“The Great Nose Riding Contest,” by Tom Morey, ran in the Summer 1994 issue of The Surfer’s Journal. This version has been slightly edited.


This is a docile little story about a small-time surfing event three decades ago in seldom visited Ventura. The waves were poor and few could even hear announcements over the cheap PA system. Yet even so, much of what surfing is today began to take form.

Weeks of stewing on how to promote my new

 Morey Surfboards company in Ventura resulted in a pretty neat idea. Actually three ideas combined: hold a big surf contest in town and call it The Tom Morey Invitational, offer cash prizes, time nose riding rather than judge surfing. Cash might bring some unrecognized greats out of the woodwork; guys who wouldn’t normally participate for mere trophies.

Twenty years of talk about the need for professional surfing had resulted in nothing to this point, maybe because nobody worth his wax could feature being judged for money. You know, what has-been is to say the straight ahead go-for-the-gusto ride then early pullout method of a guy like Freddy Pfahler is not as good or better than the prolonged soup sliding which prevailed?

Then there were strong personalities like Mickey Dora, Phil Edwards, Tubesteak, and Corky Carroll—all natural showmen yet each differed in what they considered worth doing. In fact ask any ten surfers what consisted of ‘good,’ ‘better’ and ‘best’ surfing and you’d get ten different answers.

So, in The Tom Morey Invitational only the lengths of nose rides would count, timed just like bronco riding in rodeo. A special prize would also be awarded for the single longest nose ride. This way certain strutting dandies might also enter without their temperamental egos being ruffled.

Besides, of the fewer than fifty guys and gals worldwide who were great surfers, all fifty were also excellent nose riders.


So the contest was scheduled for July 4, 1965, and a poster was designed featuring the then famous image of Joey Cabell on the tip. One was mailed to every surf shop from San Diego to Santa Barbara along with cover letter, entry forms and the rules. Innovative board and skeg design was to be encouraged and the shops were invited to send their best. To help defer expenses, a $50 entry fee was to be charged and the rest begged from local businessmen. Fortunately twenty-four of the greatest surfers of their time responded positively: L. J. Richards, Mickey Muñoz, Dewey Weber, Bobby Patterson, Billy Hamilton, John Peck, Johnny Fain, Robert August, Bob Bermel, John Day, John Hayward, Rick Irons, Mike Doyle, Mike Hynson, Skip Frye, Ross Cave, Mike Haley, David Nuuhiwa, Rusty Miller, Don Thomas, Butch Linden, Terry Jones, Corky Carroll, Donald Takayama, and Tom Lonardo.


A lot of great people lent a hand (also stop watches and binoculars), without whose help the event would not have been possible. A pleasant surprise too was that Bruce Brown would come up to film (although to this day the footage has never been seen), 

 would also be sending up people to cover the event. Super!


A few days before the contest the first entry fees were received: $100 from Hansen Surfboards, advance payment for Rusty Miller and Mike Doyle. Great! However, the following day there’s a call from Mike asking, “Aaahhh Tom, would you please go over in detail again what will govern the board length to nose ratio?”

So I re-explained that I had arbitrarily established that, “the nose will consist of the front 25% of the board’s length.”

Mike says, “Okay. Thanks. Now, the thing is that Rusty and I will be driving up together and probably wouldn’t get there until the last minute because of. . .” (whatever it was) they needed to do for Hansen that day.

“So do you have any problem with us painting our own noses beforehand? We want to be sure they’re done right.”

I suspected they were up to something but couldn’t imagine what? They could not fudge the paint jobs since the ratio of nose to board lengths had to pass inspection on the morning of the contest. Maybe they just didn’t want anyone messing with their boards? So I agreed it would be all right.


On the morning before the contest I’m surfing C Street, checking out the performance of my own special board, The Snub, which would be ridden by Ventura tip wizard Ross Cave. Imagining how it might go, I’m counting elephants as soon as I step into the red, arching and pretending to be on the nose while really my rear foot is still hanging back over the line. Perhaps it will be easy to fool the judges? In fact, could they even see the boards, let alone the colored nose areas, especially in the afternoon when the sun would be in their eyes? Hummm. I hadn’t figured on that. Oh well, too late to change, we’ll just bluff along hoping all goes well. In any case, I was experiencing firsthand that it was going to be real fun riding strictly for time without trying to impress some judge!

