Frank 38 "Surf" - Herbie Fletcher

Interview Dibi Fletcher Photos courtesy of Walter Hoffman Surfing is an old sport. It has been an important part of Hawaiian culture for hundreds of years, practiced long before the first wetsuit was donned or any sponsorship money was paid out. And while we will never be able to directly applaud the true originator— the first person to stand up on an opportunely shaped slab of driftwood—there are a few known pioneers to whom we can pay homage.

One of these men is Walter Hoffman. An original big-wave charger, influential board builder, and surf-inspired textile innovator, Walter’s contribution to surf culture cannot be overstated. As father to Dibi Fletcher and Joyce Hoffman, father-in-law to Herbie Fletcher, and grandfather to Christian and Nathan Fletcher, Walter has been generous in passing his gifts down to his family, whether by nature or nurture.

Dibi Fletcher: Where were you raised?

Walter Hoffman: Between Hollywood and Laguna Beach. Both places.

Wintertime in Hollywood, summertime in Laguna Beach.

DF: When did you first start surfing?

WH: Nineteen forty-seven.

DF: What was the board that you surfed on made of?

WH: Balsa-redwood.

DF: Who shaped it?

WH: It was a Swastika board that I got at Snuffy’s Sporting Goods store in Westwood.

DF: Was that a brand or a model?

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WH: It was a brand. It was made by that big company that made balsawood in the old days…that carried balsawood that everybody bought.

Herbie Fletcher: Pacific Homes?

WH: Pacific Homes.

HF: And they ran out of balsawood and that’s why they created foam, right?

WH: No, that’s not right. Grubby invented the foam blank along with

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Hobie. The process would revolutionize surfing, making lighter boards.

They always had balsawood.

DF: Who was the most influential shaper when you were a young man?

WH: Everybody wanted a Simmons board, but I don’t think they were the best. I think the best shapers in those days were Joe Quigg and Matt Kivlin.

I think they made the best boards in those days…had the best-shaped boards, and rode the best.

DF: How heavy were those boards?

WH: I’m saying between 20 to 35 pounds.

DF: And they were single-fin?

WH: They were all single-fins.

Bob Simmons had a lot of doublefins—twin-fins.

DF: At that time surfing was more about trimming [basic angled path across the wave face]. So how big were the actual fins at that time?

WH: Six…seven-inch fins, except in Hawaii where they used eightinch. ...I’m talking shapers here, not in Hawaii.

DF: So who were the most influential shapers in Hawaii?

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WH: Ooo, that’s a good one. That shaped production boards in Hawaii?

Probably a Wally Froiseth, George Downing. And they bought a lot of the balsa-redwood boards from here when I first went over, and there may have been some guys over there that did boards.

DF: So was weight, speed, or flotation the most important, or a combination of all of those things?

WH: Performance! A good riding board had to be able to be fast, catch waves…the same thing it is today, as far as I’m concerned. (laughs) DF: When you spent time in California, in Laguna, did you surf up and down the coast?

WH: Yeah. Up and down the coast, from Rincon mostly, down to Wind ’N Sea. DF: And was there a sense of localism at the different beaches?

WH: No. Not really. Everybody knew everybody in those days, and everybody got along.

DF: Looking back, how many surfers were there?

WH: Fifty surfers from Malibu area, 50 surfers from Palos Verdes, 25…30 surfers from Laguna, not too many from Oceanside, 150 surfers from the San Diego area.

DF: What kind of music were you listening to then?

WH: Whatever was popular at the time. I don’t know.

DF: What year do you think that was?

Forties?

WH: Forty-eight. Right around there.

DF: OK, so at that time wasn’t there a lot of Hawaiiana music that was popular?

WH: Yeah. We all listened to Hawaiian music. That’s right.

DF: Steel guitar and all this. ’Cause you had told me at one time that you

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went to what club in Hollywood to listen to Hawaiian music?

WH: Waikiki Tavern it was called.

DF: And they played the steel guitar?

WH: All the Hawaiian bands had steel guitar.

DF: Where did you surf primarily in those early years?

WH: If I lived in Hollywood, in the summertime I surfed at Malibu—in the early part of the summer. And then from about May I’d come down and start surfing in Laguna Beach, San Onofre, in that area, all through summer. And then at the end of summer— this is when I was going to high school and college—surfing Malibu, and then towards Christmas time we’d surf the Overhead, Palos Verdes, Rincon.

DF: When was your first trip to Hawaii?

WH: Nineteen forty-nine.

HF: Who would you go surfing with when you went up to places like Malibu and Rincon?

WH: In the water, everbody. Buzzy Trent, Flippy [Walter’s brother], Joe Quigg, Matt Kivlin, Dave Rochlen… everybody.

DF: So your first trip to Hawaii in ’49, did you surf?

WH: Yep. DF: Where’d you surf?

WH: Waikiki. Only Waikiki.

HF: What spot?

WH: Well, we got there, we surfed Castles the first day I got there.

Then Big Publics. As good as it gets, too. And then, mostly from there, Queen’s.

DF: So the first time you went there, did you think, Oh my god, this is for me?

WH: I liked it, yeah. It was great.

DF: And how old were you in 1949?

WH: Probably 18 or 19.

DF: When’s the first time you went

to Makaha?

WH: I would say 1951, I think.

DF: And were you there on a vacation?

WH: No, I was in the service. I was in the Navy.

DF: So during your Navy duties you were able to go out and go surfing in Makaha?

WH: Yeah. Matt Kivlin took me out there the first time.

DF: And what kind of board did you ride there?

WH: Good question. Probably one of my own 100% balsa, I think.

DF: And you made it?

WH: I think I made that board. If I

didn’t make it, Matt Kivlin made it. It was all balsa.

DF: The waves were big?

WH: No, they weren’t that big. They were probably six…seven foot the first time I went out.

DF: You had surfed big surf on the California coast and whatnot. Did you prefer that to the smaller surf, or was surfing surfing?

WH: Surfing was surfing. But the bigger the waves, the more thrilling it was, naturally.

DF: What year was it that you were first in the Makaha contest?

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WH: The first year they had it, I think.

Fifty-three…’54…’55.

DF: I think I have a picture of you and it’s earlier than that. I think it’s like ’52 or something like that. You were young.

WH: Whenever it was.

DF: When people think of contests today, they think of shortboard contests, but the Makaha contest at that time was— WH: Longboard and tandem.

DF: And you were a tandem surfer.

WH: Everybody entered everything.

DF: And what was your famous pickup line?

WH: I don’t know. What was it?

DF: Something about, “I guarantee I won’t get your hair wet.”

WH: (laughs) DF: Did they have a women’s division?

WH: Oh yeah. Boy’s, men’s, tandem, and they had paddling, too.

DF: So it was kind of an all-around contest then, just like there would be today. But nowadays it’s more shortboarding.

WH: Well, longboard’s pretty big, too.

They have a lot of contests for longboards, too.

DF: You still surf. Where’s your favorite spot to surf now?

WH: It depends where I’m at. What do you mean? Where I surf now, or what I would like to surf now?

DF: What would you like to surf now?

WH: Padang [Indonesia] I think is the best wave. That, and Makaha when there’s nobody out.

DF: So you’re never doing that, because there’s never going to be no one out, right? (laughs) WH: Well, I’m too old for that, I think.

And I don’t get over there enough. I don’t surf enough anymore.

DF: Who do you have the most fun surfing with now?

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WH: Today? No one. (laughs) I’d rather surf by myself with no one out.

DF: If you weren’t a surfer, what would you like to have been?

WH: A motorcycle rider.

DF: Street, desert…?

WH: All kinds. Miler, on the mile, would have been the greatest.

DF: Flat track?

WH: Flat-track miler. Dirt racing.

DF: What do you think is the greatest innovation in surfing?

WH: The boards, skateboards, and the leash, so everybody could surf and not lose their boards. They didn’t have to know how to swim! Different deal all together.

DF: Did you ever think that you’d see something like tow-in surfing?

WH: Yeah, I thought so. They were towin’-in years ago behind boats and stuff. It was like water skiing. “Pete” Peterson, I’ve seen him let go up in Santa Monica behind a boat, on water skis, and ride a wave. I’m talking in 1949 or 1950.

DF: So surfing was always going to evolve, like everything else.

WH: Right.

DF: Your grandkids surfed, your kids surfed, and everything else. Do you think that it was because of your influence that they picked up surfing, or they would have picked it up on their own?

WH: Living at the beach, there was nothing else to do, so they’d surf.

DF: So now there’s surf-heritage museums, and people are trying to go back and collect the history of surfing.

WH: Right.

DF: Do you feel that some of that history is being lost or changed because of the way it’s being interpreted?

WH: No, I think it’s good. I think the Surfer’s Heritage Foundation is doing a good job.

DF: You have a lot of boards in there. It’s interesting to go in and look through the evolution of the surfboard, isn’t it?

WH: Right.

HF: You’ve got to get the history before it’s gone.

WH: And they’ve really done a job on old photographs and all that stuff.

Jeez, it’s unbelievable.

DF: Don’t you think that the history of surfing is really the history of Southern California?

WH: And Hawaii. Oh, absolutely.

DF: It’s evolved into a whole culture.

It’s evolved into the beach culture, which is indicative of Southern California and Hawaii.

HF: And a lot of it started right here on the beach.

DF: As your business—Hoffman Fabric—has evolved through the years, you were very responsible for helping to spread this surf-culture idea through all these companies.

WH: OK. That’s right.

DF: Did your artists work with artists from the other companies, or did the artists that you had on staff come up with a lot of the designs?

WH: In the early days, we did the designs for most of the companies, because they couldn’t afford artists in those days. Today, they’re doing a lot, and they give us directions, and we do a lot.

DF: How important has the Hawaiian shirt been in the last 50 years?

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WH: For who? Fashion-wise, it comes and goes.

DF: Was there really a whole industry built around that and the board short?

WH: Yes. The surf industry was built around the board short first, then the Hawaiian shirt, because it fitted in with surfing. Everybody dreamed of Hawaii. So the Hawaiian shirt was with the trunks.

DF: It’s certainly been one of the most relevant fashion happenings, so to say, in the last 50 years, if a whole industry could be built around a board short and a Hawaiian shirt.

WH: Yeah, but then it expanded out of that. The board short is probably where it started, and then it went right away into Hawaiian shirts.

DF: When you were young, what were the first board shorts made of?

WH: Probably we just bought board

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shorts from Jansen, made out of cotton, or a blend of poly-cotton.

DF: When I was young and you took me to Hawaii as a kid, the “in” board short was a very heavyweight canvas.

WH: Denim or twill from M. Nii probably, Taki’s, and Lynn’s. Those were the three major labels in the early, early days.

DF: So canvas, because it doesn’t dry fast…I never understood that. It’s gotta be uncomfortable as hell.

WH: Yeah. Horrible. It wasn’t canvas.

It was a twill.

DF: It was a look, then.

WH: Naah, those were the major fabrics that were available, and the cotton-poplin was probably the best of the three. Then later on everybody got into nylon.

DF: A technical advance in fabrics.

