For
over 40 years the
History of Surfing, especially
the evolution of the surfboard from wood to foam, has been
misrepresented and often times distorted by some factions of the surfboard
business. Not until surf historian/author Mark
Fragale spent over a year and a half researching the subject
have the facts been presented. Dave Sweet
was pouring, shaping, and retailing his own polyurethane surfboards
years before anyone else in the business had figured out the foam
mystery and nobody to this day has figured out Dave's high density
custom shaped blank process. Mark Fragale's
story, titled Dave Sweet-First
in Foam, appeared in the In Trim
section of the Sept/Oct issue on Longboard
Magazine. It is this story that has propelled the legendary
surfboard builder to drop retirement for what he laughingly refers
to as "his new little hobby." It is with Mark
Fragale's aloha and blessings that Dave is using his story
as the official history of Dave Sweet Surfboards.
Below is the bulk of Mark's story along with a small note on Denny
Waller, Dave's shop manager.
Dave Sweet and Buzzy
Trent at Malibu
Fifty years ago, all surfboards
were crafted from wood. Dave Sweet remembers the time well. In large
part, he shares in the responsibility for drawing the wooden board
era to a close. Intuitively, he knew there was a better way to build
a surfboard.
Sweet had led his life as an impassioned surfer. His affinity for
the sport began in 1945, during halcyon summer days spent in sleepy
California beach towns. He hitched his first ride on a wave at Topanga
Beach with a borrowed Pacific Systems Homes surfboard. The wooden
surfboard weighed more than he did. Nevertheless, the ride was a memorable
one, upon a wave of unforeseen portent that carried Sweet on a lifelong
journey and enmeshed him in the world of surfing. The ride has yet
to end; the wave is still breaking.
David Milton Sweet was born
in Seattle, Washington on December 21, 1928. Along with his parents,
younger brother, Roger, and older brother, Dick, the family moved
to California when he was still a young boy in the sixth grade. The
move was somewhat abrupt. His father was running a successful insurance
brokerage in the Pacific Northwest when a mid-winter business trip
brought him to Southern California. Upon his arrival he looked around
and saw palm trees, the ocean and bright sunshine, and was just overwhelmed
by it all. As Sweet puts it, "My dad returned home from the excursion
and told the family, 'We're outta here!'" With almost reckless
abandon, they packed up and, in short order, relocated to sunny California.
The family purchased a home
in the Griffith Park area of Los Angeles. The residence provided a
solid home base from which Sweet attended school through graduation
from John Marshall High. During the school year he was a member of
the varsity gymnastics team. Summers were a different story though.
Early on, the family secured a summer cottage at the foot of Topanga
Canyon called Rodeo Grounds, several hundred yards from the blue and
wondrous Pacific Ocean. It was here that Sweet discovered the joys
of living at the beach and the sport of surfing. In the course he
assembled a band of lifelong friends.
Sweet learned how to surf on
a series of used surfboards. His first new board remains memorable
to this day, a 120-pound redwood, custom made by Simmons. He vividly
remembers his parents driving him in the family car out to the Pasadena
home of Bob Simmons to purchase the specially ordered board. A genuine
friendship with Simmons ensued. The two went on to make occasional
surf trips together, often to The Overhead in Ventura or sometimes
Rincon. Other times they cruised the coast in search of waves. Simmons'
ongoing companionship and the surfboards he built became a major and
lasting influence on Sweet.
Early days in the water found
Sweet surrounded by his new cadre of friends building their skills
in the surf. Ricky Grigg was there, as was Les Williams, Corny and
Peter Cole, Buzzy Trent, Bob McCoy, Gregg D'Nelly, Don Drazan, Howard
Terrill and close friend Freddy Harrison. Collectively and individually
the makeshift crew developed into a talented bunch of surfers. They
would soon abandon the Topanga shore for the surreal waves of Malibu.
Recalls Dave, "Joe Quigg, Matt Kivlin and Dave Rochlen were already
well established at Malibu. Slowly we gained acceptance and edged
our way into the lineup. It would become our favorite place to meet
and surf, regardless if there were waves."
It wasn't long before Sweet's
enthusiasm for surfing spilled into surfboard building on the beach
at Malibu. During such interludes of summer vacation beginning in
1949 he began making boards from balsa wood. Over the years he produced
maybe 50 such boards there. Quigg, Kivlin, Rochlen and others had
already been doing so before him. By the early '50s, these full plan
shapes, buoyant and lightweight balsa core surfboards built at Malibu
came to be known as "Malibu Chips." Says Sweet, "It
was an exciting time to be building surfboards. Infinitesimal changes
realized in board shapes became especially evident with lightweight
materials." The Malibu Chips that Sweet and his cohorts constructed
during the early 1950s had far reaching influences.
