Friday, May 9, 2025

Early Surfing in Great Britain

Aloha and Welcome to this chapter in the LEGENDARY SURFERS series covering the first riders from the United Kingdom (UK) and the earliest days of surfing in the mostly southern England and the Channel Islands – including prone surfing with body boards and stand-up surfing.



Early Newquay surfers, 1920's
Photographer unknown



For this chapter, I am greatly indebted to the work of Peter Robinson, founder of the Museum of British Surfing; Roger Mansfield, author of “The Surfing Tribe”; the Museum of British Surfing; and J. M. Ormrod, author of “Middle class pleasures and the safe/dangers of surf bathing on the English South Coast 1921-1937.”


For images, my thanks to the Museum of British Surfing and Jeremy Oxenden.


For those who prefer the more shareable and portable ebook format, this chapter under the title of “Early Surfing In The British Isles” is available in PDF for $2.99. To purchase, please go to: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B075FRGWZ8/.




Malcolm Gault-Williams

All Rights Reserved ©2017

ISBN: 978-387-21360-3


A Note on geographic nomenclature: 


When I first wrote this chapter in 2017, I made the mistake of situating the story in the British Isles, when what I really meant was Great Britain. The map below illustrates why:






Surfing along the southern coasts of Great Britain and the Channel Islands is far older than most people realize.


It used to be that we thought of surfing in this part of the world as beginning in the 1960s. There is an element of truth in this belief as stand-up surfing did not really catch on in Great Britain until then. However, there had been stand-up surfers long before then, as well as the far more numerous “surf bathers” who utilized wooden body boards prone off the coasts of many resort areas.


Fact is, Hawaiian surfers first rode at Bridlington, on the east coast of England, in 1890; a local Briton in North Devon in 1904; numbers of vacationers in Newquay in 1921 and St. Ouen’s Bay in the mid-1920s. At Newquay, surfing on body boards has vibrantly continued to present day.



Piikoi Brothers, 1890


After introducing surfing to Santa Cruz, California, during the time three of the brothers were going to school in California, in 1885, Prince Jonah Kuhio Kalanianaole Piikoi and his brother Prince David Kahalepouli Kawanaankoa Piikoi took a trip to the Great Britain to further their formal education and surfed there briefly, while on vacation. They were in company of their English guardian on holiday in Bridlington, Yorkshire, September 1890.


A letter, believed to be the earliest report of the sport in Great Britain, was uncovered by Hawaiian historian and author Sandra Kimberley Hall in 2011. Pictures of the trio and details of their vacation are part of the growing historical collection housed at the Museum of British Surfing.


“The fact that not only do we now know that Hawaiian royalty surfed while being educated in England in the late 1800s, but also that they chose a relatively obscure surfing destination like Bridlington on the east coast to paddle out and catch a few slides is just fantastic,” declared Peter Robinson, founder of the Museum of British Surfing.


“This is the earliest proven instance of surfing in Britain so far – previously we had thought it was the 1920s in England and the Channel Islands – but this blows our history right out of the water.


“The Victorian locals must have been incredulous at the sight of these Hawaiian princes paddling out, and riding back into shore most likely standing on large wooden planks, their dark skin and hair glistening in the North Sea waters.


“I only wish I could have been there to see it.”



In a letter to consul Henry Armstrong from Prince Jonah Kuhio Kalanianaole Piikoi, the prince wrote that he and his brother, Prince David Kahalepouli Kawanaankoa Piikoi, were allowed by their tutor – believed to be John Wrightson – to holiday in Bridlington.


The pair were given the reward for good work in their studies at colleges around Britain. They had been in England studying for almost a year.


On September 22, 1890, a joyful Kuhio could not restrain his enthusiasm in his letter to Armstrong:


“We enjoy the seaside very much and are out swimming every day. The weather has been very windy these few days and we like it very much for we like the sea to be rough so that we are able to have surf riding.


“We enjoy surf riding very much and surprise the people to see us riding on the surf.


“Even Wrightson is learning surf riding and will be able to ride as well as we can in a few days more. He likes this very much for it is a very good sport.”


It is thought the Hawaiian princes, the orphaned nephews and heir to Queen Kapiolani, would have made their surfboards from timber acquired from a Bridlington boat builder.


The princes were cousins of surfer Princess Victoria Ka‘iulani, the half-Hawaiian, half-Scottish heir to the Hawaiian throne who was educated in Brighton a couple of years later, in 1892.


Sandy Hall pointed out that it is possible “She [Ka‘iulani] may have been the first female surfer in Britain, but the only tangible evidence – so far – is a letter in which she wrote that she enjoyed ‘being on the water again’ at Brighton.”


Surfing did not spread from here. These were isolated events and it was not until three decades later that body boarding became popular at some beaches along the British Isles.



Prince of Wales, 1920


Edward Windsor-- the Prince of Wales and future but brief king Edward VIII -- surfed at Waikiki, Hawaii, in 1920. To Edward Windsor and Earl Louis Mountbatten go the honor of being the first Britons photographed surfing; Edward the first one to stand.



“He had gone to Hawaii in April 1920 on HMS Renown and was taken out by Duke Kahanamoku on an outrigger canoe,” told Peter Robinson. “He had a surf lesson and did OK, but absolutely loved it. He later [in July] ordered the royal yacht to go back to Hawaii so he could surf for three days. Duke was out of the country when he returned so David Kahanamoku took him out and these pictures were taken then.”


According to an interview with David Kahanamoku in a Hawaiian canoe club newsletter in 1950, the two young royals surfed for two hours every morning and three hours every afternoon during their July stay.


“The prince learned quickly to ride the board standing, although he did have some spills,” Kahanamoku recalled. “Louis Mountbatten never mastered the art but was content to lie prone.”


Despite their enthusiasm for the sport, there are no known efforts by either Edward or Louis to foster surfing back in Great Britain.



Agatha and Archie, 1922


Two years after Edward Windsor surfed in Waikiki, in 1922, his friend and famous crime novelist Agatha Christie became one of Britain’s earliest stand-up surfers while visiting Cape Town, South Africa, and Waikiki a little later.


Christie spent her teenage years on the south coast of England, around Torquay, where “sea-bathing” -- body boarding prone on a short wooden board -- was, by then -- a seasonal activity of young vacationers. It is not known if this is when she started surfing, but it is possible.


After the First World War, Agatha’s husband Archie was offered a position to help organize a world tour to promote the British Empire Exhibition, scheduled to be held in London in 1924. The couple left England in January 1922, leaving their baby daughter in the care of Agatha’s mother and sister. They arrived in Cape Town, South Africa, in early February and soon took to “sea-bathing” at Durban’s popular Muizenberg Beach. Two years later, she wrote about her surfing experience in her novel The Man in the Brown Suit.


“Surfing looks pretty easy,” Agatha Christie wrote. “It isn’t. I say no more. I got very angry and fairly hurled my plank from me. Nevertheless, I determined to return on the first possible opportunity and have another go. Quite by mistake, I then got a good run on my board and came out delirious with happiness. Surfing is like that. You are either vigorously cursing or else you are idiotically pleased with yourself.”


