sleeping bag into his old Plymouth in 1941 and heading for the waves in Santa Cruz.

"It was a bright, sunny Sunday morning," Oshier told an interviewer about a week before he died. "Heaven was close by." And then some "rotten" guy standing by the cliffs yelled out something about the Japanese bombing Pearl Harbor. Oshier paddled back in and went off to war. "I never surfed Santa Cruz again."

The Surfing Heritage Foundation is sending letters and its oral history guide to surfing clubs across the U.S. and beyond. They're dreaming of the day when their mailbox fills with surfing stories recorded by aficionados near and far.

It's an effort that should be emulated by many other groups in Southern California. This metropolis by the sea is, after all, a place where many different subcultures have first appeared and thrived. Immigrants, artists and entrepreneurs have written epic California tales with their ambition and their hunger for the new.

As someone who interviews people for a living, I can tell you with certainty: You never know what you'll learn when you sit down with someone and start asking questions.

Jed Justeson, a filmmaker and non-surfer, has interviewed about 20 people for the Surfing Heritage project. He's learned that "most of surfing is waiting in the water" and that "a lot of the camaraderie comes from that waiting." He's come to appreciate the great patience and love of nature most surfers share.

"They all have something to teach you if you take the time to listen," he said.

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"Sandwich Island Girl" 5

Skipper Funderburg writes more about "The Sandwich Island Girl" -- that cover of the National Police Gazette, August 18, 1888, depicting a female surfer riding the waves off the beach at Ashbury Park, New Jersey.

Search LEGENDARY SURFERS for: Sandwich Island Girl

The following is a slightly edited version of Skipper's original article, prepared June 1, 2010:



Sandwich Island Girl Hangs Five, A Gay Queen Of The Waves

By Joseph “Skipper” Funderburg, www.carolinabeach.net


I have been encouraged to conduct further research on the woodcut engraving of [the] Sandwich Island Girl (SIG), as published in the National Police Gazette (NPG), August 18, 1888.

Richard Kyle Fox (Fox) was the Editor and Proprietor of the NPG from 1877 until his death in 1922. Fox perfected the sports page and the gossip column, as well as the use of large illustrations to dramatize the stories in his paper. Before Fox, these things did not exist as we know them today. Fox turned a text heavy medium into something visually exciting. Even Thomas Edison was a regular reader. Irving Berlin wrote a song about it: 'The Girl on The Police Gazette.' Hugely popular, even across the ocean, the publication made an appearance in James Joyce’s masterpiece 'Ulysses.'

... news reporting in the 19th century was not like today. There was no television, no movies, and no radio. We take many details for granted in a typical news story that were not considered important back then. Getting the names of participants, attributing quotes, and other factual details were often not priorities. The NPG decided what its focus was and stuck to it. One focus was on women’s appearance and movements – anything that was sexually titillating for the time. Who she was and where she came from was of less importance.

The NPG certainly was a publication that mixed fact with fiction. But my feeling is the description in the article is too detailed to be made up. If it were just the illustration with no accompanying story, I might be more inclined to accept the possibility that the incident didn’t happen. Either way, NPG specialized in depicting women doing manly things… shooting, fighting, drinking, playing sports… and so surfing is exactly the type of thing they would have jumped on, even if no other news outlets would give it a second look. It is a realistic possibility.

I would also agree with the discussion [amongst surf writers] regarding whether the activity can be called surfing. The woodcut engraving appears with the description that she may just be balancing on the plank, as the waves roll underneath. In any case, whether it’s surfing or balancing, this appears to be the first depiction of it on the American east coast. I have to continue to believe the NPG is describing a real event.

It must have been an attraction, because of the way they guarded the beach in those days with ropes, pilings and surf boats. The imagery in the background looks conservative, typically the public was not allowed to swim outside the ropes. As well, there were no bars or gambling in Asbury, in those days. This makes me think a surfing display would definitely have been a spectacle and worthy of an eyewitness writing it down somewhere. Also, at the time they were known as progressives… all of those temperance movements to curb drinking, violence, gambling was progressive legislation.

Asbury Park, NJ, is located 55 miles south of New York City and 60 miles away from Philadelphia, PA. Founded in 1871, Asbury Park was considered a country by the sea destination; boasted a mile and a quarter beach; is one of about fifty-four seaside cities on the Jersey Shore; and nestled about halfway along the hundred mile stretch of coastline between Cape May, NJ, and Sandy Hook, NJ. More than a half million people a year vacationed in Asbury Park during the summer season, riding the railways from the New York City Metropolitan Area.

The more I research about the history of Asbury Park, the more it seems like a prime getaway for New Yorkers looking for beach fun, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. At that time on the Jersey Shore, Asbury Park would have been a more religious and teetotaling clientele than Cape May or Atlantic City. Founded in 1869, Ocean Grove, NJ, the seat of the Temperance Movement on the Jersey Shore, is the southern border of Asbury Park. A visionary Methodist clergyman, Reverend Ellwood H. Stokes, convinced his congregation to invest in three hundred acres and one mile of beach front. The community was known as the Queen of Religious Resorts, and enforced a multitude of strict rules, including no beach bathing on Sundays. This would have played into the hands of the NPG editors, who delighted in exposing hypocritical clergy and tended to scoff at religion and temperance in general. The NPG editors had great fun at the institution’s expense. In short, the NPG would have jumped at the chance to portray something extravagant or un-ladylike among the straight laced beach goers.