So then they got lightweight and dryfast and all that stuff.

What has the board short evolved to?

WH: It’s been polyester. In the future I think it’s going to be more technical, lightweight, and also another direction is cotton.

HF: What about the recycled stuff?

What are they gonna do with that?

WH: The small companies and the medium-sized companies will use it. It’s good for trunks. You can make trunks if they’re sewn well and everything like that. But it’s expensive. Today, it’s all price. That’s today, ’cause we’re in a recession, basically—we’re supposed to be coming out of it—but it’s all price today. The big companies can’t afford it, really.

HF: I noticed Billabong has it, and Volcom, they’re doing the recycled deal.

WH: Everybody does the recycled thing. But you’re talking real big volume that’s not there yet. It’s gonna be there in women’s wear in the big women’s houses that have retail stores.

DF: Don’t you think that’s also because women are more willing to spend more money on their clothes?

WH: Right. It could be great if the price of the fabric is much more expensive.

That’s the problem. And I think most of it’s coming from overseas now and they’re taking advantage of the prices—getting a big price for it, ’cause it’s an “in” thing today. And it’ll come down. It’ll be at volume two years from now. Everybody will be using it. We run a bamboo cloth, and it’s expensive compared to everything else. As soon as you tell them the price…“Well, I’d rather have a print in all cotton or

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in nylon,” ’cause it’s cheaper. So limited market for the beach people at this time—that’s my feeling. T-shirts, that another story. They can do it and come out at a decent price where the average person can afford it. And that’s where it’s really good.

DF: What’s the difference in the fabrication of the shirts that most of the companies are making? Are they going more green, or is it still the price point, with the men’s clothing?

WH: They’re going to novelties. They don’t make too many novelties in the green fabrics.

DF: How have surf-clothing companies changed in the last decade?

WH: Surf became more popular as time went on, and the garment people got into it. Everybody got into the surfing area. When it got hot it was a fad, and then it turned into a regular business. Now it’s a fashion. Everybody’s in it, kinda.

DF: Now a lot of companies are public, and they have to be, because they couldn’t stay just small surf companies.

WH: Right.

DF: Do you see us coming out of this recession any time soon? There’s so much clothing out there and available, have you seen any kind of pickup with some of these small to medium companies being able to buy?

WH: It depends on the areas. Hawaii is turning around, which is amazing.

California has gotten a little bit better, but not real strong. It’s not strong.

There’s a lot of closeouts, so it’s really a tough question. A lot of the big guys are dumping, and a lot of the medium guys are getting hurt by it.

DF: Because of off-shore manufacturing, your business, over the years, has had to dramatically change, and

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has had to reconfigure itself, because, just like you said, the companies couldn’t afford their own artists. Now they all have their own artists, and do a lot of things in-house that they weren’t able to do before.

WH: We mainly deal with the medium to small manufacturers—the more creative guys that aren’t in the giant, giant volume.

DF: In some ways that’s more interesting.

WH: Oh, yeah. It’s more fun. We also do the quilt end of the business, too, which is a great end. That’s where there’s really creative people.

DF: So you’re selling to mom and pop stores?

WH: Quilt stores, yeah.

DF: And do they do a lot of “Hawaiian fabrics” in the quilting?

WH: “Tropical.” I call them “tropical,” which is another word for “Hawaiian fabrics” in general. We do all kinds of patterns, from paisleys to palm trees.

DF: You’re going on a surf trip coming up here real soon. What do you do to prepare to go on a surf trip now? Do you do something different than you would have done 20 years ago? Or is it just, pack your board and go?

WH: Pack my board and go.

DF: You usually go someplace where there’s warmer water.

WH: I go to Mexico, mainly.

DF: Because of the convenience?

WH: Convenience, right.

DF: How many people do you usually travel with to go on these surf trips?

WH: A couple people. Maybe three.

Friends in my age group, pretty much.

DF: So you’ve lived a pretty nice life, kind of within the realm of surfing always.

WH: Tried to.

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Photo Craig Wetherby

Interview Dibi Fletcher Photos courtesy of Art Brewer, Herbie Fletcher, Hank Foto, Greg MacGillivray, Craig Wetherby Herbie Fletcher’s excitement about all things surf has only intensified over the last 50 years. He is extremely knowledgeable and passionate when it comes to surf destinations and gear, but nothing compares to the love and respect he feels for his peers.

While some veterans pay no mind to the youngsters, Herbie recognizes the talent of future torchbearers and maintains a sincere admiration for anyone who is deserving of it. He is never shy about giving praise where it is due, and if nothing else, what follows in this chapter is a testament to that.

Dibi Fletcher: When and where did you first start surfing?

Herbie Fletcher: I first started surfing—if you could call it surfing—at San Clemente T-Street when I was nine years old. I’d run and go grab surfboards that would float in and go play on ’em until the big guy came in and grabbed ’em. Then I went home, had my paper route, and bought me a $27

balsawood Velzy-Jacobs. So I started on balsawood down at Doheny where all the surfers go, in 1958.

DF: What was it about surfing that most intrigued you?

HF: I don’t know! I’d just see everyone out there standing on surfboards riding waves. It looked like so much fun. I just loved it. I’d also ride rafts and play in the water, low tide in the tide

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pools with my skimboard. I was a little beach rat.

DF: When did you first go to Hawaii?

HF: My first trip to Hawaii was in 1965.

I was 16 years old and livin’ on the beach, or in the bushes, on floors, in vacant cars, or parked cars. Wherever I could find a place to lay my head and not too many mosquitoes would eat me, that’s where I was.

DF: Who were your idols?

HF: In those days we didn’t have surf magazines, so I’d watch surf movies— old Bud Browne movies and some John Severson movies. In those, Phil Edwards was a standout, Miki Dora, Dewey Weber, Johnny Fain—he was jerky, but he had something at Malibu.

And big-wave riders like Ricky Gregg and Paul Strauch. Then it led on to a new breed, people like John Peck and that era.

DF: So if there wasn’t “professional surfing” at that time, how did you support yourself?

HF: I was living with my mom and dad in Huntington Beach, but then I got a job from Hobie and Bruce Brown. We made a little movie called The Wet Set. That was my first job, and Hobie paid me enough money to where I could go to Hawaii and hang out until the next one in summer. That was October ’65. I was in Hawaii in December.

DF: And that was the start of the drug culture there?

HF: Yeah, people were smoking pot, but you didn’t do it in public. Also, LSD was legal then, so people were dabbling with that, but mainly smoking pot.

DF: You’d been good friends with Michael Hynson way before the Rainbow Bridge experience, correct?

HF: Oh yeah. Mike and I were good buddies back in ’65. Around then he’d come up to Huntington.

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I’d see him down in San Diego at Blacks and we’d go surfing and hang out. Skip Frye was hanging out, and there were a few other guys.

We all went surfing together.

DF: Didn’t you live by him on the North Shore?

HF: The winter of ’67-’68, Gary Chapman and I lived together. Jock [Sutherland] just moved out, but that was at Banzai Beach. That’s the first year Off-The-Wall and Backdoor was really ridden.

We’d see rights coming down from Pipeline, so we’d just start paddling up to them and surfing ’em. We called it Pipeline Rights. The people that sat on the wall called it Off-The-Wall. So that’s how it got its name, I think. We’d surf there all the time.

Mike was next door. He had a shaping room, he had a lot of money, and he had blanks. I got a couple blanks and I made some boards. They were just epic.

DF: How important was surfboard design?

HF: Surfboard design was really important, especially in the ’60s, because it changed so radically. It changed from logs and longboards.

The boards started to shorten up and it started getting more technical, with the tails and the noses and the rails. It really started moving.

The rails, when they’re round, suck water around the top and slow you down. When we started forming the rails down, we were getting on top of the water and flying. That was a big deal in those days, sideslipping and doing different things—hard turns, riding in the tube, and going around the hook. Nowadays, the boards are so small and thin and dinky it’s like you’re swimming, almost. They just stand up

Herbie in his surf-team jacket skating “The Pool” barefoot on a homemade board with clay wheels, around 1963. and get shot out with the lip. They’re flying. Their rails are in the water and they’re going so fast and riding so deep in the barrel that they’re riding on top of the foam that comes back up the face.

It’s called the “foam ball.” They tell me, “Herb, it’s not how long you can ride in the tube anymore, it’s how long you can ride on top of the foam ball.”

DF: Would you consider yourself an artist, or a craftsman?

HF: I’m an artist, and a craftsman.

I dream about surfing in different places and how to use the board. The only way to be able to get boards that way—the way you think—is to get out there, work on ’em, shape them, and learn the measurements and how to

work with the tools so you can make what you need.

DF: You were the first to start towing surfers into waves with the jet ski. How do you feel about the sport now?

HF: When I first started jet skiing, I wanted to ride giant waves and explore the reefs, and I did so. I started getting out on those outer reefs in Hawaii in ’81. I’d been riding jet skis since ’72.

I got my first one in ’75 in Hawaii. It takes money. So I did whatever I had to do to get my jet ski to Hawaii, and when I got it there, I wanted to hook up with guys that rode bigger waves.

But in the ’80s there weren’t a whole lot of big-wave riders. There was [Ken] Bradshaw and Ace Cool. I was on my own thing, riding the outside reefs all

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Photo Craig Wetherby

by myself, you know, giant Logs. I’d try to get people to go jet ski with me, like Laird [Hamilton], tow ’em in. Nobody wanted to know about it. Maybe they were too young at the time.

Finally, I coached my kids into doing it at Banzai Beach They were young.

Christian was very young. Nathan was 12 or something. It wasn’t till about ’85, with Pottz [Martin Potter]. It was a perfect day for towing out at Pipeline.

Pottz was all stoked, I was throwing the rope around, and Tommy Carroll and Kong [Gary Elkerton] also wanted to go for a ride. By the end of that, everybody wanted to do it.

I think it’s gonna go into big-wave riding, the tow-in. People like John John [Florence] are gonna be flying in the

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air at Jaws doing flips and twists. It’s gonna end up like snowboarding.

DF: Was there someone or something that you would consider the most influential contribution to modern board building?

HF: There’s a lot of things that go into board building. You can watch the movies and study ’em, watch your best surfers doing things, work with the best surfers and shapers that you can. It’s evolution. It just keeps on happening. There are people that come to the top and they keep evolving. That’s why I did Astrodeck, ’cause I wanted to work with the best surfers, and I think I have. I’ve worked with almost every good surfer in the world. I was a shaper when I was young, and a designer. We came up

Herbie and Nathan.

Photo Art Brewer

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Photo Hank Foto

Photo Greg MacGillivray

Photo Art Brewer

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Photo Art Brewer

Herbie fine-tuning stringers, 1995.

with lots of designs like the no-nose in the old days. I worked with Hynson on the down rail and different concaves.

Always experimenting.

DF: You’ve made quite a few surf films in your career. Which is your favorite?

HF: I’ve made a lot of surf films, Wave Warriors being a big deal. Adrenaline Surf Series captured the California aerial movement, which people haven’t even grasped yet, I think. I really enjoy it, because your surfing gets better watching it. You’re watching these young kids do new, inventive things.

