This unattributed article ran in the June 27, 1907, issue of the Honolulu Advertiser. Freeth, at some point prior to his famous move from Hawaii to Southern California in 1907, did in fact visit the Eastern Seaboard. This is the only account, however, in which he surfed while there. Freeth himself is not on record talking about the stowaway part of his journey or surfing in Atlantic City. The upcoming Mainland voyage discussed in the article turned out to be the trip that deposited Freeth in Southern California, where he lived until his death in 1919.

Just to show the effete Easterners what the real thing is and to stir the frazzled nerves of the beach bummers of Atlantic City, George Freeth is thinking of taking his surf board under his arms, packing his telescope and running over there for the summer. George has had this idea simmering in his head for some little time, but the bubbling stopped short a couple of weeks ago when the cables reported that there had been a snowstorm in New York on June 2. That sounded more like a toboggan slide to him, but the sun peeped forth again and the smile came back when on Wednesday last came the news of sunstrokes and heat prostrations. Here was something more in his line.

Freeth has the privilege of being able to boast that he is the only man living who has ever surfed on the Atlantic coast. He was arrested for doing it, but generally omits to dwell upon that phase of the story. It all came about in this way. George decided that Hawaii did not offer the advantages that his youthful ambition demanded and decided that it should be the wide, wide world for him. Without any great mention in the newspapers and forgetting in the excitement of getting away to mention anything of his plan to his relatives, he slipped over the side of a steamer one night and burrowed into the coal bunkers. The next day, between spasms, he crawled up on deck and presented his card to the officer of the deck. He was passed along by the scruff of the neck to the captain, who gave him a cordial welcome and assigned him a berth next to the dishwasher in the scullery

By the time the vessel had rounded the Horn, George could peel a spud without breaking the paring knife, and by the time the Breakwater was sighted he had almost forgotten how to talk Hawaiian. He was given a discharge in Philadelphia and rested in the Quaker city for some time between jobs. During one of these vacations he got as far away as Atlantic City and here he made his first bid for fame. He paddled around among the knee-deepers for some time and then went and put on his clothes. That was too slow for him. Going to a woodpile, when the cook wasn't looking, he selected a likely slab. With a hatchet and jackknife, he fashioned this into a surfboard and again sought the sad sea waves. Far out he swam and then, among the breakers, began to have a real swim, pretty soon he noticed a rowboat coming out his way but he was having too good a time to pay any attention. Pretty soon the boat with four life-savers aboard got abreast of where he was standing on his head on the slab.

"Here, young fellow, you can’t do that here," shouted one of the rowers.

Freeth saw that they were speaking to him and just to show that he could do it, he balanced on the board again and wiggled his toes in their direction.

“Get in out of here," continued the life-saver. “No one is allowed to come this far out; we can’t spare all the men on the beach Just to look after you.”

"You run along back to the girls," said George. “This looks pretty good to me out here. I think I'll swim out a little farther where I won’t keep hitting my knees," and Freeth started to push his slab in the direction of Ireland.

That made the life-savers mad and they began to chase George. Three of them tried to corner him but he dived under them and splashed in their faces with his feet as he passed. Then he caught a roller and surfed past them towards the beach. He did all kinds of stunts, zigzagged between the pier legs, and had the time of his life, but he had to come out sometime and when he did the whole beach police force was laying for him. What they did to him George doesn’t tell and it would be unfair to say here, but he didn't surf at Atlantic City any more. That was the first and the last time that anyone ever rode the combers along that shore, but George knows that it can be done all right and now he proposes to go back and show those life-savers and others that at any rate he wasn't scared to death by what they did to him.

This time he will have the backing of some of the biggest athletic clubs of New York. He will carry letters to the New York Athletic club, the Manhattan club, and the Crescents. He will have the support of the Hawaii Promotion Committee and will be able to refer those “sassy*’ cops to “my friends the Congressmen," with whom he made a hit. By the time he gets to the East his picture will have appeared in The Outing magazine, Alexander H. Ford, the magazine writer, having made George the central figure in the articles he has written for that magazine on "Surfing, the King of sports." He will take with him letters from Mr. Ford and from Jack London, both of whom he taught to surf.

Bert Peterson has headed in a substantial way a subscription list to give [Freeth] a start on his Journey, realizing that a real Kanaka on a surf board at the big Eastern summer resorts will be a big promotion advertisement for Hawaii. The Diamond Head Athletic Club, of which Freeth is a shining member, will also give him a hand and he has the promise of financial backing from other prominent citizens of the city.

In this issue will be found a snapshot of Freeth riding the breakers, the picture being pronounced the very best photograph ever taken of a surfer in action. This picture has been sent to The Outing magazine by Mr. Ford, who stood up to his neck among the breakers for days in order that he might be able to get a series of such photographs.

Just when Freeth will leave Honolulu has not been settled, but he proposes to be in the East and among the Atlantic breakers before the summer ends.

"FREETH WILL RIDE THE ATLANTIC ROLLERS," GEORGE FREETH'S MYSTERY SURF ADVENTURE TO NEW JERSEY

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