Fox had a residence in Red Bank, New Jersey, which is a good location for those interested in boating and a life by the sea. Fox was certainly wealthy enough to afford whatever hobby he chose, but he loved the sea, cruising in his yacht, surf bathing and picnicking. In the June 30, 1888 issue of NPG, I unearthed Yacht Richard K. Fox, an expensive private ocean going sailing vessel. Turns out he fancied sailing the Jersey Shore, the northeast and extending further to the blue chip beaches of New England and Cape Cod. Fox sponsored many competitive events --including seafaring ones --such as the trans-Atlantic rowboat “FOX” in 1896...

Fox wrote a book in 1883 titled, 'Coney Island Frolics: How New York’s Gay Girls and Jolly Boys Enjoy Themselves by the Sea.' He wrote descriptions of women in the surf; various amusements of the late 19th century; discussed social changes of this era that made the water based activities possible; and served as an instructional manual or visual travel guide to the beaches of the northeast. He described beach and water based activities on Manhattan Beach, NY, and Brighton Beach, NY.

There is no question Fox and the NPG were an integral part of the development of professional women boxers, wrestlers and strongwomen of the 1880s and 1890s. Though many upper class Victorians may have viewed these athletic activities as unfeminine and even demeaning, these female athletes were seen as competent professionals and, in many ways, the equal of their male peers. It is important when looking at these women, however, to keep in mind how limited their professional options truly were. Fifteen to twenty-five dollars a week, working for Fox, no doubt proved a powerful incentive for women whose primary employment option was back-breaking factory work, sweatshops, kitchens or farm labor. Furthermore, these women knew that if they became good enough that there was a realistic chance that they could earn even greater sums by defying the traditional ideals of Victorian womanhood. As the owner, Fox had full control of the womens’ activities. They did as they were told, especially for NPG publicity.

Regarding the NPG woodcut engravings, Fox was notorious for not giving credit to his artists and writers. When reading all 26 NPG issues in volume 52, covering March to September 1888, one will notice there are virtually no bylines on NPG stories. The woodcut artists were first class --there are descriptions that state one couldn’t find better quality in the medium of woodcut engraving...

Today, William A. Mays, the current editor and proprietor of the NPG, is on a mission to properly photograph and catalog the paper images before the original copies deteriorate. An old history of American magazines lists Matt Morgan, Charles Kendrick, Philip G. Cusacha, George G. White and George E. McEvoy as having done illustrations for the late 19th century NPG. The creator of the NPG logo is Henry W. Troy. His signature appears in every issue.

There was also a world famous wood carver on the beach in Asbury Park. In the winter of 1888, Palace Amusements was founded in Asbury Park. Palace provided refined amusements and became famous for having one of America’s greatest hand-carved wooden carousels. Charles I.D. Looff was a master carver and builder of handcrafted wood carousels. Early in his career, he found work as a wood furniture carver and took wood scraps home, carving them into wooden carousel animals and more. Looff built the first carousel at Coney Island, NY, in 1876 and is credited for creating the Coney Island style of wood carving... Charles I.D. Looff and his son Arthur Looff also built the Santa Monica Pier in 1909, then the Santa Monica Looff Hippodrome was built in 1916.

Just off the coast of New Jersey exists the Gulf Stream, a powerful, warm and swift Atlantic Ocean current which attracted whaling ships in search of whales.

... The early whaling voyages and whaling era had a phenomenal impact on 19th century America, both east and west coasts. In the early 1800’s, Hawaii was a favorite destination of whaling vessels, and their crews were in direct contact with surfers. It is also well documented some whaling crews jumped ship once they arrived in the Sandwich (Hawaiian) Islands. Many, including Herman Melville, jumped ship, apparently without repercussions. Once the original crew jumped ship, many Hawaiians were hired to work aboard whaling vessels. It is well documented that Hawaiian crewman were sailing to the United States by the early 19th century. It has been said that sooner or later someone will uncover proof of surfing in the 19th century. While SIG may represent an isolated incident, it is probable Hawaiian crews were sailing in ports on the east coast. By about 1840, more passengers and greater tonnage of cargo came through New York than all other major harbors in the country combined. By 1900 New York was one of the great international ports...

... SIG’s three day surfing exhibition probably occurred in Asbury Park. The logical possibility, proof and indirect evidence it occurred in Asbury Park is reasonable. Because of her tie to a historical event, and the location, her story is believable. Most significantly, SIG is one of the earliest known surfing illustrations in the contiguous United States. The fact that her mythic tale is being told at all allows scholars to use her as commentary upon cultures that produce and circulate legends. It’s a tricky domain, but for most of us, her legend and her image are enough...

-- Joseph “Skipper” Funderburg, Author

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