Stuart Lough:

Hello again Bob. I've been checking out some more of your surfing stories and looking at Tom McBride's website as well as other surfing links and testing my memory in conjunction with some the things I've read. I was especially interested in your tales of surfing parties and may have something to add. But first, a little background:

I moved to Hermosa Beach just after the beginning of the year in 1960. Serendipity landed me at 2nd street in Hermosa just because I saw a bunch of surfers standing near the wall on The Strand there. I walked up to the wall to check out the surf but largely ignored the group until I was approached by an affable 17 year old surfer named Bill Perkinson. Bill more or less asked me who I was and made small talk then went back to his group and I could tell they were asking him about me. He must of given me good press as we eventually all became good friends. I don't think I surfed that day but did the next and got to know the others one by one over time. In that group who were to become lifelong friends were: Bill Perkinson, Tom Sweeney and his brothers James and "Red", Willle Rowe, "Jeep" Schaefer, "Linc" Ferguson, John Bell, Frank Grannis, and others who simply drifted away over time.

Bill's house was on 2nd St. and Monterey and was one of those homes where people came and went at all hours and kids were always welcome no matter what. The Perkinson's had a big surf rack attached to their garage and you could leave your board there rather than take it home. It was understood that if you showed up without a board you could just grab one off the rack.

Mr. Perkinson made springs in his garage and the income from that modest work was used to finance his various "Get Rich Quick" schemes that never seemed to pan out. He was a great guy and we shared a common bond: Both of us had stomach ulcers, he from smoking endless packs of Camels while I developed mine from my standard surfer's lunch of Pepsi Cola and Hostess Twinkies.

All of this is buildup is to prepare the scene for another story of the Hawaiians who at that time were living in a bungalow on Hermosa Avenue and 4th street just a scant two blocks away. I should stress that I was never much of a party goer so I don't have first hand knowledge of what happened but I remember the events which led up to it and I confirmed with Bill yesterday that what I recall did in fact happen and I believe Paul Strauch would confirm it, so here it is:

"Mr Baxter"

The Hawaiians were well established Hermosa when I arrived. They were generally a good bunch of guys and while I heard about parties, and fist fights (usually the morning after) I never had any trouble with them. Some of them surfed 2nd street and the Redondo Beach Breakwater and I ran into them occasionally at Malibu. When Paul Strauch arrived I’m not exactly sure but he was such a standout that to this day I still have dreams about specific days when he was in the water and I didn’t catch a wave because I was so mesmerized watching him surf. It’s my recollection that Paul and Donald Takiyama were in town at the time of this incident.

Among the Hawaiians was Wilton Kune (sp?) who could be seen walking around town with an old Basset Hound named “Mr. Baxter”. Mr. B. was clearly over-weight and getting fatter by the week. Sometime during the summer word got around that the Hawaiians were selling tickets to a luau; an authentic Hawaiian blow-out complete with suckling pig baked in a pit in traditional Island style. It was also whispered in our tight knit little group that Mr. Baxter was going to be a stand-in for the pig. In fact the luau did come off and was a rousing success by all accounts, and it was established that Mr. B was last seen on all fours the day before the luau. 

In discussing this with Bill Perkinson yesterday, he confirmed Mr. Baxter’s demise but said the patrons who paid really did get baked pig but the gatecrashers who did not pay got the substitute.