Next, Ross is out on The Snub and I’m clocking his times like some thoroughbred owner clocking his horse. He’s hanging toes, heels and even nose riding backwards! Man oh man, wouldn’t it be lovely if Ross actually won and I could recoup some of my expenses!!


Around noon the initial wave of what were to become the first true professional surfers arrived; Dewey Weber and Donald Takayama. The words “Dewey Weber” echo back through the lineup in hushed tones. “Yeah, I think it’s him . . . paddling out here. Wow!”

Meanwhile, Donald is riding what seems to be a rather nondescript board, but is catching on real quick to backsiding on the nose across C Street mush.


Dewey definitely has something weird going which he doesn’t want seen. The tip of his nose has radical kick and the front quarter is resined bright red, but certainly that’s not it. However, there also seems to be something special going on underneath his board and he is being very secretive about this. Yet, whatever it is, it seems to be causing him trouble. He’s been falling on practically every wave, and has just now fallen off again, his board washing way down the line, skeg up. I can’t quite see what, but something is attached to the end of the skeg. Cripes, what if that something is an electric motor! Would that ever be an idea! Batteries inside the board which are charged as maybe a ducted fan hydro generates from the wave’s power, then at the throw of a switch on the deck converts to an electric motor for additional nose time and maybe even a free paddle back out. I sure didn’t have such a feature as that covered in the rules!

Dewey bodysurfed in on the wave behind and then dashed across the rocks to recover his board before his secret gizmo could be seen. I still couldn’t make out what it was, but sure enough, it included a duct on the tip of the fin! Next chance 1 had to look, Dewey was running with this board up to his van. The same little tubular something fastened to the end of the skeg and an enormous “Factory Powered by Weber” painted across the bottom.


Then around mid-afternoon, Mike Hynson and Skip Frye showed up with two of the sweetest looking boards I’ve ever seen: before or since. These babies were short (for their day), around 8' and with a lot of tail rocker. The noses were squared off and covered with rough non-skid 3M adhesive-backed boat decking. The traction must have been incredible.

Skip and Mike rode beautifully from the very first wave. Whether because of their own special talents or because of these short, lightweight, blunt nosed, deep finned, high traction boards, who could tell. Either way, we were seeing long, legitimate nose rides and hot, radical turns. With each saunter to and from the nose, surfing was also making some of its biggest advancements.

By sundown, the water was full of the hottest of the hot. Fine tuning their boards and wiring the reefs. As great a surf session as has ever graced the shores of Ventura was taking place, yet as is so often the case, none of it made it onto film.


. . . and we were all down at the shop on Front Street. I’m collecting entry fees. Lee Morgan’s “The Sidewinder” is cookin’ over the sound system and most of the world’s great riders are hanging around at our little shop yacking as their boards are being logged in by Wiener. Measured, noses de-waxed and lightly sanded by Blinky, and then spray painted bright fluorescent red.


Weber’s board is brought in quite late and turns out to be properly painted. It has a very nifty foiled tube attached to the skeg. . . “to help keep the tail level and prevent pearling.” Dewey’s earlier paranoia was understandable as this idea could have been seen by someone during the afternoon’s warm-up session. Within hours, lidless soup cans could have been glassed to the tip of every skeg in the contest.

As grateful as Dewey must have been that this had not happened, I was doubly thankful the turbo was not a motor!


Conspicuously absent that night were the guys from the Hobie shop. Phil, Mickey Muñoz, and Corky Carroll. . . and of course Rusty and Doyle.


Well, at long last comes 7 a.m. on the morning of the big contest, and the PA system is already in place and working (kinda). Also the water is fairly glassy, judges are showing up and most of the contestants have arrived: even paid!

Among the late arrivals was the Hobie team. Phil Edwards would not be riding; nor even attend. However, in combination with the design concepts of Mickey Muñoz, he has built a matching pair of great looking boards for Mickey and Corky. Each features additional width, extra tail rocker, a larger than usual skeg, and blunt rounded concave bottomed nose.


