This interview with Jericho Poppler ran in the September 1980 issue of SURFER with no author attribution, but it was likely recorded and written by editor Jim Kempton. The version below has been slightly edited.

Your father was a liberal lawyer involved in a wide variety of causes . . . 

Yes, that’s right. My father was also the first attorney for the United States Surfing Association, with Hevs McClelland and that crew, way back when. That was before I’d started surfing. 

The first time was at Doheny, when I was nine. My dad didn’t surf, but he stood on the beach while his friend Vinnie Mar took me out there, and from that I knew it was something I wanted to do, but I didn't start till I was 13, going into junior high.

Did your parents try to steer you into or out of things?

My dad turned me onto everything from mountain climbing to pretty much all sports. I grew up in the theater with my dad, at the Long Beach Civic Light Opera, so I spent a lot of time there. I was exposed to everything I could possibly want to do. And since we were by the ocean, I wanted to surf. He supported everything. My mom was a little leery at first at the idea of me going down to the jetty and being with hoods. That’s what she thought surfers were. She didn’t know whether or not I’d be safe.

Who were some influences beyond your parents?

There was this lady on our street named Margaret who was like my mother, while my mother was like my best friend, and they used to sew clothes for me and all those far-out things, ’cause like I was the only little girl on the block! But still I was a tomboy. Anyway, Margaret had a nephew named Mark Martinson. So not too long after I began surfing, here comes the Huntington contest [United States Surfing Championships], the biggest contest in the whole world, with surfers going through the pier with their helmets and colored jerseys—and that was the year Mark won. It was 1965, I think. I was out there on the pier with thousands of kids my own age hanging off the pier railing, and I watched Mark surf. And then I saw the women. Joyce Hoffman and Linda Spheeris. They were wearing helmets, too, and riding these big waves through the pier, and I thought to myself, God, I don’t want to be up here, I wanna be out in the water! I want to surf Huntington Pier! But you couldn’t just go out there then. You had to have surfed a couple of years—you needed some savvy. Chuck Linnen talked my mom into kinda being my coach, and told us about other contests that I could surf in. He'd take me surfing at the pier early in the morning before school, and in the afternoons. That’s when I started riding for Harbour Surfboards, around 1966. The Trestles Special era.

Well, my first board came from John Graye, but then when I started surfing Seal Beach Jetty, everyone started saying, “We want you to be in our club, be on our team.” And I thought—Mark Martinson. He rode for Harbour, so I I’m going to hold out for that. And by Christmas I got my Harbour team jacket, and I was in the Long Beach Surf Club, and that was just . . . it! 

How long did it take you to become good at surfing?

I stood up and turned on my first wave, but it takes five years to get it down. Most sports, you know, I think it takes five years to get it down.

When you went surfing at that time, it was with guys. You were one of the crew, more or less, right into the mainstream of the male surfing movement?

Well, there’s never really been a women’s surfing movement—until WISA happened, in '75. When I started it was Joyce and a few others but, like, gosh, they were just these unique individuals who were like gypsy women doing their own thing. Whereas I was still too young to even drive! So I just hung out with the Harbour team. Yuri and Howard Farrant, Rich Chew and Pete Kobsev—we’d all go down to Trestles together. It was the big deal. Chew, his surfing was a great influence, and plus he was an artist. A lot of the surfers even now are very artistic, expressive people, whether it’s drawing and painting, music, dance, fashion. And there was Terry Eselun, she was great. The Ter and Jer show. We were buddies. We’d hit it to Trestles; I’d have my camouflage bikini, and we'd run away from the Marines.

How do you relate to growing up as a California surfer? It’s different from other places isn’t it?

Oh, very much so. It’s like Rell Sunn and I are best friends. What she grew up with in Hawaii is totally different from what I grew up in. We spend hours just talking and laughing about our past because they're so different. But just being a California woman surfer out in the world traveling has a lot of impact on a lot of people. They automatically think, oh my God, you're from Hollywood. You’re right next door to Disneyland. You’re always on TV. They think you’re a star just because you're a California surfer. The beach lifestyle here has influenced so much in this world. Just look at the fashion sportswear industry.

