localswell

I often tell my sons “the best friends you have in life, you meet surfing”.  While high school and college friends may drift away, your surfing buddies are for LIFE. I still surf with friends I’ve had since I was 10.  One of the things that make these friendships so special and lasting are the surf trips and the classic memories we share. 

One such trip, wasn’t really a trip at all.  I had rented an apartment in San Clemente for the summer of 84 and was working for Bill Stewart back when his shop was on El Camino Reale.  I had originally met Bill after the 1982 NSSA Nationals, when I started riding for him on the Right Coast.  Bill suggested that I come out and help him for the summer during college break.  I was stoked. 

The apartment was a small studio in a converted garage in the rear of a beautiful home near T Street, a couple of blocks from the beach.  Soon after I settled in I had a “few guests” from Jersey.  Tom Matthews, Bruce Beach, Rick Ford and Dean Randazzo flew out the following week to tune up for the NSSA Nationals. It was Dean and Ricks first time to California.  Originally the stay was only suppose to be a week, but ended up being for the summer because we were just having too much fun.  Tom and I had been out the previous summer competing in the Body Glove Pro Am Series and stayed with Bill Stewart and his family.  So we were familiar with the territory which came in handy. 

There were some special “guest appearance” that summer as well; including Dave and Adam Tarrantini, Tom Obrien, Kim Firiglio, Rick Zapone, Eric Adams, Jim Devereaux, Joe Randazzo, Rich Sless and Jim Bowdler to name a few.  We surfed all day and when we got back to the flat, floor space was at a premium.  Bodies everywhere with Joe Randazzo opting to literally pitch a tent in the side yard, until the landlord asked us to take it down.  I was never sure if that was because it inhibited the esthetics of his back yard or whether it was because his daughter was getting porked by some of his new tenants in the rear (living in the rear of the house).

For most of the summer there was at least eight to ten South Jersey Surfers crammed into the flat, with one shower, a two burner stove and a pull out couch.  However, for the first few weeks it was just Matthews, Ford, Beach, Randazzo and myself. 

We ended up surfing T Street each day because it was a few blocks away. We also surfed Trestles and Salt Creek a lot because they were also pretty close, with some periodic trips South to San Diego and Mexico.

 However, it’s the T Street sessions that stand out in my mind because of the crew there.  It was a very tight knit bunch similar to our home break at 7^th Street in The OC. Some refer to it today as the San Clemente Mafia, with Herbie and Christian Fletcher, Dean Reynolds, Steve Ward, Shane Beshen, Dino Andino and Matt Archibald.   Matthews and I were friends with Andino and Archibald as we surfed on the National Team together, with Ward and Reynolds surfing for Stewart, the Beshens were originally from Ventnor NJ and the Fletcher’s Astrodeck was directly next door to Stewarts on El Comino Reale.  We were stoked and dialed in, and you had to be because T Street was LONO (Locals Only No Outsiders). 

Tom had come out a few days before Dean, Bruce and Ricky, and was surfing unreal. There was a swell running so we picked the boys up at LAX that first day and headed directly to Trestles.  It was still dark and the asphalt on the path to the beach was still moist and chilly with the morning dew underneath our feet.  You could hear the surf rumbling in the background and the smell of some campfires made to warm up until it was light enough to paddle out. 

We got to Lowers just in time to have barely enough light to see some surfers already in the lineup.  We scrambled to get our wetsuits on and paddled out.  Dean and Ricky were the first ones in with Tom, Bruce and myself close behind.  Dino Andino was out with another friend, Mike Parsons, other than that there was only about fifteen guys out, which isn’t bad for Lowers on an overhead swell.

Everyone was getting good waves, especially Dean.  It didn’t take Dean long to acclimate to his new surroundings.  Wave after wave, he tore the tops off of each, throwing spray almost back into the lineup.  One particular wave, I was paddling back out with Parsons and Dean took off on a big right; driving hard off the bottom and ripping hard off the top, breaking his fins out the back, then dropping again and getting out front for a nice round house cutty buried to the rail.  Parsons looked over to me and asked “Forkin is he from Jersey too”, after answering in the affirmative, Snips simply chuckled and smiled and shook his head in disbelief. 

