In the mid 1960s the surf scene on the East Coast was not only alive and well, it was dynamic and exciting. There were three major glossy color East Coast magazines: Atlantic Surfing, Competition Surf, and Surfing East. Every town had a couple of surf shops and each surf shop had a team. We didn’t use the term “sponsor” back then as much as today, but if you were serious about your surfing you were on a team and had a nylon jacket and matching trunks to prove it. Competition stripes were on everything - our boards, our cars, our tshirts, and trunks - and competition itself had come of age.
Starting with a few contests in the early sixties - such as New York’s East Coast Championships at Gilgo Beach then the East Coast Championships in Virginia Beach, and Florida’s Canaveral Pier contest - by 1966 there was a full contest circuit. Although Surfing East Magazine attempted to pull the whole thing together with a loosely knit string of a major contest called the surfing East Grand Prix of surfing, there was no governing body on the East Coast, so the rules and the divisions varied greatly from contest to contest. But whatever the drawbacks with seemingly crazy rules and inconsistent judging, there was plenty of excitement and a lot of fun associated with the contest circuit.
By 1966 with three major surf magazines on the East Coast and Surfer reserving its usual token East Coast coverage for major events, the story of surfing‘s first east/west showdown was widely reported at the time. But in the interest of revisionist history, it’s time the true tale was told.
It begins with the New England championship August 20 and 21, 1966 in Newport, Rhode Island. I had received an invitation to travel to the contest site and judge the two day event. As the NJ rep for Surfing East, I automatically earned credentials as an out-of-town expert. I was so stoked I couldn’t believe it - 19 years old and the farthest away I’d been to surf was Ocean City, NJ. I quickly assembled a surfari of Lavallette locals; Dennis Doyle, John Carroll , Kent Nakamaru (a Hawaiian attending Temple dental school) and Charlie Keller. We caravaned to New England in my ’55 DeSoto and Charlie’s Chevy Wagon. Checking the map before our trip we just couldn’t figure out how a wave could ever get to Rhode Island, but off we went anyway. After all, there was an ocean and expense money was promised. We stayed in Narragansett and took the ferry each morning to the contest site in scenic Newport, a very interesting place with beautiful classic buildings, and on August 20, 1966, very little surf. The subsequent article in Surfing East referred to the “3 foot glassy surf.” Well it wasn't 3 ft and it wasn't all that glassy.
Small but contestable by current standards.
While sitting on the judging stand that Saturday morning, gazing out across the surfing action, I heard a commotion growing behind me: “It’s Dewey Weber, it really is him.”
I heard an expletive from Hobie sitting next to me on the stand. He had flown in the day before and was helping with the judging chores, but Dewey’s appearance was totally unexpected. I turned to see Dewey, red jacket and red trunks with competition stripes, of course, and a brand new shiny Performer under his arm - yellow tinted with red panels and black pin-lines and a big black hatchet fin. If that wasn’t enough there was his whole team in tow: Jo Jo Perrin, Porkchop Barron, Josette Lagardere, Jamie Budge, Bobby Michel and Tom Leonardo. All had matching jackets, trunks, tee shirts and boards. What a sight. The “Little Man on Wheels.” A true legend of Malibu. A certifiable California surf star. And here he was on the beach in Newport, Rhode Island with his whole team! Please understand, however, that this was not merely an east meets west phenomenon, when Dewey took his team down the California coast to Huntington Beach - just a few miles from home - he always received the same reaction from people. He was a star.

Dewey and his team didn’t surf in the New England Championsships not being residents of New England.
So on Sunday afternoon Dewey and his team hit the water for an exhibition that still shines vividly to this day. The surf was small with less than exciting shape, but the Weber competitors made it look superior. Minutes after they paddled out we were treated to nose rides, spinners, whip turns and cutbacks. Bob “Pork Chop” Barron, on a wing nose, was getting unbelievable nose rides on the sloppy one footers, backed by equally amazing performances from his teammates Tom Leonardo, Josette LaGardere, Judy Carolla, Jo Jo Perrin and Bobby Michel to whip the crowd into a frenzy with some help from local legend and announcer Will Somer’s microphone work
It was a few minutes before I realized that Dewey hadn’t even taken off yet he was just sitting out beyond the surf line, waiting. Just then came the wave of the day. Dewey stroked into position and the rest of the team backed off. Paddling hard on an extreme left angle, Dewey gathered speed on the tiny wave. He stood up and whipped the hardest front side turn I’d ever seen, then - while the board was still turning - he began his trip to the nose. And what a trip it was. In that instance I knew why they called him the “Little Man on Wheels.” He must have taken a zillion tiny steps to the nose, seemingly moving at the speed of light. The wave broke and he stayed on the nose, like he was glued there, his board so stable like he was standing on the deck of the Nimitz, moving with the momentum of the Santa Fe super chief. He got to a little shoulder and did a reverse flyaway kick out. The crowd went nuts, the announcer went nuts, and I knew that I’djust witnessed something very special.
When I realized that Dewey was on his way to the Atlantic states contest in Seaside Heights, which was an open contest allowing west and east coast surfers to compete against each other, I knew the Atlantic States contest would be more than just interesting. While not the first time that East met West - and it certainly wouldn’t be the last - it would be, for me at least, the most memorable.

Will Needs

Dewey Weber on the nose in the soup