Agatha Christie and Archie continued their promotional tour to New South Wales, in Australia, and also  New Zealand, before arriving in Honolulu on August 5, 1922. They quickly hit the beach and were soon stand-up surfboard riding at Waikiki, as Prince Edward had done two years earlier.


The larger boards and real surf were difficult for them to handle, at first. Also, like most Westerners, they were prone to sunburn. Cut feet from standing on coral also proved a limitation. At one point, Agatha’s silk bathing dress was almost swept off her by the Waikiki surf. To protect their feet, they bought soft leather boots. Her flimsy bathing suit was replaced by “a wonderful, skimpy emerald green wool bathing dress, which was the joy of my life, and in which I thought I looked remarkably well!”


Waikiki beach boys would swim the couple out through the break, help them select a wave to ride on and then retrieve their boards when they got away from them.


“I can’t say that we enjoyed our first four or five days of surfing –” Agatha wrote, “it was far too painful – but there were, every now and then moments of utter joy. We soon learned, too, to do it the easy way. At least I did – Archie usually took himself out to the reef by his own efforts.”


“Most people, however, had a Hawaiian boy who towed you out as you lay on your board, holding the board by the grip of his big toe, and swimming vigorously. You then stayed, waiting to push off on your board until your (beach) boy gave you the word of instruction. ‘No, not this, not this, Missus, no, no wait – now!’”


“At the word ‘now’ off you went and oh, it was heaven! Nothing like it. Nothing like that rushing through the water at what seemed to you a speed of about two hundred miles an hour; all the way in from the far distant raft, until you arrived, gently slowing down, on the beach, and foundered among the soft flowing waves.”


“It is one of the most perfect physical pleasures that I have known. After ten days I began to be daring. After starting my run I would hoist myself carefully to my knees on the board, and then endeavor to stand up. The first six times I came to grief, but this was not painful – you merely lost your balance and fell off the board. Of course, you had lost your board, which meant a tiring swim, but with luck your Hawaiian (beach) boy had followed and retrieved it for you.”


“I learned to become expert, or at any rate expert from the European point of view. Oh, the moment of complete triumph on the day that I kept my balance and came right into shore standing upright on my board!”


“In fact, on a rough day I enjoyed the sea even more.”


Agatha and Archie stayed in Honolulu from August until October, 1922.


It’s not known whether she continued surfing or not, upon returning to Great Britain. She had a writer’s retreat built at Burgh Island, Bigbury, South Devon, in the 1930s and that spot overlooks some small but very beautiful surf.



Surf Bathing


In the Barnstaple and North Devon Museum there is a photograph, dated 1904, of Hobart Braddick, founder of Braddick’s Holiday Centre, and his surfboard. It is not known to what point he surfed on it. What little surfing there may have been at the beginning of the Twentieth Century, at least until 1921, was very rare.


It is believed that “surf bathing” -- body boarding prone -- was introduced to Great Britain by Australian lifeguards, during or after World War I.


J. M. Ormrod, in a paper titled “Middle class pleasures and the safe/dangers of surf bathing on the English South Coast 1921-1937,” wrote that “Surf bathing was a leisure pastime enjoyed along the south coast of England in the inter war years and up to the early ‘60s when its popularity waned in favour of the stand up surfing which we know today... Surfing was associated with swimming and... became known as ‘surf bathing’. ‘Surf bathing’ was conflated in the 1940s to ‘surfing’. Surf bathing was also known as ‘Cornish surfing’ in North Devon, [and] ‘Surf Riding’ in Cornwall...”


“Surf bathing in the early twentieth century was an activity supported and promoted by a developing tourist infrastructure, however, it was quite different from modern surfboard riding. First, the surfboards were: ‘flat and made from plywood, squared at the body end and rounded at the other end, sometimes this end had a slight upward curve.’ Second, one did not stand up on the surfboard: The expert rider takes off lying prone on his surfboard on the crest of a wave that is just breaking, and providing his timing is correct he will get a run of anything up to a hundred yards, at a speed of ten to fifteen miles an hour. Third, the surfer did not surf in deep waters. This aspect of surfing is emphasized in most of the guidebooks, ‘Surf Riding makes a particular appeal to non-swimmers as it is never necessary to go into deep water’... this aspect of surf bathing is of crucial importance in its longevity and promotion as a holiday activity. Last, it was not a subcultural activity and was enjoyed by everyone: ‘…most people surfed – it was just the normal thing to do and accepted by all.’”



1921 is the date usually given for the first native “surf bathing.”


“The earliest images and references of surfing in Britain originate from photographs relating to colonial discourse, travel posters and guidebooks,” wrote Ormrod. ”... The earliest images discovered feature surfers at Newquay 1921-1922. The images show surfers in what was to become an iconic image in surf culture; featuring the relationship and centrality of the surfboard. In the photographs surfers stand on the beach with their surfboards either by their side, behind them or they peep out from behind their boards. Their boards, however, are coffin lids. It is not known whether these surfers rode the boards standing up or on their stomachs. The three photographs are dated 1921-22 and have been issued as postcards for sale around Newquay.”


“The seaside became the natural choice for crowds of holidaymakers to escape from inner city squalor: ‘They came not for their health, to decipher nature’s code, or for spirituality, but for sheer delight.’ By the early twentieth century England boasted ‘…a system of coastal resorts whose scale and complexity was unmatched anywhere else in the world.’ In 1911, Walton [who was the first to write about these resorts] estimates there were a hundred ‘substantial seaside resorts’ in England and Wales.”


“Beaches in the early part of the twentieth century tended to be class specific,” continued Ormrod, ”... Cornish and North Devon beaches tended to be associated with the middle classes who often traveled from London eager to benefit from a healthy environment... Newquay and North Cornwall was a getaway resort first for the upper classes and increasingly for the middle classes at the beginning of the 20th century. The growth of the middle classes was also a factor in the steady increase of tourism.. The inter-war years was a time when stable income and continuous employment meant that middle class affluence and disposable income was growing... However, there is little doubt the most significant factor in the development of resorts was railway access.”



St. Ouen’s Bay, Mid-1920s


Jeremy Oxenden’s family was surfing at St. Ouen’s Bay, in the Channel Islands, in the mid-1920s.

In 2009, Jeremy wrote to me about his family's surfing, attaching photographs:



Jeremy wrote of the above photograph: “That is Oxo with the 5.5 prone surfboard. He surfed in Hawaii some time between 1919-1923... The Island Surf Club of Jersey UK was formed in 1923...”



“The Girls in the beach hut are Dot and Ching Martin, left and right, and Pat Oxenden in the middle. The beach hut went up in 1924. The... Army knocked all the beach huts down in 1940. My Grand Parents re-built their hut just after the war (WWII). It was their top priority. We still have the beach hut and still surf from there... Thank you for including Oxo and his surfing Gang.”



“Snow,” 1928


Toward the end of the 1920s, Australian surfer Charles “Snow” McAllister visited England and surfed standing up at several locations.


“Snow” McAllister is considered to be the “Father of Australian Surfing,” who not only was one of the first stand-up surfers in New South Wales, but also became a championship swimmer and champion surfer.


