Aotearoa New Zealand

Aloha and Welcome to the LEGENDARY SURFERS chapter on the early days of surfing in Aotearoa New Zealand that ties together Māori origins, the lifesaving era, and the late-’50s Malibu breakthrough.

Google Earth screenshot

September 2025

Māori Traditions

Polynesians were the first to settle in the islands we now call New Zealand, or Aotearoa. They accomplished this in a series of planned and coordinated migrations in open ocean double hulled canoes, departing southward from Raʻiātea, which, in the local dialect, was called Havai'i – “birthplace of the gods,” not only the departure point for migrations south, but also east, to Hawai’i and Rapa Nui 

Traditional genealogies (whakapapa) point to 1350 CE as the probable arrival date for many of the founding canoes (waka) from which many Māori trace their descent. Over time, in isolation, these Polynesian settlers developed their own distinct Māori culture. Contact with Europeans first occured in 1642, but did not really start until 1769.

Like their immediate ancestors, the Polynesians, Māori had their own wave riding traditions. On summer days, children and adults would ride kopapa (short wooden planks), small canoes, and even pōhā (inflated kelp bags) down the faces of breaking waves. These practices, known as whakahekeheke, were a fun part of coastal life. Missionaries arriving in the 1800s discouraged the pastime, regarding it as frivolous, and it gradually slipped from regular practice.

The Lifesaving Era

Similar to what was happening in all other English-speaking countries, in the beginning 1900s, “surf bathing” – swimming in the surf – became popular (again). As cities like Wellington and Christchurch laid tramlines to the beaches, whole communities flocked to the water on weekends. With the popularity came danger: drownings mounted. New Zealanders responded by forming Surf Lifesaving Clubs (SLSCs), just as had occurred in Australia.

In 1910, Lyall Bay SLSC was founded in Wellington, the nation’s first. Within a few years, clubs sprang up at New Brighton (Christchurch), Muriwai (Auckland), and Piha on the west coast. Their focus was rescue work. Lifeguards developed techniques using belt reels, rescue boards, and surf boats – heavy wooden craft rowed or paddled through pounding surf. Riding waves for fun was not yet their priority, but the seeds were sown.

Duke’s Visit, 1915

A great turning point came in 1915, when Duke Kahanamoku, Hawaiian Olympic champion and ambassador of surfing, toured New Zealand after his surf demonstration triumphs in Australia.

Duke gave two surfing demonstrations in the Land of the Long Cloud, one off the coast of the North Island and the other in the South. It is possible that while he was giving swimming demonstrations at other beaches, he may have also surfed, but these are not documented to my knowledge.

His main and best-documented surfing demonstration was held on 7 March 1915, when Duke used a board he had shaped locally, from New Zealand timber (kahikatea). This event is widely recognized as the introduction of stand-up board surfing to Aotearoa New Zealand.

Duke also gave an exhibition of swimming and surfboard riding at New Brighton beach in March 1915, while visiting Christchurch. The waves there were less favorable than Wellington, but he still rode some.

Though few boards existed in the country, Duke’s demonstrations inspired many. Contemporary and retrospective accounts agree that this moment “revived” surfing in Aotearoa, even if it would take decades for the culture to mature.

Interwar Years

In the decades after Duke’s visit, New Zealand surf culture grew inside the surf lifesaving movement. A few enthusiasts experimented with solid wooden surfboards, often modeled on Hawaiian or Australian designs. These boards were big, heavy, difficult to transport and mostly used as rescue boards. Still, some lifesavers rode them straight into shore during quiet moments between patrols.

Just like Australian SLSC’s were slow – even resistant – to include surfboards as a bona fide rescue tool, so, too, were New Zealand SLSC’s. Lifesaving competitions, for instance, promoted the use of other wave craft: (1) Rescue boards, often hollow by the mid-1930s, paddled prone or on the knees; (2) Surf boats, large rowing craft that became iconic in competitions; and (3) Surf skis, narrow sit-on-top paddling boards imported from Australia, which locals quickly adapted and started making their own.

Piha and the Teardrop Ski

On Auckland’s rugged west coast, Piha became a center of wave craft innovation, after forming a SLSC in 1934. Its heavy surf demanded strong equipment and skilled lifesavers. So, in the late 1930s and ‘40s, Don Wright, a Piha lifesaver, refined the Australian surf ski to meet the tougher local conditions. His teardrop-shaped surf ski was wider in the middle and more maneuverable than Australian models, sacrificing a little bit of speed for more stability.

The Piha Teardrop Ski spread quickly to clubs around New Zealand. Though it was primarily a rescue craft, it encouraged wave-riding. Lifeguards could catch broken waves back to shore, gliding in tandem with the surf. While it wasn’t “surfing” in the modern sense, it kept alive the thrill of riding waves just for fun.

After WWII

After World War II, lifesaving clubs flourished. Patrols grew, carnivals drew big crowds, and board-and-ski events became central to competitions. Riders typically caught waves straight toward the beach on their long, heavy boards. Few managed to angle across the wave face, and the boards themselves lacked the lightness and fins needed for sharp turns.

Magazines in the 1950s circulated plans for hollow boards with added rocker and even keels. A handful of experimenters tinkered with these ideas, but for most, surfing remained a sideline of lifesaving. The surf lifesaver, rather than the surfer, was still the dominant beach figure.

The Malibu Breakthrough

Everything changed at Piha in the summer of 1958–59. Two young Californian lifeguards, Bing Copeland and Rick Stoner, visited New Zealand while traveling the world. They brought with them their own Malibu Boards. These were lightweight, streamlined surfboards made from balsa encased in fiberglass, with a fixed fin.

Originally a brainchild of Bob Simmons, who incorporated Bud Morrissey’s parallel rails, his shapes were made from lightweight materials, including balsa wood, and sealed in fiberglass. After Simmons discounted the value of lightness, his plan shapes were further refined by Joe Quigg and Matt Kivlin, who championed the lightness of all-balsa boards protected from soaking by coating with fiberglass. This design and composition had taken Southern California by storm, causing wood planks to become obsolete.

In the powerful Piha surf, Copeland and Stoner demonstrated a completely new style unseen: cutting across wave faces, turning, trimming, and gliding with speed. Locals were stunned. For the first time, New Zealanders saw surfing as an art in itself, not just a way to come straight in on a rescue board.

Bing Copeland later recalled: “Upon returning to the beach we were surrounded by guys wanting to give our boards a go. I believe our boards never left the water during the daylight hours for the next few weeks.”

While in the country, Copeland & Rick Stoner helped New Zealanders build copies of their boards, mentoring a young Piha clubbie Peter Byers and others.

After the Americans left, Peter Byers started making boards for others and by late 1959 he was shaping the first commercial surfboards in New Zealand. Within months, a small but dedicated community of “surf riders” emerged alongside the clubbies. Surfing’s modern era had arrived on the shores of Aotearoa New Zealand.

End Note

It has been estimated that by 1960, there were six boardmakers and 75 surfers riding Malibu-styled surfboards. By 1967, the numbers had grown tremendously to about a dozen board makers and 15,000 surfers. Today, of course, those numbers have vastly grown.

Sources & Resources

Te Ara – Lifesaving and surfing (esp. “The rise of surfing” and “Lifesaving develops”). Authoritative national overview linking Māori origins, Duke’s 1915 tour, SLSC craft, and the Malibu arrival. 

Surfbreak Protection Society & NZ media on Duke’s 1915 NZ demonstrations (locations/dates, centennial retrospectives). 

SurfResearch.com.au -- collations on Duke’s 1914–15 tours and NZ lifesaving craft in the 1920s–50s. 

Piha local histories on the 1958–59 Copeland/Stoner visit and early boardbuilding. 

1915 newspapers (e.g., Evening Post, Christchurch Star) published reports of Duke’s surf rides.

Piha SLSC archives preserve photos of Don Wright’s teardrop surf skis.

