to read the full article

“Tell Me”
by
Anna Trent Moore
Greg Noll and Mike Stang ~ “My heart leaps up when I behold.”
all images ©2008 bud browne archival collection/anna trent moore
printed with permission / all rights reserved
i n t r o d u c t i o n
Born on July 14, 1912 in Boston, Massachusetts, Bud Browne
created the first surf films, and documented the surfing culture
from early Malibu, through birth of big wave surfing, and the
short board evolution. He produced his first film, “Hawaiian Surfing Movies” in 1953, and went on to produce 13 more. A teacher
until the age of forty, he gave up teaching to pursue his hobby of
film making, eventually becoming renowned as the father of the
surf film, and the creator of the genre. Browne promoted his films
in the early days by renting out local school auditoriums, creating
his own handbills to advertise, and then showed the films with live
narration. The grass roots, pioneering spirit in which he tackled
his craft has led and inspired an industry that has grown into the
mainstream psyche. His contribution to the art of surf filmmaking
is immeasurable, and he is revered in the industry as a Surfing
National Treasure.
F
*
rom time to time, Iʼd marvel that for a brief time, a huge
chunk of my familyʼs history was temporarily encapsulated
in San Luis Obispo. This is because thatʼs where I brought
Bud Browne to live the final years of his life.
Prior to relocating him from Costa Mesa, where he lived for
many years, he and I had a little ritual; Iʼd call him every evening
at 9:00 to check in and chat about the day. Invariably, our conversations lead to “talk story” about surfing and our people. It was
always I who initiated the conversation with, ”Tell me.”
I called them “our people” because when one keeps memories
of people who have influenced the trajectory of your life, they become attached to you in a way that can only best be described as
just that: “Your people.”
Buzzy Trent and friend at the Quonset hut, Makaha 1953. The first time my
father came to Hawaii he lived with Walter Hoffman in a tent on the beach.
The Quonset hut came later.
10
THEOCEANMAG.COM
Bud Brown 1912-2008
A soulful portrait I discovered among his personal photos. An image that
captures the side of Bud I loved the most...Gentle, patient, and kind.
I trusted him more than anyone.
And Bud was more that just my people. The truth is, I donʼt
remember a time in my life without Bud Browne. He knew my
father long before he met my mother, so in sense, heʼs known me
before I was even born. His memory goes back a long way in my
family—very long.
Early morning: Violet, Buzzy, and Don James. This is a ʻflim grabʼ Bud
printed for me because I was deeply moved by it. Very tender, you could see
how in love they were. When she died at the age of 57, my father left much of
that part of his life behind. He gave the best seasons of his life to her.
Bud never married nor had children. I have always considered
him a second father and there were many times over the years that
I have caused him the same frustrations and exasperation that only
a daughter can evoke in a father. He was a figurehead I would often go to for advice, which he would graciously give, and I would
most ungraciously reject. Still, I would consult him for just about
every major decision in my life, and when I failed to heed his advice, which was almost always, my way always turned out poorly.
After apologizing profusely, Bud would simply respond by saying, “Youʼre a Trent. Youʼre unpredictable.”
We had a minor disagreement between ourselves. He claimed
that I was born in 1958 and I say 1957. Iʼve sworn many times
up and down that I have the correct year, but he stands by his
knowledge of events (and he has many) that when he was in Hawaii in 1957, there was no Buzzy Trent baby. He figures he should
know; after all, heʼs lived five Hawaiian winters with my father
and then some. Instead, he insisted it was in 1958, when he went
to Australia and missed the huge Hawaiian swell, that I was born.
Iʼve learned to accept his calculations (as always) and have put off
trying to prove him wrong by checking a birth certificate, because
really, who wouldnʼt want to be a year younger? If Bud said itʼs so,
then Iʼm taking it for true. After all, he was there through it all.
When I asked him to remember the first time he met my father,
he told me that he believed it was at State Beach around 1950.
He heard someone speaking in rapid fire sentences about going to
Hawaii to find big surf; turning around he saw Buzzy Trent. Such
was the beginning of a friendship that was to last many years. He
was also to film many significant moments in my fatherʼs life, not
just surfing, but my mother, their children, friends—like I said; my
family history is encapsulated in Bud Browne.
Surf Check: From left, unknown surfer, Buzzy, and Fred Van Dyke, early
sixties. The friendships we formed during the best of our lives, ultimately stay
with us our entire life, whether our friends are with us or not.
I smile now when I recall how he enjoyed treating me like a
peer instead of his junior by fifty years. Heʼd often refer to certain
events as if I had been there at the time. For a while, I would
remind him that I couldnʼt possibly remember certain events because I hadnʼt been born yet. He would dismiss my reminders and
carry on anyway, so eventually, toward the end, I just went along
and nodded as if I remembered it all. Now, I am glad I did. As
usual, he knew well what he was doing. He was passing it on.
