Terry "Tubesteak" Tracy, 79 - The original "Kahuna of Malibu"

[BobF]

http://www.surfersjournal.com/journal_entry/terry-tubesteak-tracy-1935-2012

Terry "Tubesteak" Tracy (1935-2012)

By Steve Pezman

Terry �Tubesteak� Tracy, 79, August 22, 2012, passed away of general
health issues. The original �Kahuna of Malibu,� Tube, did surf but
only as an aspect of his general beach demeanor. His uniqueness
stemmed from his sense of humor and a ribald romanticism concerning
the surfer beach life that he helped to codify. Some time in the later
half of the 1950s, Tube inhabited a shack he built of bits of lumber
and cardboard against the fence near the �pit� at Malibu. From that
position of influence he ruled the domain from the South Bay to the
Point. Partiers, capers, the great surfers, and the unusual ones, all
became his serfs at one time or another. The overstuffed chair that
belonged at the dump but instead sat there on the beach in optimum
viewing position�that was Tube. He could be found middle-trimming
across the wall at Malibu while performing a wings-spread Royal
Hawaiian, causing kooks and stars alike to scatter from his path�that
was Tube.

"'For Chrissake,' mumbled Tubesteak, 'it's a midget, a girl
midget, a goddamn gidget!'

"The girl was not amused. 'I'm not a gidget,' she yelled. 'My
name is Kathryn -- and you can keep your filthy hands off me, you
creep.'

"Tubesteak laughed. 'Hey Gidget, see you around.'"

And so it was that the Steak tagged the Gidget with her famous
nickname that inspired her father to write a book about his daughter
and for Hollywood to make a summer movie from the book. The film was
released in 1959, and from that point on the strange little pastime,
obsession, fetish, of riding waves became a national fad, morphing
into a rebellious subculture that in turn fueled an industry which
milked the life out of that strange little pastime. Steak watched it
all come about with a bemused grin.

At various times he palled around with all the players, from Miki to
Mickey, Lance to Porkchop, Moondoggie to Cooper, Kemp to Hawk,
character actors and stagehands, serving as a surf hero himself at
times. You could never quite be certain if he was truly that
brilliant, or merely sounded so. As his beach legend grew, he
naturally assumed the role of sage, author, wag, and elder statesman
with great panache. In the times that followed the golden 60s, through
the guilt-ridden 70s, into the self-flagellating 80s and beyond, Tube
would team up with Lance to performed master of ceremonies duties when
requested. More lastingly, he penned remembrances of classic surf
antics, seminal road trips, infamous parties, that when published in
The Journal became anthems to true surfer style, not the sanitized,
mass-produced versions that represent themselves as being that,
mind-you. He was once asked to judge a youth league surf contest by
Ian Cairns, a well-intended gesture. As it happened, Tube�s ideas
about what was good surfing had little to do with the arena considered
to be hot shit and thus he was retired from service�his knowing,
bemused grin still in place.

At a crucial point during that run he married Phyllis, brave of heart,
who became know as Mrs. Steak, which she accepted gracefully, and the
Steaks spawned a family of fine children who all surfed well,
exhibiting family traits of humor and flair similar to dad�s.

As the September years came on, Steak would attend his beach,
enthroned on a high-back patio chair under an umbrella, from which he
accepted visitors who approached to pay their respects. For each, he
created a sense of episode that would remain as a treasured Steak
encounter.

In recent years we saw Tube less and less at the beach, but his
emails, joyfully received, reflected a consistently wry take on the
world around him. Late this morning, as Jeff Divine came in to tell me
that Tube had passed, a bit of energy left the room.


--

"Goodnight sweet prince. And flights of angels
sing thee to thy rest."

