Fifty years ago, a seismic shift was taking place on the North Shore of Oahu.
During the winters between 1974 and 1977, a cadre of bold, driven talent from Australia and South Africa – soon to be dubbed the Free Ride generation – stormed the lineups in Hawaii and marked the beginning of a new era, getting deeper in the tube and laying down more radical maneuvers than ever before. Shaun Tomson, Ian Cairns, Rabbit Bartholomew, Peter Townsend, Mark Richards, and more pushed the limits of progression in waves that were, at the time, the hollowed epicenter of the surfing universe – and in the process, set the stage for pro surfing as we know it.
Tomson – who was perhaps the front-runner of the Free Ride movement, with his otherworldly tube-riding skills and foam-ball wrangling – captured the spirit of the transformative era (and the Hawaiian vs. Australians drama that coincided) with his 2008 documentary film Bustin Down the Door, a lookback at those transformative winters, when surfing shifted from a countercultural pursuit into a global sport.
Now, Tomson and company are hitting the road to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the era with showings of Bustin’ Down the Door all across Southern California and the East Coast. Ahead of the SoCal leg, we caught up with Tomson to talk about the power of inspiration, the communal magic of a surf film in a dark theater, and what it really felt like to take off at Pipe in 1975 with nothing but a dream and a single fin.
So why did you want to reshow the film now, 50 years later? Was it about bringing people together again?
I wanted to show it because I think people need inspiration. They need a story about dreams and hope. And I really believe that surf films in theaters are one of the most powerful ways to bring the surfing tribe together.
On Instagram, you can see the greatest surfing you’ve ever seen in your life. Every day I pick up my phone and I see a tube I’ve never seen before. But there’s no community associated with that. We used to go to watch movies, and then those images were burned into our brains. I have thousands of people come up to me and say, ‘Shaun, I saw Bustin Down the Door or Free Ride and it changed my life.’ They had this impact. On IG, it’s gone, it’s transitory. But when you sit down in the theater and you’re side by side with someone, you’re absorbed. No one’s got their cell phones on. It’s like going surfing. The movie theater is so connective.
How do you reflect on 1974–75, when you were just kids trying to break into the Hawaiian surf scene?
I look back at it with so much fondness. It was a beautiful period when life was really simple. You wanted a great board and you wanted to be able to surf better than anyone else in the world in the best waves the world – in Hawaii. Hawaii was just the pinnacle of surfing and Hawaiian surfers were our heroes. It was an absolutely pivotal time in surfing. When I look back, I just think of that beautiful time when we were just putting everything on the line. We had this dream that one day we’d be able to make a living from being surfers. To make a living from something you really love is the most noble endeavor. We always thought of it in those terms. We had this romantic ideal associated with what we did. When I think of that time, the first thing that comes to my mind is not winning the world title, it’s just sitting on the beach with my mates at Off the Wall watching these perfect waves.
You and Rabbit were pioneers in tube-riding—especially on your backhand. Did you realize at the time how far you were pushing the limits?
We knew we were doing something new. Mark Richards, Rabbit, and I—we were all innovating. But we had humility. Even when Rabbit came out in the media with that sort o brash media attitude, that wasn’t reflected in our relationships with each other. We respected each other deeply. There was a real camaraderie. We were all part of this movement.
Was it your equipment that helped you get to those parts of the tube, getting that deep and that critical?
My equipment for the time was pretty sophisticated. I was riding a single to double concave before anyone else; I had concave under my front foot so I could get a lot of acceleration when I was inside the tube and get that speed. I had a 7-foot single fin with a very narrow 11-inch tail and I would ride it forward – my wide point was about 3 1/4 inches forward, so it was almost like it was a short board relative to the measurement from my front foot to the nose. It didn’t look like it was a long board because I was way forward. And I had a tight tail with a single fin, with a 6-inch base, 8 and 1/4 inch fin so I could ride right on the foam ball and the board would never spin out. At Pipeline, I had the “pink banana”, which had more rocker than had been ever made in the surfboard before, so that allowed me to take off deeper and come off the top radically, which hadn’t been done before. My boards were definitely part of part of my success, but also one has to be very committed and one has to have that creative spark. I was committed and I had the creative spark.
There was no instant feedback back then. What was that like?
Revolutions happened slowly then. We would only see what were were doing on the North Shore six months to a year later, when the surf magazines would come out so there was this delay. I mean that’s why the level of surfing has risen just so dramatically lately. People can see what the best guy in the water did 5 minutes ago. I mean, everyone today is a great tube rider. Back then, there weren’t that many great tube riders around.
Related: BUSTIN’ DOWN THE DOOR: The Original SURFER Article From 1977
What do you remember about your first season paddling out at Pipe?
There was an amazing intensity at Pipeline. It’s the most dangerous wave in the world – I think 18 people have died there. So paddling out for the first time, especially on that board, was quite an intimidating experience.
I actually took my board out there because I tried it out at Sunset first, and on my first wave I jumped to my feet, my board spun out, and a guy ran me over and slashed both of my shins. I had to go to the hospital and get patched up. So I rode it once and it was a disaster and took it out to Pipe to try. Then on my first wave, I dropped over the edge and it was a revolution. I could take off later, I could hit the turn harder, and I could come off the top more radically. If I hadn’t committed to [that board and that wave] I would never have experienced it.
