Johnny Rice at Steamers Lane and in his shaping room

Johnny Rice and his Surfboards

Johnny’s story begins in Santa Cruz, California where he was born and raised. His love for the ocean would begin after the 2nd World War when he began going to the beach with his friends. Wes Reed an older guy that enjoy being around the ocean himself said to Johnny and his friends, why don’t you guys body surf the wave. Telling them to put their hands up in front of them as the wave pushed them forward. Since they were catching the shore pound, having their hands in front of them helped cushion the impact.

A year would go by and one day Wes had some Churchill Fins, Johnny hadn’t seen them before. Wes says to them, come up to the Rivermouth and I will show how to get lefts with these fins. So he takes Johnny, Joe Lasalky and Mike Winterburn, three grade school kids up to the Rivermouth. He swims out and catches a wave, and then turns left. Oh that was great they thought. On the other side of the Point, they saw something that had not seen before, guys on boards.

They would ask Wes “what that” and he would reply “that’s surfboard riding”. Johnny says “that’s what I want to do”. So he says well down there at Cowells there a board locker that carries all the boards from the guys from the 30’s who went into the War and didn’t come back. If you can get any of those boards out of there you can ride them. After some discussion and planning between Johnny and Joe. They got a hacksaw and proceeded to cut the chain to the locker.

Like a Indiana Jones type of moment it open a whole new world to Johnny. They would soon learn that those boards were bulky and somewhat heavy, some being redwood and weighing more than 125 pounds, Others were balsa and were newer and lighter. They got this far and nothing was going to stop them in their pursuit of learning to surf.

The board that they took out was like a paddleboard with an air vent on the deck. It needed to be plugged so water couldn’t enter the hollow interior. Surfboards prior to the balsa surfboards were built like airplane wings. A sheath of plywood or wooden covering on top of a symmetrical rib frame made of balsa or redwood, in the shape of the latest outline. Its rails were usually square and at the back or front end of the board was an air vent to relieve any air pressure buildup that occurred on hot days.

Needing a plug for the air vent, Johnny walked around the beach in search of that certain something. He found a cork from a wine bottle and placed it in the hole of the board. The longer the cork was in the water the tighter the fit. So they took turns in riding the board. The water is cold in Santa Cruz and without a wetsuit your time in the water is very limited. It wasn’t long before they had to take the board back to the locker and come back another day.


Johnny and Joe Lasalky with two balsa boards that were made in the Southern California area and were brought up to Santa Cruz.

Johnny first board was a paddleboard, a modified Tom Blake type of paddleboard plank and was hollow inside and was made by Bill Grays. Bill tongue and groove everything on the board and his work reflected the fine carpentry that was done. Johnny bought that board from Fred Van Dyke and named it "The Octopus". Johnny second board was made of redwood and balsa, it didn’t have a fiberglass and resin cover, but 5 coats of marine varnish. Pictured below.


Johnny Rice age 12 and his redwood balsa surfboard at his home in Santa Cruz

Johnny third board was made of balsa and weight 35 lbs. and was built by George Camien. Johnny’s heritage is Native American and Caucasian, his mother side was Santee Dakota Sioux and Prairie Band Potawatomi and his father’s side English. His parents moved to Santa Cruz during the late 1930’s and his mother would remarry in the 40's to a Greek gentleman named Anchillis Antoniatus. Johnny and his sister were thought to be Greek kids at school, in actuality they were half Native American and half white.

His first board that he tried to shape was balsa. With the help of his step-father Johnny got a 9 ft. balsa blank and both him and his step-dad tried shaping it, neither knew how, so they put it to the side. The family would move to West Los Angeles during 1952 and this is where his love for surfing would grow and his board building knowledge developed.

The day of the move to Southern California, the car was loaded and Johnny’s balsa board was tied to the roof of the Frazier Kaisure automobile. While traveling down Coast Highway 101, somewhere near San Luis Obispo, Johnny board flew off. Looking back Johnny could see his board was near the shoulder of the road and the cars behind them swerved to avoid it.