Requiescat in pace

Semper culti in memoria


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wax-up and drop-in of Surfing's Golden Years: <http://www.surfwriter.net>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[BobF]

On Thu, 23 Aug 2012 13:49:00 +1200, BobF <b...@surfwriter.net.not>
shouted from the highest rooftop:

http://files.legendarysurfers.com/surf/legends/ls25.shtml#opai&tubesteak

Tom "Opai" Wert & Terry "Tubesteak" Tracy

"Two of the most best known surfing places in the Cold War era," wrote
Crawford, "were the beaches at Malibu and San Onofre. Interviews with
representative members of these surfing enclaves provide a picture of
how Southern California surf culture came to be located within the
discourse about conformity, work and leisure that was taking place
during the 1950s. Tom Wert and Terry Tracy, better known locally by
their nomes de surf, 'Opai' and 'Tubesteak,' describe themselves as a
type of outlaw, or 'rebels without a cause' who built shacks on the
beach, avoided military conscription, and spent more time surfing than
pursuing career goals. In society's view they were 'surf bums.'"

"Opai," Crawford wrote, "recalled that in the 1930s, before the Cold
War, surfers were not considered counter cultural icons. Early surfers
were known as 'watermen,' or people who had a multi-dimensional
relationship with the ocean: swimming, diving, fishing, boating, and
beachcombing. 'Watermen' lived by the ocean and had an intimate
knowledge of tides, currents, and weather patterns because their
livelihoods usually depended upon it. Before the era of wetsuits and
the surfboard industry, Opai's generation surfed in cutoff Levi's and
handcrafted their own surfboards. It was during the post World War II
period that surfers came to symbolize a 'laid-back' style of life that
contrasted with the affluence, anxiety, and consumer contentment of
the early Cold War era. Opai states: 'Surfers evolved into a
countercultural, James Dean sort of thing, a sign that you were
different.' According to Opai, this identity lasted till the late
1950s, when, he felt, commercialization started to obscure surfing's
subversive meaning."

As for Terry "Tubesteak" Tracy, he later held other nicknames like
"Kahuna" and "Pit Commander." Interviewed in 1993 by Matt Warshaw for
his 1998 book Above The Roar: 50 Surfer Interviews, Tubesteak told how
he got his nickname: "One summer I was really broke," Tracy told
Warshaw, "so I got a job across the street, right next to the Malibu
Inn, at a place called Tube's Steak and Lobster House. And people
would say to me, 'Hey, you still at Tube's Steak?' Then it just went
to Tubesteak. But people have always been confused about what it
meant. A lot of people think that Tubesteak meant... ah, some kind of
cylindrical piece of meat."

"Tubesteak," Crawford wrote, "whose hero and mentor Opai represented
the 'older' generation of surfers at San Onofre, rode his first waves
there in 1950 when he was 15 years old. Tubesteak recalled "seeing
these old Sourdoughs out of the army on the beach surfing and playing
ukelele." The romance of San Onofre's scene captured Tubesteak's
imagination. Later, he went to Malibu, along with surfing partners
Mickey 'Da Cat' Dora, Mickey Munoz, and Kemp Aaberg and attempted to
recreate at Malibu the atmosphere they admired on the beach at San
Onofre."

Yet, this may not be entirely correct. When interviewed in 1993, at
the age of 59, Tubesteak sounded a bit contemptuous of the San Onofre
lifestyle and its surfers. He certainly held much pride over the
Malibu lifestyle over the traditional San Onofre. Warshaw asked him:

"Did the Malibu guys spend any time with, say, the San Onofre guys?"

"No," Tubesteak replied. "That Sano thing - it's archaic now and it
was archaic then. That group hasn't changed. Just sitting around with
their ukuleles and the Hawaiian music. Nah. Malibu was the place."

"Before Tubesteak became dedicated to a surfing life-style on the
beach at Malibu," Crawford wrote, "he attempted to follow the more
conventional path of working as an underwriter for Home Insurance Co.
Tubesteak (19 at the time), described how he and Mickey Dora clashed
with 'all these Spring Street executives, the Wilshire Blvd., Pacific
Stock Exchange types.' After a couple of miserable days on the job,
both young men were fired from Home Insurance Co."

"It was after this adventure in social conformity," Crawford
continued, "that Tubesteak became a full time surfer. Broke and
unemployed, the night after he was fired from his job, Tubesteak
decided to sleep on the beach at Malibu. The next day he hiked up
Malibu creek with his surfboard, collected palm fronds, and floated
them down stream using the surfboard as a barge. With help from
friends, he built a beach shack, and fashioned a way of life at Malibu
that was radically different from the image of life centered in the
Gold Medallion home."

