Steve Barilotti's profile of Derek Ho ran in the January 1991 issue of SURFER. This version has been slightly shortened and edited.

If Derek Ho never rides another wave in his life, his place in the North Shore pantheon will be eternally riveted in place by his brilliant performance at the 1986 Pipeline Masters. On Christmas Eve day, in the semis against Tom Curren, Martin Potter and Chris Frohoff, Derek pulled into an eight-second subway tunnel that sectioned twice before Derek came flying out with a spit and a joyful noise. Spectators in the beach seats screamed for minutes. Some called it the tube-ride of the decade.

Although Derek found other barrels after that ride, eventually going on to win the contest, that long-gone wave put the crown of legend on the diminutive Hawaiian. From that point on he was no longer Michael’s little brother. He was, in fact, the first serious Hawaiian contender for World Champion since Dane Kealoha.

I’d been warned that Derek could be a hard interview—at least hard to get anything of substance. Not the most garrulous of the Top 16 in the best of moods, he’s wary and unimpressed by the media. He’d already stood me up once before—left me standing around the lobby of the Huntington Shores Motel the day after the Op Pro. Maybe I should’ve expected it, coming on the heels of an interference call against Flavio Padaratz that blew Derek out in the first round—a call that so infuriated him, he paddled in 12 minutes early, with a definitive Italian salute in the direction of the judges’ stand.

We begin: Derek plays it close...real close. He's been interviewed repeatedly and incessantly, in many ways, in different languages over the years, and he's become adept at fielding questions. He's friendly enough, but not about to get open and chummy with some haole reporter he doesn't know.

Eventually, though, by listening and probing, circling back and coming in with new approaches, we start to break the veneer of the Corporate Hawaiian, and get to the gestalt of what it takes to be a real down boy on the North Shore; to stay sane on the World Tour; to paddle into a snarling lineup and shove yourself into those ugly 15' Pipeline death pits.

Derek Kaleiki Ho was born September 26, 1964, in Kailua, Oahu, youngest son of Joeine and Edmund “Chico” Ho. His father was a Hawaiian-Chinese beachboy and airline employee who had met and married Derek's mother in the '50s, while she was a Portland coed vacationing in the Islands. The youngest of five (Michael Ho is seven years older), Derek was doted on by older sisters Debra, Kuumomi, and Mary Ann. Joeine recalls those early years, although lean in income, as “living in the lap of paradise.” In the '50s and early '60s, the beachcomber existence could still be pulled off if you knew how to do it. Chico knew how.

“He was one of the second-generation beachboys,” says Derek. His buddies were guys like Steamboat, Leroy Ahchoy, Conrad Cunha. And although my folks separated when I was three, I always knew who my father was. He lived right over in Waikiki, and I would spend time with him in the summer. Between him and my brother, they got me on a board. My father taught us about the ocean, how to survive in it, how to play, how to live off it. We would eat shellfish, right off the rocks. He’d drive out to the North Shore, park, pull out his tent and fish, camp, hang out. We were just a big family crew.”

Derek grew up in Waimanalo, a windward country town that defines the term “local”: cockfights, homestead lands, all-day luaus, and plenty of backyard cha-lang-a-lang music. (An interesting sidelight: Although Derek claims to be nonmusical, he’s a first cousin to Don Ho, and related by his mother’s second marriage to legendary Hawaiian slack-guitarist and singer Gabby Pahinui.)

After Chico and Joeine divorced, Michael became the man of the family and was responsible for looking after his baby brother—rousting him out of bed, making lunch, getting him off to school. Derek at first went to St. John Vianney in Kailua, a Catholic school, and was nicknamed “Surf.” An unspectacular student (“He was smart, but never applied himself,” says Joeine), Derek transferred to public school in ninth grade.

Derek began surfing in 1967, a laughing three-year-old hoisted on Chico’s broad back while his dad rode to shore at Waikiki. Sandy Beach, the flukey wind-beaten wave zone on the east side of Oahu, was his home break. From there he graduated to Kaisers, Threes, Ala Moana—basically just another hot grommet in a sea of hot grommets. Derek competed in the HSA, and although he showed promise, he was hardly considered a threat. The fact was, while Derek loved surfing, he didn’t live and die by it. He liked partying with his friends and flirting with girls (“They called him constantly,” says Joeine), and if he missed a good day at Ala Mo because of it—oh well.

“To Michael, surfing was everything,” recalls Derek. “I surfed in amateur contests and I’d win a few here and there, whereas he would win everything. By the time he was 15, he’d already made a reputation for himself. He broke the ice for me—I was always Michael Ho’s little brother. That opened a lot of doors.” While some people resent the shadow of a famous sibling, Derek loved having the opportunity to learn from a true master, who just happened to be his brother. Derek watched and learned. Through Michael, he was on first-name terms with everyone from the Aikaus to the revolutionary tube-masters of the '70s. “I looked up to Gerry Lopez, Rory Russell, Wayne Bartholomew, Shaun Tomson, and of course my brother. I grew up around these guys. I remember Rabbit coming to our house for Thanksgiving dinner one year. I thought it was so cool knowing an Australian. I would kill for a T-shirt or a pair of shorts from these guys.”

When it finally came time for Derek to make his bones on the North Shore, Michael showed him the way. At Pipeline—the break where Derek would later achieve his greatest acclaim—Michael was the one who paddled him into the lineup and yelled him over the ledge.

