localswell

The Shaun Board

By: TJ Forkin / Maso

I remember as a grom attending surf movies at the Community Center in Ocean City and the anticipation of seeing Shaun, Rabbit and Mark Richards surfing perfect waves in Hawaii, the smell of grape surf wax and whooting with your best friends at Shaun getting the “longest tube rides ever”. None of us could wait until the next day to get in the water for a surf. They were our idols our surf heroes and they were changing our sport forever.

A few years later I was fortunate enough to make the NSSA National Team (82-84) and had the opportunity to surf with Tommy Curren, Mike Parsons, Jeff Booth and Brad Gerlach to name a few. Peter Townend and Ian Cairns were our coaches; brought on board by NSSA co founder Chuck Allen to ramp up our training. Hawaii was the proving ground and PT and Ian were committed to having us there for a month. Four months after making the Team I was packing for Hawaii and wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into.

At the time, I was riding for Stewart Surfboards out of San Clemente California were I spent a few summers working in his old shop on El Camino Reale. Bill was a great guy and excellent shaper. I had ordered a small quiver of boards for Hawaii, a 5’10” a 6’6” and a 6’10”. I figured if it was too big for the 6’10” I figured I would just sit on the beach and watch.

I flew out of Philly International to LAX and stayed with Chris Frohoff and his family for a few days in the South Bay Area. We surfed Manhattan Beach Pier and Redondo Break Water with friends and fellow teammates Kelly Gibson and Nick Christensen. The crew wanted to try out their new shapes for Hawaii, and I had a chance to see some 7’6” rhino chasers, and started to feel, well a little “short”.

Parsons came up the night before we flew out for the Islands as Frohoff lived about 20 minutes from the airport as opposed to two hours for Snips from San Clemente. Parsons got his nick-name from Ian’s wife Pat, who called him “Parsnips”, which we soon shortened to Snips. Mike wasn’t one to chance being late for a flight or a surf session and to avoid traffic he came up early. We stayed up late that night talking about what to expect and the schedule of events we had and breaks we would surf. Most of the guys on the NSSA team had boards shaped for the trip by Hawaiian Shapers, while other picked up used boards there from some of the touring pros.

The flight was relatively uneventful. No one lost their boards and we arrived with a sense of anticipation in the air, which was fresh with Aloha and island flowers. Driving over the hills and through the pineapple fields to the North Shore, I had my first chance to see Hawaiian surf.

We had three vans and a bit of a caravan driving through Haleiwa, seeing all the places I had only seen in the magazines and movies. I was stoked. Our destination was the Kui Lima condos for what would be roughly a month of surfing the North Shore.

Unloading our boards, Ian and PT had their first glimpse at what they perceived as my equipment problem. “Forkin what the fuck do you think you are riding with those boards? This isn’t Puerto Rico mate”. I related that if it was too big for my 6’10” I would simply sit out and become a spectator. Neither PT nor Ian were having it. I was informed off the bat that we were there to ride big waves and get experience. PT then told me to set aside $100.00 and he was going to find me a used board from one of his “mates”.

It was late in the afternoon and the winds were side shore so we all slipped out for a quick session in front of the condos at “Turtle Bay”. The surf was a little overhead and lined up, with some hollow sections. This was a super fun session, and I began to think, “Hell this isn’t so big. I can surf Hawaii”…

Snips and Froh had been to Hawaii the year before so they knew what to expect. Mike had a few boards that he picked up from Bobby Owens and was kind enough to loan me one for our first session at Sunset the following morning. The swell had developed over night and we could hear the surf from our rooms.

The Hawaiians loved us (ha ha). We were “porta crowd”, we would show up with 15 kids and people simply shook their heads. We pulled up to Sunset and it looked good, not too big but large enough to say “hey we’re out there”. Suddenly I saw what appeared to be a person dropping in way outside, and I had this lump in my throat the size of a tennis ball. Easily triple overhead. The great thing about Sunset is that you can paddle out in the channel and sit there for a while and gradually work yourself into the lineup, which is exactly what I did for an hour. Sitting there taking it all in. The bad thing about Sunset is the constantly shifting peaks, right, left, inside OUTSIDE. After getting caught with a couple of cleanup sets I worked up the nutz to take off on what had been the biggest wave I had ever surfed to that moment. I made the drop and bottom turn and raced to the Channel. Not a big set wave, but huge by my standards. While some of the guys were ripping, I just wanted to “make the waves”. I was so happy to be on my borrowed 7’6” Bobby Owens, and needed every inch of that board.