1959 Surfboards – early Byers boards occasionally surface in collections/museums.

Matt Warshaw's The Encyclopedia of Surfing, 2003, p. 409.

Australian Surf Craft

Aloha and Welcome to this LEGENDARY SURFERS chapter on Australian surfcraft innovations of the 1930s.

Harry McLaren surf ski, circa 1920

Photo courtesy of the Australian National Surfing Museum

Early Australian surf mat riders

Photographer unknown

While Tom Blake's late 1920s invention of the hollow board and his 1935 invention of the surfboard fin can be considered as the dominant technological advances of the 1930s, there were also two others that have shown long-lasting popularity and refinements made to them to present day: the surf ski and the surf mat.

The Surf Ski

The surf ski’s evolution spans several years and innovators. From Harry McLaren’s humble beginnings to G.A. “Saxon” Crackanthrope’s patented design, Jack Toyer’s speed modifications, and Maroubra’s double ski models, the craft rapidly gained stature in Australian lifesaving and competition. By the late 1930s, surf skis had not only become lifesaving essentials but also international ambassadors of Australian innovation.

As early as 1912, Harry McLaren and his brother Jack built a rudimentary version of a sit-on-top “surf ski” near Port Macquarie, propelled while sitting using two small hand paddles. These hollow cedar-board crafts featured flat decks, nose rings (likely for tethering), square rails, and pronounced rocker.

This original design laid the groundwork for later refinements by Dr. G.A. “Saxon” Crackanthrope of the Manly Club, circa 1933-34. Dissatisfaction with his ability to ride a surfboard and the possible influence of surf canoes led to Crakanthorpe’s furthering of the surf ski.

The original design was 8 foot x 28 inches x 6 inches thick with 12 inches of tail lift, solid cedar planks and a double bladed paddle and footstraps.[77]

“It probably evolved out of the use of canoes in the surf at North Bondi,” guessed championship surfer Nat Young. “Because you paddled the ski with an oar, sitting down, it was easier to ride than a board. Originally the skis were 8’ long and 28” wide and made of heavy cedar planking, but this gave way to plywood over a light timber frame. Surf club competition drew the skis out in length and eventually another man was used to gain more speed and make it more of a team sport; this led to the standard two-man double ski, a sort of tandem bike on water. In contrast to the surfboard, the surf ski was quickly adopted by the Surf Life Saving Association as official lifesaving equipment.

“Surfboards, however, were [only] tolerated by officials because so many loyal club members used them, displaying their club badges printed on the decks together with the club’s colours running in pin stripes around the rails. The surf club was a tremendously prestigious institution during this period. Australian girls liked the idea of going out with one of those ‘bronzed gods’ and the surf club ranks swelled to reach 8,454 members in 1935.”

Around 1936, Jack Toyer of Cronulla – co-patent-holder with Dr. Crackanthrope – extended the ski length to approximately 17 feet and narrowed the width (~22 inches) to boost paddling speed, sacrificing some wave-riding ability.

Simultaneously, ‘Mickey’ Morris and ‘Billy’ Langford at Maroubra SLSC created a double ski design (two-person craft), reaching up to 23 feet in length, although early versions were deemed too narrow.

After extensive trials at Maroubra, the surf ski was officially adopted as standard lifesaving equipment in 1937, and was introduced as a competitive rescue event (paddler plus patient) in the Australian Championships.

That same year, one of the earliest manufactured surf skis was produced in Hurstville, NSW. Marketed at affordable prices, with delivery and deposit/payment plans, it signaled the craft’s growing accessibility.

It was on his second trip to Australia, in 1939, that Duke Kahanamoku brought back a surf ski, the first to reach Hawaiian shores. In those days, nobody expected to be impressed by something from Australia, but Hot Curl surfer Wally Froiseth admitted, “Yeah, it impressed us. It was something new, something we’d never seen. It was great. You know, my thinking is... every area has contributed something. I don’t care where they are, these guys have contributed. Nobody can say that they did the whole thing. There’s just no way. Nobody’s got all the brains. Nobody can think of all aces. It’s good.”

After World War II, Surf skis gained official within the Surf Life Saving Associations (SLSA) in 1946 and were thereafter fully featured in lifesaving competitions.
Early models were wooden and wide, similar to surfboards. By the 1960s, innovations included foam cores and glass-fiber construction for lighter, hollow designs. Nowadays, high-performance surf skis often use composite materials – carbon fiber, Kevlar, and lightweight resins – for stiffness and lower weight.

From the 1950s onwards, surf ski design split into two types: skis for rescues – with flared bows for wave handling – and ocean racing skis that were longer, with narrow hulls, swept rocker lines, foot-controlled rudders, and high buoyancy.
In addition to lifesaving, sprint racing and long distance ocean racing, surf skis now include non-competitive uses like masters of endurance training, biathlons, and Ironman events; no longer restricted to surf zones, but are also seen in harbours and lakes.

Surf Ski vs. Kayak

Modern recreational kayaks and surf skis share a family resemblance because they’re both sit-on-top, paddle-powered craft, but they grew from different roots that occasionally intertwined.

As we know, surf skis originated in Australia in the early 1900s as lifesaving craft, evolving into fast, narrow, sit-on-top craft optimized for launching through surf and paddling quickly to a rescue target. Through the mid-to-late 20th century, they developed rudders, long narrow hulls, and very light composite construction. Key features included: speed, self-bailing scuppers and a sit-on-top design.

Traditional kayaks trace back thousands of years to Inuit, Yup’ik, and Aleut peoples in the Arctic – enclosed “cockpit” craft covered in animal skins, designed for hunting and travel in cold seas.

The modern plastic recreational kayak grew from the whitewater and touring kayak boom of the 1960s-1980s.

Sit-inside was the dominant style until the late 1980s.

In the late 1980s and early 1990s, companies in the US and Australia began experimenting with plastic sit-on-top kayaks. These designs borrowed directly from surf ski features, namely the open cockpit, molded self-draining scuppers, and general “unsinkable” feel in surf and warm waters.

The idea was to make something more stable and beginner-friendly than a surf ski, but with the same no-capsize-exit advantage. Brands like Ocean Kayak (Hawaii/California) and Malibu Kayaks were explicitly inspired by surf skis.

Today, modern recreational sit-on-top kayaks are essentially a slower, wider, more stable cousin of the surf ski.

The sleek, fast surf ski still dominates racing and surf-zone rescue, but its design DNA – self-bailing deck, sit-on-top ergonomics, open water handling –  is very much alive in recreational kayaks, ridden more for comfort and for cruising.

The Surf Mat

Another form of surf craft invented in Australia in the 1930s was the inflatable “Surf-o-plane.” It was invented by a Sydney doctor in 1933, Dr. Ernest Smithers of Bronte, N.S.W., who worked for eight years to develop it. A prone craft made of an inflated molded rubber, it was an immediate success. Apart from the ease of paddling and wave catching due to its buoyancy, danger to the rider and other bathers was minimal. For this reason they were accepted in general bodysurfing areas, whereas wooden prone boards were limited to designated boardriding zones. [82]

Its portability surpassed all other wave riding craft, save the bodyboard. These rubber mats often appeared in Movietone News reels between 1935-1939 at Sydney beaches and locally popularized by Stan MacDonald, former Chief Beach Inspector at Bondi, who leased them (and coconut-oil spray for suntans) from the mid-1930s onwards.

The mats became a beachside sensation at many beaches, usually hired by the half-hour. They were soon so widespread that “Surf-o-plane,” although a brand name, became a generic term for inflatable surf mats. Today, “Surf Mat” is the more universal term, used internationally, and “Surf-o-plane” has become a nostalgic/historical Australian term.

Not only did they become iconic at Australian beaches – especially Bondi, Manly and Maroubra – and often seen in newsreels and postcards, but by  the late 1940s, U.S. equivalents appeared, sometimes called “air mats” or “surf mats.”

