I knew Jerry Whitesides.
It took me almost an hour of perusing your tributes, before I realized it. I finally recognized him in the “Malibu Sports Club” photo. (Trying as hard as I could to put names on the faces.) That’s more the way he looked when I knew him . . . from Samohi and surfing Bay St. I’d forgotten I’d known him. Barely. From my more introverted entry into the surfing scene of ’60 – ‘62.
I too remember Hubbyland. Too bad there’s no (ridiculously slow) waves in your photo.
I remember more of the scene than I do distinctly Jerry. But a better surfer, with that surfer “cool”. A good friendly guy. Accepting and supportive of us (me) in the neophyte stages of surfing. Foggy mornings at Bay St. with Skip Engblom, Joe Hurley, Pat and Jerry Johnston, Jackie Baxter and too many others to resurrect now. Surfing alongside the pilings on the south side of Santa Monica Pier. And inside the breakwater north of the pier. And the Lighthouse.
It’s scary . . . all the people, places and things that have come and gone since I last thought about Hubbyland or Jerry Whitesides. As in Jackson Browne’s lyrics, “They say in the end, it’s a blink of the eye.”
On the other side of the coin . . . Fitzpatrick introduced me at our Santa Barbara Maritime Museum show (1/14/10). His intro and reminiscences of living on the beach at Topanga in the ‘60’s were considerably longer than a blink of the eye.
Butch Linden with his wife (not Chris Laronde from your photo) were also in the audience.
Live long and prosper. (Jerry) Wherever infinity finds you. I’m glad to have known you and the abundance that seems to have filled your life.