His mom pulls over to the side and comes to a stop. Johnny gets out of his car and runs back to get his board. Excited and nervous he grabs his board out of the road and puts it to the side. Checking it over to sees if it was dinged up, he notices some damage to the balsa but nothing severe. Placing his board back onto the car, they made it down to Southern California without another incident.

It would be a few weeks before Johnny would have his board taken to Velzy’s shop in Malibu. The shop was behind a Hamburger stand. As destiny would have it, Johnny would meet his mentor and lifelong friend Dale Velzy. So young Johnny meets Velzy and tells him the story of how his board flew off the car and would like to have it shaped and glassed.

Velzy says “Come back in a week and I will have it ready for ya kid”. So Johnny comes back in a week and Velzy had made Johnny a beautiful 8’ 6” roundpin with a mahogany skeg. Johnny was thinking this is going to cost me a lot of money. Then Velzy says how do you like her? Johnny’s reply was beautiful, this is the most beautiful board I have ever seen. Dale say well you owe me sixteen bucks. With the look of I owe you more than that. Johnny says I owe you more than that. Velzy says nope sixteen bucks.

After that Johnny would be one of the regular kids around the shop. First at Malibu then to his other shop in Venice. Asking questions about this and that, Johnny started sweeping up and would learn to sand.


Johnny Rice and High School days.

After getting situated in his new location, Johnny would take the Blue Bus everyday down to the end of Highway 1 and go up to Malibu. Having made friends at Malibu, Johnny who was 13 years old at the time would go on surf trip with these older guys. On one of these surf trips they went up to Rincon. Where Johnny met Mickey Munoz, Mikki Dora, and Bobby Patterson.

They were doing things Johnny couldn’t believe and he thought they were spacemen. Bobby Patterson had a 8’ X 24” wide single fin surfboard with an outline like a pumpkin seed. It was shaped and built by Matt Kevlin. Bobby was ripping Rincon’s classic walls like nobody had done before.

Malibu was another spot that he ripped up. The board was magic and everywhere he surfed, everyone out in the water and on shore were amazed. But one day while going into a café to get a bite to eat his board got stolen. Meanwhile Johnny enrolled at Mira Costa High School in Manhatten Beach and was working at Velzy's cutting outlines and eventually the following year in February Velzy asked Johnny if he wanted to learn how to shape.

With an excite Yeah Johnny soon learned how to shape. Dale taught Johnny about every tool that he used to shape and how to take them apart and put them back together. Johnny would work for Dale for 5 years. During that time period Johnny and Rosemari would go to San Onofre in the summer and the local beaches during the winter in a 1930 Ford Model A panel truck that was given to him by Bobby Jenson. That was his first automoblile and Johnny never forgot Bobby and his generosity to a Sophmore surfer.

Velzy’s shop would become the epicenter in which surfboard building would spread around the world. Johnny would be a part of that wave of board builders along side with his classmates Bing Copeland, Greg Noll, Dewey Weber, Sonny Vardeman, Rich Stoner, Mike Bright and others. All those guys were at his shop, at school, or in the water, spots like 22nd Street, 1st Street Manhatten Beach, Marine Street, El Porto, and the Breakwater. While in High School, Mike Bright and Johnny went to Rincon one day. Johnny says they didn’t stop once while going to Rincon from Hermosa Beach. They hit all the signals green. If one of them got tired of driving the other would slide under as the other would slide over. The waves were small at Rincon that day. After coming in and drying off, Mike was watching Johnny paddling in. He notices 2 large dorsal fins a few feet apart serpentining behind Johnny.

I don't think he heard me or saw them said Mike, but they came within inches of his board. At that moment there must have been a few different scenarios running through Mike's mind. All of them not good. Just as Johnny stood up to wade the board across the rocks, the sharks disappeared. Johnny thought Mike was joking with him as he placed his board down on the shoreline rocks. It was a nice trip up and a safe trip back. Mike and Johnny were on a roll that day.

In 1957 Velzy decided to move to San Clemente and open a shop there. He told Johnny that he would be working at the Venice shop with Hap Jacobs instead of San Clemente. One day at the Venice shop George Downing comes in and starts talking to Johnny and says, if you ever come over to Hawaii you can have a job with me at Waikiki.