In 1928, Snow gave a demonstration of surfing on his way home from the Olympics held in Amsterdam, Netherlands, where he had been competing.


By this time, surfing prone on short wooden body boards had become popular at some of the beaches that held consistent surf. But, like Duke Kahanamoku had done in Australia the decade before when Snow first got his start, demonstrations of stand-up surfing really captured peoples’ imagination. As an enhancement, Snow had perfected a headstand while surfing, just like George Freeth had done back in Southern California.


The Daily Mail reported on September 12, 1928, that McAllister intended to “popularize surf board riding, described as the most thrilling sport in the world, at English seaside resorts.” It’s not known how many Snow visited, but he almost certainly visited Newquay. Years later, he told Tracks magazine about how, at one spot, the locals called the police when they saw him heading into sea because they thought he was going to drown, and the police escorted him from the beach for his own safety.


About this same time, two other Australians were noted by J. M. Ormrod as surfing while vacationing at Croyde:


“Susan (Tunbridge Wells)... holidayed in Croyde, North Devon 1927-8 with her mother and sister when: ‘who should turn up but a couple of cousins from Australia who took one look at the breakers in the sea and were amazed to see no surfing. Without any loss of time they went to see the local village carpenter and supervised the making of two wooden surfboards and took us all down to learn how to surf…’”



Rosenberg, Rochlen and the Elveys, 1929


A year later, in 1929, Lewis Rosenberg and three friends traveled by train from London to Newquay, in Cornwall. Rosenberg had seen film footage from Australia of surfing off the coasts of that country and had carved his own homemade surf board.


Rosenberg and his friends Harry Rochlen and brothers Fred and Ben Elvey were part of a close-knit group of Jewish immigrants who lived in London and Hove. They had reportedly been riding four-foot long wooden body boards in the West Country and Channel Islands for almost a decade. But in 1929, inspired by the Australian newsreel, they built a longboard, wrapped it in linen sheets, and took it on a steam train from London to Newquay, the most popular surf destination of that era and years afterwards.



Not only did they try to teach themselves how to surf standing on their board, they also filmed their exploits. This rare footage laid untouched in a Cambridgeshire loft for many years before it was discovered by Ben Elvey’s daughter.


“When Maxine Elvey visited one of our exhibitions,” Peter Robinson, founder of the Museum of British Surfing said, “and told us she had film of her father’s surfing exploits on a wooden longboard in 1929 we were totally blown away. We took the reels of fragile 9.5mm stock to the local film archive for them to be preserved and transferred to digital tape – it’s a national treasure.”


The film is special for a number of reasons. Not only does it show Lewis and his friends attempting stand-up surfing for the first time, but it also shows what it was like being part of a group of friends enjoying life on the then-unpopulated Newquay beaches – sometimes riding the waves naked, and dancing the Hula wearing costumes made from seaweed.


Lewis even made a waterproof housing for his video camera, which was innovative for its time in Great Britain.


Maxine Elvey said her father Ben Elvey recalled they surfed in 1928 or 1929, but that it could have been as late as 1931. “They also saw a film called ‘Idol Dancer’ which showed Hula dancing in Hawaii – they copied this as well and made grass skirts from seaweed and danced and sung the lyrics ‘Goodbye Hawaii, my island paradise, we’re bound to meet again someday,’ on the Cornish beaches.”


“We interviewed three of the old boys who were part of the surfing gang, and they were totally stoked on what they were doing,” said Robinson. “They were in their mid 90s when we filmed them, but as soon as we spoke about surfing and their beach lives, their eyes lit up and their memories came flooding back. It was truly emotional.”


Speaking in 2006, Harry Rochlen recalled that “We swam out and when the waves came in, my friend Lewis tried to stand on the board, like they did in Australia. After a lot of practice, we managed to do it. It was incredible, it really brings back memories. It was really thrilling, to be able to stand on the board and go on to the beach.”


It is unknown how many seasons Lewis Rosenberg, Harry Rochlen and Fred and Ben Elvey surfed together. Sadly, the eight foot board which had been lovingly shaped from a solid piece of wood was later stolen from Rosenberg’s home in London.


“I had no idea my father’s surfing would turn out to be so special,” said Lewis’ daughter Sue Clamp. “We knew the films were important but mainly because they showed the build up to World War 2 and the racial and political tension. It’s fantastic the lives of Lewis and his friends is being remembered in this way.”




Jimmy Dix, 1937


Other early British surfers we have some detailed information about are Jimmy Dix and Papino Staffieri.


Jimmy Dix summer vacationed with his family on the north coast of Cornwall at Newquay. There, local people and visitors had been prone surfing on thin, flat plywood boards for well over a decade.


Jimmy liked bodyboarding, but was intrigued by an encyclopedia photo-picture showing “Hawaiians gliding shoreward standing on boards, as if Gods, propelled by the waves.”


“This looked worth a try, but it needed a real board,” Jimmy recorded.


He decided to build one, himself. So, he wrote a letter to some one or some organization in Honolulu. He explained his predicament and requested the dimensions of a board that he might be able to ride standing up. It is possible he sent the letter to the Outrigger Canoe Club, but this cannot be verified.


He had a long wait for his reply. It was a time before international airfreight and letters had to cross two oceans and one continent by ships and land vehicles.


What eventually arrived at his front door in Warwickshire in 1937, was a large box containing a 13 foot long hollow wooden surfboard of the Tom Blake design, weighing 30 kilograms and signed by Blake with a hand painted map of the Hawaiian islands upon its deck.


Using this Blake hollow board as an example, Jimmy built a smaller one for his wife. In the summer of 1938, they both headed to Newquay in his Alvis to holiday and experiment with riding the two boards.




Papino Staffieri, 1940-43


Papino Staffieri was born August 3rd 1918, a son of an Italian family who moved to Newquay at the beginning of the century in order to pursue the ice cream business there.


“Pip,” as he was known to his friends, grew up in Cornwall overcoming a minor disabling of his left leg through polio at two years of age. He grew up to become very much a local boy in Newquay, with a love of the water and some prowess as a long distance swimmer.


He had watched the Pathe newsreels in the Pavilion cinema above Towan Beach in the mid-30’s. These had shown him the great Australian surfboats in races including epic wipeouts while being surfed to shore. He connected the surf in Australia with his own local waves; the same raw material rolling into his home beaches.


After surfing prone on the local flat “surf-planers” (bodyboards), Pip’s first opportunity to ride waves in a different manner came with a group of local boys who had taken to building canoes. George Old, who lived further down the street built canoes with canvas stretched on a wooden frame. Old was also the most skillful canoeist in the area. It was he who led the experimentation with wave catching amongst the group, which Pip managed to join for a while.


Unfulfilled, however, Pip dreamed of surfing as depicted in the picture he had seen of men surfriding off Waikiki beach, with Diamond Head in the background. This picture was from the 1929 edition of Encyclopedia Britannica which he had originally seen at the dentist’s office as a youngster.