Tubesteak was asked about his living at First Point. How long?

"For thee or four months a year, in summer," Tracy answered.
"Actually, there were two shacks. The first one got burned down; the
cops tore the second one apart in 1957. In the winter I lived in Santa
Monica canyon, at a place called the Sip 'n Surf."

Tubesteak," Crawford wrote, "commenting generally about surfers'
attempts at social conformity, suggests that 'surfers tried to do what
people wanted them to do, but they didn't fit in.' 'We didn't care
about money; it didn't cost money to live on [the] beach.' Tubesteak
and others spent summers living on the beach, but during the winter
months when the weather was too cold, they got jobs like the 'jerks
with expensive suits.'"

"Tubesteak recalled that during the 1940s and 1950s," wrote Crawford,
"surfers did everything possible to stay out of the draft. However,
their resistance was not for ideological reasons, 'they just wanted to
go surfing.' In the summer of 1956, Tubesteak recalled 'the Feds were
after me,' so he had to fly to Arizona for a military physical exam.
Because of the calcium deposits which formed on his feet and kneecaps
from prolonged kneeling on a surfboard, Tubesteak was unable to wear
shoes. He was declared ineligible for the draft, and went back to the
beach in Malibu. Tubesteak's story sparked Opai's recollection that 'a
lot of surfers actively cultivated surf bumps' and many successfully
evaded the draft 'with all kinds of subterfuges.' However, Opai
remembers there was no political coherence to their resistance to the
draft, the surfers just wanted to stay on the beach."


Malibu Surf Culture

By decade's end and the beginning of the 1960s, the surf culture that
developed at Malibu would become popularized in Gidget, the 1957 book
and, then, the 1959 movie. Yet, by the time Frederick Kohner started
writing about some of it, the lifestyle at Malibu was already well
established. In the minds of many who were there, the real glory days
for Malibu was during the mid-1950s, before its popularization at the
end of the decade.

"A new breed of American beach boys developed," is the way Nat Young
put it, "a sort of later equivalent of the Hawaiian beach boys who had
become professional surfers in the years before World War II. The new
breed spent their time lifeguarding, surfing and just having fun;
music, parties, waves, boards, girlfriends. They began wearing
brightly colored baggie trunks and, in winter, wetsuits developed from
Navy frogmen's outfits. There was little smog in those days, huge kelp
beds just off the Californian coast kept the waves glassy much of the
time, and surfers found they could surf all year round. It wasn't long
before surfing had developed from sport to culture to -- cult."

The epicenter of American surf culture had clearly shifted from San
Onofre to Malibu.


Tubesteak Tutors Kemp Aaberg, May 21, 1956

"A goofy foot struggles to learn to surf at Malibu by attempting to
ride the entire wave from outside to inside in an awkward, backslide
stink bug squat," wrote surf historian Craig Stecyk of a notable day
in Malibu history. "Watching this painful exercise is more than
Tubesteak can tolerate, so he invites the earnest lad into his own
private barb wire fenced beach domain and offers a few words of
advice, 'Look kid, when you ride a wave that's a perfect right slide,
I think your life would be a lot easier if you turned and faced the
wave.' Enough said, the youngster immediately made the switch.
Following this reorientation, Kemp Aaberg becomes one of the
consummate point stylists and is forever after welcomed to join the
other elite inside the fence."


Gidget, the Girl Midget, June 27, 1956

June 27, 1956 was a day destined to change Malibu history forever.
This day, a girl who wanted to surf made her way into the Malibu
domain where she was acknowledged almost immediately.

"Probably it was the Gidget movies, books and magazines," suggested
Young, "that did as much as anything to bring surfing to the masses.
Malibu had become a prestige area, and many sons and daughters of the
wealthy people who lived along the coast became involved in surfing...
and the 'surfers' who went with it. At the time these included Dewey
Weber, Mickey Munoz, Kemp Aaberg, Bob Cooper, Mike Doyle, Jim Fisher,
Micky Dora, Johnny Fain, Tom Morey, Robert Patterson and 'Tubesteak.'"