By the 1960s, rented or purchased surf mats had spread to all the major countries, with rubber-coated nylon replacing heavier canvas. Mats became lighter, faster-drying, and slightly easier to carry. Still mostly ridden prone, they were not only popular with the average beach goer, but fun for bodysurfers who wanted greater speed and flotation.

In the 1970s and 1980s, there began a decline in rental mats in favor of mats you could buy. Many surf clubs phased out rental programs due to maintenance costs, while they remained popular with lifeguards and core riders who appreciated their speed.

Meanwhile, materials continued to improve. The introduction of polyester and more advanced rubber coatings made for increased flexibility and performance. Surf mats began to branch into soft-top rafts for casual beachgoers and true mats for wave riding.

In the 1990s, there was somewhat of a “Surf Mat Revival” when, in the U.S., Dale Solomonson, of Neumatic Surfcraft, pioneered custom-made high-performance mats with removable bladders and ultra-flexible deck fabrics. Mats became a niche craft among skilled prone wave riders who valued their unmatched speed and trim in hollow surf.

Today’s surf mats specifically made for wave riders are a far cry from Ernest Smithers’s Surf-o-plane of 1933, now having thermoplastic polyurethane (TPU) bladders, ultralight, fast-draining nylon decks, and specialized rocker and rail shapes sewn into the deck. They are usually handmade by expert builders and often faster than bodyboards; prized by those who master their subtle control style.

Footnotes

1  Young, 1983, p. 51.

 2 Young, 1983, p. 60.  Wally Froiseth quoted.

[77] Maxwell, 1949, p. 245; Bloomfield, p. 69; Harris, p. 56. The footstraps addition, at this early stage, is questionable.

[78] Galton, p. 43.

[79] Wells, p. 160.

[80] Thomas, E.J. The Drowning Don’t Die – Fifty Years of Vigilance and Service by the Deewhy Surf Life-Daving Club, 1912-1962, ©1962, p. 31. Published by the Deewhy Surf Life Saving Club. Printed by the Manly Daily Pty Ltd. Hard cover, 54 pages, 33 two-tone photographs, executive officers 1912-1962.

[81] Wells, p. 155.

[82] http://www.surfresearch.com.au/1920_Solid_Wood.html

[83] http://www.surfresearch.com.au/1920_Solid_Wood.html

On a side note, an article entitled “Making Money at the Beach,” published in Popular Mechanics, July 1934, Volume 62 No. 1, pages 115 – 117, gave plans and specifications for making a solid wood “Bellyboard.”[83]

Australia 1919-1956

Aloha and Welcome to this chapter in the LEGENDARY SURFERS Collection on surfing in Australia after World War 1, up to the introduction of the Malibu Board in 1956.

Snowy McAlister

Manly, 1922

Photographer unidentified

World War I

During World War I, surfing in New South Wales (the area where Australian surfing got its start and continued) was near nonexistent. All able-bodied men were helping to win the war. 

By war’s end, of the 416,809 Australians who enlisted in the war effort, 61,711 had died as a result. More than 150,000 were wounded or gassed.

Cecil Healy

One Australian to die in “the war to end all wars” was olympic gold medalist Cecil Healy. Although we don’t know if he surfed, Healy was Australia’s greatest swimmer of the 1910s and, after forming a friendship with fellow olympic champion Duke Kahanamoku, was the one to invite Duke to Australia to give surfing demonstrations in 1914 and early 1915.

The story of Healy’s life and pivotal role in Australian surfing was written by Steve Cannane for abc.net.au entitled “Cecil Healy: Australia’s forgotten hero,” 3 October 2017. Quoting parts of the article:

https://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-10-03/cecil-healy-australias-forgotten-hero/9010088

“Cecil Healy won gold in the 4x200-metre relay at the Stockholm Olympics [in 1912]. But it was in the individual event that he showed his true character and, indirectly, would have a lasting impact on Australian culture.

Healy's main rival for the 100-metre freestyle was a Hawaiian surfer called Duke Kahanamoku.”

When they held the heats everything was fine. By then Healy knew he wouldn't have won it, because Duke was that much better. Then they went to the semis-finals and the Americans either didn't turn up for the event or were late.

The judges ended-up disqualifying Duke.

Cecil said [paraphrasing], “Look, I don't think that's fair, I think he should be given a chance to race even though he's going to beat me.”

On Healy's insistence, the Australian team lodged a protest on behalf of the Americans.

In the end, Duke was allowed to swim and won the gold and Healy took the silver medal.

After the presentation, Kahanamoku sought out Healy. He came across the podium and lifted up Cecil's arm, [paraphrased] saying “This is the true Olympic champion.”

It was the beginning of a friendship between the two champions that would lead to one of the pivotal moments in Australia's sporting life: In 1914, Healy invited Duke to Sydney to give surfboard riding demonstrations.

The Duke performed a number of surfing exhibitions over the summer of 1914-15, most famously at Freshwater beach in front of hundreds of spectators. Afterwards, Australian surfing kicked into high gear.

Within months of the Duke's landmark visit, ANZAC soldiers were storming the beach at Gallipoli, and Healy enlisted in the army soon after.

He started out as a quartermaster but felt he could contribute more and applied to become an officer. As he was completing his officer training in Britain, he wrote foreboding letters home to his mates, one of which read:

“I am prepared for the worst, and am quite resigned to my fate.

“I cherish the hope that I will be able to sell my life dearly, and earn the respect of the men whom I command.

“If the unexpected happens, and I am spared to return, we must dispose of a drop of the cup that cheers together, old chap.

“Meantime — Yours, Cecil.”

Healy served with distinction, but just 74 days before the end of the war, he was killed in a field near Peronne in France. He was leading his platoon, clearing out German machine gun posts when he was shot in the neck and chest and died from those wounds.

The 1920s

When Duke Kahanamoku left Australia, after giving widely publicised and very popular surfing demonstrations in 1914-1915, he gave his surfboard to an eager boy surfer by the name of Claude West.

Claude West

Born in Sydney, Claude West (1898–1980) was raised at Manly Beach, New South Wales. He began bodysurfing as a kid and then got into stand-up surfing. He was 16 when he first witnessed Duke's waveriding demonstrations at Freshwater in 1914 and these inspired him to go further in the sport.

In 1918, West experimented with hollowing out a solid piece of redwood to create a lighter surfboard. However, the board was compromised when water seeped in through sun cracks, leading to that project’s abandonment.

The Australian Surf Lifesaving Championships had begun in 1915 and were held annually. By 1919, surfing was added as an event and West won it, becoming Australia’s first national championship surfer. He would go on to win the title four more times, straight (1919-1924).

In 1920, West used his board to rescue a swimmer at Manly. The swimmer was the country’s Goveror-General, Sir Ronald Mungo Fergerson, who afterwards presented his rescuer with his silver dress watch, in appreciation.[1]

A newspaper report of the “Australian Championships” at Manly, March 1920, records the results of a surfboard race:

1. A. McKenzie (North Bondi)

2. Oswald Downing (Manly)

3. A. Moxan (North Bondi)[2]

A similar newspaper report of the Bondi Championships, April 1921, records the results of a surfboard race as:

1. A. McKenzie (North Bondi)

2. A. Moxan

Other starters were Oswald Downing  and Claude West (Manly).[3]

By 1921, the Surf Life Saving Association printed their first handbook. It probably formed the basis for subsequent publications later entitled the “Handbook of the Surf Life Saving Association of Australia.”

At the Australian Championships at Manly in 1922, the board event results were:

1. Claude West (Manly)

2. A. McKenzie (North Bondi)

3. Oswald Downing (Manly)

After 1924, despite being only 26, West retired from surfing.[4]  

As the country’ first surf champion and dominant surfer of the early 1920s, West is remembered as one of the foundational figures in Australian surfing history.

Other surfers and surfboard shapers were making an impact on the sport as well.