Stand-up surfing suddenly came closer to reality for him one day as he set up along the sand with his pony and ice chest on cart, to sell ice cream to the holiday-makers at the Harbour. Two surfboards lay on the sand side by side. It was 1938 and Jimmy Dix and his wife had come to the beach at Newquay. He hadn’t met them yet, but seeing and being able to touch real surfboards stirred him into action.


He left the beach with his a mental blueprint of a working design for his own board. Pip was a competent craftsman and pursued the construction of his own hollow wooden longboard with some variations on the Tom Blake model:



His board was 13’6’’ long, with far greater width than the Blake board. Its construction was of 3/8’’ Deal strips screwed to oak frames by brass screws with the whole shell sealed with a varnish finish. Dry, it weighed 112 lbs. Like all hollow boards, it had a nose drain plug to empty absorbed water. Most significantly, at a later date (circa 1941), he added a 3’’ deep fin for greater directional guidance. It’s not known whether this was an original thought or one he picked up.


Dix and Staffieri never actually surfed together. August was a busy time and Pip, the worker, spent all day selling ice cream before taking to the water in the long summer evenings. This was when Jimmy, the professional man, normally retreated to the hotel for dinner with his family.


A couple of summers later (1942), Jimmy, hearing of another man with a surfing board, visited Pip and took him out for a drink and chat. During their first time together, Jimmy showed Pip some simple box camera pictures of Jimmy and his wife standing, riding white water near the beach.


Dix and Staffieri would meet again over a few intermittent summers; but for Jimmy, his visits were only annual two weeks holidays.


Papino “Pip” Staffieri was the first stand-up surfer in the British Isles to ride for any significant length of time. Not only had he built his own board in 1940, but then learned to ride it with no example to follow, in the summer of 1941.


Pip’s favorite surfing spot was off the point between Great Western and Tolcarne beaches. Here, he would surf evenings, alone. Over time, he learned to paddle and swim-push his board out through bigger swells to ride larger surf.


Pip continued surfing until about 1943, after which his seasonal involvement started to wane. World War II took control of everyone's lives in one way or another. The whole world was in upheaval.


During the war, Australian Air Force officers on a reprieve from active service found themselves on “R&R” (rest and relaxation) break and lodged at the Great Western hotel overlooking Newquays’ surf beaches. They found opportunities to borrow Pip’s board for paddling and wave riding. Pip, in turn, was inspired by these men from the Australian surf life-saving tradition and subsequently devoted himself to body surfing.


Surf writer Paul Holmes wrote to me in 2009: “As kids [at Newquay in the 1960s], we used to buy ice cream from Staffieri’s van. It was the best ice cream I ever tasted, but even as he knew we were all getting into surfing, he never talked about it.”


As a man of 85, when his story became more widely known, Pip reminisced: “I don’t want you to think I was a great surfer – nothing like all the acrobatic stuff young people do on waves today. Some waves I’d ride lying down or on my knees part of the way, in between standing.”


Riding surf standing up definitely did not catch on until the 1960s, as Paul Holmes also noted to me:


“When I grew up in Newquay during the 1950s, surfriding on plywood bellyboards was a big deal during the summer months, especially during July and August when the water was at least passably warm and hordes of tourists flocked down from the industrial cities of the midlands and north. Our local ‘beach boys’ rented out such boards, along with deck chairs, canvas windbreaks (the northwest wind could be a beach party killer even when the sun was blazing) and visiting tourists could get a ‘tea tray’ with a pot of tea, cups and saucers, mini milk jug, sugar pot, teaspoons and a plate of scones and jam with Cornish clotted cream...


“From the time that I could swim, I and like-minded friends would ‘surf’ from May through September on such bellyboards, usually plywood but (like my favorite) sometimes a single plank about four feet long, a foot wide and one quarter to one half inches thick... All had a scoop nose steamed in. Usually they were ridden in the foam, launching into an already broken wave and planing to shore... But, I guess because we did so much of it, us ‘locals’ found that on small days, when waves broke in waist or chest-high water, we could launch across the face and get at least a short ride in the ‘green water.’ By 1960-61, I and a few others figured out that on a big swell we could swim out with our boards, using kid’s size swim fins, and take off on bigger waves, getting a much longer ride on the open face, especially at high tide when waves refracted/reflected off the cliffs, giving a wedge effect. (I should point out that conditions varied rapidly and radically because of the 17-22 foot tidal range).


“It's funny to me that even supposedly well-informed people so underestimate the wave action on the coast of Britain exposed to the North Atlantic. ‘Oh, there's surf in England? It must be pretty weak!’ Not so. I grew up with fishermen who knew where to avoid 60-foot cloudbreaks. I've seen bigger seas off the coast of Cornwall than I've seen on the North Shore of Oahu.”



Sources


Museum of British Surfing at: http://www.museumofbritishsurfing.org.uk


Roger Mansfield “The Surfing Tribe,” A History of Surfing in Britain.


J. M. Ormrod. “Middle class pleasures and the safe/dangers of surf bathing on the English South Coast 1921 -1937,” 2001, - posted online in 2004 at: https://e-space.mmu.ac.uk/617588/9/Such%20a%20jolly%20holiday%20(8).pdf

Fiske, J. (1983) ‘Surfalism and Sandiotics: The Beach in Oz Culture’. Australian Journal of Cultural Studies http://wwwtds.murdoch.edu.au/- continuum/serial/AJCS/1.2/Fiske.html Vol.1, No.2: pp.120-148.


Holmes, R. and Wilson, D. (1994) You Should Have Been Here Yesterday: The Roots of British Surfing. Seas Edge Publications.


Morgan, N. J. and Pritchard, (1999) Power and Politics of the Seaside: the development of Devon’s resorts in the twentieth century. Exeter: University of Exeter Press.


“Bodyboarding in England, 1920s,” Museum of British Surfing.


“Cornwall, 1960s,” posted at LEGENDARY SURFERS, March 2009: 

email from Paul Holmes.


“1920s St. Ouen’s Bay,” posted at LEGENDARY SURFERS, December 2009: email from Jeremy Oxenden


“Newquay Surfing, 1929,” posted at LEGENDARY SURFERS, June 2010: “UK surfing history started in 1929,” SurferToday.com, May 12, 2010.


“Agatha Christie, 1922,” posted at LEGENDARY SURFERS, August 2011: Museum of British Surfing, article by Peter Robinson, July 27, 2011.


“Earliest English Surf, 1890,” posted at LEGENDARY SURFERS, September 2012: http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/bridlington-is-the-birthplace-of-uk-surfing-new-785528




Tuesday, April 22, 2025

Whitey Harrison (1913-1993)

 Aloha And Welcome to this LEGENDARY SURFERS chapter on Lorrin “Whitey” Harrison.