Johnny returned to Santa Cruz after High School and is shown with his balsa board that he made at Velzy's. Next to Johnny is a Mike Eaton shape, Pleasure Point, Santa Cruz 1957

It wasn’t long before Johnny would be in Hawaii. In 1958 he took the long flight over and got situated in town. Like ships in the night, Johnny didn’t see Rosemari or she him during the time when he arrived and when she was leaving. After getting acclimated to his surroundings Johnny would get a job working for George Downing at Waikiki doing surfboard repairs at the Outrigger Club with Gene Magnago. After that he got to know the guys there and became friends with many of the Beach Boys and would get a job a the Waikiki Surf Club renting boards. It took nine months before Johnny could get a Beach Boy Association Card. But some were indifferent to him, but eventually things worked out. Johnny would be accepted as a Beach Boy and spend his time at the beach.

Hanging out with the other Beach Boys, surfing when the surf was up, paddling when the surf was flat or small, and canoeing with a tourist if the moment called for it. There would be times talking story under the Hau Tree with an occasional rain shower passing by or just enjoying the day at the beach. In 1960 Johnny would enter a few surfboard paddling races and would come in among the top racers and won a 6 mile paddle race on his Velzy paddleboard.





Left to right Wallace Forseith, Johnny Rice, Joey Cabell, unidentified. Johnny Rice, Billy Bragg, Tom Zahn

Giving surf lessons and after awhile he would become a second Captain on the Hotel's catamaran. Johnny worked with Bobby Achoy and his dad John. Things were going good and the catamaran was going in and out through the surf everyday. But the unexpected happen and a local girl's family were seriously thinking that Johnny and her should get married. Johnny wasn't ready and not to cause friction, he decided to returned to Santa Cruz.

But after returning to Santa Cruz, Johnny met his wife to be and decided to get married after all. Johnny continued making surfboards to support his wife and family. The longboard market was slowing on the West Coast with the transition of many to the short boards. Surfboard shops were stuck with large inventories of surfboards and orders were down.


Johnny Rice late 60's Florida

Johnny decided to move to Melbourne Beach, Florida and work there. The East Coast was still busy and it was a change of scenery that Johnny welcomed. Working for Dick Catri surf shop and at Oceanside Surfboards, Johnny developed a following of customers who liked his boards. After a coupled of years of working in Florida Johnny was ready to make another move. Hearing stories of Brazil and its surf and its culture, Johnny was ready. So one day he packed up his belongings and with his family flew to Brazil.

They got off the plane from Miami Beach, and were at the Galliano Airport, in the town of Vera Copus. The hot Brazilian weather greeted Johnny Rice and his family with a sweaty welcome. There to meet them was an acquaintance whom had met Johnny in Florida and suggested that he shapes some boards in Brazil.

They were off, the dust clouds disappeared behind the car as they drove to Guaruja in the state of Sao Paulo to begin making surfboards in Brazil. It was the summer of 1970, and with $500 to his name, a new beginning was going to be tight.


L to R Rico de Soza and Homero Naldinho

The only board makers in Brazil were Rico de Soza, and Catorogo in Rio de Janeiro and Homero Naldinho in Sao Paulo. In Guaruja there was a small funky retail shop that didn’t make surfboards so with that in mind Johnny would establish his shop there. Johnny would influence the local guys with his surfboard knowledge and riding ability.


Johnny surfing Brazil

Johnny two children went to Brazilian’s schools and learned to talk Portuguese. The family stopped talking English after that. They all became accustomed to the Brazilian culture. After setting up shop in the back of his small house, Johnny would go down to Uruguay and Argentina and recruit some guys to come up to Brazil and work for him. Speaking Spanish to his new worker but speaking Portuguese to his customer and dealers. He also spoke Portuguese to his children and English to his wife. After awhile they spoke Portuguese only.