When he was well, he would take me down memory lane by
showing me his films through an ancient view finder that he used
since the beginning of his film career. We would be searching for
possible film grabs for a book I was toying with someday publishing. What was amazing and fascinating to me then, and even now,
was how Bud and I differed in what we found most relevant about
his work. What I found most intriguing about his work was the
poignant vignettes he filmed in between filming sets of waves;
fleeting moments captured on a whim. It was this part of his work
that moved my heart. He shot them for personal interests, never
intending to use them in his films. And because of it, I believe it
is this aspect of his work that is most revealing of Bud Browne as
an artist.
While his film work is extraordinary in terms of its daring and
many firsts, it is my opinion that the documentation of the people
who shared this unique time that is of equal, and perhaps, greater
value and interest. In the digitized, technologically perfect world
in which we now live, Bud encapsulated the journey of surfing
from the birth of big wave riding through the short board evolution, providing us with a rare and revealing glimpse into this now
Violet with Buzzyʼs favorite, invincible board. He called it “Excalibur” and it was shaped by Dick Brewer whom my father referred to as the Stradivarius
intangible time. The surf movies Bud Browne produced defined
of shapers. My father had huge respect for Dick Brewer and they were very close friends. I called this board the “Maile” board because when
surfing and its people of the time. Because he lived so long, and
the surf was small, he would push my brother Ivan and me into tiny waves at Maile, the surf break near my grandmotherʼs house.
filmed so much, his films and photographs were to become more
Dick recently shaped me one from the original Buzzy template. I love Dick Brewer. Seeing him makes me feel my fatherʼs presence.
precious than even he would ever realize.
He was the first, and it is on his shoulders that surf film making I even began to wonder if it was a gross exaggeration. So one day, ed it back to me since. In fact, when Iʼve told this story to others,
was built, so it is no exaggeration to say that he is indeed Surfingʼs I decided to call Ivy, asking her if she remembered the pool.
they just donʼt believe it.”
National Treasure.
The realtor said, “Well, believe it. It happened in 1935.”
“Of course I do!” she exclaimed. “It was the most beautiful
When asked to define the period of the fifties he said one place. Why did you ever doubt the story?”
I hung up the phone and smiled.
word—”tumultuous.” When I asked him to clarify himself he reThere are people who know of the pool, but it was called “The
What was unique about the pool was that it was situated at
sponded with, “lots of partying and lots of surfing.”
the bend in the point that lined up perfectly with the take off spot Man Made Pool” by my family and Bud. It was the name my faThis surprised
for big Makaha. ther had given it for his children. Returning once again to Hawaii
me as Bud, who was
Because of its to scatter Bud to the blue, I revisited the Man Made Pool. I noticed
twenty years senior to
proximity, it was a a plaque had been placed there; on the plaque an engraving read,
the men and women
excellent place for “Bealʼs Pond,” the name of the rich man who built the house.
of his circle, was exToward the end, Bud and I had many talks about his “favorite
children to swim
tremely conservative
on big Makaha beach.” He was often one to appear noncommittal in his opinions
and health conscience.
days. While our because he never wished to offend, and he was hesitant to swear
In fact, he was always
father waited for allegiance to one place over another. But mulling over the different
quick to lecture me on
huge sets that came spots from time to time, the one constant was that it was always
the evils of alcohol
wrapping around somewhere in Hawaii. His choices narrowed between Makaha and
and coffee, so when
from Kaena Point, Pipeline. Shortly toward the end, asking him for the hundredth
I admonished him for
we would swim time, “Whatʼs your favorite beach, Bud?”
being at said party
This time, without missing a beat, he said, “Pipeline.”
and play safely
events, he quickly
“Whatʼs your favorite spot to film?” I asked relentlessly.
within the pool;
responded with, “No,
even hearing his Again, without missing a beat, he said, ”Pipeline.”
no! Not me! I was just
I was persistent out of desperation to get this one right, so
voice carried in
filming it.” As usual,
by the wind from again I asked, “Whatʼs the prettiest wave Bud?”
a gentleman until the
After a pause he said, “Pipeline.”
the distant line
end, his reputation
So Pipeline is where Iʼve taken him, where for sure, he is
up. Because it was
remains impeccably
enclosed, the pool bodysurfing for always.
intact.
After
scatterallowed seawater
Toward the end,
to rush in without ing him with flowwe would tell each
sweeping us out to ers, I watched him
other again and again
sea. An ideal situ- drift, realizing then
1938. Timeless San Onofre. This image reminds me not only how much Bud has witnessed, but he
about a place that held photographed and filmed it with such grace, innocence, and purity. To me, Bud has always been timeless. ation.
that he was going
He never really grew older or changed, only the times did. He was the same to me in spite
great significance for
When my fa- to cover the entire
of time moving on...frozen in time, like this image.
the both of us. For
ther died I took North Shore stretch
me, because it was a
my husband to the that day. The place
childhood place locked forever in memory; for him, because it pool. It was dusk and the sun was setting. As the evening sun cast he gave the best of
was the vantage point from where he filmed Big Makaha and my its last bit of light across the water, the pool shimmered with blue- himself to.