Whitey surfing Killer Dana, late 1930's
Photographer unknown, but possibly Doc Ball


Contents


WHITEY'S BEGINNINGS 1

LAGUNA BEACH, EARLY 1920S 1

CORONA DEL MAR, 1925-35 2

SAN ONOFRE, 1933-39 3

STOWAWAYS TO WAIKIKI, 1930S 4

NORTH SHORE "RE-DISCOVERED"\L 1 6

DANA POINT, 1930S 7

DANA POINT & SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO, 1940S 7

SHOWING THE WAY, 1950S AND AFTER 8

EULOGY TO A WATERMAN 9




On September 8th 1993, one of the first and best of the early California surfers, Lorrin "Whitey" Harrison, died of a heart attack while driving back from the beach with his wife Cecilia near their second home on the Big Island of Hawai`i.


"Lorrin was the stuff life was made of," long-time friend and fellow surfer Mickey Muñoz offered.  "Lorrin was around here long enough to remember Steelhead salmon spawning up San Juan Creek, and through all of the pollution in general, Lorrin was always true to himself.  He wore his coconut hat and would get up in the morning with a big smile on his face and kind of face all of these issues with that smile.  He was always enthusiastic and positive... hey we lost a great light and energy."



Whitey's Beginnings


Born in Garden Grove, California, in 1913, Whitey became not only a great surfer, but -- like Pete Peterson -- an accomplished waterman in many of the ocean disciplines including sailing, fishing, diving and paddling.  His personal history in surfing reflects much of the development of the sport and lifestyle in both California and Hawai`i from the 1920s on into the 1950s.


"Where we lived, west of town," began Whitey in an interview for The Surfer's Journal just before his death, "there wasn't much in those days.  Everybody lived there because things would grow.  Garden Grove, at the time, was just like a garden.  After that, my family moved to Santa Ana Canyon where my dad built a big house up on a hill which is still there.  Our family had a place in Laguna ever since I was one year old, right at Sleepy Hollow.  My mom and dad would take us down there on a horse and wagon back when you had to go through Aliso Canyon to get to Laguna.  It took days for us to get there.  They'd stop to visit friends along the way.  We had chickens at our home, there at Sleepy Hollow, and we kept a cow in a field across the wagon road from us.  Our house was right where the Vacation Village is now."



Laguna Beach, early 1920s


"We used to body surf the entire stretch of beach from Sleepy Hollow rocks to Main Beach," Whitey continued.  "In the fifth grade, I made a plank, about 4-5' long and 18" wide to ride with.  We were body surfing all the time back then.  I'd never seen anybody ride standing until about 1920 when my dad took us to Redondo Beach in the car.  We parked up on a hill and ate lunch there and I looked down and saw these guys riding surfboards."


Mentioning the influence of the Father of Southern California Surfing George Freeth, Whitey noted of Redondo:  "That was where Freeth had started surfing.  My dad was thinking of buying a lot there, but we had the place in Laguna, and we were happy with it there."


Whitey made the transition from body surfing to stand-up surfing by 1925.  "My brothers Vern and Winfred, and my sister Ethel and I were like a gang at Sleepy Hollow.  Every year we'd build a raft and swim it out to the kelp in front of our house.  We floated an old wood burning stove out there, sunk it, filled it with rocks and anchored the raft to it with cable.  We'd go fishin' out there.  I can remember my mom getting so mad at me for getting my sister to swim out there.  And I said, 'Well, Jesus, if she can swim to her surfboard she can swim out there.'  By then we all had these redwood boards about 4' long that we'd ride.  We all grew up riding shore crashers that would just annihilate us on those boards.  In school I made a hollow one.  It was like a sled with runners curving up in front with 1/4" planks nailed crossways, it was about 18" wide.  I covered it with canvas tacked on with copper tacks and painted it.  We'd ride it till we wore the canvas off, then we'd put new on."


Tom Blake was a few years shy of inventing the wooden hollow board (1928).  


"The typical board of that time," wrote Nat Young in his History of Surfing, "...was still a solid redwood from six to nine feet long, flat-bottomed, with the edges just barely turned up on the bottom side.  Surfers would buy a redwood plank at the local lumber yard, take it home, chop it into rough shape with an axe [adze], and then whittle it down with a plane and knife.  The finished board was invariably flat, heavy, and about 3 1/2 inches thick."



Corona del Mar, 1925-35


"When I was twelve," Whitey recalled, "I started walking to Corona del Mar from Laguna Beach to go surfing.  There was a crew of stand-up surfers who would ride Corona back then.  Carroll Bertolet, Jack Pyle, Wally Burton, Keller Watson, Bud Higgins.  Guys from Huntington Beach and all over would come to Corona del Mar because it could be just a 3-foot surf, but it would pile up real high next to that jetty.  If a guy couldn't catch the wave, we'd throw him a rope and pull him on his redwood while running along the jetty.  We'd pull 'em right into the wave.  We surfed there from 1927 till 1935.  That's when they dredged the channel out to 60' deep.  They had cables going across the break out to the dredge.  We'd be riding and we'd have to jump the cable or lay down on our back to go under it.  We thought it was great fun to go out there with the construction going on, surfing in all that.  We used to walk there from Laguna because there was no way to drive at the time.  I didn't have a board then, but there was a bathhouse at Corona del Mar and Duke [Kahanamoku] had made a board out of white pine and left it there.  There were a lot of redwoods there, too.  Later on, I'd leave boards at one of the Thomas brothers' houses up on the bluff.  And there was the Chinese house at China Cove, I sometimes kept my board there too.  It took us a couple of hours to walk the twelve miles from Laguna Beach to Corona del Mar, but all the way was pretty nice."  It was the era of Prohibition on alcohol.  Whitey noted that "There was nothing from Abalone Hill all that way, except rum runners' leftover crates, boxes and bottles strewn around the beach."



San Onofre, 1933-39


Whitey was part of the early crew at San Onofre, where Southern California surf culture's roots are most firmly embedded.  "I was surfing [at Corona del Mar]... with Willy Grigsby, Bob Sides and Bill Hollingsworth... Sides traveled between San Diego and up here frequently and he said, 'Hey Whitey, there's this neat spot down south where the waves break way out.'"


Sides declared of Corona del Mar, in 1933, that:  "They're wrecking this place."


"So," Whitey said of their first trip to San O, "we loaded up a whole bunch of people into touring cars...  and we went down there and tried it out.  We went clear down to where the atomic plant is now and surfed that spot.  Then we came back up the beach and tried it right where the main shack is now.  That's where we found it was always steadiest.  The surf was always pretty good.  In one day we surfed all the different breaks.  The entrance to the beach was just across from the old San Onofre Train Station.  You'd drive across the tracks and down the dirt road.  At that time Santa Margarita Ranch owned the beach there along with another ranch that owned the land north of the point.  We weren't the first people to go down there, people had been going fishing down there for years and stayin' all night.  The ranchers didn't seem to mind.  In fact, the first time we went there, they were making a Hollywood movie.  They had built this big palm thatch house right on the beach.  We slept in it the first night we stayed there.  This was about 1933/34.  By 1935, Corona del Mar was over with, and San Onofre was our main spot."


By 1939, the San Onofre crew included – along with others less well known –  Tule Clark, Jim Bixier, Don Oakey, Dorian Paskowitz, Lloyd Baker, Guard Chapin, Vincent Lihnberg, E.J. Oshier and, of course, Pete Peterson.


