Big Ron Frederico

Modern surfing’s history has seen various incarnations of the surfing ethos played out over successive generations, each with its own zeitgeist and unique characters. While the great Pacific has remained constant, those who choose to play on her shores have changed in attitude, number and style, each shift in the cultural landscape prompting new responses from the players: in this way every surfer is both product and creator of the environment in which he or she surfs. The touchstone figures are those who epitomise either a particular time or a particular ideal. The latter, often regarded as oddballs, eccentrics or mavericks, may be famous or unknown, their influence may be subtle or obvious: they shape our culture just the same. Ron Frederico is one such maverick, known as a North Shore charger, a man not to be messed with in the line-up and an almost mythical kneeboarding hell-man. The truth behind the myth is that Ron is a guy just like any of us, but with one important difference: he’s a man of conscience who doesn’t like injustice and is prepared to act when he comes across it in the water.

Ron is a Taurus. Born in Glendale California in 1952, he grew up in the San Fernando Valley. His love for surfing dates back to the summer of 1962 when he would tag along on his 10 year older brother’s regular trips to Zuma Beach to bodysurf the shorebreak. These were the boom years in the wake of Gidget, when the Beach Boys and Jan and Dean were helping spread the surfing craze across the USA. On trips further South along the coast to Malibu Ron would cruise the beach borrowing boards from surfers sitting on the sand. “Most of the guys were there for show so it was easy to borrow a board.” When his dad finally bought him a board he was too small to carry it. “It was a red Hobie. I don’t remember the size, but I do remember that I had to drag it to the water.”

Fast forward to 1970 and Ron’s a Huntington/Newport Beach regular riding a blue single-finned pintail Wave –Trek. On finishing high school he moved in with his brother Joe, who had just returned from Vietnam. Joe was into kneeboarding and Bob Dylan. “Joe had the “surf fever” bad. We still lived in the Valley so we were up 2-3 hours before light and would head down to Huntington Beach and arrive while still dark.” At Huntington the brothers hung with a rough and ready crew who were just into surfing. Joe was friends with Mike Smith, then the manager of Huntington’s House of Paipo and a high school water-polo champion. Joe Higgs, and Gary Razecka were also water-polo champs, Gary a paipo bellyboarder too big to fit any wetsuit then available. The problem this presented in California’s cool waters was easily overcome: his gear consisted of a water-polo cap, jet fins and a half-pint of Southern Comfort tucked inside his Speedoes. Gary was the crew’s regulator in the crowded line-up, using water-polo techniques to maintain the status quo when necessary. The 56^th St. (Newport Beach) groin was their spot and they always had at least one of the crew in the water an hour before daylight, reserving the break for the rest of them.

Ron was the only stand-up surfer allowed, or was, until one summer morning when the peak north of the 56^th St groin was firing at 3-6 feet. Ron paddled into a set wave, was pitched into the rocks and came up to find his board in pieces. Undaunted, he borrowed his brother’s kneeboard and a pair UDTs. Templated from a Greenough spoon and shaped by Joe Higgs, this board was glassed clear and had a slightly scooped deck, twin fins and a diamond tail. The first session on it opened Ron’s eyes to the possibilities offered by a lowered centre of gravity. “Full powerhouse surfing, late take offs, hard bottom turns, destroying the lip, riding high ‘n’ tight in the barrel, finding comfort in parts of the wave where most stand-ups seldom ventured.” Ron recognised straight away that this style of surfing suited his character perfectly but he found it came with a price. “For the first time I noticed something I’d never felt before, which was the hate some stand-up surfers had toward kneeboarders. My response was: ‘fuck you and bring it on’.” From then on, while Ron was around at 56^th St, any stand-up surfer giving kneeboarders bad attitude was treated to exactly the same … returned in spades: “I would become their personal nightmare within the realm of sports competition, no anger involved.” Fast forward to the winter of 1971. Just back from a Colorado ski trip and in need of a surf session, Ron paddled out at Huntington Pier on a crowded Sunday afternoon. We’ll let Ron tell the rest himself.