Bruce Brown really does show up, as well as famous surf photographer LeRoy Grannis. Also, surf darling Sherry Haley is on hand and the young bucks are sparking about like kids on a picket fence as the early morning overcast gives way to the first glint of sunlight. A huge crowd for Ventura (thirty or forty locals) join a dozen riders’ wives and girlfriends as all straggle out onto the rocks which line the beach. Humorist Kenny Price begins announcing.

And Now, Before We Begin, There Remain Only Two Small Problems.


First, the surf is a problem, as it so often is: one to three feet with no prospects for increase.

Combined with the morning’s high tide, waves are little more than noises swooshing along the shore. But, this is not a big problem. I had never promised surf, just a contest. We’ll find out who really cuts it when the chips are down.

The second problem, however, is considerably more severe. Doyle and Miller have arrived. Late. They have dillydallied around without showing their boards until the last possible minute. Finally, wearing two of the world’s biggest grins, they unveil their equipment. And our jaws drop! There sit two nicely shaped, 10' long, Mike Doyle Model, Hansen surfboards, each attractively painted, but with way more nose than seems right. In addition, Rusty’s board features a matching pair of red bricks resined onto the rear deck, “to help keep the nose up,” he explains. “But Rusty,” some kid asks, “do you actually think this is gonna help you win?” Furthermore, both boards sport innovative horizontal trim fins created by design wizard, Carl Ekstrom. The planing angle of these fins has been carefully adjusted to keep the tail from going over until every bit of speed is spent from the ride: like Dewey’s Turbo Tip, the Ekstrom skeg is a very slick idea!

But what is obviously going to be a scene is that these rascals have built 10' long boards using 14' long stringers! The extra 4' of bare stringer is protruding ominously out the back! The additional stringer length increases the nose area from two-and-a-half feet (25% of 10') to three-and-a-half feet (25% of 14')! Yikes!!

Everyone crowds around, ooohing and booing.

Doyle challenges, “Tom, in the written rules you made it clear that nose length would be twenty-five percent of the board’s length. Well 25% of total board length is exactly what we have here, there’s nothing wrong. In fact, I even called you Tuesday to double check this, to make absolutely sure this would be okay (brow furrowing) and you repeated, “25% of the board’s length. Start the contest and let’s go (big smile)!”

I answer, “Yeah, I know Mike, but, aaah, but, but. . . ?”

Doyle continues, “You didn’t say anything about us having to use 6" tails or 8" tails or something, did you? You said design innovation is encouraged, right?”

“So what’s the big deal if we use 14' long boards with hips pulled way forward and a 2" wide tail? This is the way we want our boards and it is in exact compliance with your rules!” Rusty, all the time is still grinning from ear to ear.

I’m standing there flat-footed. They have me. Those were the rules and all these boards are perfectly legitimate. Meanwhile, someone is saying, “Morey, you can’t let them do this, it’s not fair.” And someone else is saying, “Let’m enter just like they are. Hansen boards are dog shit anyway. Besides, Doyle is a big wave rider and couldn’t handle this junk surf no matter what he rode, especially not with a silly stick hanging out the back.”

Now Rusty is going, “You know, Tom, Hansen has a lot of time and money in these boards. You invited us, sent the rules, and we followed them to the letter. So how else can it be? Don paid, we ride.”

Still my mind is going, blblblblblblbl, and the headache is banging on my temples, BLATBLOOEY, BLATBLOOEY!

After several minutes of this. . . I happen to see a sea gull fly overhead and dump a blob of poop on one of the Hansen boards. It tickled me pink seeing nature itself shit on these boards, and with the inner chuckle came a tiny natural voice saying, “Don’t just stand there taking this lip. Those boards are way outside the spirit of your contest; trickery, plain and simple. Give these guys a little poop, like I just showed you. No more Mr. Nice guy.”