The automobile had helped increase surfers' ability to go on surf safaris.  At places like Long Beach, Palos Verdes as well as San Onofre, surfers established the Southern California surf culture.  Following their trips to the Hawaiian Islands, guys like Whitey and Pete were major influences in helping foster a love of Polynesian culture.  Both men were instrumental in helping transplant elements of Polynesia and Hawai`i onto the beaches of North America's Southern California.


"The Hawaiian beach boys taught us to love their music and instruments as well as their waves," explained Whitey.  In Hawai`i, it had been "so hot during summer nights that we'd sit out in front of the Waikiki Tavern and make music till we fell asleep."


The scene at San Onofre was influenced in this way and colorful in its own right.  As Nat Young put it, "They were an incredibly healthy lot, spending long days down at the beach, engaging in friendly competition, encouraging their girls to surf, and partying long into the night.  They successfully combined normal working-class lives with the excitement of being the first group of [California] surfers."


Beginning around 1935, San Onofre became the major "meeting place for surfers up and down the California coast -- from Tijuana Sloughs [south San Diego] to Steamers Lane in Santa Cruz," wrote Dorian Paskowitz, one who was there.  "Friday and Saturday nights were always gay 'ole times, with Hawaiian guitar, Tahitian dances and no small amount of boozing.  But come Sunday morning, it was serious surfing for the true beach rats."



Stowaways to Waikiki, 1930s


Whitey Harrison "was one of the first California surfers to come to Hawaii and join the Hawaiians in the big surf," read a description of Whitey, as one of the world's surfing greats, in 1960.  "Every year from 1932 on I went to Hawaii," Whitey declared.  "In 1932 I was over there for six months.  I'd go in the winter."


"My mother was a school teacher and my brothers and sister were going to school.  I was eighteen so she said I either had to get a job or go to school.  So I went over and signed up for Fullerton Junior College.  But every time I'd show up at the beach, Willy Grigsby would be there just back from Hawaii and he'd tell me, 'God, Whitey, you've gotta go over there, you won't believe it.  The warmest water, you can stay in all day.  It's paradise!'  So I told my folks, 'I'll get a job.'"


"I started hitch hiking every day all the way to San Pedro to catch a ship.  To get there, we'd hop bumpers on the back of cars with the spare tire and big rear bumper.  The cops would be blowin' whistles runnin' after us.  There was a guy that went the first time with me called Doakes.  He was gonna go to Hawaii if I'd go.  He was studying to be a doctor, but he didn't show up again."


Charles Butler was better known amongst surfers as "Doaks."  Later on in the decade, he was photographed at Long Beach's Flood Control and mentioned in Doc Ball's California Surfriders, 1946.  He was studying to become a medical doctor when he enlisted in the Navy, during World War II.  Doaks went down with the Edsal when it was sunk by the Japanese in the early stages of the war in the Pacific.


"Different guys would back out," Whitey went on, "but I kept going up there trying to get a job.  There were lines of able-bodied seamen looking for work, so they weren't going to hire any kid out of high school.  I went up there for two months, hitch-hiking back and forth and never getting out.  I got so tired of it, I finally climbed on the U.S.S. Monterey... Duke was on there, but he didn't know me then.  They had a dance, then the boat took off that evening and I just stayed on.  I went out and slept in a steamer chair.  About three or four in the morning this guy came by and said, 'Hey, where's your room?'  I said, 'I couldn't find it, I made a mistake...'  So he went off looking for my name and I took off and ran into some other officer.  This is late at night the first night out, so they took me to the Captain and logged me in as a stowaway.  They caught three more of us.  Everyone was either riding freights or stowing away, that was the only way to get anywhere [during The Depression].  So they kept us in the brig, but we got to eat the same as the crew.  Then about five miles off Diamond Head, they had us climb down a Jacob's ladder to a tug and we laid out there from 4 a.m. to 6:00 that night.  Four stowaways and none of us knew each other.  I could see the Moana Hotel onshore... it looked like paradise, and I was ready to swim in until we saw some giant sharks.  That night, they put us on a freighter, the Manakai, and we ended up in San Francisco."


"All that time my mom was thinking I must have gotten a job cause I didn't show up.  Anyway, the next morning we had to appear before a judge.  We walked in there chained together and the judge says, 'You guys are from L.A., we don't like your type up here.  I give you twenty-four hours to get out of town or we'll really get you,' and they turned us loose.'"  Lorrin turned right around and did the stowaway thing once more:


"This guy from Belgium... said the lifeboats were the spot.  The lifeboats hung one above the other, out over the side.  So I hid out for two-and-a-half days inside one of them.  It was coal black in there.  I couldn't see anything.  When I finally climbed out I was punchy from no food or water... So they hauled me up and stuck me in the isolation ward.  All they gave you on that ship was bread and water and I was pretty hungry.  They were supposed to have emergency provisions on the lifeboats, but there weren't any there.  The night before we got to Honolulu, they found the Belgian and they threatened to transfer us by bosum chair to a ship headed back to San Francisco, but the sea was too rough.  So we sailed into the dock at the Aloha Tower in Honolulu with the Royal Hawaiian Band playing and streamers flying off the boat.  We were the first people off the boat, in handcuffs, and they turned us over.  But the cops were great.  I ate six breakfasts, ham and eggs, everything!  They made us stay at the station till the boat left.  When I walked out I was able to find a job for four dollars a day pressing clothes.  I ended up with a room next door to Pua Kealoha and John Oliver, the beach boys, for $7.50 a month.  It had one bed and a wash basin.  I had heard about Pete Peterson and seen him at San Onofre.  He and Don DeGrotti came over after I did and were staying right on the beach for $25 a month.  But they were broke and nobody sent them any money, so he and Don moved in with me.  It ended up they got the bed most of the time.  We hitched around the island together and saw Haleiwa when it was just huge.  I stayed for six months, then stowed away home with Pete.  I went over and back every year from then on through 1935, and of course, many times after that."  Nat Young remarked, "Stowing away became a surfing tradition that continued right into the 'sixties."


Waikiki was the heart of surfing at the time Whitey teamed up with Pete Peterson.  They both lived together for a while and became close friends.  They were two of a very small group of early haole  surfers.  "The first hard-core surf guys to hit Waikiki that I knew of consisted of Pete Peterson, Lorrin Harrison and Tom Blake who went there before the war," wrote Walter Hoffman, another early Californian who went to live and surf in Hawai`i, in a second wave of surf invaders in the 1940s.


While in Waikiki, Whitey worked as a beach boy.  In addition to friends like Pete Peterson, Tom Blake, Wally Froiseth and John Kelly, Whitey also hung with the Father of Surfing, Duke Kahanamoku.


Hot Curl surfboards came on the scene in 1937, developed by the likes of John Kelly, Wally Froiseth and Fran Heath.  Wally told me he remembers both Whitey and Pete were interested in the new design:


"A lot of guys -- like Whitey Harrison -- when they came down and saw what our boards could do at Castle -- him and Pete Peterson cut their tails down -- right there on goddamn Waikiki Beach!  They cut their tails down.  Of course, when they went back to the Coast, they took their boards with 'em."