One wave in particular was an inside section that jacked up, I slotted myself and got a nice tube ride for about 20 brief yards before I bailed out the back. However, no sooner did I take a gasp of air out the back of the wave, I felt myself getting sucked back into the pit. Worse fear becoming a reality, being stuck and drilled at inside Sunset. I thought for sure I was going to drown. Pitched over the falls backwards and tossed around like a ragdoll. Nothing in my swimming / lifeguard background had prepped me for that. After a five wave set on my head, I threw up about a gallon of water clutching to my board and paddled toward the channel were PT was shaking his head laughing; “Forkin, are you finished trying to drown yourself and start surfing”. Apparently eating shit in Hawaiian surf is some sort of right of passage.

When we got back to the Kui, Ian came and got me and informed me he had a friend who had a used gun for me. After a few knocks on the door of a beachfront unit across the way from were we were lodged, the door opens and who stands there? Shaun Tomson, my idol. I was speechless and simply stood there with my mouth open. “Shaun this is Tom one of our lads from the team and he needs a board for Sunset”; “Please to meet you Tom”; like a total kook I responded, “I am a huge fan Shaun and I am so stoked to finally meet you”. Ian and Shaun laughed and I felt, well like a kid meeting his childhood hero. Immediately Shaun Tomson makes that impression of a kind and all round good guy.

Shaun’s Mom and Cousin Mike were there as well, as I was introduced as “the kid from New Jersey”; Mrs. Tomson fixed some Ice Tea and Mike seemed fascinated that “people surf in New Jersey?”…”In the Snow?” Shaun walked Ian and me in the back of the condo where there had to be roughly 20 plus boards of all different shapes colors and sizes. After briefly sizing me up, Shaun picks a board, a 7’6” Tom Parish with a glassed in fin; “Tom this should do the trick, it’s one of my favorite boards, so when you head back to the mainland I would like it back”. I was stoked for the board, but bummed that I would have to return it at end of the trip.

Ian and PT had set up some tutorials with Shaun, Mark Richards and Gerry Lopez. They would meet us at spots or at the Kui and give us some pointers and sit in for some post mortem Q & A.

Over the course of the month we were there, my life became very surreal. Surfing spots I only dreamed of and with surfers that I worshipped. While I wasn’t surfing anywhere near their level, I was making waves and having the time of my life on my “new” board. I never really rode the 5”10 or 6’6” again that trip other than at a smallish day at Makaha. The “Shaun board” had a mind of it’s own, it flew around sections at Sunset, Off The Wall, Back Door and Rocky Rights with a few memorable sessions at Laniakia.

I loved that board and it showed. The smile would not come off my face for the entire trip, until the final day when the board had to be returned. After surfing a few sessions with Shaun and our group, I was a bit more comfortable speaking to him, while still a little nervous. I walked over to his condo with the board tucked firmly under my arm. Shaun opens the door with a big smile, “Tom how was your surfing today”? We talked about the session that day and a brief review of the trip and how Hawaii factored into every surfers life. When I reminded him I was there to return the board, Shaun made the surprising statement “Tom you surfed well on the board and I would like you to keep it”. I was STOKED! Shaun walked me to the door and shook my hand “Tom it was a pleasure”…Cloud nine was mine, what an amazing guy. “Surfed well?”..I suppose that was less than “surfing good”, but I came out unscathed and now had a board from my childhood idol. We packed that night to fly out early the next morning, as I took some extra care in securing my treasure for the flight home. Today it truly seems like another lifetime ago.

As the years passed, I returned to Hawaii only twice and never met up with Shaun again. My focus was on completing my undergraduate studies and then law school. I rode the board only a few times after that first year. It became a fixture in my home in Villanova and later in Stone Harbor where I owned a restaurant (Mimi’s) with two condo’s above. In 96 when I sold Mimi’s, the board went missing one winter when the property was empty and being shown by our real estate agent.

In 2002, I received a phone call from my cousin Greg at Surfers Supplies who informs me “your board’s here, I’m looking at it right now”. My board? I thought he was trying to get me on a new vehicle and giving me the family hard sell. “Your Shaun Board, it’s here!”. Apparently, years prior, the real estate agents son had liberated the board from my shore place and had sold it to his friend who was in buying a board bag for a trip to Hawaii. Greg held the board, which I rushed to pick up. While a few unkept dings led to some discoloration, the board was still in good shape and hung for another six years in my home. I never pressed criminal charges as I was just happy to have it back.

