Hey All, Jacobs Surfboards was located at the southernmost end of Hermosa Beach's "Miracle Mile" of surf shops, which meant that if you came down from Manhattan Beach and were hopscotching Pacific Coast Highway with the intention of hitting 'em all in order—Bing, Rick, Noll, Weber and Jacobs—you were saving the best for last. Steve Pezman called Jacobs the "Notre Dame Cathedral" of surf shops, wh...
Hey All, For 150 years, creative people of every description have climbed into the ring hoping to pin surfing and its swirling blue je ne sais quoi to the mat for all to see. And for 150 years, with few exceptions, the creatives have been defeated. Surfing body-slammed Paul Theroux last year, and his literal reputation remains in ICU. Jack London came in swinging like a windmill but never connect...
Hey All, A pie chart showing how I occupied my waking hours last week would be two-thirds green, for time spent bumping and grinding on the EOS Fundraiser, and one-third solid gold, for time spent watching and thinking about Get Back, Peter Jackson's three-part eight-hour Beatles documentary, the manifest riches of which have rendered my descriptive powers null and void. What an achievement. Jac...
Hey All, To everybody who subscribed to Encyclopedia of Surfing this past week and are now receiving a fundraiser notice as your very first communication from me — apologies. EOS does just one fundraiser each year, and we have arrived at that moment. There are 165 Sunday Joints posted on the site, and I encourage newcomers to binge on those first. Then come back here, read on, and hopefully make ...
Hey All, The 12-year-old who memorized stats for the entire Lakers lineup during their turbocharged run to the 1972 NBA title, which included 69 regular-season wins (nice), grew up to become the silver-muzzled adult who now sits before you, creating lists on power surfers, the highest moments in surf cinema, and the most advanced wave-riders of all time. With almost-believable humility, I will sa...
Hey All, New Yorker film critic Pauline Kael was a little before my time, but she was funny and vicious and smart without lording it over the rest of us, and bullwhipped her way through the New Hollywood era with tremendous style and wit. This intro from an Observer profile sums Kael up nicely. In 1974, six years into her 23-year tenure as a New Yorker film critic, Pauline Kael’s negative review...
Hey All, If the only thing you recall about Bondi surfer Bluey Mayes, as described in our Joint from two weeks ago, is a flame-haired barrel-chested pug screaming "Outta me fuckin’ way, ya goose!" while riding a 16-foot toothpick through the lineup like Major Kong rodeo-nuking the Russians—understandable, that was the money shot for sure. But between the part on Bluey Mayes' EOS page where a fri...
Hey All, There is a robust social media subgenre based on Boomer love for Steely Dan (look here, here, and here), and at the risk of draining the humor, my take on why the Dan vein is so rich is because it pays off in two directions. Mostly it is about bashing old guys for death-gripping a favorite band from their 1970s glory days. Major dudes who love reelin' in the years, that is—but only if th...
Hey All, Bobby Owens, Shane Herring, Lynne Boyer, Chippa Wilson, and Mick Campbell are my first team All-Ginger All-Stars, with Lynnette MacKenzie, Guilherme Herdy, and Cheyne Magnusson on the bench. Chicken Joe as mascot. Stephen Bell, Ann-Margret, and the girl from Queen's Gambit on cheer squad. You will hear my red-hot dream team before you see them because they are coached by legendary board...
Hey All, Gidget, Duke Kahanamoku, Laird Hamilton, and Kelly Slater, in that order, are my picks for the most famous surfers of all time. Bethany Hamilton is probably #5, although my heart is with either Jeff Spicoli or Snoopy. We're talking general audience fame here, not in-house fame, so no Dora, Lopez, Curren, Medina or Gilmore. There is the second category of fame, with a briefer lifespan, w...