North Shore "Re-discovered"


Even though Whitey only visited the Islands, he still must be considered part of the group of surfers that expanded surfing's Hawaiian boundaries out beyond Waikiki.  The reason lay much deeper than the fact that he joined the Hot Curl surfers in the biggest waves O`ahu's South Shore had to offer.  For, Whitey Harrison and another Mainlander -- Gene "Tarzan" Smith -- were the guys that "rediscovered" the North Shore in 1938, coincidentally on Whitey's first honeymoon.


Paumalu -- now known as Sunset -- is a spot noted for excellent surf even as far back as the ancient Hawaiian legends.  It is likely that the North Shore of O`ahu has always been ridden at one time or another -- at least since the first Polynesian settlers made their home on the Hawaiian Chain.  Unnamed surfers must have been surfing the area, if only on and off, all the way through.  We know that guys like Andrew Anderson were living at Mokule`ia and surfing there in the 1920s and '30s.  But, in relationship to the surfing movement of the Twentieth Century, it wasn't until Whitey and Tarzan made the call that the North Shore was put on the surfing map.


"This is the way it happened with us," Wally told me.  "Whitey Harrison -- he and Gene Smith went out to Haleiwa one day.  This was, like, around '37 or '38, whatever it was.  They went out to Haleiwa.  It was a big day.  And they both almost drowned.


"So, Gene Smith was telling us about this.  'Oh, Christ!  You ought to see these waves!'


"Me and my gang [the Hot Curl riders], we hear that -- 'Hey, let's go!'  So, the next weekend we go out there, you know, but Haleiwa wasn't that good, but Sunset Beach was good, so we just went Sunset.


"At that time, there wasn't a name or anything.  We just saw a good surf and went out.  It was just when we started to have our Hot Curl boards."


"Who started going out to the North Shore?" I prodded.


"Well, like I say, Whitey Harrison, Gene Smith... Whitey came over to the islands two or three times.  He came in the early '30s.  We were surfing Castle -- '31, '32, somethin' around there.  I mean he was...


"My brother and I, Dougie Forbes... Fran, of course, Kelly -- there were really only a couple of guys who went North Shore after Whitey and Gene.  It was just too much for the other guys..."



Dana Point, 1930s


"When I was in Hawaii," retold Whitey, "I was paddling canoes all the time... When I came back from Hawai`i with my first wife, we lived in Dana Point.  I started fishing commercial, and then I got a motorcycle and rode it all the way to Los Angeles to work at Pacific Redi-cut Systems Homes for a summer."  Pacific Redi-cut Homes was the first company to produce commercial surfboards.  


"Tule Clark and Carroll 'Laholio' Bertolet worked there too.  Quite a few surfers worked there, this was about 1931.  We were shipping sixty boards a month to Hawaii... There was this guy there named 'Dutch' that was notching these swastika symbols in some of the boards, and he couldn't speak a word of English.  They called these 'swastika boards.'  He'd mix glue and we'd glue up the blanks.  Then we'd run them through a shaper to get a rough shape then finish them with hard planes and sandpaper.  It drove me crazy, but it was work.  They sold a balsa redwood plank for about $25.


"They also made and sold paddleboards.  They had me racing them against all the other boards up and down the coast.  They would cut all the balsa scrap into blocks, glue them together and cut them into a plan shape.  Then we'd cover the top and bottom with 1/8" mahogany sheets and then laminate redwood strips along the sides which ended with redwood nose and tail blocks.  They worked pretty good, and they were light!"


Whitey began shaping boards at the rate of four boards a day for one hundred dollars a month.  The boards were constructed of laminated redwood and balsa which could be milled and joined with a newly developed waterproof glue.  These boards used the lightness of balsa down the middle and the strength of redwood around the rails.  Varnish protected the outside.  "The rail shape was full with a square upper edge and rounded lower edge.  The typical board was 10' long, 23" wide, and 22" across the tail block, and was known as the Swastika Model because of the distinctive logo the company used."  It was later discovered that Dutch was a Nazi.  After 1939, when war broke out in Europe, the swastika insignia was discontinued on Pacific Redi-cut Systems Homes boards.


Most of Whitey's shaping, however, was done in his own shop.  "... in 1936.  I'd just come back from Hawai`i and I was shaping boards for different guys like Joe Quigg and Matt Kivlin, guys that surfed Malibu and all over.  They'd drag a blank down to Dana Point and have me shape it.  I had a garage with balsa shavings a foot thick all over the floor.  Tom Blake and everybody would come down and sleep there... You know, we had big waves at Dana Point [before the harbor was built].  I even made a storage rack down on the beach and kept all the boards down there.  There was no way anybody was gonna take one of those boards by carrying it outta there!  It might float away before anybody was gonna carry it out.  Peanuts Larson would come by the shop and take the leftover balsa and make model planes."



Dana Point & San Juan Capistrano, 1940s


After World War II, board experimentation shifted from Waikiki to Southern California.  Material-wise, besides the addition of balsa, the innovation of the skeg and the introduction of new materials like fiberglass helped propel development.  As far as shaping was concerned, the scoop nose and use of rocker had long term effects on improving board design.




In 1946, at age 33, Whitey married his second wife, Cecilia Yorba, from one of California's pioneering Spanish families.  They raised their family in a historic 200-year-old adobe in San Juan Capistrano.


"When I met Cecilia, she was walking down the beach at Doheny with her cousin, and I came ridin' in on this board right to where she was standing.  That had to be about 1945.  She said, 'That looks like fun.'  I said, 'Yeah, you've gotta try it.'  So I spent a week talkin' her into going surfing with me.  She said, 'Well, I don't know, they've had such awful drownings in my family, nobody wanted to go near the ocean.'  So I said, 'I've worked lifeguard for five years, I'm not gonna let you drown.'  A fella named Voss Harrington was surfing with me at the time I was going with her.  We were in the abalone business together.  Voss, Fritz and Burrhead worked abalone with me all up and down the coast of California... I talked her into coming over and helping trim abalone at the cove.  Then I got her to go surfin' with me at Doheny.  Voss had this 11' board.  I caught a wave with Cecilia and he was on the shoulder and jumped off when he saw us coming tandem.  I was standing up, and his board flipped right over, hit on top of her head and shoved her teeth through her lower lip.  So that's how we started.  Since then she got so she could ride real good."


As late as 1948, most all surfers still knew or knew of each other and surfboards were still pretty much of the redwood & balsa variety.  "When I first started surfing," 1950s-60s big wave rider Greg Noll said, "Bob Simmons was just beginning to experiment with other materials.  You'd hear a few stories about new, revolutionary Simmons boards, but up to that time there was Matt Kivlin and Joe Quigg riding redwoods at Malibu.  Doc Ball and the guys at the Palos Verdes Surfboard Club.  Velzy, Leroy Grannis, Ted Kerwin, the Edgar brothers at Hermosa and Manhattan.  Lorrin Harrison, Burrhead and the guys at San Onofre.  A few guys down in La Jolla.  The entire surfing population consisted of maybe a couple hundred guys, most of them riding redwood boards, paddleboards and balsa/redwoods."