"I remember the first time Gidget came down the stairs at Malibu,"
wrote Mike Doyle. "She was only about five feet tall, weighed less
than a hundred pounds, and was carrying a borrowed surfboard that was
so big, one end of it was dragging in the sand. She really caught our
eye because there weren't a lot of girl surfers then. Tubesteak said,
'Gee, here comes a girl.'

"Somebody else said, 'God, she looks like a midget to me.'

"'Yeah, a girl midget - a gidget.'

"Somebody else started giving her a hard time, saying 'Whatta ya think
you're doing? Don't you know girls can't surf?'

"Gidget (whose real name was Kathy Kohner) stopped halfway down the
stairs, practically in tears. Tubesteak, who had a soft heart and
needed a girlfriend, went over and said, 'Hey, it's okay if you surf.
Come on down.'"

So, Tubesteak was the guy who first named Gidget. "According to
Tubesteak himself," wrote Young, "about the last week in June 1956 he,
Mickey Munoz and Micky Dora were standing on the incline above Malibu,
checking out the waves, when a young surfer in a baby-blue ski parka
pulled a new Velzy/Jacobs board from the rear of a Buick convertible
and headed off down the path.

"'Hey,' shouted Dora, hassling the new arrival. 'Go back to the
valley, you kook!' shouted Munoz. The stranger got such a shock he
stumbled and the board tumbled to the rocks below. Tubesteak told the
others to shut up and went to help and discovered the new arrival was
a girl. A very short girl!

"'For Chrissake,' mumbled Tubesteak, 'it's a midget, a girl midget, a
goddamn gidget!'

"The girl was not amused. 'I'm not a gidget,' she yelled. 'My name is

Kathryn -- and you can keep your filthy hands of me, you creep.'

"Tubesteak laughed. 'Hey Gidget, see you around.'"

"Gidget never did become a very good surfer," Doyle noted, "but she
learned to take our roasting in good humor, and eventually she was
accepted into the crowd because all of us could appreciate somebody
who tried as hard as she did. Like me and a few others in that Malibu
crowd, Gidget was the kind of person who didn't really fit in back in
her own neighborhood, but instead of feeling sorry for herself, she
bought an old Buick convertible and a surfboard, and found her way to
the beach. I really admired her for that.

"I thought Gidget was cute," continued Doyle. "She had dark hair, fair
skin, and nice legs. One day I told Gidget that the board she had was
way too big for her, that she would have an easier time learning to
surf if she used a smaller board. She asked me what kind of board she
needed, and I said, 'Why don't you let me find one for you.' After
looking around, I found a board that was just right for her. I got her
a deal on it, too: fifteen dollars. Gidget and I became friends after
that. I'd take her to the movies or just for a walk along the beach.
But there were other guys taking her out during the same time, so we
never had anything very serious going."

"That," wrote Young of Tubesteak's reception of Gidget into the Malibu
fold, "was a statement which was to mean more than Tubesteak thought.
Kathryn's father was a writer, and he wrote a book about his
daughter's summer adventure which became a bestseller. Columbia made
the first of its Gidget movies, glamorizing the West Coast surfing
life, and suddenly [after 1959] everyone seemed to be going surfing.
It was the 'in' thing to do. [But} By the summer of 1956 the surfing
craze was in [a more natural, eveolutionary stage of] high gear.
Surfers had built the two famous grass shacks at Malibu which appear
in the Gidget films, one in the pit and another out on the point. The
offshore santana winds blew regularly all that summer and there was a
consistent glassy swell. It was a time when Dora could be seen flying
across the face of a five-foot wall, executing a perfect 'el
spontaneo' while the crowd on the beach went wild. Munoz might be next
up with an immaculate Quasimodo, followed by Cooper with an 'el
telephono' from point to the pit. And then came the first annual
luau."