During that time period of 1970 to the latter part of the decade it was very shaky and scary, a dirty war was going on. You had to watch it and mind your own business. Johnny had his passport and paperwork confiscated by a local official. This left Johnny without any ID.

Johnny had to do something so he went up to Sao Paulo to see a Colonel and try to get some help. It was 7 a.m. and Johnny knocks on his door. The Colonel opens the front door and had on pink pajamas. Not smiling or making any funny gestures, Johnny began telling his story. He told the Colonel that he wanted to do good things. Make surfboards and teach surfing and all that kind of stuff.

But he just gets shit from the people and that he doesn’t even have his passport anymore. The Colonel asked where is your passport? Johnny says some delagoto in Sao Paulo has it and that he lives on so and so street. The Colonel says he will take care of it and invites Johnny into his house. He gets on the phone and tells Johnny to sit down and have some breakfast.

Johnny could hear the Colonel ordering someone to get a black and white (military vehicle) outside his house in a hurry. The Colonel changes his clothes and by that time a couple of cars were out in front waiting. So Johnny and the Colonel speed off with security guards right behind them to central Sao Paulo.

They go up to the guy the house who had Johnny passport and ask where is this guy passport, and the delagoto says he doesn’t have it. The security guards beat the shit out of him and ask where is his passport and immigration papers for his wife and children. I don’t know, I don’t know the delegato continued saying. The guards continued beating the crap out of him. Finally he tells them where Johnny’s passport and papers were.

They put the guy in jail and Johnny had his ID back. Johnny tells the Colonel that the local police also were harassing him. The Colonel tells Johnny if anyone is giving you any troubles, give him this card and tell them to call me. The Colonel gives Johnny the card and Johnny looks at it. The card had his name and his title and position in the government. After giving Johnny his card he tells Johnny to go see his lawyer to straighten out the paper work. So Johnny was in the black and white off to see his lawyer, the lawyer fixed it all up and Johnny was again a legal immigrant.

After seeing the Colonel’s lawyer Johnny is getting off the bus at Guaruja. A local police officer walks over to him and starts giving Johnny a bad time. The officer says you spit on the street, you spit on the street Gringo and you are dead.

Johnny says to the officer, excuse me sir, I just been to see Colonel so and so and hands him the card and tell him to call the Colonel if he is having any trouble with Johnny. The officer looked at the card and his attitude and demeanor changed. Excuse me Mr. Rice, go on with what you are doing. After that the local police stopped harassing Johnny.

His shop started small shop behind the house and through the 8 years it grew. He rented a larger shop down the street from his house that had 18 employees at it’s busiest time. With 2 shaping stall, Johnny used one and a shaper from Uruguay Roberto Damiani in the other. When Johnny Rice first greeted the young shaper, he was surprised that he spoke English to him.

After telling Johnny that his family lived in Southern California for a couple of years, things started many sense. Johnny sold a new Paasche airbrush to Roberto and made him the new airbrusher and sander at his factory. Roberto learned many valuable lessons from Johnny. One of them was: “You can’t do everything perfectly. You have to expect to carve out a fluke every so many boards and be able to admit it.”


The road to Guaruja after it rained

Roberto had worked for Homero Naldinho before working for Johnny and a brief view of Roberto's experience before he met Johnny.


Johnny walking down to his shop in Guaruja

Roberto first few trips to Brazil were a learning experience on where to go and who to know. He would start shaping for Homero Naldinho at his factory in Santos in 1973. While at Homero’s factory, Roberto would meet a young Californian shaper named Gary Linden who would return to California and start his own surfboard factory.

While working at Homero's, Roberto recalls a board that was being repaired at the factory. The following is from his story in Tales. It was Nineteen-seventy-something. Times were groovy, hairs were long, and song lyrics depicted mystical journeys, much like Led Zeppelin´s dreamy "Stairway to Heaven". Hippie culture pervaded the brazilian surf scene. In Santos, Sao Paulo´s port city, inside Homero´s surfboard factory there was this wooden stairway that led to the shaping room. Rather than a factory it was really an old, beat-up house in the middle of a parking lot, distant just a frisbee´s flight from the waves.