DF: Are you working on a film now?

HF: I’m working on a few different films. I’m working on a major documentary of the Wave Warriors. That’s of Wave Warriors past, present, and possibly the future. It’ll talk about all the aerials and how all that happened.

It’ll talk about the pioneers that went to Makaha in the early days of bigwave riding and challenged Waimea, and in the tube—the Wave Warriors of my day.

DF: Do you continue to do a lot of still photography?

HF: I love my still photography in different moments. When I go to the beach, yeah, I can go surfing for a couple hours, but then I like to hang out at the beach. I just don’t like to lay there. So I got my camera, and I really enjoy watching the surfers go.

That way, you pay attention to what’s going on in the water, hanging out at Pipeline underneath the trees or in the sun. It’s just really fantastic to be able to hang there and watch all the new Wave Warriors come about.

DF: You’ve taken your photography and made a lot of pretty remarkable collages in the last few years. Do you see yourself being able to utilize all this film that you’ve done to pursue a

career doing something like that?

HF: I love making surf collages because you go there, you shoot the film, you develop it, and then you start pasting it together. Every time you look at that, it takes you back to the moment that you were there. It’s a real pleasurable time. I plan on doing a lot. The older I get, the more time I’m gonna have to make art and do collages or paint, sculpt, make surfboards, make radical stuff.

DF: I’ve noticed that you’ve been able to incorporate a lot of the surf materials in the new art that you’re making.

Do you think that that’s almost like surfboard building with a new twist?

HF: I’ve always worked with foam, fiberglass, and resin, so yeah, that’s all in my art of today, too, with photographs and surfboards. I really love plastic and resin—to work with. Not the fumes so much, but to work with it. It’s abstract, subconscious stuff, so a lot of times you don’t know what you’re gonna get, and that’s the beauty of it.

Working with resin is like surfing, in a way, because when you take off on a wave, you don’t know what you’re gonna do on that wave. You have an idea, you’ve got a start, but you don’t know how it’s gonna end up, because you don’t know how the wave is gonna form, but you’re gonna ride that wave, and it’s all abstract. It changes in front of you. Sometimes you make the greatest mistakes. I’ve made great mistakes, and that’s how I’ve learned to do some crazy stuff with the resin.

DF: If you weren’t a surfer, what would your life look like?

HF: I have no idea. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t surf. I started surfing when I was really young. I really enjoy it and I’ve turned my life into it.

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ck Astrode 48

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n 1980 I was working on a non-skid traction for the decks of surfboards, called Astrodeck. I gathered together the greatest surf team ever assembled. They knew the product worked, and I began a series of films called Wave Warriors.

By the time we got to Wave Warriors III, the new kids were changing surfing, and we changed the way surf movies were made, with fast action, wild music, and radical talent. – Herbie Fletcher

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hen I was growing up? Oh man, yeah. Wave Warriors I – IV were all my favorites.

Guys like Pottz—who’s my favorite surfer to this day—Archy [Matt Archbold], those guys are my heroes. When I see them and get to say hi to them, it’s like the biggest privilege ever. It’s so cool that I get to see these guys that I watched growing up surfing. I’ve tried to imitate them, I’ve gotten their airbrushes, I’ve looked up to them my whole life, and now I get to hang out with them, and it’s a trip.

I learned so much. First of all, I learned how to do airs watching Christian [Fletcher] and Archy. And then I went from that to learning how to do big carves, like Pottz.

You just go through stages. It was almost like home schooling. I used to watch sections over and over again. I had my favorite sections. If the waves were really big, I’d watch the Honolulu section of Johnny [Boy Gomes] and Dane [Kealoha] and Christian. If it was small and riffable, I’d watch Archy and Pottz. That kind of stuff kept me so motivated and amped up on a day-to-day basis that it molded my surfing into what it is today, for sure.

They were catching waves that nobody else had ever seen. Only a handful had that in them, and you can definitely tell who it is when they’re in the lineup. That’s the sign of a Wave Warrior—the one that finds the best waves and does it when people don’t even think there’s ones out there. Everything’s moving at such a fast pace that you need to be a warrior, in a sense, to get through the bullshit and really make it.

– Andy Irons

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Wave Warriors, being a part of it for me was being a part of the best team in the world. I constantly look back at the posters and pictures and the / * /01"" * #+ : $ 0=/ 0$! !/0 0! ) 5+1=.! !2!. #+** #!0 ; 3 / part of the fucking most awesome team on the planet.

That was the tribe. That was our sport. That was the people that were '% '%*# //90$! %**+2 0+./ 0$! !/0 %* 0$! 3+.( ".+) 0$! $ 1* Tomsons all the way down to the Matt Archbolds. They were all in there, ".+) . %,!(%*!/ 0+ . 1*/!0/ +1 +2!.! 0$! 3$+(! /,! 0.1) +*=0 0$%*' 5+1 +1( !2!. //!) (! 0! ) (%'! 0$ 0 0+ 57!2!.

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Interview Dibi Fletcher Photos Herbie Fletcher Most big institutions resist big change. Despite the stereotypes, surfing is a good example. As “free and easy” as wave riding was always meant to be, some stodgy greybeards felt that the budding aerial movement of the 1980s was going to muddy their pristine pastime. They argued that intentionally breaking contact with the wave amounted to nothing more than a glorified kick-out, only good for the glossies. While several prime targets emerged around the same time, Christian Fletcher bore the brunt of mainstream surf’s indignation.

The irony is that Christian embodied “radical,” one of the sport’s most sacred expressions. But when he took the pool to the ocean—that is, adapted skate tricks for surf—he wasn’t asking the old guard for permission. In fact, everything about him was a “fuck you” to the powers that be, including his ghoulishly irreverent tattoos and attitude to match. Christian will tell you that he was cast out of

surf’s inner circle—company he never much cared to keep—as punishment for progressing.

Now that the aerial movement has become one of the more popular subsections of surf, history will recognize Christian Fletcher and his high-flying colleagues not for desecrating, but for innovating.

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Dibi Fletcher: If you hadn’t been a surfer, what would you have preferred being?

Christian Fletcher: I’d prefer to have been a road racer—motorcycles.

But you get hurt less and there’s probably more money involved with golf and NASCAR. NASCAR would have been a little more exciting, though.

DF: What’s the best time you’ve had sober?

CF: Probably roadracing motorcycles.

DF: What’s your greatest fear?

CF: My greatest fear is probably of heights.

DF: So you don’t want to go skydiving?

CF: That’s different, ’cause you’re so high you can’t tell how high you are.

But I’ve stayed on the 42nd floor of a building, and I gotta creep towards the window very slowly and make sure I’m very stable about it, ’cause I lose my stomach otherwise.

DF: You said recently you’d like to try one of those squirrel suits.

CF: See, that’s different. You’re so high you don’t understand. You can jump off a cliff doing that, too. That doesn’t scare me as much, either. But walking up to the cliff does.

DF: So if somebody pushed you, you’d be OK. CF: Or if I ran and jumped, yeah. But just walking up and looking, that’s scary.

DF: What was it like street-luging down the toll road at night?

CF: Never quite made it. We tried to do the toll road in the daytime and the cops flipped a U-ie on the freeway and came back up and yelled at us.

DF: Is that when he chased you and called you a moron?

CF: No, that was a different hill. He didn’t call us morons. He ran us into

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the curb and got out of the car and said, “What the fuck are you doing, you fuckin’ idiots?!”

DF: What do you think is the most inspiring thing about skateboarding?

CF: Probably the innovation and the camaraderie. You show up at a skateboard ramp and there’d be 50 people there and they’re still really happy to see you, and say hello. You show up surfing, there’s like two people in the water and they’re still giving you dirty looks.

it’s like playing a video game. I can sit there and just tell him what to do and watch. (laughs) DF: He still does what you say?

CF: Yeah, sometimes.

DF: Is it getting more or less that way?

CF: No, he’s pretty good about it.

DF: How was bullriding?

CF: Bullriding was exciting. I wouldn’t recommend getting drunk the night before and scaring the bulls around for two hours before you ride ’em the next morning, because they will remember you and try to kill you.

DF: When did you get your first tattoo?

CF: I waited till I was 18 to get my first tattoo, because of you.

DF: You were at a tattoo convention the other day. How do you think tattooing has changed since you first got yours?

CF: Well, they have mechanical bulls in the parking lot that you can ride for free. And everybody has a tattoo nowadays. It’s…strange.

DF: So it’s not like that outlaw thing that you thought it was when you were younger?

CF: No, it’s almost like a preppy, yuppie type of thing to do.

DF: If your skin was virgin, would you redo the same images?

CF: Of course not.

DF: (laughs) So you’ve got a lot of monsters. What would you have now?

CF: Evil mechanical armor, probably, so that way, you’d still get the monsters.

DF: You’d just have it a little bit better done? (laughs) CF: Yeah. I’d have it much better done.

DF: Not so much like a tweaker’s scratch pad?

CF: Yeah, but at the same time, you don’t want it too nice, ’cause then it looks weird.

DF: It looks thought out. Yours doesn’t look thought out. (laughs)

DF: Who’s your favorite person to skate with?

CF: My favorite person to skate with is probably my kid, Greyson, ’cause

What’s the gnarliest wave you’ve surfed?

CF: Probably Pipeline, in the middle of the night, by myself.

DF: Is the rush of going 160 miles an hour in the turn on a road bike like anything else you’ve ever done?

CF: No, it’s a longer-lasting rush, ’cause you get the same adrenaline you do from riding a big wave or doing anything scary, like almost crashing a car or fighting—the shaky adrenaline feeling—you’re getting that from the time you start to the time you stop.

You figure you’re getting that same amount of adrenaline for 20 minutes at a time, instead of like…two seconds.

DF: What’s your favorite type of music?

CF: I like all different types of music, especially now that I’m older and not so narrow-minded. But I like a lot of the Upper East Coast hardcore, classic rock….

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DF: That’s how you got to be called “The Pipeline Prowler?”

CF: Well, they got their Pipeline Posse, and I told them they could keep it, ’cause I was The Pipeline Prowler.

DF: Where would you like to surf that you haven’t?

CF: I’d like to surf Teahupoo. I’ve never been there yet. And that looks like a really nice wave, to where you could launch an air over a boat at the end of it—get a big tube and fly out of the tube and fly over a boat. That’d be cool.

DF: So you do like to fly, it’s just on your own terms.

CF: Yeah. I like to fly remote-control airplanes, too.

DF: How was your recent trip to Bali?

CF: My recent trip to Bali was amazing. Never wanted to come home.

DF: But you did.

CF: But I did.

DF: And now in retrospect, do you think you would have, had you known what you know now?

CF: Yeah. I had to face the music sometime. (laughs) DF: And was it as bad as you thought?

CF: Yep. DF: What’s the worst part about it?

CF: Not being able to go anywhere.

DF: Oh, OK. Is that Peter Pan idea kind of dead? (laughs) CF: Peter Pan? DF: Being the kid forever.