I was listening to a radio talk show with Gay Talese, and he pointed out that California is the laboratory of American society.

And that’s why we have all the South African surfers and all the Australian surfers moving here right now because they know that if they want to live, today, right here on this planet in 1980, they’ve gotta come to California and be a part of it.

And, interestingly, when these motivated people arrive, they actually become a part of what it is with their diversity and so forth—like Michael Tomson and . . . 

. . . and the Bronzed Aussies and Shaun, right! That's the way it’s been through history, migrations of people, why certain people end up in certain places. Same way as in Hawaii.

As you go through years of surfing, you live through events that you later  realize are peak experiences. I remember you telling me about being in France with Nat Young and Miki Dora quite a while back. 

That was a turning point in my life. This was 1974. I was going to college that year, studying dance and theater, and didn't know if I was going to continue surfing seriously in terms of competition, because nothing was happening. It was the beginning of men’s pro surfing and the end of the amateur World Contest era. But nothing was happening for women. Plus it was post-Vietnam, post-hippie time, and everyone was spaced out. I was going to school really heavy, but didn’t really know what I was going to do, so I went to Europe and danced in Vienna, and Sweden, and at the Royal Danish School in Denmark. I went there to dance and see some different places, and just get a new thing going in life. Then I got to Biarritz, France, and [boardmaker] Bruce Jones surprised me there with surfboards and wetsuits and some California friends. Also, there were those international surfers who aren’t known in the magazines but they travel around, chase waves, follow the seasons, like Morocco, then down to South Africa, and so on. 

They're kind of underground. Never publicized, but they’re known to other surfers of that type.

Yeah, the real heavyweights. And like that’s my crew, really. The ones I relate to and who relate to my surfing. I mean, like I do this contest thing, but my surfing has really been—well, let me get back to Biarritz. So I arrived, and all of a sudden I've got new boards, and Bruce is there and everything. We're all staying at Hossegor and the surf is crappy and the weather’s terrible, but terribly romantic. The food was superb, the coastline was gorgeous. And I’m thinking, my God, why did I ever think of leaving this and not surfing anymore or being a part of this lifestyle? And then the surf came, it's 8'–10', offshore and sunny. We're standing there on the dune watching, and all of a sudden a Mercedes camper pulls up and out steps a man in black cape and boots, and of course it's Miki Dora.  

And he looks at me and says, “Hello chickadee.” I mean, he's just pulled on at exactly the right tide, the right place, just perfect timing. And so we all played together in Biarritz. Miki, Nat Young was there, and Bruce. It was a constant gamesmanship and one-upsmanship between Dora and Nat the whole time. It was like Butch and Sundance. It was great. They were cavaliers, surfing cavaliers.

And it doesn’t matter how old you are. Like, these guys were older, and they’re older still today. Miki and Nat both design their lives around living the surfer’s life, and so do all those underground guys that we don’t know or read about who are ripping in places like Mauritius and Ceylon. 

It did. At an early point, if you're really into surfing, you think, Wow, where can this wave take me? And maybe the first thing you want to do is go to Hawaii. Go to a tropical island. Just you and a friend, and surf that perfect wave. Me, too. I don’t really care if I rip, slash and tear, I just want to be there. I want that whole romance of it; I decided to live that life. So yeah, that trip to Europe was the turning point in my surfing career. I said to myself, I am going back home and organize the women. I’m not going to stop surfing. I’m going to make something happen so I can stay in it. Make it worthwhile. I'm 28, and I had to create a whole niche for myself and my gender in order to function as I am right now. I mean, I’ve created my whole trip. I’m not making a million dollars, but I’ve been a hell of a lot of places and I’ve done a hell of a lot of interesting things. And I contribute to the spinoffs of the sport—sportswear, wetsuits, boards, and that’s how I make my living.

Yeah, a consultant. A lot of people think surfers aren’t for real, and here I am, a woman, and lots of people think, “Okay, time to get married and get on to reality and quit what you're doing." But why? I run into couples in places like France and Mexico and Hawaii, couples that still live this lifestyle. 

