Surfing’s Great Acts of Defiance
Surfing’s Great Acts of Defiance
The history of surfing is dotted with several great acts of rebellion that challenged the status quo of the time, defied the conventional wisdom and ultimately changed the trajectory of our great sport to bring it on course with where it is today. And many of these acts have been lost to the tides of time, the names of the brave souls who stood up against the forces of conformity and normality all but washed away.
Rebellion and defiance are intertwined throughout surfing’s somewhat sordid history. In the early 1970s the sport itself was seen as a blight on society, a pursuit undertaken by bums and layabouts who were shirking responsibility and relinquishing any sense of common decency for a life wasted on the beach. Surfing became a counterculture and anyone who partook was instantly viewed as rebellious and living largely at odds with society’s norms.
The sport is full of rebellious heroes. Look no further than 1980s star Lisa Anderson who defied her disapproving parents and ran away to Huntington Beach in California where she was essentially homeless, at times sleeping under the beach’s famous pier. This great act of defiance (not to mention bravery) resulted in four world titles and a life of adulation as a genuine sports star.
And then there is beloved antihero Andy Irons. Rebellious by nature, for many Andy served as the more palatable antidote to the clean-cut, focussed athlete that had emerged in professional surfing in the previous decade, lead by the greatest of them all, Mr. Robert Kelly Slater.
Andy emerged from the underground in much the same fashion that punk rock rose to popularity in the late 70s, at a time when the musical landscape was dominated by giants like Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple. Punk music appealed to the youth of the day en masse because its three chord song structure (played aggressively on cheap gear bought from an op shop) was far more relatable to the average punter than 15 minute power ballads with 12 minute solos played by guitar virtuosos, the likes of which few mortal men could ever dream to replicate.
Andy’s appeal was the same. Your average Joe doesn’t train for hours a day or take ice baths. Most of us prefer to retire to the couch with beer in hand after a two hour surf. Andy was a heavy metal surfer who drank beer and partied with his mates. A man’s man. The people’s surfer. As thrash metal icon James Hetfield of Metallica puts it, “He was a rebel in a rebellious sport. That’s a great thing to have”.
And then there are those highly-talented individuals who, whilst on the pro circuit, also trod an unconventional path, but whose choices did not lead them to the glory of multiple world titles (unlike Lisa and Andy who had a staggering seven between them).
Like Cheyne Horan whose insistence on continual experimentation and refusal to ride conventional equipment many would argue ultimately cost him the world titles he would otherwise have won. But then there are those who insist that it is this individuality and refusal to conform that make him arguably the greatest professional surfer of all time. After all, isn’t freedom of expression and a spirit of exploration and experimentation at the very heart of what surfing is about?
And who could forget perhaps the greatest, or at least one of the most memorable acts of defiance in the history of professional surfing, when Bobby Martinez famously gave the world tour the two finger salute, likening it to a “dumb f***ing wannabee tennis tour”, and slamming the door behind himself on the way out. Again some would argue that he had, at that moment, given up any hint of a chance at career success, but others would argue that he personified the true essence of surfing by not allowing himself to be confined within the bounds of an established system that he didn’t agree with.
But, despite a life spent flowing against the grain and an insistence on living only by your own rules, for all of these surfers, world champions or otherwise, an established and well-worn path was at least already carved out before them. A career in professional surfing was ripe for the taking for anyone with the talent, belief and penchant for hard work who dared go after it, albeit usually at the expense of all else in their lives. But what about those who came before them, at a time when there was no clear path to a career in surfing and to pursue one literally meant risking it all for what essentially was, at that time, little more than a pipe dream?
In the earliest days of surfing in Australia, the roots of the fledgling sport were planted squarely in the fertile soil of the surf lifesaving movement, as surfboards slowly became more common at patrolled beaches in the decades after The Duke’s infamous visit to Freshwater Beach in 1915. Almost immediately the act of surfboard riding took on a rebellious undertone as young clubbies, bitten by the surfing bug, frequently absconded from their responsibilities, sneaking away to catch a few waves when they should have been running lifesaving drills (or undertaking more mundane tasks like sweeping sand out of the clubrooms). As such the surfies were viewed more and more as the rebels and outsiders of the clubs, eventually leading to the formation of boardriders clubs and the complete separation between surfers and clubbies that lasted decades.
Among the absconders, a young tearaway by the name of Robert Harold Young was frequently nowhere to be found around the Collaroy Surf Live Saving Club when it was time to undertake his goffering duties, instead sneaking away to catch some waves on his beloved balsa wood Malibu. Young’s slight stature on the huge board earned him the nickname “Gnat”, a moniker that stuck with him for the rest of his life. He is now known almost universally as two-time world surfing champion “Nat” Young.
Nat’s rebellious nature was instrumental in helping surfing gain momentum in Australia (and later on a global scale) and projecting the sport into a national consciousness, without even realising that this is what he was doing. He was just addicted to the thrill of riding waves and, as so many of us can now relate, simply wanted more.