It was in this period that
Sweet found his life's calling as a surfboard builder. It was a decision
devoid of any fanfare or significant change in his daily routines.
The surfboard business had yet to establish itself as a legitimate
trade. In his resolve to make surfboards for a living, Sweet was among
the very earliest commercial surfboard builders. His presence in what
eventually became an industry allowed him to play a pivotal role in
recasting of how surfboards would be constructed for decades to come.
Nobody knew it then, perhaps
not even Sweet himself, but a transformation of significant scope
was about to unfold. A shift in both the materials used to comprise
surfboards and the mindsets of the participants was underway. Anew
order in the art of surfboard building and the very sport itself was
about to begin. This change, ushered in by Sweet, would reach all
the way into the next century-the surfboard with a heart of foam.
On what was one otherwise regular
day at the beach, Sweet was shown a block of foam by a friend. Sweet
was hit hard with this first impression of the material. Some say
he became obsessed with foam and began to focus on the successful
application of the new material to surfboards. Sweet became a pioneer
of sorts, the research and development point man in the transition
from wood to foam.
Initially, Sweet began to experiment
with Styrofoam although he wasn't the first to do so. Several before
him had done the same including Joe Quigg, Pete Peterson, Bob Simmons
and certainly others. What separated Sweet's work from his contemporaries
and those before him was his fortitude and commitment. Innately, he
foresaw the unlimited potential of this new material called foam,
and dedicated himself to the concept.
It was sometime around 1953
that Sweet first ordered an extruded piece of Styrofoam. He found
it in far away Midland, Michigan at Dow Chemical. Says Sweet, 'The
material was just incredibly dense and seemingly absent of beads.
It was more like a piece of lumber than a piece of foam." Laying
down a template, then cutting the outline with a saber saw caused
the foam to gum up and melt. Undeterred, Sweet hand-shaped the brick-like
slab into a period design shape, then sealed it with a red epoxy coating.
In clandestine surf sessions he rode the board that winter at Rincon,
and later Malibu, the whole time covertly testing the foam contrivance
under its disguise of color. Preliminary water tests confirmed conclusively
that the finished foam board had very real possibilities.
In 1954, Sweet discovered the
existence of a new and superior foam called polyurethane. Sweet refers
to urethane as 'the new miracle material." Unlike Styrofoam,
urethane was compatible with polyester resin. This new foam successfully
allowed a fiberglass lamination and seal. The problem was, formulating
the stuff was no easy deal. Not even his supplier at Nopco Chemical
knew how to use or mix it. Consequently, embarking on this new frontier
devoid of any tutelage only added to the mystery and confusion. Sweet
embraced the challenge. Alone and intrepid, he built his own mold
and stepped into the great unknown.
A tedious trial and error process
followed in an intense and expensive learning curve. Gaining the knowledge
of how to mix and pour the foam, clamp the mold securely shut within
seconds and strive to avoid air pockets was no easy feat. Liquid urethane
foam components were mixed together for about 8-10 seconds and then
poured into the mold. Moments later the mix expanded to approximately
20, maybe 30, times its volume. Almost instantly the concoction yielded
extreme heat and dangerous pressures.
Sweet quickly learned that
foam blown at lower pressures lacked stability in real world conditions
such as those encountered at the beach. Heat and ultraviolet exposure
caused poorly formulated foam within a fiberglass lamination to continue
its expansion, causing distortion, delamination and eventual structural
failure. The odyssey to properly formulate the liquid urethane continued
with no easily found solutions. Resolute in his determination to succeed,
his quest continued.
It was about this time that
Sweet moved out of his parents home. Six months earlier he had been
honorably discharged from the Navy. His time in the Navy was brief
at best. With a degree from USC in Business and Real Estate to his
credit, aptitude tests slated Sweet to be assigned for training as
an aviator. Says Sweet, "I made it exceedingly clear to those
in charge that there was no way they were going to get me to fly an
airplane. I didn't even want to be a passenger in one. I had joined
the navy to avoid being drafted into the Army. Now I was in real trouble.
Thankfully, someone there must have understood as I was quickly commissioned
to be a seaman apprentice, which in Naval terms made me a 'nothing'
until they could find something else for me to do. During this whole
crazy affair I contracted double pneumonia and got pretty sick. Pneumonia
was mighty serious stuff back then and the Navy elected to discharge
me. My bout with pneumonia left me with 4F status."