father Buzzy. Thus, our history is forever intertwined at “The Man green, turquoise translucence. It was every bit as beautiful as I
“Tell me.” I will
Made Pool.”
remembered it to be. When we walked back to our car I noticed an miss saying these
We called it “The Man Made Pool,” referring to the house that empty lot for sale a few houses down from the pool. I made note of words to him evoverlooked the pool as “the rich manʼs house” because it was the the realtorʼs number and called the next day. After a few inquiries, ery single day. ”Tell
biggest, fanciest, house in all of Makaha. The large protruding the realtor asked for my email to send me information, but before me...” because he
deck of the house overlooking the pool was supported by long pil- I hung up, a very interesting conversation took place:
did, and Iʼm keeping
lars where you could sit beneath the deck, protected in the shade
“Wait,” the realtor began. “If you go back to the beach and them forever. §
from the hot tropic sun. As my father told me many times, the man walk up to the tip of the point youʼll see a large house with a deck.
who built this house wanted a natural swimming pool in from the Do you know the place Iʼm referring to?”
Anna Trent Moore
ocean to his house, so he dynamited a hole in the reef. The result
I said, “Yes, I do.”
is the daughter of
was a large enclosed pool in the reef that was filled with beautiful
“Well, if you walk up to the house and look down below, you legendary big wave
fish and a coral ledge from which we dove into the water.
surfer Buzzy Trent.
will see a large pool.”
It was beautiful and I recall many incredible days swimming
“Yes, I know it well,” Then, what he said next blew me away.
Bud has taken photos and films of me since I was a baby. This was his
there. When I tell people of my childhood place I can detect curi“Well, years ago a man dynamited a hole in the reef so he
favorite image he took of me, and mine too. He liked it so much he made
osity mixed with a hint of skepticism in their faces. After all, who could have a swimming pool in front of his house.”
postcards of it to send some of his correspondence. I remember the day he
would be allowed to do such a thing? When I retold the story to
I felt like I had been hit. He repeated my fatherʼs story to me
took it. My gaze into the camera says it simply. “This is someone I trust,
my husband, even he laughed it off and said, “Are you sure? You verbatim. “Are you still there?” the realtor asked after a pause.
this is someone I love.” I have felt that feeling toward him until the day
he died. I still do.
could be arrested for doing something like that!”
“Yes,” I replied. “Itʼs just that you just told me the exact story
I swore up and down that this story was true, but after a while, my father had told me many times before. No one has ever repeatMORE INCREDIBLE BUD BROWNE PHOTOS AND COMMENTARY CONTINUED ON NEXT TWO PAGES
THE OCEAN MAG ~ NOVEMBER / DECEMBER 2008
11
Makaha: From top to bottom, Bob Simmons, Flippy Hoffman, Buzzy Trent. When my father found Makaha, he never
went back. Although he surfed the North Shore more often because it broke more frequently in the winter, he lived in
Makaha because he lived for Big Makaha Point surf, which happened rarely.
Bud was always supportive of women surfers...Joyce Hoffman.
Interesting that although he never married, he had many women friends. I think his quiet, shy,
good listener demeanor attracted him as a friend to the female gender.
Buzzy, Walter Hoffman, and two Hawaiian friends. I love Walter. I wouldnʼt
be here today if it wasnʼt for Walter Hoffman. He tells me he introduced my
parents. Walter was the first Californian from their group to go to Makaha.
It was his call that inspired others to follow.
Greg Noll, Violet, Buzzy, and Flippy Hoffman in front of Val Valentineʼs house. My mother is wearing a Russian hat that Betty Brewer gave her.
She adored it so much she wrapped a pink velvet ribbon around it. She and Betty were alike in personalities and temperaments,
so it was apropos that Betty gave her such an unusual gift for the hot, Hawaiian tropics, and my mother loved wearing it.
Early days Makaha...
This was my favorite Bud surfing image. We spoke about it often. First and foremost, Bud was a body surfer. The purest form of surfing there is...Rincon.
After leaving Makaha...
Buzzy talking story with George Downing and Wally Froseith. Buzzy loved
Georgie and to the end of his days he called him his best friend.
I believe the feeling was mutual.
In many ways, Bud was equally as close, if not closer, to many of the
surferʼs wives. He loved to hear the women stories and chattering.
Always quiet in the background, he was the great observer.
They all adored him...my mother Violet.
all images ©2008 bud browne archival collection/anna trent moore
printed with permission / all rights reserved
Butch Van Artsdalen: He was much loved by my father and Bud. He passed much too early. Bud told me a story about the last time he filmed Butch at Pipeline.
I hope I have the opportunity to share it with his daughter someday.
12
THEOCEANMAG.COM
Walk of Fame, Huntington Beach, CA
Rory Russell...Pipeline...naturally.
Phil Edwards at Makaha...a well worn Bud photo thatʼs captures the time
and essence. My son Cody says itʼs like looking at a moving photograph.
You feel yourself there; you yearn for that moment...heʼs right.
THE OCEAN MAG ~ NOVEMBER / DECEMBER 2008
13