Oswald Downing was an early board builder and a trainee architect who had drawn up his own surfboard construction plans. These are possibly the plans printed in the 1923 edition of The Australian Surf Life Saving Handbook.[5]

In celebration of Collaroy SLSC's victory in the Alarm Reel Race at the Australian Championships at Manly in 1922, swimmer Ron Harris’ family commissioned Buster Quinn (a cabinet maker with Anthony Hordens) to make a surfboard. Quinn made the board from a single piece of Californian Redwood at the Dingbats’ Camp. Before it was completed, however, Harris’ father died and the family left Collaroy. Chic Proctor acquired the board in Harris’ absence and it remains in the clubhouse to this day as the Club’s Life Members Honour Board.[6]

Harold and Joe Brown, local surfers at Manly and Freshwater, were early adopters of stand-up surfing and built solid wooden boards averaging between 10–12 feet in length. Surfboards remained heavy, solid timber finless planks, inspired in shape by Hawaiian boards.

With growing numbers of surf board riders, the Manly Council considered banning surfboards altogether, in 1923, to protect the safety of bodysurfers. This idea was dropped when one day at the beach, three city councilors witnessed a rescue of three swimmers in high surf by Claude West using his surfboard. Reversing their position, the Council commended the use of surfboards as rescue craft.[7]

Snowy

Charles Justin “Snowy” McAlister was born in 1904 in Broken Hill, New South Wales. His family moved to Manly Beach in 1914, just in time to witness Duke Kahanamoku at Freshwater in 1915.

Inspired by Duke, Snowy (sometimes just shortened to “Snow”) started by surreptitiously riding waves on his mother’s pine ironing board. “I used to wag school and rush down to the beach with it,” he recalled. “I got away with it a number of times, but she eventually found out because I would come home sunburnt.”[8] The pine ironing board was followed by a self-made plywood board and his first full size board, a gift from Oswald Downing.[9] This board is preserved in Australia’s Surf Life Saving Museum.

“I used to go into the timber yards in the city and buy a ten by three foot piece of wood about two feet thick (sic, inches?), which I had delivered to the cargo wharf beside the Manly ferry.

“I’d lug it home, then carve it, varnish it overnight and try it out the next morning.

“We were getting murdered in those days.

“The boards had no fins.

“We’d go straight down the face of the wave instead of riding the corners as the Duke had done. When we saw him do that we thought he was just riding crooked.”[10]

Starting out on an impressive competitive record, Snowy McAlister won board “displays” (an early form of competition) in Sydney in 1923-24 (Manly), 1924-25 (Manly), 1925-26 (North Bondi) and 1926-27 (Manly, second Les Ellinson).

His record at Newcastle was even more outstanding, with wins in 1923-24, 1925-26, 1927-28, 1930-31, 1931-32, 1934-35 and 1935-36.  All these victories were on solid boards.  He competed until 1938 and then made a comeback at the 1956 Olympic Carnival, Torquay.[11]  

Snowy was the nation’s unofficial national surfboard champion from 1924 to 1928.

He visited South Africa and England on the way to the Amsterdam Olympics in 1928, accompanying another Manly Surf Club member Andrew “Boy” Carlton.[12]  While in Cornwall (UK), Snowy gave a sensational outdoor surfing demonstration. Motorists and locals were stunned and the police even escorted him off the beach out of safety concerns! He was known for his showmanship, including handstands on his board, and no doubt this was part of the repertoire this day.

Following the introduction of the Blake hollow board to Australia in 1934, Snowy turned to the hollow framed Australian surfski as his preferred wave riding craft.

In 1962, Snowy co-founded the Australian Surfriders Association, the national governing body for surfing, separate from the nation’s lifesaving organization.

He also helped establish the Australian Surfski Association, actively promoting this paddle-based variant well into his later life.

His efforts in advertising early "surfboard rallies" at Manly set the stage for organized competitive surfing in Australia. Tthese modest gatherings of a dozen or so surfers eventually paved the way for the structured, professional competitions Australia is now known for.

Snowy is often lauded as the "Father of Australian Surfing", a title he earned from decades of shaping the sport across styles, equipment, and competition.

He was inducted into the Australian Surfing Awards Hall of Fame in 1985.

A long-running “Snowy McAlister Winter Longboard Festival” at Manly Beach continues to celebrate his legacy. Organized by the Manly Malibu Boardriders Club, this event, held annually since the late 1980s, draws surfers of all ages and skill levels from across the country and beyond.

His personal ukulele, a hand-crafted Hawaiian instrument, is preserved at the Australian National Surfing Museum, symbolizing the cultural ties between Australian surfing and the Hawaiian Islands.

More 1920s

Another noted surfer of Australian surfing’s formative period was Adrian Curlewis. Around 1923, Curlewis bought a used 70 pound board from Claude West, so he could surf regularly at Palm Beach. This board was replaced by one of similar design in 1926, a board built by Les V. Hind of North Steyne for five pounds and fifteen shillings, including delivery.[13]  Curlewis became a noted surf performer, becoming somewhat of a star, thanks to a photograph printed in an Australian magazine in 1936.[14]

Sir Adrian Curlewis was born in 1901. He graduated from Sydney University and was called to the Bar in 1927. He served in Malaya in World War II and was a prisoner of war from 1942 to 1945. He held the Presidency of the Surf Life Saving Association of Australia from 1933 to 1974, his position as sole Life Governor of that Association from 1974, and his Presidency of the International Council of Surf Life Saving from 1956 to 1973. Curlewis served as a New South Wales District Court Judge from 1948 to 1971, retiring at the age of 70.[15]  Perhaps because of his early board riding experiences and long association with surf lifesaving organizations, he was a noted 1960s opponent of the growth of an independent surf culture centered on wave riding.[16]

At Coolangatta, boardriding continued to expand during the 1920s.  Basic competitions (using a standing take-off) were organized and riders included Clarrie Englert, Bill Davies, “Bluey” Gray and later, Jack Ajax. Bluey Gray, in fact, wrote to Hawaiian and Californian surfers in an attempt to learn more about current developments in the sport. Problems in sourcing suitable redwood saw “Splinter” Chapman, one of the coast’s top riders, use local Bolly gum to build boards.

North of Coolangatta, the first full-sized board was probably owned by John Russell of the Main Beach Club, circa 1925.[17]

Circa 1925, Sydney rider Anslie “Sprint” Walker surfed at Portsea, Victoria.  When he encountered trouble transporting the board between Portsea and home, he solved the problem by leaving his board at the beach, buried in the sand.  The board was eventually donated to the Torquay Surf Live Saving Club, but was later destroyed when the club house burnt down in 1970. Sprint solved this problem, too, by building a replica from Canadian redwood with an adze, the way it had been done originally.[18]

The North Steyne Surf Life Saving Club promoted their 4th annual carnival, scheduled for December 19, 1925, at 2:45 p.m., with a flyer printed by the Manly Daily Press. The noted “Surf and Beach Attractions” included: “1200 Competitors, 18 Leading Surf Life Saving Clubs Participating - Surf Boat Races, Thrills and Spills, Board Exhibitions, All State Surf Swimming Champions Competing.”[19]

The Australian Surf Life Saving Association promoted their annual surf championships, scheduled for February 27, 1926 at 2.30 p.m., with a flyer printed by the Mortons Ltd. Sydney. It emphasized: “Surf Boats, Surf Shooting and Surf Board Displays by Real Champions.”[20]

In the late 1920s, Collaroy SLSC member Bert Chequer manufactured surfboards commercially and 15 shillings cheaper than North Steyne builder Les Hind.[21]  In the early 1920s, Chequer had been captivated by the likes of board riders such as Weary Lee, Chic Proctor and Ron Harris and made his first surfboard at 17 using a design similar to Buster Quinn’s. 

As the years progressed, Chequer refined Quinn’s design, producing a board which was held in high regard by many other board riders in the Club.  Dick Swift requested he build him a board (the board is still in the Club house) and with delivery of the board a flood of similar requests came his way. So, with this development and little work in his father’s building business to keep him busy, Chequer decided to try his hand at commercial surfboard building – one of the earliest such enterprises in the country. The cost of a Chequer board was £5 which included delivery.