Sweet goes on to add, "After
my discharge from the service I returned home. After several months
passed my parents kicked me out. No, let me rephrase this, they politely
told me to leave. They figured it was time for me to go. I'm not sure
why they chose that particular moment to do so, but in their infinite
wisdom it was in my very best interest that they did. Maybe I was
just too comfortable there. After my stint with the Navy it was indeed
time. They gave me a warm and caring nudge out the door and I was
off on my own. Whatever the case, under any circumstances, I did not
want to live in an apartment."
"I was lucky enough to
stumble into a boarding house on the corner of Franklin and La Brea
in Hollywood. What a deal that place was. For $65 a month I got room
and board in this beautiful, one-hundred-year-old Victorian house.
With my living expenses covered I used whatever money I had left to
continue my work toward building a surfboard with a core made of foam."
Sweet continues, "My room
at the boarding house was set up in the basement. For my purposes
this was the best room in the house. The only shortfall was the waterfall.
Every time somebody flushed the toilet it would sound like I was going
to be washed away. My landlady, Ms. Smith, was a saint. She was a
great cook and prepared all the meals. I can still remember her prime
rib and mashed potatoes. She actually allowed me to move my mold in
and do foam pours with the confines of my subterranean living quarters.
Imagine that! Often I would come upstairs for dinner only long enough
to eat then quickly return downstairs to continue with my work foaming.
Three other guys were boarding in as well, all engineers at Hughes
Aircraft.
"At this point I had gained
considerable knowledge about the foam process and posed little danger
to others in the house, not to mention myself. I was determined to
make things work and money was the most essential ingredient to continue
moving forward. Initially I had been purchasing materials in small
amounts, so a few pours might set me back as much as 20 bucks-quite-
a bit of money in those days. Money was hard fought, which forced
me to confront a series of challenging decisions. I went to the extreme
and sold my new car. In actuality this turned out to be a very positive
move. I purchased an old Dodge station wagon that was clearly better
suited for my new situation. The added bonus: I was once again capitalized
to continue; I was ready to build surfboards."
"With my skills and techniques
somewhat honed, I was confident and ready to begin. In the series
of ongoing obstacles to overcome, I was now in need of a commercially
fabricated mold to make surfboard blanks. With the proceeds left over
from the sale of my new car and the reserves I had in my savings,
I began shopping for a mold. I found a company in Van Nuys called
Techniform that manufactured molds. I presented my idea to them of
a steel and fiberglass surfboard mold. They were quite receptive and
the project was soon underway. The high cost of the mold required
that Techniform be partners in my endeavor. Building the mold took
much longer than originally projected. As I grew more anxious, the
two principals at Techniform became more frustrated. In my persistence
to finish the mold, I was eventually allowed access to the job and
became quite involved in the outcome of the finished project."
"When the mold was completed
in1954 we conducted our first pour of urethane foam. For just shy
of three months we diligently but unsuccessfully attempted to produce
an acceptable foam blank. Our efforts were not without their exciting
moments. More than a couple of times we ran for our lives, away from
a creaking mold on the threshold of its capacity. Steel latch bolts
once flew through the air like bullets. It's funny to talk about the
episode now, but at the time it was a rather serious deal."
"My partners in the endeavor
had basically given up and said the project was impossible and would
never work. There was simply too much air trapped, preventing a satisfactory
foam blow. I remained steadfast in my belief that a way to make the
mold work did exist. I offered to buy out their half of the mold and
they agreed. I amassed the necessary six thousand dollars from what
was left of my savings and a variety of other sources. The mold was
now mine."
Undeterred and no longer hampered
by partners with only a lackluster attitude to successfully employ
the mold, Sweet took matters into his own hands. It was time to make
a still deeper commitment. He found a building at 10th and Olympic
in Santa Monica and set up shop. With what his partners viewed as
a defunct steel and fiberglass mold, Sweet kicked into high gear and
implemented a series of ideas to make his dream a reality. The main
problem had been clearly defined: All the finished surfboard blanks
coming out of the mold were plagued with trapped air. This left the
rise side of the blank fraught with air bubbles and holes. Upon close
examination of the mold he noticed that if he reversed the clamps
that held the unit shut he could produce a blank a half inch thicker.
