Laguna Beach Magazine March/April 2023 | Page 41

THIS SPREAD : COURTESY OF SURFING HERITAGE AND CULTURE CENTER / DICK METZ COLLECTION / SHACC . ORG

When Dick Metz started surfing as a kid in the 1930s , his board was a heavy piece of redwood that he would leave at the beach because it was too cumbersome to carry home or for anyone to try to steal .

“ George ‘ Peanuts ’ Larson … made this board in front of my dad ’ s restaurant on Main Beach and I ’ ve had it ever since ,” says Metz , now 93 and a lifelong Laguna Beach resident . “ This was my first board . It weighed 109 pounds . He made it and taught me how to surf . He was a unique guy — I could tell you a million stories about him .”
Over his lifetime , Metz has seen the transformation of surfing and surfboards , which grew lighter and more maneuverable as materials improved . For a while , boards were hollowed out to reduce the weight . Old-time photos show guys standing with their boards upright on the beach , but they weren ’ t just striking a pose .
“ We ’ d put a wine cork in [ a hole at one end , and ] … you brought it up on the beach when it started to sink ,” Metz recalls . “… If it sunk , you ’ re done , it ’ s gone . You had to get it to shore and then it would be so heavy , you could hardly get it up [ and ] pull the wine cork out . … So you ’ d see boards standing on their tailblocks so they could drain .”
After it dried out , the cork would go back in the hole “ and then you could go surf for another 15 minutes before it had to come out again ,” says Metz , a surfer whose world travels helped inspire the film “ The Endless Summer ” and who went on to open and manage Hobie Surf Shops across the country and establish the Surfing Heritage and Culture Center in San Clemente . But the progression of surfing isn ’ t only a display in his museum ; Metz experienced the evolution firsthand .
BUILDING A BETTER BOARD It wasn ’ t until World War II that fiberglass and resin were developed and then used on balsa wood surfboards in the following years . In addition to waterproofing the boards and making them lighter , these
Hank Butcher , Perry Duncan and a friend working on a surfboard near the diner owned by Dick Metz ’ s dad at Main Beach in 1954
new materials allowed a fin to be added for quick turning .
“ So the weight went from 80 to 100 pounds down to 40 … and , all of a sudden , you could put a fin on it with fiberglass that was deep enough to allow you to turn . This changed everything ,” Metz says .
“… [ Before fins ,] you had to drag your foot as a surfer or you ’ d reach down on your knees and put your arm in the water and make the board turn , but it was real slow turning , so you couldn ’ t surf waves like at Brooks Street , for example , or Oak Street ,” Metz says , “ but San Onofre you could surf — it ’ s a slower-turning wave .”
Next , surfboards moved into the era of lightweight foam cores to replace balsa wood , which was easy to shape but soaked up water like a sponge and was in limited supply as it only grew from Central America down to Bolivia .
The goal , then , was to create a foam that was dense with a smaller cell structure than styrofoam , and Hobie Alter was instrumental in this effort . Metz met Alter while attending Chaffey College in Rancho Cucamonga — Alter was younger and attended the adjacent high school that shared a gym — before running into him again years later on the beach in Laguna . “ His dad bought a house on Oak Street and I went surfing there all the time , so it rejuvenated our friendship ,” Metz says .
In his dad ’ s garage , Alter and Gordon “ Grubby ” Clark worked to perfect the foam needed to fill their surfboards , with Metz assisting as the “ pourer .” “ He bought a chemistry set and kept changing the
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