Chequer bought his timber from Hudson’s timber merchants where it was kiln dried before delivery. While he preferred cedar, its expense meant that he was forced to use Californian Redwood. The board was crafted from a single piece of wood, meaning that Chequer’s small workshop was usually a sea of wood shavings.[22] 

A board took just two days to build and was totally shaped by hand. Once shaped, the board was coated with Linseed oil, before two coats of Velspar yacht varnish was applied. In his initial experimentation with the varnish on his own board, the yellow finish it gave off prompted the board to be known as the “Yellow Peril.” Boards were usually intricately marked either with a name, the initials of the owner, or with the Club emblem.[23]

Chequer was soon supplying individuals and clubs up and down the New South Wales coast and as far away as Phillip Island in Victoria. While the business was relatively successful, there was a downside for Chequer.  Because he was a surfboard manufacturer, making money out of what was now regarded as a piece of life saving equipment; the Association claimed he was no longer an amateur by their definition. He was therefore prohibited from surf life saving competition between 1932 and 1936.[24]

In the late 1920s, T.A. Brown and A. Williams used a corkwood board from Honolulu at Byron Bay, NSW.[25]

Eric Mallen purchased a cedar slab that was once the counter of the Commercial Bank, and had it shaped into a fourteen foot board by Jack Wilson. Proving to be too unwieldy, the board was later cut down, decorated and named “Leaping Lena.” On large days, Eric Mallen would leap off the end of the large jetty that ran out from Main Street to save paddling.[26]

Before the decade was out, Duke Kahanamoku visited Australia again. Surf Life Saving Clubs (SLSC) continued incorporating surf riding into lifesaving and clubs like Manly, Bondi, and Freshwater became centers for early Australian surf culture.

1930s

On Sunday, April 26, 1931, a belt and reel rescue attempt at Collaroy in extreme weed and swell conditions resulted in the death of Collaroy SLSC member, George “Jordie” Greenwell. Even though the use of the reel was questionable in thick weed and high swell conditions, the inability of Greenwell to release himself from the belt was the main reason for his demise. Despite demands on the SLSA’s Gear Committee, the “Ross safety belt” – designed to ensure the lifesaver from just such an entanglement – did not become compulsory for member clubs until the 1950s. Greenwell was posthumously awarded the Meritorious Award in Silver, the SLSA’s highest honor.[27]

While Greenwell’s drowning resurrected the debate on surf belts, there were two more immediate and positive developments from the drowning.  The first was an intensification of Association trials using waxed line to see if it would “overcome the difficulty of seaweed.” The other was the Association's endorsement of the use of surfboards as life saving equipment. In the Greenwell drowning itself, the surfboard had proved its usefulness in surf with a high seaweed content.

In the 1920s, surfboards had been used by a number of clubs as rescue devices. While the line and reel remained the predominant rescue technique, the surfboard rivaled the surf boat for the number of rescues accorded to it each season. Such use, however, had been against the wishes of the Association and lifesavers like Manly’s Claude West were reprimanded for their use.

During the 1929-30 season, the Collaroy Annual Report recorded rescues performed using surfboards, noting two such. The following season, four surfboard rescues were recorded. The figure was probably much greater, in reality, due to the fact that surfboards were often used to assist tired swimmers before they got into actual difficulties. While confined almost exclusively to surf club use, surfboards were usually only used by members who were not on patrol duty.[28]

The data in club annual reports demonstrated to the Association that most clubs saw surfboards as useful rescue craft. Within the Association, individuals such as Greg Dellit, Adrian Curlewis and Bert Chequer (who had joined the Board of Examiners) began to champion the surfboard. Eventually, interested parties agreed that surfboards should be trialed so their usefulness could be gauged. These trials were held in the swimming pool of the Tattersals Club in Sydney. The trials confirmed the usefulness of surfboards as flotation devices in multiple and lone lifesaver rescues. The fact they mostly went over rather than through sea weed was also noted.[29]

Noted surfers of the decade included George “Buddie” Conlon and Dale Webster. Buddie experimented with homemade longboards and pushed early techniques, including turning and trimming on heavy timber boards. He also helped cultivate early informal surfing competitions at Bondi and Manly.

Dale Webster experimented with board shaping, reducing weight somewhat and even adding a slight rocker to plan shapes.

By the start of World War 2, surfing had spread from New South Wales into Queensland.

1940s

Before World War II – and not counting the little being done in Japan and Great Britain – surfing was practiced basically in three main areas on the planet: the east and west coasts of the U.S.A., the Hawaiian Islands, and the Gold Coast of Australia. By the end of the 1940s, Peru, Brasil and South Africa had made the list.

Surfing had slowly grown along Australia’s “Gold Coast” after Tommy Walker first rode standing up in 1912.1 Australian surfing accelerated following Duke Kahanamoku’s demonstration of stand-up surfing in 1914-15.2

By the early 1950s, Australian surfing had expanded out from New South Wales to Queensland Victoria. Clubs like North Steyne, Freshwater, Maroubra and Coolangatta all hosted informal competitions.

The growth of Australian surfing can be measured in numbers of surfers, yet, surfboard evolution was stunted by the Surf Life Saving Association (SLSA). Paddleboards were favored over more dynamic wave riding vehicles. As writer Kent Pearson pointed out, “board design was biased towards the interests of SLSA requirements and the interests of their members, concerning paddling speed rather than wave-riding performance.”3

“Board paddling in Australia became a form of athletic competition,” wrote Pearson in Surfing Subcultures of Australia and New Zealand, “which was in direct contrast to the more expressive and playful activity of wave riding itself. Thus, board design and development was in complete accord with the central aims and official SLSA ideology. Stressing, as it did, the benefits of competition for rescue work, the official position also seemed to parallel general societal values on achievement and performance.”4

World War II changed things somewhat.

“World War II had several major repercussions on surf life saving,” Pearson noted. “At an international level, Australians posted overseas introduced local life saving methods to other countries. At home, club memberships were depleted by both voluntary drafting for overseas service and home conscription. Sydney beaches were barb wired and manned by troops. As a consequence, surf life saving activities declined.”5

When the war ended, a major shift in surfing began to occur. “There was a big change in the manner of the members after the War,” wrote Australian surfing great Snowy” McAlister of Aussie surf life saving members. “They were restless and hard to control, despite the years of army training... It was something the clubs never recovered from, cars were becoming available and in 1948 petrol rationing was lifted (during the war we had been limited to four gallons a month) giving a new freedom to youth. Suddenly the youth were able to get mobile and were no longer anchored to the club.”6

Early 1950s

In addition to the mass release and new freedom of movement after World War II, there were technological advances and greater consumer affluence that helped characterize the post-war period in Australia.7

“Pre-war board riding had generally been restricted to surf life saving club members,” wrote Pearson, “who based their activities at a particular beach. There were practical reasons for this...”8

“Boards were kept at club houses for the good reason of weight,” Snowy noted. “They were secured upright on club verandas and fixed with a hasp and staple fitting with lock attached to the wall, both for reasons of safety and because this was a good position to let the water drain down to the bottom of the board – redwood soaked up water like a sponge.”9

The upright position was also beneficial for hollow boards – all of which had plugs at the end so that they could drain. Hollow paddle boards had become popular in Australia, due to the emphasis on rescue and paddling rather than freestyle surfing. Invented by Tom Blake in the late 1920s, hollow boards – particularly of the pointed nose and tail paddleboard variety – grew in popularity through the 1930s and ‘40s. “By the 1950s,” Pearson noted, “the hollow boards had become very popular in Australia but were difficult to ride on waves.”10

“The style of riding,” continued Pearson, “dictated by these boards was basically straight line surfing and turns were awkward and slow. Good surfing was seen as taking a wave standing, and travelling in control of the board in the same direction as the wave... In spite of the difficulty of using these boards for wave riding, they were being used more and more for just this purpose before the introduction [in Australia] of the wave-riding Malibu Board.”11

“The sport evolved slowly,” wrote surf writer Matt Warshaw, “and remained closely allied to the Surf Lifesaving Clubs, until a group of visiting American surfers introduced the lightweight balsa Malibu boards to Sydney and Victoria wave-riders in 1956. Sydney’s Gordon Woods also opened Australia’s first surf shop that year, in Bondi Beach.”12

Standout Australian surfers of the years just prior to 1956 include Peter “Paddy” Moran (from Bondi) who helped refine hollow boards; Max Cole (from Maroubra) who promoted informal competitions and beach surf culture; David “Dobby” Dobson who experimented with imported balsa boards and, later in the decade, early fiberglass prototypes; and John Kinsman, who was influential in surf lifesaving clubs and youth surfing education. He advocated for Australian surfing to be internationally recognized.