Last Sunday night I could not help but bring the board with me to Shaun and Rabbits “Busting Down The Door” premier at the Paramount in Asbury Park. After all they would be there in person, and I wanted my son to meet a living legend and have him sign the board that he had given me 25 years earlier.

I felt like a grom again, with my ten year old son by my side, we were the first ones at the door. The memories filled my head, the smell of grape surf wax and the sound of a skateboard as my boy skated back and forth waiting for the doors to open. We sat in the first row with board in tow and Shaun’s book “The Surfers Code”, as well as a new digital camera, which I had no clue on how to use. The crowd started out light but as 7:30 neared, Jersey came out enforce to support the event. The place was packed.

Shaun and Rabbit took the stage for introductions, and Shaun spotted the board and gave my son and I a smile and a nod. I would try to approach him after the show during the questions and answer session following the movie.

“Busting Down The Door” was a great flick, a documentary filled with prime cuts from classics, like “Super Session”; “Free Ride” and “Tales from The Tube”, along with some classic tales of the events leading up to the pro surfing revolution.

After the show Shaun and Rabbit casually answered some questions about the movie and gave advice to the groms in the audience. An experience to cherish in and of itself. As they walked off stage, I approached Shaun who had this big smile and looking at the board “that is a classic. One of my favorite boards. Where did you get that”. I reminded Shaun he had sold it to me in 1982 for $100.00 on the North Shore. He was amazed that I held onto it, and instantly remembered me as “the kid from New Jersey”. “$100.00 I recently sold one of my old classics for $10,000.00” as we both laughed and briefly spoke about that winter and my son’s surfing. My boy was so stoked, sporting an ear to ear grin. I assured Shaun, as he signed the board along the stringer, that this board would hang in our home until someday my son can tell his son this story.

However the night was not about autographs or pictures, it was about passing on the stoke and the look on my son’s and the other groms faces as they had a chance to meet the fathers of modern day surfing Shaun Tomson and Wayne “Rabbit” Bartholomew.

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.

Dean Randazzo is without a doubt the greatest surfer to ever come out of the Garden State, if not the entire East Coast, especially considering his battles with cancer.  He has overcome extreme adversity that would have any normal human being folding over and giving up. 

This superhuman strength that Dean has used to beat back cancer, surprises many but not those who watched Dean come up.  I first met Dean when he was about 10 years old. Here’s some insight on what it takes to be King.

 The year was 1981 and the park was closed, so we had to hop the fence. Bruce Beach, Guy Loggi, Tom Matthews, Ricky Atlas and myself were skating the Somers Point skate park.  Kids gotta do what a kids gotta do when there’s no surf, and the park was a perfect spot.

Already skating around was this little kid with his “afro” poking out the side of his helmet.  This kid was killing it and he was only about ten or eleven years old.  We all took turns skating the bowl.  The kid was there solo and would casually work his way into the rotation without saying a word.  When I say no word, I mean he did not speak for the entire two -three hour session.  Tom asked the kid his name and the kid just looks at him and drops into the bowl without saying a word.  Tom then looks at me and says, “yeah he can skate but he can’t surf”.  He said it just loud enough so the kid could hear it.  This was an effort to put this grom in his place, because he was obviously outskating all of us and we perceived his not talking to us as simply being conceited. 

Tom’s statement about this kid not surfing was pretty accurate.  I mean we surfed 7^th Street in The OC every day and knew “everyone” who surfed well.  The legends, Jim Kirk, Wally Meyers, Bob McGlaughlin, Eric Wilkenson and Toms older brother Bob Matthews.  This was our time and few years before Tom, Bruce or I made the National Team, but we were still confident we could surf and skate with most.  However there was something about this kid that didn’t talk, something extraordinary.  Who was he? Where was he from? 

I was 17 and had this old Ford pick up that I would load up my buddies from “The Mainland” and we would head to 7^th Street, or LBI, or States Ave.  Anywhere were there was good surf. I was the first out of crew to drive, so I was chaffuer by default.  One morning early Spring 1981, Loggi, Atlas and I would swing by Dunkin Donuts, around 6:30am, and pic up Tommy Matthews who had been there since 4:00am “making the donuts”.  None of  us actually ate the Donuts there because Tom had this nose picking thing, and had no qualms about stuffing a boogie or two in one of his products.  We all worked when we were kids and spent all our money on boards, wetsuits and wax.