In doing so, he was able to shave that same half inch off the finished
blank with a planer and eliminate the vast majority of the holes and
blemishes. Countless discarded blanks later, and with experience gained
by time and experimentation, Sweet successfully produced a workable
foam blank. In doing so, circa 1956, Sweet went on to produce the
first commercially offered polyurethane foam surfboard.
During this time the landlord
decided he wanted Sweet and his messy surfboard business out. The
fumes, dust and noise were becoming too much of a problem. Undaunted,
he picked up and moved to a new 30' x 150' space at 14th and Olympic
for $75 a month. Dave Sweet Surfboards would remain there for decades
to come.
Meanwhile, Hobie Alter and Gordon Clark were working on their own
version of the foam surfboard in Laguna Canyon. Unlike Sweet, they
were working on molding their boards in two pieces, then joining the
halves with a wide stringer to impart width. Says Hobie, "Yeah,
Sweet was working on foam surfboards for a considerable time before
us, although I must add that he had no idea what 'Grubby" and
I were doing, nor did we have any idea what he was up to."
Hobie continues, "We first
became aware of urethane foam from our Reichold salesman, Kent Doolitle.
He brought a small chunk of foam by one day. Grubby was my glasser
at the time. He tried a mix with a bellyboard mold but the foam did
not expand as we expected. This marked the beginning of a long trial
and error period for us. We built a half surfboard mold and did on
edge pours, as we were worried about the pressure of the expanding
foam. I had saved eight thousand dollars and put it all into the project."
"After six months we spent
all the money, I got an ulcer and pretty much got nowhere. The idea
of foam was great. I was still shaping most every balsa board myself.
Initially we were attempting to produce a blank that needed little
or no shaping, something we never achieved. The way we were formulating
the Reichold foam did not lend itself to shaping. Eventually we got
some new material from American Latex that saved us. It expanded better
and, best of all, it was dusty to the touch, which allowed shaping.
Sometime during 1958, Hobie Surfboards made the transition to foam.
Balsa surfboards remained available as a custom order but at a slightly
higher price."
It was during this time that
Sweet received a call from his brother, Roger. He needed work and
Dave needed help. Roger joined in with Dave and began to learn the
art of surfboard building and advance his skills. Roger bought into
half of the mold and, for a short burst of time, the two were partners.
Unfortunately, it quickly became evident that Dave wanted craftsmanship
and Roger wanted units. Consequently, the partnership became strained
from the onset. The newfound collaboration would weather a mere three
months.
Recalls Sweet: "Shortly
into Roger's tenure at Dave Sweet surfboards, movie star/actor Cliff
Robertson learned of our foam surfboards and became quite interested.
He played the roll of 'Kahuna" in the movie Gidget. Anyway, he
approached me and offered to help finance or become partners in Dave
Sweet Surfboards. I declined the offer, but Roger saw things differently,
Roger's growing disenchantment with our situation was clearly evident.
With the small salary he was drawing, Roger began considering a business
relationship with Robertson. I couldn't blame him. He was married
with two kids, a mortgage, and financial obligations that far exceeded
mine."
Soon thereafter, Robertson
and Roger Sweet decided to partner up. Robertson/Sweet (R/S) Surfboards
was created and included a business plan centered on high production
and low cost. The duo opted to abbreviate glassing and detailed construction
procedures in favor of high unit, low cost production. In doing so,
Robertson/Sweet became the first ever "popout" surfboard
builders. Roger Sweet was set up with a $600 per month salary and
would share in the profits. The short-lived company would never enjoy
or reap any profits before falling into receivership.
Dave Sweet was once again the
sole proprietor of his Dave Sweet Surfboard Company but with an added
liability-a mold that was now half his brother Roger's. During formation
of R/S Surfboards, arrangements were made to share the foaming mold
and it was moved to Glencoe Avenue in Venice. Dave would have exclusive
use of the mold on certain days and R/S on other days. With Robertson/Sweet's
impending insolvency, the mold that Dave so fervently dedicated himself
to and worked so hard to create was now in jeopardy--a company asset
that could be seized by creditors.
In the eleventh hour with R/S
on the verge of its demise, Dave's dad, who had financed Roger's half
of the mold, wrote a letter to the sheriff explaining that the mold
was his and belonged at 14th and Olympic. With no interference, the
mold was saved and moved back to Dave Sweet's shop. Days later, Robertson/Sweet
was padlocked shut, the contents auctioned off, and closed forever.
Manufacturing and pouring the
blanks accurately required Sweet's uninterrupted attention and focus.