So I tell them, “Mike, Rusty, look, I agree with your logic. Yes, indeed the rules were as you quote. However, sweetheart of a guy that I normally am, this is my contest. (Pause for effect.) I made it all up and put it together myself. (Pause again to test the waters.) I also made up the rules. So, right or wrong, guess what, I’m just now making up a new rule that you can’t ride those boards the way they are. Period. We are starting in fifteen minutes. The clowning has been a lot of fun, but now it’s time to paint out those extra feet of nose color or forget about being in this contest. Saw off the stringers or leave them, I don’t care.”

Well, I send a guy for a saw and a lot of arm waving and shouting follows. (I’m glad it never came to blows because in the ensuing years both of these gentlemen have become great friends.)

Finally Rusty capitulates and saws off his excess stringer, then waxes over the raw wood end. Doyle, however, will not remove his excess stringer claiming it (with deadpan expression) a legitimate design feature called a 

. “The stinger is a counterbalance to what I do just like the tail of a kangaroo.” (Uproarious laughter all around, but in fact it is a very provocative idea.) So in cloudy compromise he agrees to compete for fun, no money, and his entry fee is refunded. (The headache by now is throbbing full volume.)


A rider’s meeting is held and the rules re-explained. Coins are flipped to determine who goes when and against whom. A recording of the National Anthem is played for color and finally the first heat horn is sounded. We are on our way.

Surprisingly, the contest went quite smoothly even though the surf steadily declined from mediocre to feeble. Even so, winners of duels advanced and losers commiserated on the beach.

Interestingly enough, two red-hot goofy footers, David Nuuhiwa (16-years-old, riding some off-the-shelf production board) and Corky Carroll (17, riding the Hobie special) clocked more nose time than all but a few of the regular footers.

Doyle as predicted, perhaps his weight being what it is, could not accumulate enough nose time even with that extra foot of nose length and finished well behind the leaders. Unfortunate for me also was Ross Cave. And yes, Rusty’s bricks were very much in the way. Halfway through the contest he was seen behind the judges’ stand sledging them off with a big rock.

The climax of the afternoon came in an amazing duel between Muñoz and Hynson during which time the waves were dying to almost complete non-existence.

Going into this final match about even, Hynson then pulled off one terrific ride which put him a full 5.3 seconds ahead of Muñoz. And still he was entitled to an additional final ride. Certainly he would win hands down. But in the last minutes of his time period, no wave appeared. None. The surf glassed to complete flatness and Hynson exited the water well ahead of Muñoz and confident of a win, but nevertheless concerned.

Now this left just Muñoz on stage, alone, and for reasons long since forgotten, with only one more wave allowed. This meant little chance for him to win for not a ripple was in sight.

Minutes passed with Mickey just sitting out there quietly bobbing up and down, a few people watching, others starting to nod out in the warm afternoon sun. Kelp occasionally slopped onto the lone contestant’s deck and Mickey was now even nibbling on some; not a wobble in sight.

I borrowed binoculars from Ken Price, the announcer, and knowing the battle was surely lost, focused on Mickey’s face so as to see the expression of how one of surfing’s all time greats handles defeat. I was surprised to find that his eyes were rolled back up into the sockets, quavering as would a sleeper’s during the dream state. His nose was bloodless white, while meantime the lips were mumbling yet more like quivering—kelp bits falling away as the lips then drew back taut into just the tiniest Bogart of a smile. The tension expressed was unearthly. Then with only thirty seconds remaining before the final horn, the entire scene began wavering in a vague, hazy blur. I wondered if my eyes were to see things and shook my head violently for clarity. I also tried to adjust the focus of the binoculars, but to no avail.

“Twenty seconds remaining now for Muñoz,” came the announcement, “and not a sign of a wa. . . wait, what is that we see coming?”

While still working the lens adjustment, the blur suddenly snapped clear on its own, simultaneous with a strange white flash imploding back into Mickey’s crown! With vision restored, sure enough, I witnessed swelling from out of nowhere a beautifully shaped freak, four-foot wall combing slowly forward! With now only moments remaining, an absolute stillness blanketed the crowd, who by then had silently come to their knees.

Hynson, fresh from the water and just to my left was picking his way across the rocks. In response to the announcement, “Wa. . . wait, what is that we see coming?” he turned proclaiming, “What the . . . ,” as he watched Mickey swing his board around, stuff and single stroke in and up in just as the final horn began.