Five years later, in the winter of 1975, a group of young Aussie and South African surfers, lead by one Wayne “Rabbit” Bartholomew, landed on the North Shore of Hawaii. Armed with brightly coloured boards and a brash cockiness that bordered on arrogance, they came to be noticed. As Mark Richards put it years later in the fantastic documentary “Bustin’ Down the Door”, “I wanted to rip it and I wanted to get famous”.
It was this laser-like focus, and the incredible surfing that resulted, that altered the course of surfing forever and, in so doing, laid the foundation for a career in professional surfing where once such a thing simply did not exist. This was more than rebellion. This was a revolution (and an armed one at that, with Rabbit admitting to sleeping with a shotgun under his pillow in fear for his own safety when these cocksure invaders started to rub some of the locals up the wrong way).
Surfing was now a legitimate sport and a genuine career path emerged for those with the drive and talent to go after it. But Nat and Bugs are hardly unsung heroes of surfing. Their courage and tenacity have made them virtual household names in Australia where they have achieved the notoriety and celebrity status MR was searching for and are still, to this day, celebrated as genuine sports stars. There would hardly be an Aussie, surfer or otherwise, who doesn’t know the names Nat Young or Rabbit Bartholomew.
To find surfing’s uncelebrated lionhearts one must dig a bit deeper into the detritus of time. There are many but they left few traces of their path behind. There are those who played pivotal roles in the evolution of surfboard design, for example, but who didn’t receive the accolades of a George Freeth, Tom Blake, Bob McTavish or George Greenough. There are the brave souls whose spirit of adventure and exploration lead them to discover (and be the first to surf) a myriad of brand new surfbreaks all over the planet without credit or fanfare.
And then there is arguably the greatest, and potentially most important act of seafaring defiance in Australian history. To find this story one must go back to a time that predates all of the stories above, to early in the 20th century and a time when surfing was not yet on the national radar. One can’t help but wonder if the surfing landscape today might not have been very different had it not been for one man’s bravery, risking his personal freedoms and taking a stance against the laws that he felt were archaic.
The year was 1902 and Australian culture, still very much entrenched in its European roots, was only very slowly starting to evolve and form its own unique identity. When participating in the relatively new pastime of bathing (previously trips to the beach had been largely land-based outings), women traditionally wore ultra-conservative baggy frocks that, for public decency reasons, covered all bare skin from neck to knee. And for similar reasons, the laws at this time insisted that bathing in the sea could only occur before sunrise and after sunset (before 7am or after 6pm).
Enter William Henry Gocher, owner and editor of the Manly North Sydney News. Outraged by the laws, in October 1902 he announced in his newspaper that he was planning to bathe in the ocean at midday on the first Sunday in November. The announcement appeared to go unnoticed and Gocher was able to bathe without incident. Disheartened, but not deterred by the lack of interest in his escapade, shortly thereafter he made a second, similar announcement in his newspaper but again the act went off without fanfare.
Again frustrated by the lack of impact his acts were having, he made a third announcement in his paper, only this time he was openly critical of the local authorities for their lack of interest in his brazen flaunting of the law, suggesting that this supported his view that the laws were archaic and nonsensical. This seemed to have the desired effect as it drew quite a crowd to Manly Beach that day and this time he was escorted from the water by the local constabulary. No charges were laid and ultimately Gocher’s acts of defiance were a complete success. In 1903, a reluctant Manly council resolved to allow all-day bathing, provided a neck-to-knee costume was worn.
In a lot of ways Gocher had single-handedly given rise to a movement that would see Aussies begin to stand up to the conservative establishment of the day and to seek freedoms that they ultimately believed they deserved and were entitled to. In 1907 thousands of bathers staged a protest at Sydney’s Manly, Bondi and Coogee beaches in response to a proposed shire ordinance that would have seen men required to wear a skirt-like tunic whenever bathing in the ocean. The protest was a success and the regulation never saw the light of day and Australian beach culture began to crawl its way out of the dark ages and towards a landscape that would enable Nat Young to sneak off to catch a few waves in Collaroy, and Rabbit and MR to perfect the skills they would take to Hawaii in 75.
The fact that Gocher acted alone took courage. Largely unsung, it should be recognised that he busted down the door as much as anyone and, although the term would not be coined for some time to come, was as much a heavy metal rebel as an Andy Irons. His finger to the establishment was just as high in the air as Bobby’s on that fateful day, or Cheyne’s when he simply refused to swap out his winged keel fin or exchange the “lightning zap” surfboard for a more conventional design.
William Gocher I salute you as one of surfing’s first true rebellious spirits. We, the surfers of the 21st century owe you a debt of gratitude some 100 years on from your brave act of defiance. And to those other brave souls whose acts contributed equally to bringing surfing to where it is today, but whose names have been all but lost in the sands of time, we salute you also. To honour their deeds, it seems only fitting that we should paddle out and chase a few barrels in their honour (and to do so in a manner that allows our inner rebellious selves to shine through, even if only for a brief moment, perhaps by absconding when we should be tending to other responsibilities). Viva la Revolution.
Photos: Russell Ord