They’re willing to make a trade-off, and it’s a conscious choice, and they’re aware of the rewards and the consequences.

But you know the public at large still doesn’t realize that this is a lifestyle at all. Except maybe for very wealthy people. It seems like the very wealthy and the very poor do these things. If you’re anywhere in between, you don’t have the time to have the pleasure. Time is the most important thing. Ask Grubby Clark [of Clark Foam] to give you his thesis on time. He’s beautiful. He explained it to me in his factory once.

But getting back to your question about peak experiences—besides France, do you have any others you can recall? 

Makaha, almost whenever I go, is a peak experience. It’s so gorgeous. Afternoons sitting on the beach with Buffalo and the boys, catching fish in the middle of the day when the tide is too high to surf. No matter how the surf is at Makaha on any given day, it's beautiful and there's always a wave to ride. Summer or winter. People pull up to the beach there and think, “this is a junk wave.” But Makaha isn’t just a wave, it’s this whole aura, a vortex.

You’ve stayed with Rell over on the West Side. That can be a scary place for a haole girl, right? 

The fear is very real and it is dangerous, yes. But, ah ... I don’t know what to say but that I'm just a part of the place by now, because in my own way I've contributed. It’s like an initiation at any local spot. The locals test you to see if you're worthy. But they’re beautiful and life is very simple there, and they’re going to keep it that way.

Hmmmm. Sunset, Makaha, J-Bay, and . . . oh God, just Huntington Pier. I love beachbreak waves because you can never predict what’s happening. You're darting and jockeying, and it keeps you in motion. It’s like dancing. But for really good waves, I love Sunset and J-Bay.

No, unless I’m in competition. When I just go surfing, I dance with the wave. The wave is choreography itself.

When is your surfing the most fun to watch? In competition or free surfing?

I’d say free surfing if I was with my group of friends, because we all entertain one another; we enjoy each other. So if I’m with a great crew, that would be the time.

Is there a competitive thing at all between you two?

No, not really. We’re out there surfing, but we’re thinking about what we’re gonna do tonight, what we’re gonna wear or have for dinner.

All the time. And I get on her case about not following it through. Like a lot of women, their biggest problem is they don’t follow through on a lot of maneuvers.

I just think a lot of women feel that they can’t do it because that’s basically how they’re brought up in the world, you know? They feel like they can’t be really good so they just wipe out. And a lot of women enjoy being out there, standing up, and just wiping out.

Hey, I’ll tell you, one of my biggest pleasures is wipeouts. God. I mean, it’s scary wiping out at Sunset, but there's something about it. 

Yeah. Handling it. That’s a different art in itself.

Well, the whole go-out can be an art form.

Yes! That's how I won many of my competitions at Sunset Beach. Maybe that sounds really weird, but in competition it’s your whole performance from the moment you arrive at the beach to when you paddle in and stick your board in the sand. Because surfing is a subjectively judged sport, and it’s so much based on personalities and style, you can't just say that so-and-so does a great bottom turn. You're being judged on your entire personality, your whole performance—like freestyle ice skating. If you go to the beach with the attitude that, oh God, my boards aren’t working today and I’m just feeling kinda bad, well, the judges are watching and they can sense your mood. They don't want to give first to somebody who's kinda down and out; they want to give first to somebody who is entertaining Item. The person who is putting out. And the problem with Lynne Boyer's surfing is that she goes out there and just surfs, she doesn't "geev 'um!" She doesn't go, "Hey, I’m giving you something here." Barry Kanaiaupuni, he goes out at Sunset and be 

 Those are the kind of people I surf with in Hawaii. I surf with these, these 

You create a synergism experience. And each of you feed each other and contribute to it. And it becomes this act of . . . 

. . . of theater! it's live theater! It’s a moment of time that will never repeat, and so you’re just relating with the ocean and the whole movement of everybody working as a group. And when the sun goes down at the end, you remember a fantastic day of surfing which is incorporated into the rest of your life. That’s what I go for. You can’t find that here in California today because it’s a different type of surfing. It’s a metropolis. We’re surfing on freeways here. It’s more of an exercise—a backgammon trip. A head trip.