Is it surreal to see what Hawaii looks like today compared to your era?
There are more people, more commercial elements—but the wave and the experience? That hasn’t changed one bit. It’s the same feeling. Guys now get from A to Z faster, and the boards are more refined, but we were going just as deep. It’s wonderful to be part of that mosaic that represents the building block of surfing.
Do you still go to Hawaii every winter?
No, no. When I went there when I was younger, I gave it everything I had. To go back when you’re older and slower and to give it everything you have, it’ll take it all. The last wave I’ve got at Pipeline was during the exhibition heat before the Pipe Masters final. I dropped in to a heavy double up at Backdoor and I pulled into the barrel, riding on the foam ball and I thought “I’m going to get blasted out of this thing, it’s gonna be like 1975”. It blasted me out and smashed me so hard; my board came over and hit me in the nose. And I knew in my mind that was the last wave I was going to get at Pipeline [laughs].
Let’s talk about pro surfing. You guys helped build it. What was the hardest part in making it a legitimate sport?
Surfers, especially in Australia, were just not taken seriously in any way shape or form. They weren’t considered legitimate sportsman; they were actually called surf -fees back then, which was a very derogatory term, similar to druggies. I mean, every year, CBS, ABC, NBC and Wide World of Sports would come to Hawaii to cover events but it was more of a spectacle than kind of a competitive event in how they covered it. But Fred Hemmings was a visionary without a doubt and saw that when you bring different nationalities together in Hawaii, the home of the biggest, baddest waves in the world – that would spark it all.
Related: A Look at Competitive Surfing in the Late 60s
With the WSL, the Olympics, and how pro surfing is today, is this what you envisioned when you and Rabbit were sitting on the beach and talking about becoming pro surfers?
Yeah, well we thought we’d be out there with the big bucks, but it never happened. Surfing always maintained that niche status, which is great. With 23 million surfers around the world today, there are enough surfers to support a nice little fan base for pro surfing. It’s interesting, you have big corporate sponsors who support and use surfing but they don’t really use competitive surfing. Competitive surfing is the vehicle that they align with, but they align with surfing as a lifestyle, not as a pro sport. Surfers have not transcended into that mainstream- maybe Kelly or Laird, but it’s still a niche.
Do you think it has the potential to go completely mainstream?
No. I do not think surfing has the potential to become a mainstream sport ever, but I think it’s in a wonderful spot because young guys and girls can have a have a great career. The WSL can thrive by bringing in these sponsors that want to connect to the lifestyle. I think it’s found it’s footing and now you have these wave pools that have been bouncing out all over the place, and you have surfing in the Olympics, which is incredible.
Do you think today’s pros have the same fire you and your peers did back then?
I don’t think the competitive mindset has changed. I think the pro surfers today are just as driven as we were. Their commitment, courage, aggression, mojo, purpose – you have to have all those qualities to succeed. I think the fitness aspect is something we didn’t get involved with. I never worked out in the gym ever. But I would surf more than anyone else on the planet. I could surf for 8 hours straight. But I think with the maneuvers today being so radical and dangerous, you better make sure that your core and your lower body are very strong because you’re landing hard. So that’s very different, but the mindset isn’t any different.
You worked closely with your shaper Spider Murphy. What was that relationship like back then?
I would go into the shaping bay with Spider months before going to Hawaii. We’d sketch out outlines and made changes from there. It took hours and hours and hours. Then we’d put the outline on the shaping bay floor and stand on it, talking the whole time. It became almost like a psychologist/patient relationship. It was a very intimate process. Then I would go to Hawaii and I would use the experienced Hawaiian shapers for my guidance – Tom Parrish, Bill Barnfield, because they had this understanding of powerful Hawaiian waves. Even today a lot of the pros will use Hawaiian shapes for their guns, whether it’s Pyzel or Tokoro.
Hawaii was the center of the surfing universe. It was the absolute pinnacle. If you wanted to be taken seriously as a surfer and you wanted to be great, you had to be great in Hawaii. You could win as many events in Australia, South Africa, Japan, and Brazil as you wanted, but you would never be considered a great surfer unless you were great in Hawaii.
If you could go back in time and tell your 19-year-old self something, what would you tell him?
As much as I surfed, and I surfed more than anyone else on the planet, I’d tell my 19 year old self to surf more. Life doesn’t last that long. And those experiences were so beautiful. But I wouldn’t have done anything else differently. Tube riding is a wonderful metaphor for life. When you’re driving in the barrel and you’re in that state of flow and you’re riding on instinct, that’s how I lived my life. I never really went “what if?” I think it’s really destructive behavior. Yes, you want to look back back perhaps to maybe understand and rationalize things but surfing is about that forward motion. Every time we paddle out as surfers, we look to the horizon – it’s a very hopeful philosophy. Surfers are very optimistic. We live in an uncertain world and surfing is uncertain. When we paddle out that we don’t know what we’re going to get, but we paddle out with hope for that next wave.
When people talk about that era or they talk about Busting Down the Door, what does it mean to you?
Well, it’s about inspiration. I think people are inspired by a group of young guys who built something from something they loved. It’s a story about revolution, about evolution, about being radical, but more than that, it’s about inspiration. All of these guys were inspirational individuals, they were all visionaries, they all had tremendous creativity, and they were all different – proudly different. Oh, and they loved surfing. Loved it, loved it, loved it.