ENDIT

Footnotes

1  See Gault-Williams, “Duke Not The First in Oz” and “Australian Surfing, 1912” both out-of-print but whose content is included here.

2  Gault-Williams, LEGENDARY SURFERS Volume 1. Chapter on Duke.

3  Pearson, 1979, p. 56.

4  Pearson, 1979, p. 56.

5  Pearson, 1979, p. 56.

6  McAlister, 1975. Quoted in Pearson, 1979, p. 57.

7  Pearson, 1979, p. 57.

8  Pearson, 1979, p. 57.

9  McAlister, 1975. Quoted in Pearson, 1979, p. 57.

10  Pearson, 1979, p. 57.

11  Pearson, 1979, p. 57. See also Gault-Williams, “1956.”

12  Warshaw, Matt. Encyclopedia of Surfing, @2003, p. 27.

[1] Wells, page 152.

[2] Galton, Barry.  Gladiators of the Surf: The Australian Surf Life Saving Championships – A History, ©1984, page 29.  Published by AH & AW Read Pty Ltd., 2 Aquatic Drive, Frenchs Forest NSW 2086.  Soft cover, 122 black and white photographs, Australian Championships Results, Index.  Geoff Carter wrote: “A detailed work true to its subtitle, mostly concentrating on contest results, with some background information where appropriate.  Surfboats feature throughout the book, with occasional surfskis and boards.  Photographic highlights include: old and modern surfski (‘Snow’ McAllister and Michael Pietre), page 8; Australian S.L.S.A. team at Outrigger Canoe Club, Honolulu, 1939, p. 64; Hollow boards at North Bondi, 1947, page 74; Duke Kahanamoku at Torquay, 1956, page 108; US-Hawaiian team members (with paddleboards), Torquay, 1956, page 112 (incorrectly captioned ‘first of the malibus’).”

[3] Galton, 1984, page 29.

[4] http://www.surfresearch.com.au/1920_Solid_Wood.html

[5] http://www.surfresearch.com.au/1920_Solid_Wood.html

[6] Brawley, (1995), page 48.

[7] Harris, pages 55-56.

[8] Wells, p. 159.  Snowy McAlister quoted.

[9] Galton, p. 35.

[10] Wells, p. 159.  Snowy McAlister quoted.

[11] Galton, p. 35.

[12] Wells, pp. 159-160.  England AND South Africa?

[13] Brawley, 1996, p. 55, Reference: L. V. Hind to A.Curlewis, Curlewis Papers, SLSA Archives.

[14] Maxwell, 1949, p. 239.

[15] http://www.lawlink.nsw.gov.au/sc%5Csc.nsf/pages/Bergin_261103

[16] http://www.surfresearch.com.au/1920_Solid_Wood.html

[17] Harvey, p. 8.

[18] Wells, p. 153.  See also Snow McAlister, Wells pages 159-160 and Sprint Walker, “Solid Wood Boards and Victorian Surfing,” Tracks Magazine circa 1972.  Reprinted circa 1973 in The Best of Tracks, page 191.

[19] http://www.surfresearch.com.au/1920_Solid_Wood.html

[20] http://www.surfresearch.com.au/1920_Solid_Wood.html

[21] http://www.surfresearch.com.au/1920_Solid_Wood.html

[22] http://www.surfresearch.com.au/1920_Solid_Wood.html

[23] http://www.surfresearch.com.au/1920_Solid_Wood.html

[24] Brawley, 1995, pp. 95-96.

[25] http://www.surfresearch.com.au/1920_Solid_Wood.html

[26] Harvey, p. 8.

[27] Brawley, 1995, p. 91-95.

[28] http://www.surfresearch.com.au/1920_Solid_Wood.html

[29] http://www.surfresearch.com.au/1920_Solid_Wood.html - #22 : SMH, 21 September 1931.

1930s San Diego

Aloha and Welcome to this chapter in the LEGENDARY SURFERS collection on surfing in San Diego, California, during the 1930s.

To read about San Diego's earliest surfing history, that lead up to the 1930s, please go to:

https://legendary-surfers.blogspot.com/2018/05/san-diego-surfing-1910s-1960s.html

Early surfers in San Diego were mostly lifeguards for whom wave riding was a pastime, not a dedicated activity. They were lifeguards first, surfing on heavy redwood boards modeled after the Hawaiian alaia, and greatly influenced by Duke Kahanamoku and George Freeth. Notable in the beginning were Ralph Noisat, Charlie Wright and Gilbert “Gil” Duran, riding mostly in Coronado and La Jolla.

Surfing had been a rarity in the 1910s and ‘20s. What boards there were weighed 80-100 pounds and were generally stored in lifeguard stations or boathouses. In comparison, bodysurfing and prone riding on shorter “bellyboards” were far more popular than stand-up surfing.

By the late 1920s, wave riding on solid wooden boards began to grow in the San Diego area, mostly due to contact with both Los Angeles area surfers and Hawaiian surfers – including members of Hui Nalu and the Outrigger Canoe Club – sometimes surfing San Diego for short times while visiting or working.

Also, surfboards improved slightly with the introduction of lighter redwood.

Surf spots like La Jolla Shores, Pacific Beach, and Coronado developed reputations for rideable waves.

In 1928, Emil Sigler (1910-2011) moved to Mission Beach and soon became San Diego’s most influential waterman of the 1930s. Unfortunately, his influence and accomplishments remained little known throughout his life. It was only in his last decade that his key role in San Diego’s growth and development became known to the wider world, thanks to David Aguirre and his book Waterman’s Eye, published in 2008.

After arriving in Mission Beach at age 18, Sigler discovered a surfboard near the Mission Beach lifeguard station. “It was two pieces of thick pine, bolted together. And it had an iron tip,” recalled Sigler in 2006, at age 96. He found out that it belonged to early San Diego surfing pioneer Charlie Wright. When Sigler tracked Wright down and asked if he could use the board, Wright told him he could use it as much as he wanted. “Just put it back where you found it. Lean it against the seawall.”

Born in San Francisco, Sigler had wanted to become a fisherman, and since school didn't interest him, he often ditched classes to hang out at the Fleischacker Pool. Some of the pool's lifeguards were Hawaiian, and Sigler says one day during an outing to the beach they gave him a couple of rides on their boards. That triggered his interest in surfing.

When Sigler’s family moved to Southern California and Queenstown Court, Mission Beach, he discovered that Charlie Wright’s board was similar to the Hawaiians' boards that he had ridden up north, off San Francisco beaches. But, Wright's 125-pound board “was so heavy, it was steady, real steady,” Sigler said. “It was a lot more steady than the other boards later on.” But, because it was so heavy, a rider couldn't turn in the water. Additionally, the varnish was so worn “you had to be careful you didn't get any splinters.”

Charlie Wright warned Sigler away from surfing at Ocean Beach, claiming that the outflow from Mission Bay, which at that time streamed under a bridge rather than through the present channel, could be tricky. “You could get knocked out or something, and the tide'll take you out,” Sigler recalls Wright saying.

