"Bruce Valluzzi: Three Dementia," by Doug Fiske, ran in the December 1971 issue of SURFER. Valluzzi was 22. The text below has been slightly shortened and edited.

You were one of the pioneers of surfing in Florida. How did you get into it?

I was aware of surfing when I was a little kid, but no one in Florida surfed. Then Jack Murphy came to town, and I knew he was around, but there were still very few people surfing. One day I was walking through a department store and saw a Bruce Brown movie on a color TV. I watched for a while and said, "All right! That's for me! I like it! I went down to Murphy's shop right after that and hung around trying to pick up on what was happening. I wanted to get a board, but I didn't have the money and my old lady wouldn't give it to me. I had a rich friend who had a board that I rode, and after that I knew I'd have to do something to get my own. I was 

. I was in a new world. So I got a job as a dishwasher, slopping around in the grease for 75-cents an hour, and saved up enough to buy a G&S shaped by Mike Hynson. Of course, at the time I had no idea who Mike Hynson was.

I was never any good at the standard school sports because I was a skinny little runt. I disliked high school because they weren’t trying to teach me anything; they were just trying to get me to conform to their trip, and I wasn’t digging that at all. That was before the youth movement, and there was no one before me to verbalize how I felt. Now the kids know what they feel because the older kids have already said it for them. So when surfing came along, it was a new world for me. I spent every minute I possibly could in the ocean digging the waves and the sunshine.

I got into surfing in 1963, around the same time Claudie Codgen did. An interesting sidelight is that while I washed dishes to get my first surfboard, Claudie shot pool to get his. He was a 12-year-old prodigy. He’d go into the pool halls and hustle the old men. We started skipping school together to go surfing. We’d go to Canaveral Pier and be the only ones out. There wouldn’t even be anyone on the beach. We went through so many trips together, slidin’ and jivin’ to avoid the dean and making up stories to get around our parents. We used to surf at 15th Street, and this tall, skinny kid with a hook nose and braces started showing up. We thought he was a geek, but when his parents gave him money for a surfboard and he bought a Hobie, he achieved instant status. He was a kook, but he learned to surf really fast and a year later he was very good. His name was Mike Tabeling. We had our own group at 15th Street that we called the Raper Reef Crew because we used to harass all the girls who came by.

You’ve spent the last several winters in the Islands. How did it come about that you started going to Hawaii?

I was doing the East Coast trip with the Surfboards Hawaii team when it was the hottest thing going there. I won some contests and made it to the [1966] World Contest in San Diego. But the demise of Surfboards Hawaii was imminent, and everybody was going their separate ways. Greg Noll was looking to get his East Coast trip in better shape, so we ended up doing a thing together. I went back to Florida to finish up a semester of college, returned to California and went on to Hawaii with Greg.

Did you have any trouble adapting to Hawaii? Did you avoid the hassles with unfriendly locals?

I got eased into Hawaii by Greg Noll. He’s good friends with a lot of Hawaiians. I can’t think of anyone who I’d rather be introduced to Hawaii by. He wanted to go where the waves were big, and so did I. Not that I wanted to be an instant big-wave rider, but he knew the scene and he’s a thug. There were no bad vibes because Greg can out-bad-vibe anybody.

Was that your first experience in big waves?

No, hurricane surf in Florida gets pretty hairy sometimes. It doesn’t compare with Hawaii, but it can get heavy. I'd also been to Peru and gotten some ten- to twelve-foot waves there, so while I didn’t feel totally confident surfing Hawaiian waves, I didn’t feel I was jumping in over my head either. Ever since I started surfing, the thing I liked to do most was to ride big waves, so I was stoked at the chance to surf Hawaii. It worked out really well. When we first got there, the surf was small; then it was eight feet, and we surfed that; then twelve feet, and we surfed that; then one day Waimea came up, and we surfed that.