"It's amazing how long it took to get to the point where you could stand up on those redwood boards and just ride a little soup," testified Dale Velzy who shaped many of them.



Showing The Way, 1950s and After


Lorrin's barn in San Juan Capistrano -- built around 1890 -- became an important Southern California research and development center for experimentation with various water craft.  These included diving gear, paddle boards and outriggers as well as surfboards.


"When I came here [to Capistrano beach] we kept horses in [the barn] for the kids.  Later I converted it into a surfboard shop where Fly and I built two hundred and sixty rental boards for Steamboat over in Waikiki.  I've probably built twenty canoes here altogether.  I built five that were 44'-11'' long, right here in the barn."


Polyurethane foam surfboards had their beginnings here and in the workshop of Dave Sweet and Dave Rochlen.


"The first person to try foam in a surfboard was Bob Simmons in 1950, using polystyrene foam," wrote Greg Noll.  "In 1955, Lorrin Harrison in Capistrano Beach became the first to try polyurethane foam, and in [May] 1956 Dave Sweet in Santa Monica made the first sustained effort to develop polyurethane foam boards."


In June 1958, Hobie Alter came out with the first commercially successful polyurethane foam board design.  Then, in 1961, Gordon "Grubby" Clark formed Clark Foam, which became the largest foam-blank manufacturer in the world.  "Foam didn't change surfboard design all that much," pointed out Greg Noll, "but it did stabilize and streamline the boards.  The same type of board could be made over and over again without worrying about different weights of wood, bad grain, etc."


Grubby Clark said Whitey, as an innovator, inspired many surfers, including himself.  "After all the places he'd been and waves he'd surfed, he could still get pumped about a 2-foot day at Doheny.  That's the most remarkable thing about Whitey -- how he retained his skill and enthusiasm for surfing throughout his long life."


With the exception of orange and avocado ranching, Whitey's work history was almost all related to the ocean.  He was instrumental in introducing outrigger canoe racing to the Mainland; put in time as a lifeguard; surfboard builder and innovator and; lobster and abalone harvester based out of Dana Point Harbor.  "Whitey was one of the best divers on the coast," said noted diver David Tompkins.  "He was all over the place, living up at Cojo for weeks at a time, diving out in the Channel Islands.  He showed us the way."



Eulogy to a Waterman


Mickey Muñoz, from a later generation of surfers, but also fortunate to have known Whitey well, eulogized:


"Lorrin was, in my way of looking at it, one of my guiding lights.  If I was ever feeling down about stuff, just being around him would be uplifting and I'd just go to myself, 'Jesus, if this guy lived in days that I would envy and is still as positive and as happy as he appears to be, then that's the way I wanna be and things can't be all that bad.'"


Muñoz told some stories of events that occurred toward the end of Whitey's life that were typical of Lorrin's attitude:


"By eminent domain they [the state] condemned or took a right of way through their property to put a road in, basically a bridge going over San Juan Creek connecting two main roads in Capo Beach and Dana Point.  When your lifestyle is being split, if you will, by a road or violated by a road, you'd probably be pretty bummed out.  Lorrin, on the other hand, came running over to my house with saliva coming out of his mouth, he was so excited that he could hardly talk and he goes, 'Yeah, part of the deal he says is that we got to cut down that big sycamore tree.'  He had a huge sycamore tree that was hundreds of years old and he says, 'Yeah, that's gotta go, but I'll tell you what,' he says, 'it's part of the deal that you have to cut it, but that will make a perfect canoe.'"  Muñoz laughed at this point.  "I mean this is a man in his '80s so excited he could hardly talk, babbling about this tree that he wanted to make a surfing canoe out of, and so, you know, it sort of tells what kind of man he was, turning what could have been a very negative event into a very positive thing.  I think Lorrin's life has been kind of a series of those kinds of reactions."


"He had a four or five way bypass [surgeries] done five years ago," said Muñoz, in 1993, "and, typical of Lorrin, he goes out surfing too soon and rips some stitches internally, so the doctor scolded him and put him back in the hospital and they had to cut him open again and re-stitch him.  You know a month after the bypass he was out riding in some contest or something.  So, he was just like this invincible guy... I always considered Lorrin as being invincible because he had such a wonderful outlook on life and physically he was lean and mean.  I don't think the man had ever been out of shape in his life... he went in probably a pretty good way.  He had been surfing all morning and his eyes weren't too good so he had stopped driving and Cecilia had been doing most of the driving for the past three or four years, so they were driving home from the beach and Lorrin had a heart attack and went right away, bang, right out and down."


Six or seven years before, Pop Proctor -- a friend of Whitey's -- had died suddenly.  Mickey Muñoz drew a parellel between Pop's kickout and Whitey's:


"I had the privilege of spending some months with Lorrin and Pop Proctor on the Big Island of Hawaii shortly after Lorrin got his property over there and he had put up kind of a kit home on it and he had taken Pop over there for Pop's second trip to Hawaii at 97 years old.  So I got to spend quite a bit of time with both of them.  Pop at that time had just lost his driver's license and having lived in a van or truck for the last 45 or 50 years, you know losing his driver's license was like hey, you might as well cut his head off.  Pop was totally independent, he could take care of himself, he'd have a couple glasses of wine, talk story.  He'd go in the water everyday.  Unfortunately when they came back to here [the mainland], they put Pop in a hotel in San Clemente and Pop kind of looked at his life and went jeez this isn't what I want to do, this isn't how I want to live my life, so he just kind of shut himself off and checked out, and because of Pop's tenacity with life up until that time, at least as long as he had his driver's license and was independent, I think Pop would've lived until God knows what, he could've lived until his hundred and tens, who knows."


When Whitey found out about Pop's departure, his response had been, "Great!  great!  Good way to go, at least they didn't get a chance to put those Goddamn tubes in him."


"That kind of sums up a lot of how I feel about him and how I looked at him as a man," Mickey Muñoz concluded.  "You know, he wasn't a great craftsman, but he was never afraid to try anything, build anything, make anything, do anything, you know the man's babbling out of control over a 30-foot boat he's gonna make in his '80s and you know that sycamore log sits, waiting to be seasoned... the man had so much knowledge of life in general, but especially of the water and what worked and why.  Maybe not even why, he just knew what worked through trial and error through knowledge accumulated over 80-plus years of dedication."  Muñoz ended by saying the sycamore would be seasoned in two or three years and after that, he hoped to be part of a team effort to go ahead with Whitey's plan to build that vision of his "perfect canoe."


On the Saturday after Lorrin "Whitey" Harrison passed away, approximately one hundred friends and family members spread his ashes in the waters off Kawaihae on the Big Island of Hawai`i.  There were also ceremonies held at San Onofre marking the passage of one of surfing's greats; a man whose positive contributions we benefit from each day we hit the surf.


"I'm glad I've lived during the right time," Lorrin said shortly before his sudden and unexpected death.  "I've enjoyed every minute of my surfing life... Of course I hate all the changes.  You even have to pay to get to the beach now, nothing's free anymore.  But what can you do?  Stop going?"



ENDIT