CF: Not really. Look at Dad. Dad’s still Peter Pan. DF: OK. CF: But he’s more of a Peter Pan with responsibilities. It’s better than being Tinker Bell.

DF: That’s true! What’s the best and worst thing about growing up in a family that surfs?

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Air over human.

CF: The best would be starting to surf somewhere around the time when you’re walking. The worst would be never being able to take a break. And people have all kinds of expectations.

DF: Do you think that they were theirs, or do you think they’re yours?

CF: I would say they’re theirs.

DF: And what expectations do you have?

CF: Are we talking past, present, or future?

DF: Let’s start with past.

CF: I dunno, ’cause they’re already passed.

DF: (laughs) What expectations do you have for the future?

CF: I try not to make too high of expectations. If you aim low, you don’t disappoint yourself.

20 years. I was talking to Ian Cairns on the beach the other day and asking him if like when I was 13…14…15, if he thought aerials were gonna be as big a part of surfing as they are today. And he told me he had “broad visions,” or something like that. And I was all, “Really?” He was all, “Yeah. Nowadays you pretty much have to do ’em.” I go, “Yeah. If you can’t do ’em, you don’t count.” And I go, “Before, if you could do ’em, you didn’t count.” So I guess that’s changed a lot.

DF: How do you think surfing has changed in the last 20 years?

CF: Surfing’s changed a lot in the last

DF: Who’s your favorite surfer?

CF: Depends on what time period.

I like the way Bruce Irons surfs a lot.

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Surfboard design hasn’t changed that much, though, I don’t think, in the last 20 years. The last big change in surfboard design was probably the Thruster. That was right around 1980 or something.

I think Mick Fanning rips. I like Andy [Irons] as a World Champion. I like Buttons Kaluhiokalani, my dad. It all changes depending on what year we’re talking about.

DF: And then with big or small surf that would be…?

CF: Aaron Cormican’s amazing when it’s head-high and under. I watch that guy tear waves apart in Florida, and it’s knee-high. I barely float.

DF: You wrote a short story in which you talked about wearing Hawaiianprint shorts and a matching aloha shirt. How relevant do you think the Hawaiian-print has been in the last couple of decades?

CF: You can wear an aloha shirt anywhere. You can wear it to a formal dinner, you can wear it to the beach, you can wear it down by the river in Portland. A Hawaiian shirt’s good anywhere. Ask Jimmy Buffet.

DF: What kind of changes have you noticed in the surf industry in the last 20 years?

CF: Nowadays there’s not much difference between professional and amateur. Little 11-year-old kids are getting paid thousands of dollars a month to surf. When I was a kid, they tried to take my amateur status away from me for being in an ad for Stussy as a model, not even a surfer. And that was just being in an ad. If you got paid, you were really screwed. You could not get paid and be an amateur. It was just impossible. And nowadays, young kids are getting offered million-dollar contracts, and they’re still amateurs.

It’s very strange. The targeted market is like nine to 14, which I find is very strange, too, ’cause the kids haven’t even hit puberty yet, really.

DF: How well do you think surfing has been portrayed in Hollywood?

CF: Surfing in Hollywood is abso-

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First indy air seen on a surfboard.

lutely disgusting. They get all the right people to begin with, and then either fire ’em or don’t listen to ’em. It always ends up pretty much the same, if not getting worse.

DF: Do you think that Hollywood had a say in how the average person viewed a surfer for a long time?

CF: I would say Hollywood kinda ruined surfing as a sport, for America. If you go to Australia, they look at surfers and surfing as athletes and a sport.

They came out with Fast Times at Ridgemont High here and everybody was stuck with [mock-“surfer” voice] “I know that dude!” Everybody thinks of a surfer like Spicoli, just a dumb stoner.

DF: Where do you see yourself in ten years?

CF: Hopefully not in Orange County.

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DF: How would you like to be remembered?

CF: I’m not quite sure, but I know how I’d like my funeral to be. I guess it would be more of a traditional Viking funeral, with a modern twist. They used to send out boats and burn them with the guy on them. Me, I wouldn’t mind being sent out on a surfboard or something, engulfed in flames, but packed with dynamite!

DF: That’s the modern twist?

CF: Yeah. So you go out in flames and then explode. But, I’d like my skull and maybe my femurs to be taken out so I could have a skull-and-crossbones plaque for my kid or something.

DF: Cool!

CF: Yeah. It’d be, “Beware! Don’t do as I did!”

Looking back at Rainbow Bridge, with the handheld shots and less than perfect soundtrack captured at the concert held between two craters notoriously known as a wind tunnel, the most amazing thing about it was that it got done at all. Herb and I had been going to Maui for years to take acid in the crater with many of our Brotherhood friends. The film loosely tries to recreate that long-forgotten moment of ’60s youth culture where it was believed that with the right surf, music, drugs, and planetary alignment, enlightenment was inevitable.

As I watched the movie again I found it to be pretentious, onerous, and quite boring, but I laughed and enjoyed myself with all the fond memories.

- Dibi Fletcher I can’t remember much of it, to tell you the truth. It was in ’70 or something like that. In those days we were smoking lots of hash and doing psychedelics, and that’s what it was about. The music of the time was about that, too—Jimi Hendrix was all about it.

I remember going to Maalaea and meeting up with Mike and Melinda Hynson and surfing over there and making some surfboards. It was a pretty crazy time. Hendrix played on the side of the crater. It was just a big lovefest.

- Herbie Fletcher

Illustration Travis Simon

Herbie and Archy hanginâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;.

Interview Dibi Fletcher Photos Herbie Fletcher Matt “Archy” Archbold is one of the fastest, loosest people to ever stand on a surfboard. “He goes so fast all the hair flew right off his head, and if you ever hang out while he’s drinking, you could very well end up dead.”

- Christian Fletcher Dibi Fletcher: Did you ever party with Archy in the back of his rented U-Haul?

Christian Fletcher: Uhh, no. I don’t think I was around to hang out with Archy in the back of his rented U-Haul…. Phewf! That’s a bust!

DF: You have friends that did, though.

I can tell by the smile on your face!

CF: Yes, I had friends that did.

DF: So that’s when Archy had no house.

CF: He had a rolling house.

DF: He had the bankcard and the U-Haul, right? Couch in the back….

CF: Bankcard, U-Haul—will travel.

DF: You were close in age and surfed the same breaks. Were you friends or rivals?

CF: I’d say we were more friends than rivals, because we didn’t end up surfing the same divisions or against

each other a whole lot. I was a couple years younger. I’d always lose, anyways, beforehand, before I got to surf against him, so it didn’t matter.

DF: Do you think he fit better into the surf-contest mold than you?

CF: Yeah, I think he fit better into the surf-contest mold. Obviously. He used to make it through the contests quite a bit. I made it through one.

DF: Tell us about what he used to do that was really far out at contests. Like he’d win, and then he wouldn’t show up for the finals?

CF: Well yeah, he’d surf really well throughout the week, and then come Sunday he wouldn’t show up for the semi-finals or finals or whatever.

DF: He was kind of well known as MIA. CF: He is well known for being a fuck up! He surfs really good, has one of the best turns in the business, but

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when it came to partying, he didn’t show up if he’d partied. That’s where me and him differed. I’d party but I’d still show up.

DF: Were your partying habits what drew you together?

CF: That and our sponsors. We had the same sponsors, pretty much. We had similar habits at nighttime. We both liked to party. He liked to drink more than I did, and I liked to do drugs more than he did, so we kinda met somewhere in the middle.

DF: So your sponsors would be considered gluttons for punishment.

CF: No, not really gluttons for punishment. We fuckin’ did good by the sponsors. We blew ’em up. Everybody remembers the Lanty wetsuits and Town & Country surfboards and stuff like that. What other companies can say that except for big, huge ones?

Lanty was very small, especially in the

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US, but everybody still remembers ’em.

DF: Do you think that was because of the press that you guys got because you were so not of the surf-industry mold?

CF: Guaranteed it was because of the press we got. It wasn’t ’cause they did such great sales. It was because me and him were in the magazines all the time wearing ’em, and videos and at the beach…all over.

DF: How was the Versace shoot with [Shaun] Palmer, Nathan, you, and Archy?

CF: That was pretty funny. Me and Archy borrowed somebody’s boat, went back into the intercoastal waterway, got some beers, we were drinkin’ and wakeboardin’, havin’ a good old time. Palmer was really straight. He wouldn’t even have a beer. I think it was my birthday. He wouldn’t even

Archy Pad. Classic.

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have a beer with me on my birthday, ’cause he was gonna get a chance to meet Christy Turlington and wanted to put on…what do you call that?... pretend he was somebody he wasn’t.

So he meets her, gets a date with her, and she’s fuckin’ over it, ’cause he was too boring. He should’ve just acted like himself and he would’ve fuckin’…hit a home run. (laughs) DF: What was the best time that you and Archy ever had together?

CF: I’ve had all kinds of great times with Archy, all over the world. Lots of good times in Hawaii, some fun in Costa Rica but not much, ’cause that was mostly a lot of babysitting.

DF: You or him?

CF: Oh, I was babysitting him.

We had great times in Japan, Australia, the Mentawais, I’ve had great surf trips with him to the East Coast, lots of fun. Just going up the Coast with him and Dad was all kinds of fun, losing him, finding him. It’s kinda tough when you lose a human. It’s like, what do you do? Go to the lost and found?

He’s not gonna be there, you know?

DF: What do you think is Archy’s greatest contribution to surfing?

CF: His greatest contribution to surfing would have to be style, attitude, and a mean turn.

DF: When you look back on it, you two would be considered the bad boys of surf.

CF: At the time, yes, we would be considered the “bad boys” of surf.

DF: And it was fun?

CF: It was a great time. Wouldn’t change that for anything.

DF: So you don’t see Archy much now, and he lives in Hawaii?

CF: Yeah, I don’t see him too much and he lives in Hawaii. He’s one of my

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favorite people to go on a surf trip with, though. Especially on the boat trips, ’cause it’s close quarters and he’s really grumpy with all the other surfers, and all I do is talk shit to him, so we get along really good. He doesn’t say a lot, he’s just grumpy. Me, I say everything that he wants to.

DF: So you’re the mouth?

CF: Yeah. I’m the mouth, he’s the ’tude.

Herbie Fletcher: How about that surf trip that we all went over to Third Dip and you and Archy paddled out and nobody was out.

CF: That day out surfing was pretty cool. The place was kind of a localized spot, and Johnny Boy Gomes pulled up, who’s the main dude or whatever, and was sitting there honking his horn when sets were coming. He told us to get the fuck out of the water.

DF: It was his spot.

CF: It was his spot, so he sat on the beach and watched us catch waves and was super cool, where most White kids get sent home.

DF: But you had had a long relationship with Johnny Boy. CF: Yeah, both of us had had a long relationship with Johnny Boy, and Dad as well. When he first pulled up and had seen all the surfboards on the car, he was kinda trippin’. But then when he saw it was us, he was cool. It was really nice of him.

