"U.S. Professional Surfing Championships: Split-Second Winners Split $5,000," by Bil Cleary, SURFER Magazine, March 1967

From the beginning it was clear the 1966 United States Professional Surfing Championships was no ordinary contest. Spectators paid a dollar to get in the gate. (That had never been done before.) And forty-three competitors—the cream of the surfing world—each paid a lot more: a one hundred twenty-five dollar entry fee. (That had never been done before either.) There was five thousand dollars in prize money, so it all, somehow, seemed worthwhile. "I knew what I was going out there for,” said Bill Fury, speaking for all the competitors.

Yes, it was quite clear that professional surfing had arrived as an integral part of the surfing scene. Top surfers were on hand battling for the $5,000 prize money, with $2,000 going to the first place winner. Ten men with binoculars, stopwatches and walkie-talkies were there to judge the action. It would take them three days.

First day. The forty-three com-I petitors hit the water in thirty-minute, five-man heats. They rode ten waves, all timed. From each heat three surfers with the highest total "standing time” moved to the semifinals.

Second day. Twenty-seven semifinalists competed on the nose. Only the time spent on that forward twenty-five percent of surfboard was clocked. Fifteen surfers with the highest total "nose time” moved to j the finals.

Third day. Fifteen finalists competed for total standing time and to- ’ tal nose time. But since surf varies1 from day to day, the judges weret required to estimate exactly hom much more difficult it was to ridel the nose than it was to simply accruei

standing time. Once determined, the "nose-riding difficulty factor” made time on the nose more valuable than standing time.

Traditionally, surfers always have been difficult to organize . . . except possibly to go surfing for fun. The sport is like that. Times and heights and distances are difficult to measure. Plenty of surfers stand around on the beach arguing how big the waves are. Now suddenly — professional surfers . . . entrance fees . . . admission ... cash prizes ... a race against the clock. Had surfing suddenly become part of the Rat Race?

"How mechanical!” said someone as the first heats were announced. But it didn’t end up that way at all. And the reasons, ironically enough, were in the figures.

The first day’s eliminations dragged, but toward the end of the day the spark flared that was to illuminate the next two days of competition. As the qualifying times were announced, it became clear that in most cases "qualifiers” were separated from "non-qualifiers” by a spread of many seconds. Then one notable exception arose: Mike Doyle. Non-qualifier Doyle’s total

standing time was 214.3 seconds, while fellow heat-member Terry Jones clocked 214.5 seconds, and qualified. Doyle had failed to qualify by two-tenths of a second. Now spectators and competitors alike began to understand what a split second could mean.

As the horn sounded the second day of competition, Skip Frye was leading with 287.9 seconds total standing time. But the second day program called for nose-riding, and all eyes fell upon Ala Moana-trained David Nuuhiwa. When the young Hawaiian lion clocked an accumulated nose-ride of 11.1 seconds, then spun out on his next wave (on the nose) and recovered (still on the nose), and went on to rack up another heavy count on the only left of the contest . . . well, everyone figured it would be Nuuhiwa all the way. Nuuhiwa had an impressive tally of 41.3 seconds on the nose. Then Dark Horse competitor Bob Purvey clocked an accumulated nose- ride of 14.9 seemingly endless seconds. The crowd went wild as his final tally was announced — 41.5 seconds. Purvey had won the noseriding event, beating Nuuhiwa by a dramatic two-tenths of a second!

A few moments later, Mark Hammond came sliding up to within three-tenths of a second behind Nuuhiwa with a total time of 41.0 seconds, and so the semi-finals ended with Terry Jones in fourth place, only six-tenths of a second behind Hammond, followed closely by Ken Rockey and Skip Frye.

The sun rose on Sunday and the final fifteen were already there, picking their way meticulously along the strand like, ubiquitous shore birds, their keen eyes devouring the waves. ('There’s a long wall over there . . .

have to ram-rod that section to get through. Not too fast, though . . . mushes out toward the end. Backwash. But pick, it up early on the other side of the peak . . . and that’s another second. Maybe two!”) Now there was no denying the value of a second. Or a tenth of a second. They were close to the money now. So close they could almost feel it between their fingers. It was time to prove their mettle, under pressure, as Professionals.

The chips were down. But there was more than the surf to consider. How would they approach the nose? That was the key. The "nose-riding difficulty factor" had been decided. The number was Four. Each second on the nose was worth four seconds of standing time. But nose-riding is

tricky business. Fall off now and it’d be all over . . .

At least that’s what must have been in David Nuuhiwa’s mind as he paddled out and checked his lineup against one of the palm trees behind the judges’ stands. Ordinarily a goofy-foot, Nuuhiwa elected to switch feet—to ride with his left foot forward, facing the wave. Clearly, that was a gamble. On his first wave, Nuuhiwa’s standing time was a pathetic 1.7 seconds—no time on the nose at all. His next few waves were only fair. Then on his fifth wave, he clocked an outstanding 29.7 seconds standing time. But once again, no time on the nose. A murmur passed through the crowd like a shadow. Nuuhiwa—of all surfers—why didn’t he bet on the

nose? Then his last wave lined up beautifully and he floated cautiously forward for a six-second nose count and a total standing time of 31.4 seconds.

But Nuuhiwa’s lot was already cast as Skip Frye took off on a well formed peak and the crowd cheered as he hovered there on the nose like a pelican. Then came a moment of silence as the official times were relayed to the judges’ stand, and the announcer’s voice cracked under the strain. Skip Frye had just clocked thirteen and one-half seconds on the nose! But from that round on, Frye played the nose conservatively. And on his final wave, although he clocked a formidable 30.5 seconds total standing time, not one instant of it was on the nose.

Terry Jones, surfing his home Ventura water, stepped forward— the very same Jones who had edged past Doyle by two-tenths of a second in the first day’s photo finish. And with the soul of a riverboat gambler, Jones did bet on the nose. Jones turned in a spectacular round from start to finish. On his first three waves he clocked a magnificent eight and one-half seconds each on the nose.

Soon the competitors were ga-1 thered at the judges’ stand, awaiting: the announcement of the final results. Tom Morey, U.S.S.A. President, and originator of the event,, walked up and down the line. "Who won?” Morey asked the survivors! of the three day professional warfare. Thirteen were in complete agreement: "Jones,” was their simple and unanimous reply. The remaining two picked Frye.

A moment later the tally was inj and, indeed, Terry Jones was declared the winner. He had crossed! the wire with more total nose-time I (but less total standing time) than any of the finalists, nosing out Skip! Frye by a slender two and three-! tenths seconds. Which was morel than enough time to make Terry i Jones two thousand dollars richer.

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