As the morning went on, the surf got a little bigger and a lot more crowded.  Not to be put off, after every wave, Dean paddled right back out to the peak and jockeyed for wave position.  He “casually” worked his way into the elite line-up and went wave for wave with two of the best surfers on the West Coast; Dino & Snips.  Now the use of the word “casually” in this context is Dean paddling up next to you, and when a set wave comes, he paddles around you and whoever else to get that wave.  Anyone who’s surfed with Dean knows what this means.

We surfed for six hours that day, with Dean leading the way and taking everyone’s surfing to their personal best, including Dino & Snips. Tom and Bruce also put in some real solid performances as well followed by Ricky Ford.  We had a blast and it was great to have friends from home there to enjoy it. 

That night we got back to the house and cooked some burgers on a grill I picked up at a yard-sale..  We sat in our yard, cracked a couple of cold beers and talked about the day. However, Dean was inside standing over a pot of boiling water on the two burner stove.  When Ricky asked him what he was making, Dean responded “cheese noodles and tuna”…He then proceeded to strain the noodles from the pot and pour in powdered cheese and two cans of tuna, stirring the concoction into a kind of soufflé.

To get to T Street we would head down the end of our street and walk down a cliff like path to the beach. One evening after work Bill Stewart was hosting a picnic at T Street for his team guys and their families, with a little surf contest for “fun”.  As soon as I got off work I headed home to get my board and the boys and head to the beach.  When I got back, Tom, Bruce and Rick were just waking up from a late siesta following their afternoon session.  Dean was no where to be found and the boys had no idea where he was.  So we packed together our gear and started down the beach, when Dean rode up on a borrowed beach cruiser, smiling; “T Streets good right now, lets go!”.    Dean had been putting in some quality water time and making some new friends.  I had gotten him onto one of Stewart’s quad fin demo boards and he was turning some heads, even in talent laden San Clemente.

As we passed under the San Clemente Pier and got closer to T Street, you could see there was a little size.  We could see someone drop in, drive down the line and launch what looked like an eight foot aerial, holding the board with both hands and disappearing in the white water.  It was Matt Archibald, who had been trying these moves one after another with Christian Fletcher, just flying down the line and hitting a section and launching with reckless abandon.  Archie was out and on fire.  He was a common fixture at our flat as he could score free beer and was good friends with Tom who would regularly break balls about his “shit eating” grin and Cali accent.  This was Archie before the tattoos and race cars. He was a grom, Dean and Ricky’s age, and interested in what these Jerseyites were up to, especially this Randazzo kid.

We got to T Street and Bill was just getting some steaks on the grill with Dean Reynolds and Mike Beshen carrying a rather large cooler of beer.  Beshen lived on T Street with his wife and two sons, Shane and Gavin.  He had moved out to San Clemente from Ventnor New Jersey a few years earlier.  Mikes’ Jersey roots ran deep as he came up with a legendary Absecon Island crew that included Mike May, Mark Neustader, Duke Humphries (Zacks Dad), and Glenn McGill to name a few. 

Mike’s son Shane was cutting his teeth in the NSSA Boys Division as defending camp, with Gavin about age 8 still riding a boogie board, but still getting barreled. Parsons showed up soon thereafter as Bill and I cooked some burgers had a couple of beers with Mike and watched the crew surf.  It was an expression session with Mike Parsons, a young Shane Beshen, Dean Randazzo, Bruce Beach, Tom Matthews, Ricky Ford, Dean Reynold, Steve Ward and the Millards, with special guest Matt Archibald. 

Dean was sitting outside with Archie when a nice set came in.  There are two primary peaks at T Street, a right directly off the steps and a left a little further to the South.  The peaks will shift as per the sand bars on the outside of the peak, which keep the spot difficult to get wired, for some.  Not for Dean.  He gives Archie the first wave, which Arch drives hard off the bottom and down the line, exploding off the top and launching into yet another aerial only to loose it in the white water.  Dean picks up the next wave, drives hard off the bottom, explodes off the top, and does the same twice more on the same wave.  Mike looks over at Bill and asks “is that the kids you were telling me about?”; Bill simply nods and smiles. The concensus on the beach that evening was that Dean dominated the session and with Mike and Bill predicting there were great things to come for the “Jersey Devil”.

For the rest of the summer of 84 we lived and surfed in and around San Clemete.  Making friends, surfing some classic waves and sharing epic memories.  Dean was beginning to earn his reputation on the West Coast as well and lay the foundation for what has become his legend today.