That wave was amazing, though. The wave comes in probably from pretty deep water, and there’s a real shallow reef that’s short with dangerous, jagged lava rocks on the beach, so it comes in, breaks on the reef real fast and hallow, and then it’s done. It’s very shallow, very dangerous. Most people don’t like surfing it backside. I quite enjoyed it. Archy’s frontside and I’m backside. It was perfect.

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Words and photos Herbie Fletcher High-performance surfing in the early ’60s was all about smooth and stylish longboarding. Standing on the nose and hanging ten, making it look effortless. Drop-knee turn under a small section to run back up to the tip and squat into a cheater five.

This was the time of the Pavilion on the pier in Huntington Beach, where small bands like Ike and Tina Turner, Dick Dale, and Stevie Wonder used to play while lowriders from Long Beach were cruising Coast Highway out in front. The outside world was being spoonfed the music of the Beach Boys, which they were led to believe was the anthem of the California surf culture. By the late ’60s, the shortboard was allowing surfers to explore the inside of the tube while the sounds of Jimi Hendrix reverberated in their heads.

By the early ’70s, I had returned to California with my young family and needed to make a living. The waves were small and unexciting compared to the Hawaiian surf I was used to, so I opened up the doors of my surf shop in Dana Point with a new square-nose longboard for hanging ten. It carried the slogan “The Thrill is Back.”

The longboarder of today is a unique blend of the old and new, and it’s amazing to watch. From the North Shore to San Onofre and big waves to hot-dogging, anything goes, but style is everything!

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Christian Wach

Dino Miranda

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Robbie Kegel

Tommy Witt

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Photo Estevan Oriol

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Interview Daniel Cooper Photos Herbie Fletcher, Estevan Oriol I first saw Joel Tudor at a longboard contest in Oceanside when he was about 12. He had a style reminiscent of the masters that I grew up with. It’s great to see that this new generation—like many of their contemporaries—has a jerky, shortboard style while riding a longboard. His style was fluid with long lines—beautiful to watch. Here again was a link between past and future…always reinventing itself.

I’ve been fortunate to surf with Joel often. It’s great riding in front of him, camera in hand, shooting him while he speeds towards me.

I stall as he passes, finger still on the trigger as he walks to the nose and accelerates by me. I’m still shooting while I ride behind him, until he finally kicks out and I follow.

We try to hook up whenever we can to enjoy a few waves. It’s always great to see the film of Joel shot from the nose with the Herb Cam. - Herbie Fletcher Daniel Cooper: Do you know how hard it is to get in contact with you, Joel? Do you really know?

Joel Tudor: Actually, I’m better with the computer these days. That’s my best form of contact.

DC: How did you meet Herbie Fletcher, and what is he like?

JT: There’s so many of us that have spent time around him that can impersonate him. It’s amazing because everybody’s got their own version.

I’ve spent so much time with him in my life that I’ve got a really good, spot-on Herbie impression.

I think I met him when I was 12. I knew who he was because he’s been a figure within surfing way before my

knowledge of it. Being a kid that rode a longboard, Herbie was a figurehead at that time. Some of my first knowledge of surfing I can identify with Herbie.

DC: When you were growing up, he was legendary, huh?

JT: Oh yeah. It’s crazy the amount of stuff that he’s done. Hang out with him and he’ll tell you. He’s made quite a lot of contributions that most people still aren’t really aware of.

DC: You recently created controversy in the world of competitive surfing by discussing your views on the future of the sport. Can you rescue competitive longboarding?

JT: (laughs) I don’t know. I have some ideas that may be able to help it. I don’t know if it can be rescued unless

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everybody kinda catches on to what it will take to give it an identity within the public.

We had an event just a couple of weeks ago and I invited Herbie, actually. The thing is, within the activity that we do, it’s cool to incorporate the guys from the past because a lot of them are so active and up to speed with what’s happening. Herbie went out and schooled all of us in the first round. It was pretty funny. A couple guys dropped out because it was too big.

DC: I heard Christian stepped up.

JT: Yeah, I was panicking the night before because I knew a couple guys weren’t gonna show up. I called to talk to Herbie about it and Christian was at the house. He was like, “If I show up, will you put me in?” I was like, “Of course.” (laughs) It was great. Christian’s awesome.

DC: How is it competing in three sports—surfing, skating, and jiu-jitsu?

JT: There’s no real purpose in competing in the three. I just do it more for the fun of it. At this point, I don’t even care. It’s not money derived. It’s more that I like to compete. I’ve never really competed at skateboarding. That’s more of a hobby. It’s something that I kind of want to continue doing.

Now I have a son and he’s starting to skate. It’s the same thing as when my dad took me surfing. It’s a cool activity to participate in with your kid. It’s something that if you’re safe at it, and you know what you’re doing, you can do for a long time.

DC: You recently had to exhibit your jiu-jitsu skills in a brawl on your front lawn in Hawaii. Do you find yourself looking for trouble off the mat, or are you just better prepared for it now?

JT: Never. I’m not into that stuff at all.

Sometimes you have confrontations and things that occur. Fighting’s like the most opposite thing that I want to be involved in. Training’s more for the physical benefit, and it’s more mental.

Like I said, it’s another thing I do to stay in shape and to have to share with my kid. I don’t go looking for fights.

That’s absurd.

DC: How cool is it to be a role model for surfers and martial artists alike?

You mentioned your son….

JT: It’s all fun. Whatever he wants to get into, it’s his deal. The things that I’m doing now, for a career and for a hobby, are really awesome to share.

I have another son coming in January. I’m stoked. I’m blessed to have an opportunity to have this lifestyle.

You think those are hardcore things, but they’re no different than someone who plays tennis or golf.

DC: Except you’re way cooler for being involved in surfing, martial arts, and skating.

JT: Yeah. I enjoy it. It’s constantly a quest to learn stuff. I feel like I’m just beginning to learn different things, even in surfing. I’m going through a phase right now where I’m really excited to surf again. My kid’s surfing.

He’s goofy foot. He doesn’t like longboards. He told me the other day that he likes shortboards. It’s pretty funny.

DC: Uh oh.

JT: Yeah. He thinks the longboard’s too slow. It’s pretty awesome. And he’s a big fan of judo. Go figure.

DC: What kind of legacy do you want to leave for the sport of surfing?

JT: Everybody has their moment in time. Everything keeps going, irregardless. A junior Tudor, hopefully he can carry on a small portion. I’m building a small army over here. (laughs)

DC: Fatherhood, surfing, jiu-jitsu, San Diego, New York City, and Hawaii are an amazing juggling act for a single man. Does the variety of pursuits and locations burn you out?

JT: There’s still so many things happening at the moment, I don’t even know where to begin to explain. You think it would be slowing down at this point, but it’s actually getting busier, which is cool. It keeps you motivated.

DC: You’ve achieved and sustained excellence in two very dangerous sports, but I don’t believe in coincidences. Who is praying for you, and how do you give thanks?

JT: I believe in, “You do stupid shit, it comes back to you.” I think I’ve received a lot of my karma for bad things done. I’m trying to start out clean and not have any bad shit happen to me.

We miss Hawaii. We want to move back there at some point, for sure.

We all want the kids to grow up over there. It would be neat at some point if they could.

DC: How does the NY vegetarian scene stack up to California and Hawaii?

JT: The variety of restaurants in New York surpasses all of it, believe it or not. And I’ve had this argument with quite a lot of people. New York wins, hands down.

San Diego’s fantastic. And New York’s the best. You’re experiencing so many different types of things that you don’t get in all the bland parts of the United States. It’s fantastic.

When I think about Daize Shayne, I think about the Beach Boys’ “Surfer Girl”—long blonde hair, playin’ the guitar—that’s Daize. And her style is perfect. When you watch her, she’s really an incredible surfer.

Daize hung out as a kid on the North Shore, checking out all the hot surfers, and she learned a lot growing up there because the surfing’s so powerful and radical and good. She was always aggressive on perfect waves. Her boyfriend was Joel Tudor, of course. He helped her out a lot, I believe, with her style and grace.

Check Daize out here doing a cross step, walking to the nose, hanging five, lookin’ good.

– Herbie Fletcher

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Words and photos Herbie Fletcher Alex Knost is from the new generation of longboard surfers. He’s not like the ’60s style masters, but something more along the lines of Popeye-meets-beatnik, with his anchor tattoos and band, Japanese Motors.

While surfing, he still strikes a pose, but it’s backwards—hanging heels, arms extended perfectly out to the sides. It blew my mind when I was riding behind him and got that image:

“Christ Heels.” He surfs like he’s on stage, holding the mic, dancing down the line, abstract moves hooked together to create a completely new and unique performance.

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Words Christian Fletcher Photo Herbie Fletcher I’m in Oregon after being awake for two weeks on speed (fuckin’ tweakin’). My friend decided it would be a good idea to squirt a half a bottle of liquid acid on my tongue. There was a stream connected from the bottle all the way to my fuckin’ tongue and splashing out of my mouth. It was ridiculous. Thanks, asshole.

Then we proceed to go to the beach on the riverbank. I was wearing alohaprint Bermuda shorts with a matching aloha shirt, a red fisherman’s hat that said “Pervert” across the front of it, and untied shoelaces with my skateboard in my hand. My friends were paranoid and starting to think each other were narcs. I was starting to get so fucking high it was a joke— and not a very funny one at that. I had to get to the skatepark as quick as possible, before I got any higher, but the Burnside Bridge was under construction. I’m fucked, lost on the golf course. The cops are waiting for me. As I get closer they start shouting at me. “SIT DOWN! STAND UP! LAY DOWN!” I said, “I’LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! JUST MAKE UP YOUR FUCKIN’ MIND!” They said, “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!” I said, “I’M

FRYING MY FUCKIN’ BRAINS OUT! WHAT THE FUCK DOES IT LOOK LIKE?!” After saying that I was an instant threat to their safety. About eight of them attacked me—ripped my arms behind my back, handcuffed me, and threw me in the back seat of the cop car. I get arrested and taken to the hospital where ten dudes in blue suits run out, grab me, and strap me to a bed. They shoot me up with Thorazine, then they tell me, “This is gonna hurt a little bit,” as they shove a catheter up my dick (that’s like a fucking large McDonald’s straw that’s ribbed for your pleasure), and stick me in a room next to Bubble Boy, who looked like a fucking alien. As high as I was, and they put me next to Bubble Boy! What the fuck?! At least I didn’t go to jail!

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Bunker Spreckels and Art Brewer.

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Interviews Dibi Fletcher Photos Art Brewer, Herbie Fletcher, Ivory Serra Bunker Spreckels was born in 1949, the same year actor John Derek delivered the line, “Live fast, die young, and leave a goodlooking corpse,” in the film Knock on Any Door.

Though he was stepson to Clark Gable and heir to the Spreckels Sugar fortune, Bunker chose an itinerant beach life—surfing and living off the land—before claiming his multimilliondollar inheritance at the age of 21. A focused and innovative young surfer, Bunker never completely abandoned the water as he fully embraced (and helped define) the jet-set lifestyle.

He crossed paths with many people during his brief and dreamlike journey. Bunker had a particularly strong impact on writer and photojournalist

C.R. Stecyk III and photographer Art Brewer before he died of “natural causes” in 1977.