A single break in concentration during the several second exercise
of pouring the activated liquid foam then clamping the mold shut would
likely yield a reject blank. Often the work became nerve racking if
only because of the discipline the process required. During periods
of back orders and heavy demand, Sweet tells of how he would come
home at the end of the day mentally exhausted. Maintaining an acute
focus for hours at a time occasionally took its toll, although there
was an upside of these seemingly endless stints of repetition and
observations working the mold: Knowledge.
It was during such a time that
he discovered how to eliminate the trapped air that had distressed
him from the very inception of his project. Through the introduction
of a special paper laid out in the mold, the forced air from the rise
of the foam was retained in the porosity of the paper, allowing a
nearly perfect, blown blank. The result was nothing short of exceptional.
Immediately he reversed the mold latches to their original position
and began producing blanks as he had originally engineered and planned.
Using the paper in the foaming
process made Sweet a master of the polyurethane foam formulation.
Further experimentation yielded yet another discovery. Sweet devised
a rather unique 60/40 formula mix of Freon blown and water blown foaming
components. The potion produced an excellent composition within the
finished blank allowing the option of a "hard shell" finish
or one that was easily cut and hand-shaped. Blanks were now coming
out of the mold looking like roughly finished surfboards. Soon he
would go on to develop a close tolerance blank.
Each new success in the foaming
room fed the next. With basic foaming procedures now established,
Sweet went on to ice the cake. Shortly after the paper revelation,
he devised a series of multiple inserts that became infinitely adjustable.
When properly positioned, these inserts made it possible for a finished
blank to come out of the mold to the specifications and dimensions
of a custom ordered board, eliminating the need for hand shaping--a
feature unique to the industry. The mold began laying golden eggs!
To compensate for the extra
weight inherent in the higher density foam formulations Sweet devised
a stringer system that was again unique to the industry. In a free
thinking departure from conventional norms, Sweet elected to rout
his stringers into both sides of the board. The deck and bottom stringers
structurally tagged together where they converged in the last eight
to 12 inches of each end of the board. Additional strength was found
in large part in the eight-pound density outer hard shell foam--more
than double that of other custom surfboards of the day. For those
who opted for a conventional stringer, through-hull stringers remained
available. Sweet believes that about 80 percent of his boards left
the shop with the inlaid converging stringers and the other 20 percent
employed conventional layouts. Supplementary benefits permitted setting
the rocker and locking in the desired curvature with the chosen stringer
system. The engineering of this concept was achieved with the counsel
of Sweet's friend, a helicopter pilot with an aerospace background.
Says Joe Casillas. Sweet's
most trusted employee, "Dave was highly protective of his foaming
process. He undoubtedly realized he was on to something special. Nobody
and I mean nobody, got into his foaming room except for Bonnie, Johnny,
myself and God! I remember an isolated incident when we were busy
up front and this guy walked through the factory and went to open
the door to Dave's foaming room. I heard a yell then saw a bucket
of liquid foam hit and shoot out the door. Dave had thrown it at him
to keep him out. Although it was out of color for Dave to behave this
way, he was that protective of what he had going."
In spite of the many superior
qualities of foam surfboards over their wooden counterparts, they
were not universally nor immediately accepted. Tagged with names like
Flexi-Flyers and Speedo Sponges, the older, more established guard's
resistance to change caused the transition time from wood to foam
to bog. Slowly but steadily the changeover to foam transpired and
they were in strong demand. By late 1958 the change was well underway;
Sweet was awash with orders.
During the early '60s Dave
Sweet Surfboards prospered, although it remained a small operation
by choice. The Olympic Boulevard location expanded into three adjoining
industrial spaces over the years. Annual production rarely exceeded
800 surfboards--a paltry sum when compared to the giants of the industry
in the South Bay where production totals were more akin to upwards
of 3,000 boards a year. Comments Sweet. "I figure that Dewey
[Weber] and the other big manufacturers had to build three or four
boards to my one to generate the same profit. By blowing our own foam,
preparing the blanks, rough shaping myself and later subcontracting
our glass work, we made good money at our production levels. Not to
be overlooked was our direct marketing strategy. Our customer base
was in the greater Santa Monica area, which was strong on its own
accord. Amplified by a well-advertised mail order business, all our
sales were at retail, allowing us to hold a good margin. Others in
the industry required a dealer network and wholesale level pricing.
Additionally, we offered kits on both the retail and wholesale levels
and blanks to other surfboard builders where labor was less of a factor.
Make no mistake, Dave Sweet Surfboards was quite profitable."