Many surfers here don’t even know anything else exists. Can you turn a person on to what you've just described, or do they have to experience it firsthand?

I try and turn all my people on to that experience, all the young ones coming up. When I take kids surfing, I take them through the whole experience. Not just, “Okay, down on the beach. Here's how to wax your board and stand up and turn.” I take them driving down the coast, that's the first big thing.

Yes, it’s geography and developing a feeling for the culture. Take the South Bay or North County San Diego, every little place has its own culture and way of looking at things. And making these young kids realize it's different in all these places, that's important. Like a lot of city kids don't know there's anything else but square blocks with cement sidewalks. 

Yes, because I'm so interested in every other place, and I’m very easy when I travel, very well accepted.

Because I enjoy learning. I enjoy putting myself in somebody else's hands for a while. I don't have to always control the situation. It’s give and take, you know? Not all people can travel. It’s hard for some. But not surfers.

Some people do it very poorly and some people do it as an art.

That’s what's so beautiful about this pro surfing thing. We’ve been doing it for years. And now we’ve got Mark Richards, Dane Kealoha, and all those guys on top. And it's a business. Yet there’s still these all artists hanging on. Like me and Terry Fitzgerald, and even Lopez. He’s not on the contest scene, but he’s right in there. We are the artists fulfilling, you know, our dreams. And we’re doing it. While with these other guys, it’s business. It’s a whole different thing.

Offshore, Body Glove, and a soft surfboard company. Also Coca-Cola of L.A. and Honolulu sponsor me to Hawaii each winter, give me a company car, pay for airfare, and give me a credit card.

Because I’m a very happy, alive person. They bought me because I represent their corporation. Like with all my sponsors, I give back as much as they give me.

Do you think it’s really worthwhile for them?

Yes! I think it’s a great thing for them to sponsor surfers because they get more out of a surfer than, say, a tennis star. We’re on the beach, in the water, just being there all the time. And that’s the best way to get at our lifestyle. We're all images, idols within our territories. I’ve created an image, and I wish I'd realized that a long time ago. And I will survive. And so will Terry Fitzgerald, Gerry Lopez—we will survive because we are the teachers of the young ones for tomorrow. We represent the quality of the surfing life.

Tell me about WISA [Women's International Surfing Association]. 

WISA was the best thing I ever did. I opened Pandora’s box.

It’s not a death wish. It’s all timing. It’s a tremendous thrill, something to look forward to—the drop. It scares the hell out of me, but at the very same time I feel so beautiful, alive and attuned. I'm a thrillseeker.

Oh . . . 15 foot? I mean, that’s like 20 to me. It humbles you, makes you realize you’re just . . . just a feather.

Yeah, but not too badly. I mean, look at me. I look great! Considering my eyes are falling out because of the sun, my skin just eats it, and you get a muscular body whether you like it or not. Everybody goes, "Oh, what does she do? Pump iron?" And I don’t. I surf. It’s the most beautiful thing to do. Surfing covers every muscle in your body. So does dance, of course, but surfing covers it all, and that’s all you need to do. Surfing is a never-ending learning process. It’s a teacher every day. The ocean is everything.

Do you have any advice to give a girl who is just beginning?

 Take your time and don’t rush into anything. Women tend to get so excited, and they get out there and get frustrated and bored because it's hard. First of all, you have to have an appreciation of the ocean. If you love the ocean and the wind and weather and the beach, you do it. You don’t do it to just stand up and say, “Wow, don't I look pretty.” Women, compared to men, do not go out there to show off to their other friends. Women are going out there for more personal reasons than men can understand. For a more devoted and long-enduring relationship and loyalty. Men go out there to conquer. To conquer the waves and to show off their the power. Women go out there to dance and be a part of this kingdom.

What about your style? You’re unique among the girls.

I’m dynamic. I have to say that. It's more of an emotional thing. I don’t go out to demonstrate. I go out there to play my instrument. I don't go out there to boogie. I don’t go out there to skateboard it. I go out to surf and dance. Surfing is dance. There’s no two ways about it.

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