It was late April and still kind of cold so the four of us sat in the cab of the truck, with the heat and the Devo cranking.  There was a good south swell so 7^th street was the destination of choice.  We crusied through Somers point and over the bridge on the Somers Point / OC Causeway.  A dangerous two mile stretch of road, with no shoulder and cars speeding to and from Ocean City.  Nevertheless, we see somebody peddling their bike and carrying their board?  Loggi asked “who the fuck is that?” Matthews noted it was that same kid from the skate park we saw the month or so before. 

Wearing sneakers, shorts and an old beavertail wetsuit the kid was peddling some dilapidated beach cruiser, steering with one hand and holding onto an old Bunger single fin with the other.  We decided to pull over and see if the kid wanted a ride.  Sure enough the kid tosses his bike and board in the back.  With no room up front the kid had to ride in the back as well.  We all looked at each other and smiled; doing our good deed for the day, helping out “a grom in need”.  He looked a little out of place in the back of the truck, not only because it was freezing and he was wearing shorts, but his board was brown from sun exposure with one fin and we had new twinies with 80’s neon and checkers.  Once again the kid said nothing, but was clearly happy for the ride. 

We got to 7^th Street and parked in the dirt lot that use to be The Wonder Wave, next to “Hole in One Donuts”.  The Kid hops out of the back of the truck with his gear, thanks us and heads directly to the beach as we put on our 3 mils. 

It was cold that morning for sure, and the water wasn’t much warmer. There was a cold front that pushed through and the wind was offshore and it was sunny with a solid three foot swell. By the time we walked over the boards and onto the beach, this kid already was out and paddling into a set wave.  He makes a smooth bottom turn and drives down the line on a solid head high wave.  Nothing special but it was clear, the kid could surf. 

We get to the water’s edge, and… “FUCK that waters cold”…First session with no boots usually feels a little nipply, but hell that grom is out in trunks so we manned up and paddled out, with word from no one about fetching our boots out of the truck.  It was a fun session, with this grom again casually working his way into the pecking order of the lineup. Not one of us had seen him out at 7^th Street before, but he seemed like a good kid, a little on the quiet side, but cool.  Another set rolls in, Matthews picks off the first wave and I get the second.  On the paddle back out the grom picks off a nice set wave makes a bottom turn and gets a little cover.  I laugh and said to Tom “hey it looks like that kid can surf”…, Toms response was a loud WEEEEE.  We get back out to the line-up and this kid paddles right over and has this big smile on his face, his lips are blue from the chill and he’s shivering, but clearly stoked…Matthews asks “hey what’s your name”  still smiling after a good wave the kids responds “Dean Randazzo. 

About a couple of weeks later Deans out again and he’s ripping.  Strong bottom turns, off the tops and round house cutties.  One wave in particular that sets the tone for the session is a nice little left at the middle peak at 7^th. Dean drives down the line, gets some speed and flips a backside 360?!  We were amazed.  Dean brought his skate talent to the surf.  Funny thing though was he was still riding that same Bunger single fin and wearing that same beavertail wetsuit.   When I got home to 51^st Street I saw my neighbor Mitch Leonard who managed Surfers Supplies and told him about this grom phenom.  Soon thereafter Dean was riding for George and the guys at Supplies.  Sporting a new Linden twin fin and a Rip Curl wetsuit, Dean was off to the races.  This was a help, as Dean’s family was of modest means.  He lived in Somers Point with his Mom and brother Joe.  His Mom worked all day to support the family which meant Dean was own his own to get to the beach every day.  Which meant riding his bike or hitching a ride with someone, anyone who could get him to the water.  Dean learned to over come adversity at an early age and will things to happen.

In the years to come Dean became a regular traveling companion. Whether it was driving to the Watersheds Winter Surf Fest in Rhode Island with Mitch Leonard and Ev. Bauer, circa 1983; traveling through Southern California and  Mexico with the crew or living together in San Clemente for the Summer of 1984, the Dean Randazzo era had arrived and Surfing in New Jersey hasn’t been the same since.  All stories for another day.

(EDITORS NOTE: This is the first in a series of “Before he was King”, about the living Surf Legend Dean Randazzo and some fun stories about how he made it and how he continues to rock the surfing world.  The writer Tom “Johnny” Forkin is a former National Team Member (82-84) and is presently a corporate attorney in New York and Philadelphia, residing in Toms River with wife and four sons. )