Sweet's advertising in period
surfing publications was methodical and constant. Beginning with the
very first issue of Surfer Magazine in 1960, the only deviation from
core promotion were scattered ads distancing himself from Robertson/Sweet
popouts that many in the surfing world erroneously believed he was
associated with.
The enduring theme of the ad campaigns was the Sweet Surfboards Surf
Team with a roster impossible to ignore: Jackie Baxter, Les Williams,
"Baby" Dave Rochlen, Harry Linden, Denny Waller, Jamie Budge,
Tom Morey, J. Riddle, Ray Kunze and Steve Litscher, among countless
others; but certainly the "white knight" of the campaign
was Buzz Sutphin. Sweet ran an ad in Surfer (Vol.6, No.6) celebrating
Sutphin as the "giant killer." Sutphin won the 1965 Malibu
event in what Bill Cleary called "The War at Malibu," a
feature article for Surfer Magazine that issue. Leroy Grannis, then
editor of International Surfing Magazine, entitled his account "Malibu,
The Greatest Contest Ever?" circulating at the same time. Seventeen-year-old
Sutphin captured first place honors on his trusty Dave Sweet surfboard
that he had secured only the day before. Sweet made very sure that
the surfing world would never forget the victory during the almost
armed conflict. The final heat of six found the contestants in a dogfight,
running one another over in the water, all in their attempts to gain
supremacy. Sutphin's strategy steered him clear of the conflict. Those
in demise read like the who's who of the longboard epoch: Fain, Dora,
Weber, Linden and Newman, among the casualties. In what may have been
among the most memorable and certainly most exciting of small-wave
conferences of the times, "The Great Shoot Out at Malibu"
elevated Sutphin's underdog victory as the glowing ember that refused
to burn out. Those aligned with the "family" of Dave Sweet
Surfboards savored the conquest for a very long time to come.
The Dave Sweet Surf Team successfully
set a strong company image. Equally impressive was Sweet's list of
Hollywood movie star clientele that regularly frequented his Santa
Monica shop. The stars often purchased surfboards for themselves or
family members, and included Doug McClure, James Arness, Dick Van
Dyke, Peter Lawford, Bruce Johnston of the Beach Boys, Robert Conrad,
Nelson Riddle, James Whitmore, Clark Gable and Kay Spreckles, Eddie
Albert, Jack Lemmon, even George Goble. The list seemingly had no
end. Often the Hollywood stars and starlets came by referral.
The work force at Dave Sweet
Surfboards comprised a small but special group of people. Among them
was Sweet's then wife, Bonnie. Bonnie covered the business end of
things including bookkeeping, checks, payroll, ordering, payables
and receivables, even the customer walk-ins when necessary. Dave concentrated
on foaming, surfboard production and promotional aspects. Joe Casillas
Jr. placed stringers, set rocker and often assisted Dave in foaming.
Johnny Santana and Kent Sherwood held various stations in manufacturing.
Early on, for considerations that included efficiency, the fire Marshall
and operating costs, Sweet Surfboards began to out source their fiberglassing
as some of other big shops were doing, to Jack Pollard.
Shortly after the birth of
their son in 1964, Bonnie Sweet left the retail end of the operation
and moved her accounting duties to the home front. Taking over, as
manager of the surf shop was Sweet Surf Team member, Denny Waller.
Waller helped with the expansion when Sweet moved his showroom to
the corner building of the 14th and Olympic location and created one
of the most esthetically appealing surf shops of all time. Waller
was also one of the few privy to the secrets of the foam room and
often helped Sweet with design concepts and board testing. As shop
manager, Waller was in charge of the increasing mail order business
that Sweet was starting to accrue. He would correspond, answer questions,
process orders and then pack and ship the new out-of-state bound surfboards.
Sweet also sent Waller to the East Coast for a summer of promoting
in 1966 to fuel the burgeoning new market starting along the shores
of the Atlantic. Denny Waller managed Sweet's shop until 1968, when
he walked away from surfing in protest of leashes and short boards.
Waller did not surf again for 14 years. He began his comeback in 1982
in the traditional way, single fin longboard sans leash with paraffin
on the deck, and continues with the old style to this day. It was
32 years before Denny Waller and his old friend, Dave Sweet, reunited
in 2000.
Dave Sweet Surfboards, with
its distinctive arrowhead logo, held an acknowledged position among
the most well respected brands in the surfboard business. From its
early beginnings during the '50s all the way into the early '70s,
the company prospered and played an active role in the sport.
The legacy left by Dave Sweet
Surfboards was the polyurethane foam surfboard, with origins rooted
almost a half a century ago.
