Makaha, Hawaii, 1966 (from the LeRoy Grannis Collection/courtesy of Taschen)
Outer Reef at the North Shore, Hawaii, circa 2008.
Surfing is a complex and unique sport. Its evolution from the crude ability to hang on to a floating piece of wood and be propelled on the face of a wave to today’s contest-infested international community is a labyrinth of places, personalities and emotions. It can be competitive or pursued for sheer pleasure. It can be can be experienced alone or with a group. It can be unpredictable and lethal, benign and thunderous, ecstatic and satisfying. Nothing in the world of sports quite compares to it.
Growing up near the beach in Southern California during the 1960s, I eagerly absorbed the cultural aspects of that early surf scene. I didn’t own a board—it was economically unfeasible for me, and with two working parents, taking one on the bus to the beach would have been nerdy and awkward—so I bodysurfed. I hung out with a crowd that hit the beach every day, bought my SURFER magazine at the local drugstore, wore my Pendleton, and became well versed with the terms and conditions of this coastline sport. The Beach Boys were crosstown rivals, mostly with the car crowd, but I did cruise up and down “the same old strip” (Hawthorne Boulevard) and distinctly remember them getting egged on the baseball field at a Loyola University homecoming concert. Dennis Wilson had a new “Vette” and the local guys knew he was showing off. Adding to the rising resentment was new band member Al Jardine replacing David Marks in the lineup. The crowd thought they were getting gypped and the eggs were launched.
I drew [famed cartoon surfer] “Murphy” on my canvas school binder and I became a hard-hit fan of the artist [Rick Griffin]. After years of following his work, I wanted to follow suit and majored in art in college. When an opportunity at school arose, I organized Griffin’s first solo show and finally got to meet and spend some time with him. Always cordial, he knew I was a fan and treated me accordingly, though he did turn me on to some of the more “mysterioso” aspects of his life. We traded some pieces and I became the proud owner of some key Griffin work. Sadly his prolific art came to an end when he was killed in a motorcycle accident, but his inspiration continues to fuel me to this day. Post-college I moved on to other interests in the arts, history, and publishing worlds but always clung to and kept up with the coastline craze I grew up with. This book is an extension of that.
To attempt to encapsulate this history in a single volume is an impossible task. The richness of the sport in terms of visual imagery and depth of subject matter would require multiple volumes to do it justice. Unique in its influence on music, fashion, lifestyle, and language, surfing embraces and integrates these and other cultural elements to further enhance the sport. Thus the task of putting together one book that would reflect all of these aspects was a daunting one.
Nazaré, Portugal, 2013 by Tó Mané
The job of creating a survey of “the sport of kings” was based on a narrative that started with a broad stroke and then was fine-tuned. Experts in the field, surf legends, captains of the surf industry, seasoned photographers, “groms” [slang for a young surfer] and pros, along with the surfers who just paddle out on the weekend, were solicited. Their guidance and contributions to this process provided the book with an authentic perspective. Eventually the countless stories and a stockpile of images were assembled for consideration. The most grueling task was to cull the best ones from the approximately 7,000 images to fit a 600-page book.
After assembling a rough cut of the book, I came to the realization that I couldn’t include all of the elements I wanted to. So rather than try to incorporate every photo, event, and personality, it became apparent that some dutiful editing needed to happen. There were some tough decisions to make. I was very aware of the lapses and exclusions of material from previous publications and made a stab at compensating for those shortcomings. I also wanted to work in some surprises and “I have never seen that!” moments. What you have in your hands is a result of that effort.
A book, an article, or blog can only give a glimpse of what the world of surfing is all about. Ultimately the sport demands more. What it delivers cannot be found in something as tangible as a book. It is the satisfaction that surfers and non-surfers alike get from communicating so closely with nature, be it with a herd at Rincon, an early morning paddle out in Biarritz, attacking a monster at Teahupo’o, or sitting on the sand reveling in the mantra of repetitive breaking waves. The act of being in concert with mother ocean, despite other obvious distractions, is what brings one back again and again to this world. The clothes, the boards, the music, the contests, the rivalries, and friendships all exist in supporting roles to the water.
At the end of the day, as John Severson so aptly put it many decades ago, “In this crowded world, the surfer can still seek and find the perfect day, the perfect wave, and be alone with the surf and his thoughts.” – Written by Jim Heimann
Magazine cover of Pictorial California and the Pacific, 1930
Santa Monica, California, circa 1931.
Originally appeared in the Fall 2016 Issue.