“Even though it was insanely crowded, I was thinking to catch a wave or two. The surf was 1-2 feet and inconsistent but eventually a wave came and I took off with about 15 others, rode a ways and got out. From a distance I could hear someone yelling, ‘fucken kneeboarder, you fucken kneeboarder!’ on and on. Well of course I started looking around and realized I was the only kneeboarder in the water, then I took a look at who was yelling. This guy was huge and coming right for me: scared the hell out of me. When he was within reach I grabbed the nose of his board and gave a sideways push to knock him into the water. He starts yelling that he’s going to beat the shit out of me. I pointed to the beach and said, ‘lets go’. He started power paddling to shore and I was thinking, ‘good, get nice ‘n’ tired’. I took my time and as I was getting close to shore started taking off my fins and beavertail top while watching him bounce around in his boxing stance. By now I was holding my board, fins and top, coming onto dry sand with him coming at me like a bull. My first reaction was to drop everything at his feet and give a right jab to the tip of his nose while backing off away from his reach. That became my M.O. until I unwisely decided to make a move to punch his fat belly. During this time the beach was lined up north ‘n’ south to the pier, which itself was packed full with people leaning over cheering on. I made a move for his stomach, he backed off, I missed and he was on my back with a powerful bear hug. By now he’s really pissed and I’m thinking, ‘Now he’s going to kill me’.

“So with this big ape on my back, out of pure fear and knee-jerk reaction I twisted my body in order to push off his chest with my right hand hoping to break his grip and in doing so I swung to my left with my fist extended in a back swing. My fist connected perfectly with the left side of his jaw, almost knocking him out. He started walking away and in a moment of insanity I said, ‘Hey where you going, we’re not finished.’ He shook his head and came back at me like a freight train. We stood toe to toe and I was lucky enough to connect another good one to the other side of his jaw. This time I kept my mouth shut and he kept walking. I was never angry, but it all came down to a stand-up surfer making a kneeboarder get out of the water, so I started gearing up to get back in the water. Everyone on the beach and on the pier went wild in my support. What a moment for all kneeboarders at a place most kneeboarders wouldn’t venture because of this bully, Chuck Dent. As I was paddling back out surfers were coming to shake my hand in thanks for someone finally beating up Chuck Dent, and that’s when I found out who he was. Back in the line up his crew greeted me with threatening comments, so I told the biggest of them I had some left over if he’d like some. There were no takers so I caught one more wave and went in.”

“I returned to the pier a week later only because I was tricked by Gary Razecka. I should have known something was up when he came by my place wanting to drive down for a surf check, Of course he parked at the far end of the street leading to the pier. Now you have to understand the street is wall-to-wall surf shops and everyone hangs outside. As we’re passing each and every shop Gary stops and introduces me as ‘The Kneeboarder That Kicked Chuck Dent’s Ass’. From that point on I was given free wax and hard earned respect for all kneeboarders. Anyway, after running the gauntlet of surf shops we were standing at the corner waiting for the lights to turn green to the pier. Who does Gary see on the opposite side of the street, also waiting for the lights? Yes, Chuck Dent. Gary being Gary, he yells ‘Hey Chuck’. Chuck looks across the street to see Gary with his arm extended over my head with his finger pointing down at me and yelling for all the world to hear, ‘HERE HE IS!’ Chuck shook his head and waved his arm to the ground.”

Ron’s reputation as someone not to be messed with in the line-up began at Huntington and stayed with him through many years and many different waves. His take on it is interesting. “As far as a fearsome reputation as a heavy in the 70’s n 80’s,well that’s news to me. I never thought of myself in that way. Assertive yes, but I never thought of myself as or acted as if I were hot shit. Always humble, polite, with manners and I gracefully gave respect to all, that is unless the opposite was displayed to me, my friends, or to a kid or person who was out-weighed: I can’t stand that bullshit. I never made a move unless one was made on me but then I would become TOG (the other guy). The contrast was surprising, and I did not like to go there. In reality, no matter what anyone’s riding we are all surfers and must not forget that is our common denominator. We are all lovers of the ocean who seek favour.”
We hope to bring you more from Ron in future.

Rob Harwood

Images courtesy of Allan “Buddy” McCray