For what seemed far too long, Muñoz then stalled in a sort of appreciative communion with this eerie roller. And stalled! “Do it, DO IT NOW!” I’m thinking, but no, he is waiting until at last, sensing perfect rightness, he casually rounded his board into the pocket, and with pixy-like scamperings, pranced lightly forward. There he then stood bowlegged, right hand in the air 

 (“GO” could be heard by the judges in unison), perched on the tip, controlling as the seconds ticked away; one elephant, two, three, four, five elephants, six-second nose ride! “Stop,” bossed a judge nearby to his two timers. Muñoz had won by a slim seven-tenths of a second!

Regular foot: Mickey Muñoz 67.0, Mike Hynson 66.3, Skip Frye 62.6.

Goofy foot: Corky Carroll 62.2, David Nuuhiwa 53.0, Robert August 42.2.

Longest single nose rides: Muñoz 9.9, Carroll 9.8, Terry Jones 5.1.

Thus, to these contestants was awarded not only the first cash prizes in professional surfing history, but also probably the smallest: $1,500 total.


One day years later I came across the score sheets. For reasons which now escape me, I pored over the final entries and was surprised to discover than on Muñoz’s last wave, two of the three judging teams had scored the nose time low, while the third judge scored him unreasonably high. I sat there with my eyes closed and was able to recall that particular wave. I remembered being down the beach during the ride, standing near the third judge who was furthest 

 (or south); the one who would be looking into the tube as the surf approached. I remembered how Muñoz looked on this particular ride posing with his usual one-hand-up-the-other-hand-covering-his-balls stance. I realized how to this third judge, Muñoz really looked like he was completely on the nose when in fact the two other judges could see clearly he was not. I calculated what this time difference would have meant were this odd score to have been only as long as the longest of the other two and sure enough, Hynson would have been the winner by a couple of seconds! Yikes!!!!

I’ve since discussed this with Mike and Mickey, who have both accepted the error with professional grace. Next time we’ll disregard erratic entries.


Several days after the contest, a board came out of our glass room for William “Blinky” Hubina, foreman of the shop. Blinky had been the one doing all of the painting of noses for the contest, so naturally when his board was ready to surf, he taped off and lightly sanded away the gloss of his nose. Finding perhaps that there was not enough leftover paint to do the nose, he took his board next door to the Ventura County Street Department where city street barricades were regularly painted bright highway centerline yellow. He explained what he wanted and within a few minutes had a free, vividly colored, bright yellow, flat textured nose.

After pulling the tape and letting the paint dry thoroughly, he noticed how attractively rough was the texture. That evening, he and his buddy Bill Delaney (sander at the time and more recently famous for his 1990 surf classic 

) drove up to Stanley's Diner (local beach break) for a late evening go out. When it came time to wax up, Blinky left the nose alone thinking perhaps the paint alone would give adequate traction. Sure enough, he found the grip superb. Delaney tried it and was also impressed. One of them came up with the name “Slipcheck.”

On the following morning, they showed Slipcheck to me, explaining they intended to buy a compressor and spray custom boards in Stanley’s parking lot on weekends. I mulled over the situation, then suggested a better way to go might be to let me take a crack at getting the stuff aerosol packaged in L.A., pay them royalties on every can sold and wholesale Slipcheck to surf shops worldwide.

The details were worked out and Slipcheck became THE traction standard among surfers. Thousands of cans were sold until boards got extremely short and noseriding temporarily lost its popularity. However, now as the result of a synergetic combination of painted noses for time, Hynson and Frye’s innovative high traction deck covering, and Blinky’s discovery, there are Ultra Grip, Gorilla Grip, Astro Deck and all the other traction materials and systems now standard on practically every board made; both short and long.


The boogie board would probably never have been created had I never seen those Frye/Hynson square noses and the superb riding turned in by these two.

“THE GREAT NOSE RIDING CONTEST,” BY TOM MOREY (1994)

Subscribe or Login

Subscribe or Login

Encyclopedia of Surfing

History of Surfing

Interviews

Features

The Sunday Joint

Videos

Contests