World
War II put surfing in a kind of suspended animation. There were guys surfing
when they could, but most everyone was involved in the war effort on some level
and the war took everyone’s time – one way or the other:
“Convertible”
Larry
“Convertible
Larry was a veritable unsolved mystery,” Don James wrote of a San Onofre
regular during the summer of 1942. “On Friday nights he’d arrive at San Onofre
driving a LaSalle convertible and wearing a business suit. No one was sure what
Larry was involved with back in the city during the week, but his hedonist
orientation on the weekends was unparalleled. One day we found out that his car
trunk was filled with Leica cameras and Leitz lenses. All of this equipment was
sitting in velvet-lined boxes and was worth a fortune. Stuff from the German
Leitz factory was rare before the conflict and during the war nobody wanted to
be anywhere near it. Larry never was seen taking a picture, and he professed to
know nothing about photography. It was a sign of the times that false rumors
began to circulate that Convertible Larry was a Nazi spy.”[1]
Freddy
Zehndar
“Freddy
was an impressive character who used to execute flat swan dives [into the
surf]… in a couple of inches of water, to amaze the young lovelies,” recalled
Don James. “He was an Olympic team swimmer during the 1920s, and he later
worked as the head stunt diver on the [1970s] movie Jaws.”[2]
“Freddy
Zehndar… was a newsreel cameraman for the Fox Movietone News in 1928, and he
filmed the Panay incident, where the U.S.
Marines fired upon a Chinese vessel. The resulting furor almost started a war.
The Hollywood theatrical film The
Sandpebbles was based upon the occurrence.”
[3]
Jack
Quigg
“Jack
Quigg… was a superlative athlete,” wrote Don James. “Once at UCLA, Quigg was
goofing around in the broad jump pit, when a football flew over from the
adjacent field where the varsity team was working out. Jack was barefooted, and
he kicked the ball in a perfect high spiral arc all the way to the end of the
other field. It was a magnificent feat. The head coach came running over
immediately and asked Quigg to come out and join the squad. Jack ignored the
coach and uttered some undecipherable grunt and walked away. The coach was
quite taken aback; here was this incredible prospect who wouldn’t even
acknowledge his offer. We used to call Quigg ‘Indian Jack’ because he was so
stoic; he never said much of anything.”[4]
Joe and Jack Quigg, 1932
Jackie
Coogan
“Jackie
Coogan was an actor who’d earned a fortune as a child star,” wrote Don James. “As
an adult he had to sue his parents for misappropriation of his funds. He didn’t
receive a lot, but because of his case, there are now laws protecting minors’
wages. Coogan was relatively philosophical about the fiasco, and he was able to
live in the Malibu Colony, where he surfed regularly. Back then, Malibu Point
was fenced off and there was no public access. Since Jackie’s house in the
Colony was just a couple of hundred feet from the best waves in the world, he
considered himself to be extremely fortunate. Coogan let us come up to his
house and surf, and he remained a great guy despite the emotional rollercoaster
he was on. In later years, when Jackie’s career had resurrected itself and he
had become a highly recognizable star… we would laugh about those quiet times
in the Colony…”[5]
“Jackie
used to bring his wife, [Hollywood star] Betty Grable, with him to San Onofre,
and she would complain constantly, saying things like ‘get me off this filthy
beach.’ We were never sure what reception might await us when we walked through
the couple’s Malibu Colony house on our way to Surfrider Beach .
One day Coogan had sold all of Grable’s furniture without her permission and
then used the proceeds to purchase a new Mercury convertible. Jackie’s
transgression instigated a tremendous argument. He came out in the water to
surf and said, ‘Well, boys, it looks like I’m going to have some extra time on
my hands; I think I’ll chrome my new motor.’ I never saw Betty again,” wrote
Don James, “except as a pin-up on other sailor’s foot lockers.”[6]
Eddie
McBride
“McBride
was a surveyor who bought a new Dodge every year on the second of January, like
clockwork,” recalled Don James. “He possessed a lucrative contract from the
federal government’s Geological Survey to take depth soundings along the entire
coast. The fact that Eddie rowed a dory eight hours a day, five days a week,
during the course of his work also meant that he was in phenomenal physical
condition.[7]
Mary
Kerwin Reihl (1912-2004)
Mary
(Kerwin) Reihl – or “Mimi” as she was better known to her family and friends –
was an early California
female surfer. Born in 1912, Mary Kerwin was among the first generation of children
from her family to be born and raised in Hermosa
Beach . Her grand uncle, Bernard “Ben” Hiss, was an
early real estate entrepreneur in the South
Bay area, who was on the original
Board of Trustees that was responsible for incorporation of the City of Hermosa Beach in 1907.
Her father, John Kerwin, emigrated from Ireland in 1905. After meeting Mary
Emma Hiss in Hermosa and then marrying her, he started the family bakery
business in Hermosa Beach
in 1910.