Schoolwork, meanwhile, was taking a beating. Derek attended Kailua High, which—although not as hardcore as Waianae or Kahuku—was very much a local school, where it’s often necessary to pound some flesh to keep from becoming a target yourself. It was also easy to get into trouble of another sort: With rampant unemployment, low wages and a high cost of living, local kids often find it hard, if not impossible, to earn money to buy the clothes, cars and toys many mainland teenagers take for granted. Ripping off tourists becomes a tempting shortcut to finance the good times. “I got caught up in that crowd," he tells me. "We'd break into cars to get money for the weekend. Some did it for drugs, others just to be cool."

He got caught, but it didn't seem to matter. "Nobody could tell me anything—they’d lecture me, I'd bullshit them, get let go, and was back out there doing it again."

Then the arrests began, to the dismay of his mother, who was continually picking Derek up from the authorities. By the time he was 16, the courts were calling him incorrigible—a probable candidate for extended prison time once he came of age.

“He was the original Excedrin headache,” says Joeine. “Michael and Brian Surratt, and all the other guys behind Derek, would’ve done anything to keep him clean, but he’d keep getting in trouble. He was never ugly or nasty about it. I think with Derek it was more of a thrill thing—living on the edge. But he got lucky. Most of that bad crowd he hung with are in prison now.”

According to Joeine, it was finally a 10-day stint at Oahu Community Correctional Center when Derek was 18 that proved to be the turning point: “I think it got to the point where he realized he could either go to prison for real, or he could do the right thing.”

Derek agrees. “Surfing finally turned me around—with a lot of help from friends and family. Brian took me to his house, gave me three brand-new boards, took me to Japan, and kept me out of trouble. But even when I was screwing up, I would always reflect on my surfing and come back to it. ”

Keeping Derek out of trouble was one thing. Making a hungry contender out of him was another. Surratt, a fearless Pipeman and notorious North Shore enforcer in his own right, took Derek under his wing and encouraged the younger Ho to make a run for the real money. Brian says he was able to help Derek because he went through the same problems himself, and could recognize that, while Derek was a very talented surfer, he was also thoroughly undisciplined.

“He didn’t surf enough—I had to really push him,” says Surratt. “While he was at my house he made this circuit from the TV to the icebox to the couch. I’d already have two sessions in, and he'd still be lying around. But I knew he had it in his blood. Derek's a real strong individual. So when it was time to go to Japan, I hustled him a ticket; it was time to get this guy on the road.

I had to babysit him and make sure he didn’t get into trouble. But I tell you—after Japan, he never got out of line. In fact, he was easier to work with than Michael. Michael’s stubborn; he’ll argue with you all day long. Derek listens.”

It was in 1982, at the Marui Open in Chiba, that things began to break Derek's way. In the Trials, the 18-year-old Ho beat Jim Hogan, a current favorite, then proceeded to take out Dane Kealoha and Cheyne Horan to advance to the semifinals, where he lost a close one to Tom Carroll. From that point on Derek Ho was a true player.

He joined the World Tour fulltime during the 1983 season and ended his rookie year in the Top 30.

In 1988, he went all the way to #4—bypassing Michael's best-ever finish of #7. He'd become a versatile competitor, able to excel in all conditions. He can charge the gnarliest megatubes of the North Shore, then turn about the next day and finesse small gutless slop—and make it look 

. All those days at Sandy Beach have paid doff at small-wave venues in Japan and Brazil.

These days, after six years on the world tour, Derek is very much in the upwardly-mobile bracket. He's matured, both mentally and spiritually. He's become savvy in money matters, seeking out the counsel of his brother, who's become a substantial North Shore landowner over the years. He has sponsors and an agent. He keeps his appointments, makes his mortgage payments, understands T-bills and interest income, and has plans for a family.

But the obvious question still begs. Will Derek Ho be the one to break the Hawaiian curse and become the first pro his state to take a World Championship? Considering his record—he's made the Top 10 for the last four years—it may just be a matter of time. And despite a slow start for 1990 (at the time of this writing, Derek was rated 12th), he’s confident he’ll eventually finish Number One. He trains hard and consistently: weights, crosstraining, power diet. But despite his dedication, Derek seems a bit amazed, somehow, at how far this whole thing has gone.

Furthermore, he already has a sense of where it might end. "I could probably put in another 10 years on the Tour and stay competitive. But realistically, I see about three more years. To tell the truth, I want to start having kids real soon [he’s engaged to longtime girlfriend Tanya Sorgen], and I'll be trying as hard as I can these next year years 'cause I want to have a good foundation for them. If I don’t win a World Title, I’ll still be satisfied with what I’ve achieved."

So, how serious is Derek Ho about being Champion?

Last year, during the contest season, I tagged along with Art Brewer on a photo shoot to Derek’s new two-acre spread in Pupukea Heights. Derek greeted us in his bathrobe. He had a pronounced limp from a swollen, badly-sprained ankle he’d received from a misstep down his rental-unit staircase. From appearances, he could barely walk—much less surf—on that leg. He winced anytime he put pressure on it. Yet, he still hadn’t gone to the doctor. To reduce swelling he was using a traditional remedy of hot water, Hawaiian salt and ti leaves.

The final day of the Hard Rock contest was scheduled to start the next day. Going into the Triple Crown, Derek was rated third behind Dave MacAulay and Martin Potter, trailing Potter by over 3,000 points. Outside of Potter committing suicide, there was no chance for Derek to outpoint him, but there was definitely room to overtake MacAulay. However, Derek's bum ankle did not bode well. In fact, I figured he'd show up, paddle out and collect his check. But over the course of the next two weeks, he went into big, snarling conditions at Pipeline and Sunset, and battled well enough to take a fifth in the Hard Rock and a ninth in the Masters and the Billabong Pro.

Derek passed MacAulay by 65 points and finished the year runner-up to Potter. With a taped ankle. With class to burn.

"DO THE RIGHT THING," DEREK HO PROFILE BY STEVE BARILOTTI (1991)

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