Late one afternoon, Greg and I were driving from Sunset to somewhere. We drove by Waimea, saw that the wind had died off and that it was breaking. It wasn’t killer Waimea; it was fifteen, maybe eighteen feet. We screeched the car off the side of the road and went running into the water. It was just the two of us out. The sunset was very nice that night. Greg caught four or five sets, and I was just watching him, flashing out. It was heavy but not as heavy as I thought it was going to be. A month before I had been in Florida. A set came and I was in a good position, so I just said "this is it" and took off. If you get up the hair to get into the wave and take the drop, you’re halfway home. I caught three waves, but I’ll always remember that first one. It was the ultimate elevator drop. Even if it’s an easy-to-ride, not too radical Waimea day, it’s still a heavy drop. The wind whistles by your ears, your board slaps on the water really loud, and you feel very small compared to that wave.

That was hairy, and I ate it so many times. It was like suicide, but I wanted to ride the place. I was a little gremmie on the beach in Florida, and I saw movies of Pipeline and said, "outasight; I want to do that!" The only way to learn is to do it, so I did. I just went out and let the waves break on me and ate it and swam and ate it and swam. I did a lot of swimming before I could ride the place.

You were one of the first surfers from the East who acquired a reputation for riding big surf. Was that created by the manufacturer you were associated with in order to sell surfboards, or was it deserved?

I don’t know if it was deserved or not. The media trip is just a big hype; it doesn’t really mean anything. What happens in the water is the only thing that counts. No amount of anybody saying you’re hot is going to make you hot if you’re not. The rip at Sunset doesn’t care what your rating is.

In one write-up of the Duke Contest, you were described as riding Sunset like a native. Do you think you have that respect from fellow surfers in the Islands?

I don’t know. It’s really a heavy in-crowd trip in Hawaii, and I’m not part of it at all.

How long does it take to develop complete confidence in yourself riding big Hawaiian surf?

You never get completely sure of yourself because the wave is the overpowering, dominant force, and you’re so infinitesimal compared to it. It takes at least three or four winters to learn to surf Hawaii really well.

I went because I’d never spent a winter there, and I thought it would be a pleasant change from the North Shore. But Kauai is as crowded as the North Shore. It’s not the place to go to get away from it all because it’s already there. Crowds, bad vibes, and friction in the water. Hanalei Bay is really a good wave, but it’s the most vicious crowd I’ve ever surfed with. The only crowd that compares with it is at Ala Moana. Surfing Honolua Bay with 30 guys out is easier than surfing Hanalei with 15 guys out. But Hanalei with 15 guys out is never. I’ve seen it on many sunny Sundays when there’s a six- to eight-foot swell and 80 guys in the water.

What would be a comfortable number of people surfing it?

How has surfing and Hawaii itself changed since your first winter there?

I was very fortunate to spend time in Hawaii before the big change took place. I first went in ’66, the last winter the North Shore was like the old days. I lived there all winter, and after February there was no one around. I had a house by Pipeline, but now you can’t get a house anywhere. I’d get up in the morning and surf perfect eight-foot Pipeline all by myself or with a few other guys. Now there are a hundred guys out on that short stretch of beach. The North Shore used to be what you always hear about it: a funky, cruisy, paradise type thing. Now it’s the victim of the population explosion. Too many people in a small place.

There are a lot of trips going down in Hawaii now. A lot of what you hear about racial harmony in the Islands is fiction. There are a lot of weird racial games being played there. A culture, by definition, has an identity, and when there are so many cultures together in one place, there is bound to be friction. There are dozens of cultures and subcultures clashing with each other all the time. There are so many weird vibrations floating around, you don’t know which way is up. The haole-Oriental combine is welcoming the corporate developers with open arms to come in and build high-rises, subdivisions, and housing developments, while completely ignoring any kind of environmental consciousness or responsibility that they should have for the land and the people. The people who used to own Hawaii, the Hawaiians, are the low men on the totem pole. Everybody is walking on them.

Is there enough of a spirit among the people to unify the power to stop the rape?