Mary/Mimi
was the second of nine children born at the family residence and bakery
business on Pier Avenue, less than a half block from the beach. “You could spit
out the window at the water, and that was our playground,” recalled Mimi’s
brother Ted. She attended Ocean View School
in Hermosa Beach ,
which was located at the crest of the sand dunes, near the current location of
Saint Andrew’s Episcopal Church on Monterrey
Boulevard . Although the little town of Hermosa Beach was growing
rapidly at the time, the town center and surrounding residential area essentially
consisted of an expanse of sand that was the landward extension of the
adjoining beach area. With the ocean as a backyard, it was only natural that
Mary and her siblings would get into the ocean. She was a natural athlete, and
although she was generally the only female surfing her home break, she didn’t
feel particularly special or unique because that was just one of the family
activities when you lived at the beach.
“We
were born and raised with our feet in the ocean, all nine of us,” said Mimi’s
sister Emma Halibrand. As kids, Ted Kerwin recalled, they rode waves on
everything from belly boards made of scrap lumber to discarded wooden ironing
boards before progressing to much larger and heavier paddleboards and
solid-wood surfboards.
Mary
graduated from Redondo Union high School in 1931, and married Ward Reihl, a
Southern California Gas Company employee, three years later at Saint James
Church in Redondo Beach .
In
1934, Mimi’s older brother John founded the Hermosa Beach Surfing Club, whose
14 original members included their brothers Joe, Jim, Fred and Ted. Mary, however,
could not join. It was a strictly male organization, although she represented
the club in contests.
When
Riehl started surfing in the 1930s, the sight of a woman riding the waves was a
rarity. “There were very, very few women surfers,” said Ted Kerwin. “It wasn’t
the thing to do for many women.”
“She
was the best I saw at that time, which wasn’t really that earth shaking,” said
Mimi’s other surviving brother, Jim Kerwin, a resident of Oak View, near Ojai. “She
just rode straight in; there were no fancy maneuvers like they do today.”
The
gregarious Riehl -- “I always called her Molly-O because she was a typical
Irish gal,” said brother Ted, adding that she loved all sports and was an avid
tennis player. “She was in the middle of everything.”
Mary,
her sister Emma and a few of the other local ladies represented Hermosa Beach in the
women’s division of the surfing and paddling competitions during the 1930s and
early 1940s. Although Mary and Ward’s daughter, Joan, was born in 1936, Mary
continued to represent Hermosa Beach , and won
the prestigious Pacific Coast Surfing Championship that was held in Long Beach in 1939.
Jim
Kerwin still has the 12-foot, 65-pound paddleboard he made out of pine and
quarter-inch plywood for Mimi in 1939. It’s the same board she used to win the
Pacific Coast Surfing Championship in Long
Beach . She also used it to compete in other contests,
including the 1939 national paddleboard and surfing championship in Long Beach : She placed
first in the women’s division for the quarter-mile national paddleboard
championship, with a time of four minutes, 32 seconds.
Mary’s
second child, Robert, was born in 1941, shortly before the departure of most
surfers, including her five brothers, to serve during World War II. With the
attention of the country directed to the war, the surfing scene in Southern California had a general hiatus for several
years. Although Mary’s affection and family ties to the beach continued, her
children and family became her primary focus and her surfing career was
relegated to a past of pleasant memories.
Mary/Mimi
continued to surf after her two children were born, but gave it up after World
War II. Her nephew, Scott Kerwin, said that when quizzed about her early
surfing days at family reunions, his aunt wasn’t much interested in the
subject. “She was more interested in what was going on now than what was going
on in the past,” he said.
Mary
remained a “kid at heart” throughout her long life, and is remembered as never
being far from a good time, which combined to make her a favorite with the
younger generations of her large family and extended family.
In
recognition of her “pioneer” status in the sport of surfing in Hermosa Beach , Mary was inducted into the
Hermosa Beach Surfers Walk of Fame in March 2003, along with four of her
brothers. At the time, Mimi was too ill to
attend the ceremony, but Ted Kerwin said, “she thought it was fantastic.”