Working with director Takuji Masuda, Stecyk and Brewer have spent the last few years compiling material on Bunker from both their private collections and other sources, to be used in the forthcoming documentary Bunker 77. Stecyk, Brewer, and Masuda’s continued efforts to digest Bunker’s existence—now more than three decades after his death—speak to his complex and enduring character.

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TAKUJI MASUDA Dibi Fletcher: Please explain a little about your film.

Takuji Masuda: Bunker 77 is a documentary which morphed from my attempt at writing a screenplay loosely based on Bunker Spreckels’ life.

DF: You’ve been involved in the process quite a few years now. Has the original kernel of idea changed?

TM: In the beginning I was ambitious and intended on making a feature film based on the true story. Several years ago, a Malibu-based entertainment attorney named Kevin Morris introduced me to a film producer for Gus Van Sant named Danny Wolf. At the time of writing the script, Danny noticed my novice writing skills and kindly suggested that I make a documentary first, so I could learn about the characters more as I wrote. I did this, and thus began this five-year journey.

DF: What was it about your current project that first drew you in?

TM: While I was making my Super X Media magazines, I traveled to places with my visual-media mentors Art Brewer and Craig Stecyk. During these production trips we would be having drinks after the productions, and more often than not they would be telling me about their relationships with Bunker, which fascinated me very much. During that phase we had published Spreckels’ story in Super X Media. So upon the completion of the final book version, Combine, I asked Art and Craig for their permission to use their stories and treasured archival materials featuring Spreckels.

DF: A new project is something like giving birth. How have you evolved with it?

TM: I’ve never given birth, but once the production began, a cinematographer and also Bunker’s DP, Spyder Wills,

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turned us on to discovering Decado footage that Bunker’s half-brother, John Gable, had held unprocessed.

This was the test reel Bunker shot to show Kenneth Anger to cast for Lucifer Rising while in the later phase of his life.

The footage is crazy. He is playing his own death, doing the boy to girl transformation, and even vomiting—shot by a very wide-angle lens.

DF: Speak a little bit about the book you released, Bunker Spreckels: Surfing’s Divine Prince of Decadence.

TM: We published a photo book with Taschen featuring Bunker’s last-known interview, conducted by Craig Stecyk, as text. An art director who worked with us on Combine named Tom Adler laid out the material beautifully.

This experience has taught us a lot. It was a completely flattering success, to say the least, and drew so much media attention. But all of the sudden everybody wanted a piece of Bunker’s story. Thankfully my team has shown me their loyalty and an incredible amount of patience through the entire process.

DF: You also took a short that you did with Kenneth Anger to Sundance.

TM: We deviated from the main path and created an eight-minute short film called My Surfing Lucifer by 80-yearold master cult filmmaker Kenneth Anger, which was selected into this year’s Sundance Film Festival’s shortfilm competition.

DF: Do you feel different about Bunker now than you did originally?

TM: During the production, my feelings for him changed several times.

Sometimes I was amazed, and sometimes I was upset about how he dealt with things. However, since I will never be able to place myself in

Photo Ivory Serra

such circumstances of being an heir to the Spreckels Sugar fortune and being a stepson of Clark Gable, I can only imagine what enormous pressure he was under. I gather that vanity was treated differently back then, too.

All access and an unlimited expense account with that much social and personal pressure.... What would one do? At the end of the day, Bunker went for it, and with this film I want to celebrate his life.

DF: What do you want the audience to come away with?

TM: Because I didn’t know Bunker Spreckels, I wanted to demonstrate the utmost respect handling the archival images he had created and left behind. Knowing that he liked to

surf Pipeline on very different boards, sort of like me, I wanted to show the true surfers’ respect that’s shared amongst hardcore guys. My intent was to demonstrate this person’s incredible range of interests and his attempt to live a full life.

DF: What’s been Bunker’s gift to you? What’s been yours to him?

TM: Bunker really wanted to work with Kenneth Anger, but their lives barely intersected, and it was my honor to see his intent through to its fruition 30 years later. I suppose you could say that was Bunker’s gift to me, and mine to him. I would have never even thought about working with Kenneth Anger. And what an opportunity it was, to say the least.

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ART BREWER Dibi Fletcher: How did you meet Bunker Spreckels?

Art Brewer: I had heard about him in ’67. I happened to go down to New Break and just saw him from the distance. The next time was 1969 at North Shore. He was down at Pipeline and I was wandering the beaches around sunset time. All the sudden this guy comes up, a skinny kid with a big, thick, red board, looked real strange, and he asked me if I’d take a few photographs of him. So I did.

DF: And one of those images became pretty iconic.

AB: It sort of became a representation of that period of surfing, ’cause everybody was trying to change the way surfing was, with board design and the look—he had a little bit of a [George] Greenough look to him.

DF: How did you start working with him?

AB: That actual picture that I took, later Brad Barrett blew it up real tight so it became more of a portrait, and Modern Photography somehow saw it and wanted to use it. I contacted Bunker, sent him a copy of it, and he flipped out. He had been eating a lot of peyote and mushrooms and stuff, and when he saw that picture he thought it was the devil. So he told me flat out, “No.” I got pissed off, told him he was just a fucking rich asshole. And then I didn’t hear from him.

He had inherited his money—I think that was about halfway through ’73—and I just ran into him some place and he goes, “Oh, where you living?”

I was living behind E-man’s at the time, and he goes, “Cool.” And then he showed up one day and wanted to know if I wanted to go surfing. So I went surfing with him and next thing he goes, “Hey, you ever want to go to

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Kauai? You come over, take some pictures, I’ll pay your way, all expenses.”

So I went, “Sure.”

I went over a few times and he ended up asking me what I was doing the summer of ’75. I had no place to go and wanted to get out of Hawaii.

And he goes, “Oh, you wanna go to South Africa?” and I went, “Oh yeah, right. Sure. Why not,” thinking it was all bullshit. About three months later he called me up and asked me to come into Honolulu, and bring my passport.

I showed up in town and first thing he went over to the Pan Am offices and bought three first-class tickets around the world, which scared me, because I really didn’t trust Bunker. There was that edge. When we had taken off from Honolulu and went to LA, I met his mom, and his mom goes, “What are you doing with him? Be careful.”

So I said to Bunker, “I don’t feel right, you handling the tickets and all this. I want some sort of guarantee. You give me my tickets, or I want a contract.” So he had a contract drawn up to where if I quit, I had to basically get back on my own. But if I was fired, it was first class the whole way. I really wasn’t paid any money. It was just the ticket and being fed.

DF: Bunker was bigger than life.

Everything he did was over the top.

AB: It’s like I really never witnessed anything until I got to South Africa with him, ’cause I never saw any of the actions that happened on Kauai, when the locals ran him off the road and beat him up and thought he had pounds of blow and all this stuff, and wanted to know where he was getting all of his money. And then I go to South Africa and he gets in a discussion with this guy and the guy starts to threaten him and Bunker doesn’t think twice about it, jumps over the table and has him pinned up against the wall with a

Self Portrait Art Brewer

knife against his throat. One thing led to another and he just raised havoc all through Durban when we were there, fight after fight. And I was always just sort of on the back edge of it while it was happening.

DF: You were brought along to be the witness.

AB: Oh yeah. A lot of the time you just wouldn’t dare lift the camera. It wasn’t the time or place, because all it would do is bring down more shit.

Towards the end, when he was on the North Shore and before he died, I was so glad that I wasn’t there, because when we came back from South Africa this guy Mike Gabriel shows up at Beverly Hills Hotel with a pound of smack. He had just come from Hong Kong. He had got busted and put in jail in Hong Kong for carrying a gun, got out on the gun charge and somehow

got the shit back. I just went, “Fuck, I’m outta here.” I left the next day.

There was a whole entourage that all the sudden showed up there that I wanted to have nothing to do with, because I saw all sorts of heat coming down.

DF: How and when did you get involved with Takuji on the recent film and book project based on Bunker’s life?

AB: It all started back when we were doing the Super X magazine. I think the whole seed was planted around ’93...’94. I was introduced to him by Joel Tudor. Takuji wanted to publish some sort of magazine or zine and basically I told him, “All sounds good.

I know the people. Just show me the money and we’ll start doing that.” He came back with the money from Casio and we put together an advertorial,

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and I think about the third one in we did a piece on Bunker. He had seen the original one done in The Journal with [Steve] Pezman and Stecyk, and it just sort of transpired. He had this fascination. So I think it was probably five years ago that it really clicked in and he came to me and asked to buy my story, so to say.

DF: Takuji was about the same age as you were when his “relationship” with Bunker started. Do you think he was fascinated by the same thing that originally drew you in?

AB: I was 24. Tak was probably about that. There’s some sort of mystical quality there that he was trying to figure out. He has his own personal interpretation of what Bunker was and what he did. Actually, I think that Tak thinks that Bunker did all sorts of good for people.

DF: You’ve had the advantage of hindsight and years of working on the project. Are you still intrigued with Bunker’s character?

AB: Yes, I am. He was a friend. And I think the problem is, everybody had this personal thought about him, or you have so many people that think so many different things, and there’s so few people that really knew him.

There’s even things where I don’t know him. Looking at all the different people that have now made comments—the talking heads—as part of this documentary, it brings all sorts of other insight that keeps it captivating.

A lot of people, I felt, gave Bunker a bum rap, because they got to know his “Player” side or his performance side—what he was acting out.

DF: How well did Craig know Bunker?

AB: Craig knew him pretty well. Craig spent some time with him, especially right there at the end. Craig got the

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really dark side of the deal.

DF: Then Takuji comes in. Has it been difficult to have that kind of mix with the three of you?

AB: Yeah, and it still is a little bit. He was in a hurry to get this all done, and I would look at it and go, “It’s not even close.” It needed to be molded and formed and put together and then reformed and re-put together and then molded back. You don’t want to miss anything if you’re gonna do it and do it right. It’s surprised me, and it’s made me happy, that Tak’s actually taken the time to do something right.

We’ve gotten sort of run off on some side things along the way, through Kenneth Anger and some of those other little projects, which I don’t know how valid any of it is. In Takuji’s mind it’s art, so I’ll leave it at that.

In the beginning I think Tak was very protective and he had a certain look or feel, that he wanted everybody to look at Bunker a certain way that wasn’t totally judgmental about the way he died and it wasn’t all about the death.

It’s like Tak’s hunting. He’s looking for something. He’s about to head off to Windhoek, South Africa, and he’s looking for the ranch where we went hunting, so he’s got me feeding him information. He’s rented Mercedes that look like the ones that we had.

DF: Just as much as we know him, I don’t think that Tak had that angst that sent Bunker down that road. To me, when I looked at it, it was like he was trying to feel that, to get in touch with that side of himself. Do you think that’s the ride that you’re trying to take people on with Bunker?

AB: That’s how I would take them.

I don’t know if Takuji, in the end, is gonna totally go that way. It’ll have hints of it throughout. Part of the deal is experiencing Bunker. And Tak doesn’t

Photo Art Brewer

Bunker Spreckels

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take drugs. He’s never eaten—as far as I know—psychedelics of any sort.