In the past, there was minimal social awareness, but recently there has been an awakening. Hawaiians are pretty easy-going, but they have a violent streak in them too. There have been some demonstrations that brought results, but mostly the politicians are just shining it on because the people who are demonstrating have nothing. All they have are themselves. The mainland controls Hawaii. The money that controls it is in the big corporations; the politicians in Hawaii are almost universally corrupt. That’s the history of the Islands, people getting screwed.

Is America reversible? America is doing it to Hawaii. American corporate mentality, money, profit, and bullshit. I don’t know if it’s reversible or not.

Who are some outstanding but unknown surfers?

There are a lot of good surfers everywhere. Most people you’ve heard of deserve the recognition because they’re really good, but there are some who are friends of the photographers or who know the people who publish the magazine or whatever, and you hear of them perhaps more than you should. There are a number of examples I could cite, but I won’t. It takes quite a bit of ambition to become a well-known surfer. If a guy is fantastic, you’ll hear about him without his making an effort on his behalf, but if he’s just good, you won’t. Take a guy like Jimmy Lucas. He lives on Kauai. You see his picture now and then, but that was a few years ago before he dropped out of the North Shore scene. Jimmy is unbelievable. He’s one of the best in the world. He’s carving pretzels off the bottom, through the lip, around and down, unreal cutbacks right in the curl. He’s so aggressive and so radical; a fantastic, fantastic surfer. Jimmy is astounding, but you never hear of him because he’s not where they’re taking pictures or he’s not endorsing anybody’s surfboard.

There’s a kid from Cocoa Beach named Dickie Munson who’s very stylish, very clean, a really good surfer. He’s young and hasn’t been exposed. And George Szigetti from California is an excellent surfer. There’s a kid named Leko Boy who glasses for Brewer. He’s red hot; he’s dynamite, really good backside, but he’s never been in the right place at the right time in order to be recognized. Generally, most surfers become well known by surfing in contests. You have to be a good surfer to win a contest, but being a good surfer doesn’t mean you’re going to win. There are a few guys who don’t surf in contests, or maybe just a few contests, but are well known anyway. Barry Kanaiaupuni, for instance. You just can’t overlook the guy.

What well-known surfers impress you, and why?

There are a lot of guys who surf well who use techniques that another guy originated. Generally, I’m more impressed with the originator than the duplicator. There are a lot of hot surfers in Australia, but nine-tenths of them surf like Nat. I’m really impressed with Nat’s surfing because he’s the master; he’s the animal. He originated several of the maneuvers that are prevalent in surfing today: the sweeping S-cutback, the crouch and spring-type turn—although Nuuhiwa was in on that too.

Wayne Lynch may be the best small-wave surfer in the world. He’s very lyrical and poetic when he surfs. He’s taken surfing to new realms that other people haven’t reached, especially backside, but he’s employing techniques developed by Nat. When Nuuhiwa’s having a good day, he’s so hot that it just blows your mind. He’s serpentine and catlike. He’s slithering and slinky, and he’s the only one who surfs like that. A lot of other people try, but he’s the one. David’s the cat, but everyone has his roots. You see Donald Takayama in David’s surfing. You see Paul Strauch in there too. Nat’s roots are Phil Edwards. Even though Nat originated a lot of things, he copied Phil Edwards right down the line until he thought he was good enough to go off on his own.

Claudie is really hot too. He’s got a heavy helping of Nuuhiwa in his style. He’s very precise and calculating, cool and smooth. I’d have to say that Mike Tabeling rates as one of the best surfers in the world. He’s unquestionably the best on the East Coast, but he’s like anybody; he has his days. Some days he’s really a kook, but those days are rare. When he’s hot, he’s unreal. He’s tall and lanky, but he crouches up like a telescope and explodes out, and all eight feet of him will carve off the bottom and through the lip and down. Mike's really got his knee action down. His physical bearing is so unique. From a distance he looks skinny, but up close he’s got a lot of meat on him, and he’s very strong. His strength and his height give him the ability to throw his weight around, which is important in getting distance and power out of the initial turn, getting through tricky sections, being able to get momentum going in the right direction. A case could be made for saying that the best surfers are tall and lanky. A lot of tall guys are really impressive: Tabeling, Cabell, Nuuhiwa, and Young.