Still Others
There
were other surfers around during World War II who had either achieved legendary
status – like Pete Peterson – or would become – like Dave Rochlen:
“Nobody
loved the ocean better than I did,” declared Rochlen in an interview done in
the early 1960s. While serving in the U.S. Navy, “All through the war I slept
on top of the deck with my fins in my pack and my arm through the pack straps. I
figured if the ship got blown up, at least I might have a chance. All I want is
half a chance – I might be able to last longer with fins – might even be able
to take a couple of guys with me.”[9]
Another
surfer wave-born in the 1930s and, like Velzy, would end up making a
significant contribution to surfing was Jack Quigg’s brother Joe. Although not
dramatic, Joe Quigg’s leave from military duty in the summer of 1944 put Quigg in
contact with some of the key surfers who would end up affecting not only him
but most all California
surfers by the early 1950s:
“I was
in the Navy during the war,” retold Quigg, “and I came home to Santa Monica on leave that year. Right after
I got home, I drove up to Malibu
to surf, and though the waves were good that day, there were only three guys
out. One was a guy with a withered arm named Bob Simmons, and the other two
were kids named Buzzy Trent and Matt Kivlin.”[11]
Matt
Kivlin had just been introduced to surfing by the husband of his mom’s sister. Preston
“Pete” Peterson introduced the 14 year-old from Santa
Monica to the wonders of Malibu
on July 2, 1944.[12]
Peterson’s
doings are especially worth noting. One instance was documented by Stecyk,
about September 6, 1944:
“A
ruler edged rolling seven foot south caresses the empty point [Malibu ]. Pete Peterson gazes longingly at the
surf through the barbed wire enclosure which surrounds the Malibu Point Coast
Guard facility. This government base is guarded 24 hours a day and impenetrable.
Peterson resolves to go elsewhere and turns to leave when he spies a lone surfer
eagerly running up the point. Dale Velzy, the patriot, has somehow convinced
the base commander to honor his merchant seaman’s papers as an access pass to
the surf. Pete is incensed... after all, at least when Don Grannis surfed there
he was stationed there... but this was an outrage. Peterson waves at Velzy and
leaves laughing, admiring the Hawk’s superior artistry. Following his go-out,
Dale manages to enjoy a sumptuous repast of roast beef and ice tea, courtesy of
the base mess hall. Not bad in an era of severe rationing.”[13]
In
recalling his beginnings as a surfer and a shaper, Velzy said, “One of the
first surfboards I ever used belonged to someone I didn’t even know. I found it
sitting along the side of someone’s house on 6th Street in Hermosa Beach . I used it every day one
summer, until my dad, who was a lifeguard at Hermosa, agreed to help me make my
own board.
“We
lived next door to Hoppy Swarts and Leroy Grannis, two surfers from the
thirties. My dad made my first board off the design of their boards. I was
eight or nine at the time. Not long after he’d made it, I ran into the pier on
it and split it down the center. In those days, this would happen quite a bit. We’d
just glue it back together, bolt it and put a cork in over the bolt. After you
broke these boards a few times, they got a little waterlogged, so you’d have to
bring them in and reshape them. That’s what got me started shaping and
designing boards. I became real interested in design, in making the boards work
better, according to a person’s weight and style.
“Eventually,
other guys started asking me to make changes to their boards. We didn’t have
fiberglass then. We didn’t even varnish the boards. We’d get splinters, but we’d
just take them out and keep surfing. It was a while before my dad would loan me
his good tools to try my hand at shaping balsa wood. My best board was the second
redwood I made for myself. I was in the Merchant Marines, and went off to the
war in ‘44. I left my board with a friend, Ed Edgar, and told him that he was
the only person who could ride it while I was gone. I came home to find out
that someone had stolen the board.
“It
took a lot of finesse to ride those old redwoods. They were like old Cadillacs
on a freeway – a real smooth ride, and everyone got out of your way.”[14]
[1] James, Surfing San
Onofre to Point Dume, 1936-1942, ©1996, p. 136. Don James written caption to
image on p. 94.
[2] James, Surfing San
Onofre to Point Dume, 1936-1942, ©1996, p. 124. Don James written caption to
image on p. 32.
[3] James, Surfing San
Onofre to Point Dume, 1936-1942, ©1996, p. 131. Don James written caption to
image on p. 69.
[4] James, Surfing San
Onofre to Point Dume, 1936-1942, ©1996, p. 124. Don James written caption to
image on p. 34. See also other images featuring Jack Quigg and contemporaries.
[5] James, Surfing San
Onofre to Point Dume, 1936-1942, ©1996, p. 124. Don James written caption to
image on p. 36.
[6] James, Surfing San
Onofre to Point Dume, 1936-1942, ©1996, pp. 128-129. Don James written caption
to image on p. 58.
[7] James, Surfing San
Onofre to Point Dume, 1936-1942, ©1996, p. 125. Don James written caption to
image on p. 39.
[8] SurferMag Bulletin
Board, 3/28/2004.
[9] Grissim, John. Pure
Stoke, ©1982, Harper and Row, New York, p. 20. Dave Rochlen quoted.
[10] Young, 1983, 1987, p.
73.
[11] Lueras, 1984, p. 111.
Joe Quigg.
[12] Stecyk, “Humaliwu,”
1992, p. 36.
[13] Surfer, Volume 33,
Number 12. Researched by C.R. Stecyk, p. 40.
[14] Noll, Greg and Gabbard, Andrea. DA BULL: Life Over the Edge, by Greg Noll and
Andrea Gabbard, © 1989. North Atlantic
Books, Berkeley, California. Dale Velzy’s
recollections, pp. 25-26.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Mahalo for your comment!