One day while jogging on the beach, Sigler noticed a surf spot that looked promising. At the north end of Pacific Beach, just south of Pacific Beach Point, the waves seemed particularly well formed. The board was too heavy for Sigler to carry that distance, so he hauled it aboard a ten-foot wooden dory and rowed north from Mission Beach. He unloaded Wright's board at the beach that's now known as Tourmaline and caught some good waves. He never saw anyone else surf there for years. Sigler is generally considered to be the first to discover Tourmaline as a surf spot.

Emil Sigler became the San Diego area’s first serious local surfer. Some of his younger contemporaries disagreed, though. One local surfer, Lloyd Baker, said Sigler “surfed a little bit, but he was not very agile. Not that he wasn't strong and not that he couldn't have become a better surfer, but he and Don Pritchard and Dempsey Holder (two other early surfers) were never, ever stylists. They went out and tried, but when they got up it was like you never thought they were going to last for more than 20 feet before they fell off or something.”

According to Baker, he and his pal Dorian Paskowitz and a handful of other teenagers from Point Loma and La Jolla were the first true San Diego surfers.

Born in San Diego, Baker and his family moved around California in his early childhood, but in 1934, when Lloyd was 13, they settled into a house at Portsmouth Court in Mission Beach. Dorian Paskowitz lived a couple of blocks away. In the years that followed, “We went to school every day together,” Baker says. “We swam in the morning before school. We ran together. We dated together. We did everything together.”

Their school was Point Loma High, which they reached by riding the streetcar that ran south on Mission Boulevard and over the bridge to Ocean Beach. That bridge was later torn down when the Mission Bay jetty was created. "On the other side of the bridge, we'd get off and take a bus up to school."

And school was where, in their sophomore year, they built their first paddleboards.

Paddleboards had been invented in the late 1920s by Wisconsin native Tom Blake who had found his way to Hawaii and become fascinated by the ancient Hawaiian boards in Honolulu's Bishop Museum. In an attempt to devise something that would work like the old planks but be lighter, he had come up with a design that was essentially a surfboard-shaped hollow box. Dubbed a cigar box or a kook box, paddleboards became popular with lifeguards for rescue work, but they could also be used to ride waves. Baker and Paskowitz copied this design and learned to stand up on the boards in the surf that sometimes formed at the entrance to Mission Bay. “Those boards probably lasted a year, year and a half,” Baker estimated.

Although nearly half as heavy as the boards they had been riding, Blake hollow boards were unwieldy and "were a pain in the ass, because as soon as they got just a little warped or they got in the sunshine or whatever, why, they started leaking," Baker says. When the era's best Californian surfer, Pete Peterson, moved to San Diego and got a job at the Mission Beach Plunge, he brought with him a couple of square-tailed solid-wood Hawaiian boards. These were studied by the locals with interest, as they realized their options on board designs were increasing.

Redwood/Balsas expanded the options even further.

By the mid-1930s, Los Angeles-based manufacturer of prefabricated homes Pacific Systems Homes had diversified and started to build surfboards as a sideline. Although the company used solid redwood at first, it later began importing lightweight balsa from South America for use in both home-building and surfboards. 

The balsa "was beautiful stuff!" Baker recalled. "They had it all milled, and it was very pretty." But a surfer couldn't simply order a finished board. He had to request that a block of wood be manufactured to the shape and dimensions he specified. "They'd put it together in any configuration you want," Baker says. "You could actually go through their bins and pick out the pieces you were going to have them glue up." Some pieces were harder, some softer; they also varied in weight.

"You could pick them out so the board balanced. You'd pick out redwood pieces with pretty grains of wood." If you wanted a stringer of redwood glued down the middle of the board to stiffen it or along the sides (the rails) or tip (the nose) to protect the softer wood, you could order that too. You drove up to L.A. to pick up your order, then took it home, where with woodworking tools you shaped the simple geometry into a board that planed over water with power and speed. Or if you had a friend who was good at shaping, you might press him into service.

Baker was one of those who became known for his skill at shaping Pacific Systems Homes boards. For a few years in the late 1930s, he worked on probably 40 or 50 boards; boards for Paskowitz and for the small gang of Ocean Beach and La Jolla boys who had started surfing, as well as others. He did it for free. "We were happy to do the work and pass the board on to somebody that would use it." Because they were lighter, weighing 45 to 65 pounds, the balsa/redwood boards were more responsive in the water, and with the addition of a fin (introduced by Tom Blake in 1935), they became more maneuverable.

Kimball Daun, one of the Ocean Beach boys, doesn't remember when or where he met Lloyd Baker, but he says it didn't take long to realize they were kindred spirits. Born close to the ocean, Daun remembers wandering over to the water, unsupervised, when he was six or seven, and teaching himself to swim. Not long after that, he became friends with another kid named Skeeter Malcolm, who lived a few blocks away and shared his love of the ocean. By the time they were eight or nine, they were bodysurfing on "the big beach." They heard that Duke Kahanamoku had once surfed the Mission Bay channel back in the 1920s, and that piqued their interest in surfing with boards.

Their first attempt at following Duke's example involved a paddleboard owned by an older teenager named Bob Sterling. "He would take it out on the ocean, usually on calm days, and paddle round on it," Daun recalled, adding that Sterling would also lend his board to the younger two. Daun says he and Malcolm took it to an area of Ocean Beach where they didn’t have to worry about swimmers. They took turns pushing each other into the shore break, and while the nose would sometimes take a dive and the board come to an abrupt halt, at other times the board surged forward. Then whoever was on it would pop up into a crouch, balancing for a couple of seconds before tumbling off.

They couldn't steer it at all, but they had fun on Sterling's board, Daun says, until the day one of them caught a good-sized wave and nosed in hard enough to hit the bottom. "All of a sudden, the board was just sunk, which was unusual." When they got it onto the sand, they realized "four feet of the plywood bottom of the board had peeled off and was just hanging under it. We thought, 'Oh my God, this is ruined.'”

Sterling was a big guy and they dreaded the thought of what his reaction might be. So, they loaded the busted board on a wagon and hauled it to Daun's house. "I said, 'Well, we gotta glue it,' but we didn't have any glue. So we went on Green Street, which was the next block over, and dug the tar out of the cracks in the street. We put it in a can, melted it, and poured the seam all the way around. We scraped off the excess and nailed it down with the tar in there. When we got finished, you could see the black here and there." It seemed to hold, though, and Daun and Malcolm never pressed their luck by borrowing the board again.

A bit of larceny enabled them to get a board of their own. This happened one night when the boys were walking home from high school. "Out around Coronado Avenue, someone was building a new house," Daun recalled. On the building site, they spotted "six magnificent redwood boards that they were using for the window frames. They were about 12 feet long. No one was around, and in those days no one stole anything."

Daun and Malcolm hoisted the boards on their shoulders and headed down the hill for the home of a friend who had a big basement. He refused to harbor their plunder, so they continued on to Sunset Cliffs Boulevard. "The boards would bounce because of the distance between us. We were walking along, and a couple of Ocean Beach cops drove around the corner, and oh my God, I thought we were going to die right there. I said, 'Don't look, don't look, don't look!' " The police slowed down but didn't stop the boys, who reached the safety of the garage adjoining the café and barbershop on Voltaire operated by Malcolm's parents.

Later, "Skeeter told his dad that my father had bought the wood, and I told my dad that his father had bought it," Daun says. The only problem with this was that "when my dad went down to get a haircut, one of us always had to be in the damn barbershop to keep the talk away from the surfboard."

Somehow that worked. Three-quarters of an inch thick, the boards were far too thin to be made into a solid wooden surfboard, so Daun and Malcolm set about building another box with cross-members. For this they needed screws and plywood, which cost little – but more than they had.

"But Skeeter got 20 cents a day for lunch money, which was unheard of for me," Daun says. "I had my mom make three sandwiches for me, and I'd take two and give Skeeter one. That way he could save his lunch money." They earned a bit more from chores. "We finally got the board built, and at 11 feet long, it was slow in turning, just like all big boards. But for a hollow board made at minimal expense, it was easy to catch waves."