Whatever you are as a person, that’s how you’re going to surf. My surfing? I like to surf hard. The more aggressive I can be, the more I like it, which is why I like larger surf because it requires more aggression. I’m really reckless, so I like to surf recklessly. The faster I can go, the more dangerous it is, the more I like it. Up to a point, of course. I don’t want to kill myself.

You read Norman Mailer’s article on ego in boxing. How could you apply his ideas to surfing?

Mailer said that boxing is a physical conversation between two people. The level on which you converse is determined by your physical and mental makeup, which is your ego; your ego is your whole self. Phil Edwards used to say that surfing is like boxing with the wave. The wave throws you a jab, and you give it an uppercut and come around with a cutback. You’re having a conversation with the wave. Your ego is your side of the conversation.

It depends on what you think of surfing as. The wave is your vehicle; the wave is your electric guitar, your race car, your paint brush, your piano. The wave is your medium, your form of expression, it’s what you have to work with. If you play electric guitar, you have it and your amplifier. If you surf, you have your surfboard and the wave. The amp and the guitar can’t do any more than what you make them do, just as the wave and your surfboard can’t do any more than you make them do. You are your own limitations.

If you equate ego with self and apply that to surfing, would it follow that the stronger the ego you have, the stronger you are as a person, the better surfer you’ll be?

Unquestionably. Surfing is ego; ego is surfing. That’s what makes good surfers. They’re good surfers because they have strong egos. There are thousands of people who surf; what is it that makes an outstanding surfer? Of course, there are physical limitations, but given two surfers of equal athletic ability, the thing that makes one stand out is the more powerful self, the more powerful ego, the more aggressive animal.

What are the drives and motivations behind surfing?

Man is basically a killer. The reason man had to leave the jungle where the rest of the animals were was because of his antisocial behavior. Once he got into the grasslands, he couldn’t forage for food so he had to kill other animals to survive. His new environment reinforced his already antisocial tendencies. Somewhere along the line, by some cosmic coincidence, occurred the development of the cerebrum, which is where the intellectual processes take place. Intellectual ability developed on top of the basic animal instincts, the animal id. So we are a very unique combination of both: very aggressive, antisocial killers, but the most intelligent life on the planet. Civilization relies on the intellect keeping the basic animal drives in check. All civilization throughout history is the balance of the intellect and the id. The sex drive is very strong, but we grow up in a society which says no-no, except under certain circumstances. Our drive to kill is very strong, too, because we’re basically hunters, but instead of going out every day and stalking our food, we go out into our jobs. We take the basic drive and filter it through our intellect to meet society’s goal, which in a roundabout way lets us exercise that basic drive. Then you take surfing. One of the unique things about surfing is that it’s so addicting. People that get into surfing don’t care about anything else; all they want to do is surf. There aren’t many things like that; that are so completely enthralling. Surfing and waves are two very complicated phenomena. Your intellect allows you to carry out the complex processes that are surfing. Your intellect also allows you to master all the technical aspects of building surfboards. But the drives involved, the things that make you want to do it, are basic and animal; your male self, the hunter, the male ego. The reason that surfing is so addicting is that while you use the vehicle of your intellect to master the motions and maneuvers of surfing, the drive that puts you there in the first place is your basic id, your basic animal drive. You love it because it allows you to release something that the society in which you live tries to suppress.

What are your thoughts on surfing as a performing art?

Art by definition is self-expression. In a performing art, the artist is physically involved in that self-expression. Performing art is Jimi Hendrix, Rudolph Nureyev, Mary Martin, whatever your taste is. A surfer is a performing artist, too. His medium is the wave. Given a specific wave, each outstanding surfer will ride it differently. That’s his performance, his self, his self-expression, his art. He sets up a flow, a rhythm. He’s thinking three or four moves ahead. The rhythm he sets up, the combination of maneuvers he does in relation to the wave is his performance. Everybody knows that surfers love to have an audience.