That was all part of Bunker and part of what brought on this persona that he put in people’s face. Tak is not even close to that, and I don’t think he could ever bring himself to…it’s almost like where you sort of physically or mentally abuse people, and Bunker would try to do that and toy with it.

DF: What’s the most challenging part of bringing your photographs to life in a motion picture?

AB: I think what makes the motion picture is the editing—how the story’s told. You have to be smart enough to get the proper footage and shoot the right angles to make it interesting, but I think with the type of footage that Tak is dealing with, he really needs it edited in a certain way to keep the attention.

He has some movie stuff that I’d shot during that period of time with Bunker, but 15 minutes is not enough to make a film. That’s where you have to bring in other material to make it as complete as possible.

DF: What do you think you learned from Bunker? What have you learned about yourself?

AB: He’s in a sense taught me how to stay out of trouble (laughs), in a good way, and maybe in a bad way at times, because some things maybe I didn’t approach as whole-heartedly as I could have.

C.R. STECYK III Dibi Fletcher: When did you first meet Bunker?

C.R. Stecyk III: At Malibu Point in 1962. We were bouncing around the same scene and had Miki Dora as a common mentor. Circumstance kept throwing us together as we shared the same haunts.

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DF: What was it about him that you found intriguing?

CRSIII: Bunker had tremendous joie de vie, this progressive, exploratory enthusiasm. He never played the sucker or bothered to rationalize his behavior, but instead forged his public persona into a beguiling, impenetrable riddle. Was he really acting, or acting real? Spreckels was driven but never desperate, and worked hard towards becoming seriously lost.

DF: You’ve had a lot of time to spend with the story. Has it evolved for you, or have you tried to maintain that first fascination?

CRSIII: Spreckels’ testimony has manifested itself in different ways throughout all the years of the project.

There were so many strange twists and turns that it constantly commanded your attention.

Originally, I intended to destroy all of my material after Bunker died, but Kay Gable took me aside at his wake and asked if I would go through it with her “when we were both ready.” So out of respect to Bunker’s mother, the interview tapes became locked away in a safe deposit box and eventually forgotten. The original movie footage was also lost, along with all of Bunker’s personal photographs.

Art and I remained frustrated and would occasionally come back to the project, but get nowhere at all. Then we managed to get a tentative article in The Surfer’s Journal. Takuji Masuda was monitoring things and proposed that the Super X Media collective seriously investigate these things. So an in-depth piece for SXM was created.

That became greatly expanded in the Combine book, which came several years later.

Photo Herbie Fletcher

Throughout all of the decades of toil and trouble, at every stage we’d benefit from these bizarre occurrences. My original tapes were discovered intact due to a bank going out of business.

Desoto Brown researched the Bishop Museum archives and discovered photos of Adolph Spreckels and King David Kalakaua. Someone else found a film can with Brewer’s name on it, returned it, and voila!—it was Bunker’s raw stock. Jim O’Mahoney located pictures of Clark Gable and Duke Kahanamoku in an old koa-wood seacaptain’s chest. Family members came forth and generously shared other treasures and were very supportive.

Tom Adler and Takuji got Benedict Taschen and Jim Heimann interested and there was a book. Kenneth Anger was located and he wanted to finish off Spreckels’ demo film for Lucifer Rising, so My Surfing Lucifer premiered at

the Sundance Film Festival. Bunker’s velocity keeps increasing like that through some synergistic aloha.

DF: You’ve collaborated with Art and Takuji through the entire process, with Bunker as the silent partner. Has it been a struggle to give Bunker his own voice?

CRSIII: Did we ever have any other choice? Bunker laid out the templates and we followed them. He established multiple narratives by the way he chose to live and create. The challenge is telling a complex story that is true to his dictates but does not succumb to typical formalistic plotline and structure.

Bunker was a provocateur that never was constrained in his self-expression by the need to formalize or finish anything. He pursued art and rigor-

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ously avoided the bland mechanics of product making. Spreckels wasn’t begging for societal mercy or praying for luck. There wasn’t ever any intent that the hoi polloi would approve, so there were no trite happy endings.

Takuji has been astute in that he has recognized the virtues of Bunker’s charismatic malleability and gone with that.

DF: When he and I met in my office the other day, Takuji said he felt like the dysfunctional kid between you, Bunker, and Art. Does that best describe his role?

CRSIII: That is a telling comment. Art and I were deeply locked with Bunker when he passed on. There was a lifetime of stuff yet to be worked out and volatility was something we all consciously embraced. None of us were easy to get along with and consequence was a goal we courted.

Brewer and I survived and emotional erosion has softened our approaches a bit. But when origins of the Bunker 77 project manifested themselves, all those unresolved human passions definitely came welling back up. It wasn’t just a piece of work for us, and there were many difficult moments because of that sudden forced resolution. It was courageous of Tak to jump in and start grappling with all of that gravitas.

DF: In many ways Bunker was certainly privileged. Was that the sword he fell on?

CRSIII: Noblesse oblige was his crucible. Bunker had a full compliment of the social graces, and glamour was in his bloodlines. Yet he was effective in dealing with ordinary situations and he would occasionally choose to disappear into total anonymity.

DF: What was the most fascinating characteristic about him?

CRSIII: His boundless generosity.

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Bunker would play it down, but he was a kind and thoughtful advocate of the old philosophical Hawaiian ideals.

Kahiko mana`o akamai.

DF: Do you think he could have handled the boredom of old age?

CRSIII: Bunker trained hard when it suited him. Senior issues would have just presented different challenges.

He had done significant research in genetic theory, was conversant with the potential beneficial effects of steroids and HGH and whatnot. He was knowledgeable beyond his time in this area. Current studies seem to be proving a lot of his theories to be correct, particularly the aspects of human growth hormone being tremendously restorative for aged individuals.

DF: What has been the most interesting thing Bunker 77 has taught you about yourself?

CRSIII: Sometimes staying on the path requires that you jump blindly off a cliff. Adapt and improvise to circumstance. Work with the present moment, never against it.

DF: The state of surfing being what it is now, do you think it will breed the type of colorful characters that sprinkle its past?

CRSIII: The riding of waves has a core integrity that always prevails.

According to archaeological evidence, people have been surfing for thousands of years. It is an act of consequence that predates all current regimes, governments, and religions.

Commercial interests whom insist on portraying the activity as a mere sport are the ones who are doomed. These hos and huckers display a panache which gives off a muted hue, but real watermen will be the only survivors in the end. Their color is pure and prismatic.

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Words and photos Herbie Fletcher What can we say about Kelly Slater? Heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s the greatest.

Here, I have a lot of respect for him. His backside tube riding is unbelievable. Pulling in the barrel from the takeoff, dropping in halfway down, making maneuvers inside the tube while heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s grabbing a rail, he pops out drinking a beer.

Kelly Slater, the most competitive surfer of all time.

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Words and photos Herbie Fletcher Back in the 1960s, an article came out in Surfer with a trick photo of a little surfer glued onto a huge wave. It caused a sensation.

Now it’s happening for real. When I was 17, I used to lie on the rocks at Honolua Bay after surfing, imagining I was on a hydrofoil boat skimming across those perfect, glassy walls. Years later in Beach Road in California, I saw the first jet skis and knew they were the answer—a jet in the water that you stood on and rode.

Yeah! I got into them, and finally got a standing 400-yard ride in ’75. It was a blast using the ski in the surf with all that power in my right hand. I started towing my kids in the surf around Poche (the backyard surf along Beach Road in Capo Beach). Poche is where a lot of stuff got started: foam, Hobie Cats, and lots of surfboard designs.

Then and now, jet skis exist outside the rules of surfing. I’ve always been willing to try anything to take surfing to a new level. I’d learn what could be done from the best, soak it up, and move on, adding my twist. I knew what I was doing, trying to get it out there. I wasn’t taking a step back for anyone.

I finally took a jet ski to Maui in 1981.

Sailboarders like Matt Schweitzer, Mike Waltze, and Fred Haywood were already using sail power to catch giant waves. They liked the adventure.

Waltze turned me on to Jaws in 1980 while I was making Wave Warriors I. It was called Domes then because there was a dome house there that eventually burnt down. Mike wanted to sail the spot. He’s crazy mad for riding waves, and he put Hookipa on the map. I knew him and that scene from living in Haiku in the summer of ’68. I went by Hookipa every day to surf Lahaina. The place was windy with dust blowing everywhere—perfect for sailing. At the time, I was already

riding giant Pipe and Outside Logs on a jet ski that was all engine, ride plate, and handlebars—nothing but speed.

I shipped my ski to the North Shore where I had a house at Pipeline. “Too big” Pipe with no one out, those were the days to rock! I towed Christian into some small surf, but what I wanted to do was tow someone into big waves.

I’d been trying to convince the gang that hung out at the Pipe house to let me tow them in. Finally, after about three years of talking about it, Martin Potter goes, “Yeah! Let’s do it.” I put the towrope on the stand-up ski and went out on my knees until I was comfortable, then I stood up. After towing Pottz for a while, Kong wanted a go, then Tommy Carroll. Those guys were into it once they saw it happen.

Jet skis go in and out of the surf fast.

There was a lot of controversy over the use of skis in the surf. Surfers

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didn’t get it. To ride the outer reefs you need a motor to get around where it’s breaking depending on direction, size, and number of waves per set. You can’t paddle into them.

It’s rewarding to watch the evolution of surfing over time, especially when you feel like you’ve had a hand in it.

I always wanted to tow Laird when he lived at the Pipe house. I knew he had it in big waves in terms of power and style. I love his cutback—it’s just like his dad’s. When he and the rest of the gang got involved, it went to a higher level in a hurry. Laird, Dave Kalama, and all the guys of today are pushing the limits each time the surf gets huge. Kids are always going to change surfing. I’m excited to see what comes next. This is just the start along the path to a new reality in wave riding, like a trip to another planet.

Right now they’re perfecting surviving the wipeout. When I was first riding big waves in the ’60s, we thought about using small air tanks and inflatable floatation devices. In the ’80s, I tried a life vest on a water shoot for Splash magazine and took a heavy wipeout on a heavy wave at outside OTW. That was it! I could handle it. Now there was no wave too big! These days, all tow-in riders are wearing life vests.

They come up 200 yards inside after two-wave hold-downs and live to tell about it. Amazing! The speed they are experiencing on these waves is unbelievable. Big-wave tricks are next. A mix of ever-improving technology, along with nature’s energy, and our own imagination is at play here—for a surfer, it’s the ultimate journey. The youngest tow-in guy, Makua Rothman, won the biggest-wave contest— the kids, man!

How’s this? I’m surfing Pipeline this winter for my 40th year, photographing it when it’s too big or when the new guys are out. Anyway, rumor has it that this is going to be the biggest swell in years. I’m trembling in my Astrodeck sandals because I know what this means: it means it’s going to move giant boulders, it means waves that could crush your bones and rip your limbs off. I give Laird a call. He’s buzzing, saying, “Come on!