Malibu's 1st Annual Luau, Summer's End 1956

"It was the end of summer," wrote Nat Young, "first Monday in
September, and everyone who surfed in California seemed to have heard
about the party. All the regulars came, plus Mike Diffenderfer, L.J.
Richards, Ole, Jack Haley, Hap Jacobs, Allan Gomes, Chick Edmondson,
Hobie, Hynson, Rusty Miller (later to settle down at Byron Bay on
Australia's east coast), Tim Dorsey and Robert August. The air was
filled with good vibes and loud music. A bonfire was lit, and out of
one of the Malibu grass shacks came the legendary 'surfer girls': the
gorgeous Linda Benson, luscious Juicy Lucy, ravishing Ramona from
Pomona, and then Sally from the Valley, Marion the Librarian and
finally, to the most applause, Shirley from Temple city, Gidget and
Mandos Mary. Tubesteak put a torch to the grass shacks. The first
annual luau was drawing to a close and so was an era in American
surfing."





--

"It's not that I'm afraid to die. I just don't want to be there when it happens." - Woody Allen

[BobF]

On Thu, 23 Aug 2012 13:49:00 +1200, BobF <b...@surfwriter.net.not>
shouted from the highest rooftop:

http://www.ocregister.com/news/tracy-369302-malibu-surf.html

Published: Aug. 22, 2012 Updated: 6:20 p.m.
Text: Text: Larger Text: Smaller Text: Reset Next Article �
Surf world loses icon 'Tubesteak' Tracy

San Clemente resident who died Wednesday at 77 was known as a hot
surfer and a colorful personality at Malibu in the 1950s. He inspired
the 1959 movie �Gidget,� which thrust surfing into the national
consciousness.

By FRED SWEGLES / THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

He will be forever known as "Tubesteak," the 1950s surfer who, while
living in a shack on the beach at Malibu, inspired a Hollywood movie
that propelled surfing into the national consciousness � "Gidget."

Terry "Tubesteak" Tracy, known to friends and family as the Kahuna of
Malibu, and later as a fixture on the beach at San Onofre, died
peacefully at his home Wednesday at 77, his family announced.

Born and raised in Los Angeles, Tracy "left his Aunt Marion's saving
and loan business on Spring Street � he couldn't picture living his
life in a suit � for a simpler way, surf sun, sand," the family wrote
in his obituary.

As he told the Register in 2002, he took to sleeping on the beach at
Malibu in the mid 1950s and built a wooden shack that included palm
fronds and thatched bamboo mat. He lived in it for two years, holding
court there as many of the best surfers of the day would surf at
Malibu. A girl appeared one day at the shack � which eventually was
bulldozed � and she wanted to surf. The girl reminded Tracy of a short
girl he'd once met at a party, named Gidget. He told this newcomer to
the shack that he'd loan her a surfboard in return for a peanut butter
sandwich she was carrying. He took to calling her Gidget.

She'd never surfed before, Tracy said, and her name was Kathy Kohner.
After her father, screenwriter Frederick Kohner, heard some of his
daughter's stories about whet she saw at the beach, he wrote a book
about it. The rest is history.

Actor Cliff Robertson portrayed Tracy's character, the great
"Kahoona," in the movie.

A San Clemente resident since 1988, Tracy told the Register that he
surfed until 1980 when a large bunion developed on his left foot. He
continued to hold court on the beach at San Onofre. In 2003 the city
of San Clemente honored him with other local surf icons during the
city's 75th anniversary celebration. Today, street banners along South
El Camino Real salute Tracy and other local surf notables.

"He was 'the Man' at Malibu," wrote Register columnist and surf icon
Corky Carroll in 2008. Carroll, as a kid, knew Tracy at Malibu. "He
had style," Carroll wrote, "and that was both in and out of the
water."

There were theories on the origin of the nickname "Tubesteak," Carroll
wrote. The columnist figured it was because Tracy's colorful
personality and his style on the waves made him "king of the
hotdoggers" at Malibu.

"Tube told all kinds of stories about his name," his wife Phyllis said
this week, "but in reality Miki Dora hung 'Tubesteak' on him when they
were young kids working at Velzy's shop at the Manhattan Beach Pier.
It stuck for a lifetime."

In 2008 Tubesteak and Phyllis celebrated 50 years of marriage. Tube is
survived by Phyllis and seven children � Pam Guinn (John), Patrick,
Michael, Jonathan (Mindy), Moe, Jennifer, Jocelyn Graham (Mark) and
eight grandchildren.

Services are pending.

--

"It's not that I'm afraid to die. I just don't want to be there when it happens." - Woody Allen