Daun says he and Malcolm later graduated to boards fabricated by Pacific Systems Homes; balsa/redwood blanks shaped by Lloyd Baker. So did three other Ocean Beach friends of theirs.

Many of their surf sessions were impromptu. Baker could look out from his music-appreciation class and assess the surf conditions. If the day looked good, he would sweep through the building, poking his head into the other boys' classrooms and catching their attention. They'd get up and leave. Someone always had an old Model A or some other vehicle they could pile into. "The teachers didn't like it," Daun acknowledges. "But that's how much we were into surfing." Every minute of their waking lives, they were either doing it or thinking about doing it.

The weight of the boards limited the choices of where these first hardcore surfers surfed. "See, in those days, those boards were nose-heavy," explains Bill "Hadji" Hein, who by the late 1930s had joined the small band of regulars at Mission Beach. Because of the boards' tendency to "pearl" (or plunge beneath the water), "You had to be selective in where you could go. You had to have a wave at least four to five feet high, and it had to have slope in front of it, not a curl," he said. In San Diego County, the most reliable places to find those conditions were San Onofre, Windansea (in La Jolla), Pacific Beach Point, Sunset Cliffs (south of OB), and Imperial Beach.

Yes, this was the beginning of San Onofre’s golden era. Sometimes compared to Waikiki in Hawaii, San Onofre began luring Southern California surfers as early as 1934, a surfer named Bob Sides “discovered” it.

San Onofre soon became known not only for its waves, but its parties, too. According to Emil Sigler, the location's remoteness encouraged some at the all-male gatherings there, to swim naked. This was at a time when men wore bathing suits that covered them from neck to knee.

Soon, the Pacific Coast Surfriding Championships – the first organized surfing contest in the world, at that point; having begun in 1928 – were being held there. The competitions were not fierce, Jane Schmauss, the director of the California Surf Museum in Oceanside, noted. "Those guys didn't care a feather or a fig about who was the best surfer." But they were curious about each other's boards and techniques, and the San Onofre gatherings – organized or not – provided an opportunity to compare notes. "We had campfires and luaus," Hadji Hein recalls. "It was the Hawaiian Islands spirit."

San Onofre was too far away for most surfers, excepting on the weekends. So, San Diego surfers surfed other breaks more often; like Tijuana Sloughs when it was up, Mission Beach, Sunset Cliffs, Windansea, Pacific Beach Point and Tourmaline.

Imperial Beach – near Tijuana Sloughs – was just an average beach break. But in the winter, in the late 1930s, when the surf came up at Tijuana Sloughs, "Then [Imperial Beach lifeguard] Dempsey [Holder] would call, and we'd go down." It might happen only three times a year, Baker recalled, "usually for three to four days. Then there wouldn't be any other surf for a month or so. And the beach surf [in Imperial Beach] wasn't any different than the beach surf at Mission Beach or anywhere else."

Waves off Sunset Cliffs were excellent year-round, although access to them wasn't easy. A fellow could make the long paddle south from Ocean Beach or approach from the cliff top or the Theosophical Society. "We used to take our surfboards and just leave 'em in the brush and carry them down the little trail and surf there day in, day out," Baker says.

At Windansea, the reef causes the swell to break abruptly, creating powerful waves that often have a tubular shape. But no one rode Windansea until 1937. That year, a young glider pilot named Woody Brown, riding a homemade hollow board, and a handful of other young men from La Jolla "found great surf at Bird Rock and Pacific Beach Point, where we rode 20-foot waves, taking off right on the edge of the kelp," Brown recalled in a 2000 Surfer's Journal article. He and his buddies then ventured out at Windansea. After that, Ocean and Mission Beach surfers began joining them, at least on occasion.

Most, however, considered Pacific Beach Point "the absolute best for us," according to Kimball Daun. "You always had a long right slide. When the surf was really big, you could actually ride all the way over to Tourmaline." As at Sunset Cliffs, access to the water off the headland wasn't easy. "You had to drive up La Jolla Boulevard and jump the curb," Hadji Hein recalls. Japanese-American farmers were growing fruits and vegetables on the bluff, and the surfers would drive through an opening in their fence and down a mud road leading south to a canyon. They'd park their jalopies there and walk the rest of the way to the beach. "There were beautiful oleander trees all along there," Hein recalled. The surfers would pick the blossoms, bring them home to their girlfriends, and they would make leis. "That was the spirit we had in those days. We'd play Hawaiian music and all that sort of thing."

One way at least a few kids reached Tourmaline Beach was via a City of San Diego lifeguard truck. By 1935, Emil Sigler had overcome the handicap of being blind in his right eye (the result of an early childhood accident) to come in second on the city's lifeguard-screening exam. He wound up working at the Mission Beach lifeguard station, which had an old Ford Model A. Sigler says he would often rise early and load up a couple of the local kids like Baker and Paskowitz with their boards. He would drive north along the sand, going under Crystal Pier, to Tourmaline Beach. The group would surf, then return in time for Sigler to start his work shift by 9:30 a.m.

An incident with that truck resulted in the Ocean Beach boys getting their group nickname. As Kimball Daun recalled it, Sigler had driven up to Crystal Pier and stopped to chat with Daun, Malcolm, and a couple of their Ocean Beach friends. When Sigler started the engine to drive back to the lifeguard station, "Well, Skeeter and I were going to have to walk down to Old Mission Beach," about a mile south of the pier. "So we jumped on the back of the truck. It had handles to hold on to. When we did that, the truck bottomed out." Sigler yelled at them. "So we jumped off and Emil worked the thing out of the sand, then we'd jump on again. Pretty soon it was 'You goddamned vandals!' He picked up big rocks and started flinging them at us! That was the first time we were called the Vandals."

The friends now calling themselves The Vandals were not a surf club, just guys who surfed together. But, these Mission Beach surfers formed the first formal association of local wave riders around 1938, with the support of a city councilman named Fred Simpson. Lloyd Baker was the first president, and the group held meetings in a little room on the north end of the bathhouse that was located at the Mission Beach seawall, near Queenstown Court. But the club "dropped into oblivion when the war came along," says Hadji Hein, who was one of the first members. "Everybody had to go into the service, and it just went kaput."

As for Emil Sigler, he remained stateside probably due to his eye injury. At some point in the 1930s, he and Bill Rumsey rowed to and from Catalina Island, becoming the first two to do so. There are other Sigler stories, too, but they’re lost in the deaths of those who knew him who could recall.

What we do know is that in addition to lifeguarding, Sigler became recognized as a professional diver in search and rescue. After his lifeguarding years, he supported his family as a commercial fisherman, eventually owning and operating his own fishing vessel and plying the West Coastal waters between Baja and Alaska.

Towards the end of his long life (101 years), he finally got the recognition that he deserved when he was featured in Waterman’s Eye, his biography by David Aguirre (2008). Unfortunately, it is long out-of-print.

Emil Sigler’s honors include: 2004: Pioneer Waterman Award from the Surfrider Foundation; 2006: Honoree at the California Surf Museum; 2008: Subject of the biography Waterman’s Eye; and 2011: Finalist for "Best Biography Award."

Obituary reflections remembered Emil as a humble, strong, and inspirational figure who helped shape the surf culture and water safety identity of San Diego beaches.

Links

Emil Sigler Obituary: https://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/2011/10/23/emil-sigler-pure-waterman-dies-at-101/

Notes

Unless otherwise indicated, most all quotes are from “90 Years of Curl” by Jeannette De Wyze for the San Diego Reader, December 14, 2006.

Emil Sigler, Mission Beach

San Diego Lifeguard Collection

Photo taken in 1935 of Emil Sigler, Don Pritchard, Dorian Doc Paskowitz and Bill "Hadji Hein surfing Tourmaline.

Photo from Emil's private collection "Waterman's Eye”

Emil Sigler

San Diego Lifeguard Collection

Lifeguards Emil Sigler, left, and Bill Rumsey after they completed a 200 mile dory trip from San Diego, up the coast and over to Catalina Island in the 1934.

Photo/San Diego Lifeguard Collection