It’s going to happen!” He’s been on me about Jaws for years, trying to get me there. I’ve watched him grow up. He’s always been around heavy surf. A Surfer Magazine photographer, Jason Kenworthy, has an open spot on his boat. “Be on the road at 5:30 AM,” he tells me, “and we’ll pick you up on the way to the harbor.” So there I am, camera bags, water housing, towel, food, and drink, ready for a long day. When we get to the harbor,

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I can hear waves breaking, a perfect right and left. I’ve been here plenty of times—my Vietnam draft board (1967) was Local Board #10, Wailuku. There’s lots of PWCs and boats jockeying for position to get on the ramp and into the water. Some teams were heading to other reefs. It was all guys I know: Allen Cadiz, a windsurfer; filmmaker Yuri Farrant; still shooter Tom Servais; Keith Baxter, a sail and kite maker; with photographers Erik Aeder and Darrell Wong. Keith wants me to drive his PWC. I’ll be beat up by the time I get there. He laughs. I look at the Sun Crater, Haleakala—no clouds—then over at Moon Crater—no clouds—and no wind. This is very unusual. Maui usually has rain and north winds.

We finally get our turn to drop in the water. It’s on! Fuck! Only one engine starts. Not good. If that one goes, you’re fucked. Here comes another boat off the ramp. I’m jumping ship.

“Hey, can I get a ride with you guys?”

“Hop on, yeah!” We’re on our way now, cruising up the coast. It’s hard to tell how big it’s going to be. The coastline is covered in heavy mist that makes it difficult to tell where we are. Like something from a pirate movie, an ancient-looking boat appears with a dragon-like paint job; it’s an old NASA spacecraftrecovery boat. As we get closer to our destination, the waves come into sight and I suddenly feel weak in the legs. Then I catch the smell of PWC exhaust. Yes! I love that smell!

I’m getting it now. There are over 40 PWCs, four or five boats, and five helicopters buzzing everywhere.

The sound is like a nest of motorcycles going off all around you, or like a WWII dogfight. I start taking pictures of everything: quivers tied up, riders hanging on, watching, waiting their turn while the Jaws gang backdoor

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the right. It’s crazy—riders on every wave and getting picked up fast.

Every single wave has someone on it. There’s a definite pecking order in effect. The boards are so finetuned that when they get whipped in they don’t lose speed. The riders are able to generate the speed they need to make the wave. Some of the guys have enough experience and talent to make their rides look fluid and casual.

There are lots of younger guys out that I’ve known for a long time, from either diving for big fish, or from surfing spots that shouldn’t be mentioned. They start coming by the boat, reaching out to high-five me, telling me, “Hey, Herb, look what you’ve started! Ain’t it great? Look at it!” There is action on all sides. It’s mad. After a while, Keith Baxter drives up on his Yamaha SUV, the four seater, and asks me to hop on and cruise with him to take pictures. Off we go to front and center at the 50-yard line, in tight and up front.

Laird starts going left because the right is so crowded. I ask Keith about shooting from the left side. No one is sitting over there, that I can see. We head out and around the corner, over to the left side. It’s beautiful from that angle. The reflected light changes, the water color becomes more blue, and the red cliffs, topped with crowds and trees, form a contrast background. The right looks like 30-foot inside Velzyland with PWCs and boats going up and over the swells as riders drop in. Shooting them from behind shows the whole wall—their long trails behind—and where they’re headed.

What a day! It’s going places I’d never dreamed it could.

Originally published as “Gasoline Alley” in The Surfer’s Journal, Summer 2005.

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Words and photos Herbie Fletcher I’ve known Laird Hamilton a long time. In 1966 I moved to Maui for a while, and Laird’s mom was so nice to let me move into the front room and hang out and surf, because there was only about eight surfers on the island at that time.

As a child, Laird would be beating on the wall next to my head at seven in the morning. He was in the crib in his bedroom, and he’d just go off. So he’s been going off ever since he was a little kid.

I moved back to the North Shore and I’d see Laird at Pipeline running around.

His mom had married Billy Hamilton.

Billy and I were kids together and we surfed a lot together. Later on, Laird started getting to be a great surfer. I’d see these fantastic photos of him on these big waves out at Dump Trucks on Kauai. It was pretty amazing. The style was his dad’s, for sure—the master, Billy Hamilton.

I owned the house at Pipeline with Gerry Lopez, and Laird would stay there on the second floor. He was just incredible, surfing Back Door and Off-The-Wall. Just unbelievable, lots of power. He’d stand in the tube and get barreled all the way to the end. He was built like this Greek god.

body to show up that can really rip.

Well, I notice this guy stand-up paddling by the pier, and it just happened to be Laird Hamilton. He was about the only one doing it then. It was a good six foot, so I was really excited.

I started shooting him, just getting goin’. I got my water camera together and I paddled out and he greeted me with a big “aloha” and a handshake. So we rode a couple of waves together that were unreal. He’d take off at Second Point and I’d pick him up right after that, and we’d ride the wave together all the way to the pier doing go-behinds. Laird was cutting back and tapping me on the shoulder and talking to me, saying, “Hey, Herb!

Go all the way to the pier!” and I’d be looking over at him and going, “I’m goin’! I’m goin’! Let’s go! Pass me!

Get movin’!”

Anyway, it was really exciting to see a guy surf a wave like that, with a stand-up paddle and a giant board.

There’s only one Laird, and he’s the King…the King of the Paddle-In.

One day at Malibu I’m sitting there filming, hanging out, waiting for some-

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Words Dibi Fletcher Photos Herbie Fletcher Since he first paddled out at Waimea on his way to the airport at the age of 11, Nathan Fletcher has purposely stayed on the periphery of the surf world. Stating that he is “socially inept,” Nathan is more often spotted through the long lens of a camera— screaming down the face of a humongous right at Mavericks or deep in the barrel at Pipeline—than at one of the thousand events that make up the social scene of professional surfing.

When recently asked about the title of his latest film, Lavese las Manos for Analog, which starts out with him eating shit and taking three on the head at Log Cabins, he dropped his eyes deprecatingly and remarked, “Well, every public restroom is doin’ the advertising.”

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Words Dibi Fletcher Photos Herbie Fletcher

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Regulating the break.

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Thousands of miles from the nearest land mass, in the middle of the Pacific, is a group of islands collectively called Hawaii.

With lush tropical vegetation, rainforests, waterfalls, and magnificent beaches, it could be Eden. Built on lava from an active volcano that ancient legend claims are the mountaintops of a lost civilization, there’s a sense of magic that comes alive when you listen to the sounds of nature. It’s elusive, like a dream that fades on waking, just beyond sight and sound. But when the surf comes up and the crowds start maneuvering for waves, you feel the underlying fierceness that seems ready to erupt at the slightest provocation.

This is the land that spawned the Wave Warriors, a unique breed of young men who pit themselves against the awesome power of nature on any given day, for the pure thrill of it.

During November and December, when the rest of the Western Hemisphere is planning their winter ski trips, the international surfing community is gathered on the 7.5-mile strip of beach on the North Shore of Oahu for the Triple Crown event, a series of three contests, the last stop on the men’s professional surf tour where the world title is usually decided. With the right conditions, the final stop at the Banzai Pipeline is an awesome spectacle.

The swell comes out of deep water to hit a coral reef that jacks the waves up into huge cylinders that come crashing down on razor-sharp coral heads hidden just below the water’s surface.

The lip that pitches out of the top of the wave can break a board like a matchstick—and often does—with the surfer bailing out so as to not suffer the same fate. If he makes the drop and gets in the right position, he’s so far back in the tube that he’s buried from sight until the power of the wave pushes him out with a huge surge of spray, while the crowds are on their feet cheering.

together to protect the “boys” and the break from the huge winter migration that is taking on epic proportions.

There’s only room for one person on a wave, and with the surfers, boogie boarders, cameramen, body surfers, and all-around kooks in the lineup, things can get pretty terrifying. The posse police the break, meting out a certain kind of tribal justice, trying to keep pecking order so the Warrior’s have a chance to ride another day.

It’s with the same kind of protective fierceness that Da Hui (the Club) was formed to protect the land rights of the Kanaka Maoli (full-blooded Hawaiians). As the land rush marches on for island property, the indigenous people are being forced to sell their heritage.

What was once sacred is turned into hotels, condos, tract homes, and timeshares that stand half-empty as a mockery to the ground that once whispered the songs of their ancestors. Hopefully the active volcano and the crack of the waves thundering to shore will keep the fire of the fight alive so these proud people will not be pushed onto the “reservation” slums, like the American Indians before them.

For more information on Hawaiian land rights visit www.hawaii-gov.net

The surf at Pipeline is so treacherous that the local surfers have banded

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Words and photos Herbie Fletcher Our friends put on a Rolling Stones concert at the Forum in LA in July of â&#x20AC;&#x2122;76. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m glad I have the photos to remember the event.

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Words and photos Herbie Fletcher From shaping surfboards to making movies, I’ve always been creative. Everything is art, whether business, design, or surfing.

I never thought in other terms.

Dreaming of creating a faster surfboard, I designed flaps on the bottom to direct the flow of air coming from the holes I drilled on top, thus creating less water drag so I could fly down the face of the wave. I’d shape at night and be in the lineup in the morning testing my new theory. While in the glassing room at night, I’d use the leftover pigment and resin to create intense color paintings. Fascinated by the surfboard itself as a perfect example of contem-

porary design, I’ve used it as the basis for much of my art.

I’ve been fortunate to travel with the greatest surfers to unique and exotic locations that became the narrative of my photo stories. I’d develop the film and relive the adventure, adding perhaps a few words to ignite the imagination. I try to let the viewer into the magic that is the world of the Wave Warriors!

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Words Dibi Fletcher Photos Herbie Fletcher Herb arrived in Tahiti after an overnight flight out of LAX. He got the rental and headed for Teahupoo. After driving for two hours, the rutted, pot-holed main highway came to an abrupt end. Herb parked, jumped out of the air conditioning into the heavy, humid, tropical air, grabbed all the camera gear he could carry on his back, and started the trek to his lodgings. He would be sharing a one-room with three other guys. Space was limited and he was stoked!

Once he had stowed all his stuff, it was time to meet the boat. It had pulled into the lagoon to take him out through the channel that was cut by the massive freshwater runoff from the rivers flowing with rainwater from the mountain tops. Some surfers chose to make the 15-minute paddle, but Herb wanted to be in position for perfect shots, and his experienced driver made that happen.

This break is like no other on the face of the Earth that’s been surfed…so far.

The swell comes out of deep water and hits the shallow reef, jacking the wave up as the current is sucked up the face, creating a monstrous tube.

The swell pushes a massive amount of water towards the channel, where the surfer hopefully kicks out, or risks being brutally pummeled. The boat drivers jockey to keep position in the current as the wave rider—who was just moments before experiencing the thrill of a lifetime—comes to an abrupt halt a mere 25 feet from the cheering crowds. They have come out to sit center stage on boards, rafts, kayaks, boats, jet skis and other floating conveyances, to be a part of the magic.

This one wave has the power to completely change lives.

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