The Tom Morey Invitational, held on 4th of July weekend, 1965, in Ventura, was the first surfing contest to offer prizemoney. The total purse was $1,500, and Mickey Munoz banked $750 for the win. In 1966, the contest was renamed the United States Professional Surfing Championships

 and was again held in Ventura, with the pot more than tripled. "U.S. Professional Surfing Championships: Split-Second Winners Split $5,000," by Bill Cleary, ran in the March 1967 issue of SURFER—it was the most complete account of the event. The version here has been slightly edited and shortened.

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 43 competitors—the cream of the surfing world—each paid a lot more: a $125 dollar entry fee. (That had never been done before either.) There was $5,000 in prize money, with $2,000 going to the winner. "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 money. Ten men with binoculars, stopwatches and walkie-talkies were there to judge the action. It would take them three days.

DAY ONE. The 43 competitors hit the water in 35-minute, five-man heats. They rode ten waves each, all timed. From each heat three surfers with the highest total "standing time” moved to the semifinals.

DAY TWO. Twenty-seven semifinalists competed on the nose. Only the time spent on that forward 25% percent of the surfboard was clocked. Fifteen surfers with the highest total "nose time” moved to the finals.

DAY THREE. Fifteen finalists competed for combined standing time 

 nose time, with nose time being multiplied by four so that it was more valuable than standing time.

Traditionally, surfers always have been difficult to organize. 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, a spark flared that was to illuminate the next two days of competition. As the qualifying times were announced, it became clear that most qualifiers were separated from non-qualifiers by a spread of many seconds. Then one notable exception arose: Mike Doyle. His standing time was 214.3 seconds, while fellow heat-member Terry Jones clocked 214.5 seconds. Jones made it to Day Two. Doyle did not. He'd failed to qualify by two-tenths of a second. Now spectators and competitors alike began to understand what a split-second could mean. At the end of the day, Skip Frye led the pack with 287.9 seconds of total standing time.

Day Two, however, was all about noseriding, 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. He ended up with an impressive tally of 41.3 seconds on the nose. Then dark horse competitor Bob Purvey clocked an accumulated noseride of 14.9 for a single wave, and at the end of the heat the crowd went wild as Bob's final tally was announced — 41.5 seconds. Purvey had won the noseriding event, beating Nuuhiwa by a dramatic two-tenths of a second!

Day Three. The sun rose, and the final 15 surfers were already on the scene, their keen eyes devouring the waves. 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.

But there was more than the surf to consider. How would they approach the nose? That was the key. 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. 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, with 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 13.5 seconds on the nose! But from then on, Frye played the nose conservatively. On his final wave, although he clocked a formidable 30.5 seconds total standing time, not one instant was spent 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 Day One's photo finish. And with the soul of a riverboat gambler, Jones did bet on the nose. He turned in a spectacular round from start to finish, clocking a magnificent 8.5 seconds each on the nose on each of his first three waves.

Soon the competitors were gathered 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 surfers were in agreement: "Jones,” was their simple reply. The remaining two picked Frye.

A moment later the tally was in and, and Terry Jones was indeed declared the winner. He had crossed the wire with more total nose-time (but less total standing time) than any of the finalists, nosing out Skip Frye by a slender 2.3 seconds. Which was more than enough time to make Terry Jones $2,000 richer.

NOSERIDES AND PAYCHECKS: THE 1966 US PRO SURFING CHAMPIONSHIPS

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