Do you think there’s a future economically for surfers as performing artists?

Surfing is going in the wrong direction for corporate America and vice versa. The future of professional surfing is dim, at least the near future. Phil Edwards said in his recent interview that surfing has no finish line. It doesn’t fit into the standard sports mold. To be a major sport, a sport must fit into the culture in which it exists. Sports are the theater of the culture. For the Romans, sport was a brutal, bloody, vicious physical conflict between gladiators. That was their culture; civilized but still brutal and bloody. The ancient Hawaiians had outrigger canoe and swimming races, an outgrowth of their culture. Today we have America’s version of gladiators, which is football. Pro football is militaristic, calculated brutality. That’s our culture. Also, consider the economic aspects: there’s a lot of money in football, and it’s a livelihood for a large number of people. Same with golf, baseball, even skiing—all of these sports involve a lot of money. Meanwhile, what do you need for surfing? You need things that, at the present time, our culture totally disregards. You need a clean ocean, clean air, unobstructed coastline, a healthy body, and a surfboard. A surfboard, as far as an expenditure for a piece of sporting equipment, is minor. Surfboards are also hand built, and in a mass-production-oriented society like ours, that’s unacceptable. Surfing doesn’t have any of the qualifications that would make it economically exploitable. Since sports are theater and since our culture is totally economic, surfing doesn’t make it. There’s no money in surfing. You can’t get television coverage because sponsors know it’s not economically exploitable.

What if surfing was brought to the public on the level of, say, ballet, and the public was educated in the different maneuvers so that they understood what was being done? Do you think that would be a way for professional surfers who are on the level of, say, ballet dancers, to be able to support themselves through their art?

That’s a possibility, but on a very small scale. Ballet is not a bad example at all. People think of ballet dancers as a bunch of faggots, but that’s not even close. Ballet dancers work their asses off. They’re devoted to their art. Rudolph Nureyev, for example, is a genius. People who are deeply into surfing aren’t sportsmen; surfing is their way of life; they live it. They are devoted to their art, but they can’t make a living through it. As a parallel, Jean-Claude Killy doesn’t ski any better than Nat Young surfs, but Killy was hot; he signed a contract with General Motors for $300,000. What does Nat make? How much does Nuuhiwa make? The immediate future is dim. Maybe ten or twenty years from now, top surfers will be able to make the money that top golfers do today, but as long as the public awareness of surfing is 

, surfers won’t be making a living through their art.

What do you see as the future of surfboard design and construction?

Design is anybody’s guess. I’d say that surfboards have pretty much stabilized to the right length: little boards for little waves, and longer boards for big waves. As far as construction, there’s little doubt in my mind that hollow, molded surfboards are the future of surfing. A lot of guys tried them a year or so ago and said they were shitty. But you have to take time to get used to a hollow board. They ride differently from foam boards. They’re more sensitive, more responsive; you can feel the wave with them. There are technical problems with them, of course, but nothing that can’t be experimented with and ironed out.

What do you see as the role of contests in surfing?

Western culture has a fetish for statistics and goals. Contests, as they have existed in the past, are an attempt to regulate something which is the antithesis of that fetish. Commercially, contests are good, but to participate in them is a joke. I think contests have less appeal now than they did a few years ago because people are seeing through them. They’re on the decline. I don’t like them, but if there’s money, I’ll surf in them.

The surfing subculture is in limbo right now. Too many people are involved for it to be the old purists’ escape route, but at the same time, there’s not a broad enough base of support to boost it up into the big time. Aesthetically, surfing is by far the most rewarding experience I’ve ever had. Financially, it’s not worth much for the reasons we already discussed. Society has no use for the values that are important to those of us who ride waves. I surf my heart out, but it’s not worth anything to anybody but me.

[Photos: Doug Fiske, Jeff Divine, Rod Sumpter, Ray Jones]

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