Outside, dusk was setting among the incredibly leaning buildings crowding the Canal 5 shoreline. I was standing close to the stairs, fiddling away some spare minutes after a day´s work, waiting for the rest of the gang to dash off and raid some food stand.

The stairway. It was always in the way. Up against the handrail of these creaky, steep and narrow steps someone had previously rested a surfboard. Down the steps comes Homero clip-clopping his terribly obnoxious slaps, the ugliest ever, covered with layers of resin drippings from years of glassing, morphed to rock-solid glass clogs long before.

Homero was a sight with or without his clogs. Wiry and pot-bellied, long, loose-jointed arms, bobbing head as he walked. He looked like right out of a Star Wars screen cast. Watching him describe a wave ride with his peculiar body language was a riot. Anyway, here he comes stumping down the stairs while this unsteady board is just waiting for a slight tip so it can slide to the floor.

This was no ordinary board but a brand new Gordon & Smith. A venerated piece of glass and foam, fresh from the Southern California Surfboard Mecca, and twice as costly as a local clone, not to mention the plane tickets. This was a time when you couldn´t find a board made in the States at a foreign surfshop, just like that.

It was there for a minor repair -already done- and the owner was due any minute, so hastily it banged rail first on the edge of a metal bucket, then clattered to a halt as Homero stumbled the last steps in a futile effort to catch it. The board looked up from the floor with a fresh half-moon smile in the rail, while the man started uttering a string of brazilian curses that seemed to rise from deep within a cavern.

The growls turned into loud shouting as the rest of the crew gathered round...and this, more than anything else, sealed the poor board´s fate. He had just finished shaping and still had his big Skil planer in one hand. Mean, heavy machine -no plastic parts in those days- , easily ten, twelve pounds of metal.

Homero had this Jekyl and Hyde thing about him that was awesome to witness. Even if a bit bossy at work sometimes, he was generally quiet mannered and fun to be with on the occasional surf sessions. But when some upsetting event triggered his behavior changes, he turned into a raging bull. His strength leaped tenfold, his face a tribal war mask, as he charged against anything inanimate with demolishing, unstoppable fury. Once he drove his fist through the triple layer glass window of his own surf shop -collecting severe cuts, of course- though usually it took more than that to unwind him.

But even in the midst of these one-man-battles his fury wasn´t really all that blind. It seemed kind of calculated. Better still: he liked an audience. So when he saw us gawking in disbelief, first at him, then at the board, he just felt inspired. In one swift motion he lifted the board with one hand, held it upright, rammed the half-meter-long planer into it, then let it go as he turned around and left the room still shouting while the thing collapsed once again on the dirty floor.

We were aghast, but we´d seen nothing yet. Instinctively we circled the victim letting out hushed comments while Homero´s imprecations seemed to fade backstage. One of us picked it up and set it on the stairway again, trying to size up the damage, as Homero´s volume went up again a few notches, sounding like he was getting closer.

Into the room he bursts, sensing the paramedic scene, and out of a fierce grimace he mumbles something about the "stupid" board standing up once more, making a line for the victim with arms extended and crisped fingers, Frankenstein style.

We tripped all over ourselves out of the way like fast, man! Many years later, our nightmares still bring us not only the sight but also the dreadful soundtrack. He grabbed the board with both hands, lifted it over his head, looked about for the most suitable landing, and then thumped it on the glassing stall with all his might.

Our eyeballs popped out of their sockets. The board was literally impaled on the solid metal "T" ! "Frankie" lost hold for a moment, but bracing himself better he yanked hard, tore it loose as the fiberglass layer shrieked a marrow-freezing "r-r-r-r-r-rip", then threw it down, gripped the fifty-pound stall by the rod and using it as a piston he proceeded to pound the board to paper thickness, subhuman.

Then he threw this other weapon down -cracking a few tiles in the process- and exited again. Silence. We were breathless. Then, right on cue as if rehearsed, the gate-bell rang.

Having heard that another Californian board builder was looking for help. Roberto left the hectic pace of the city and went to the green hills and clean waves of Guaruja Island.


The beach at Guaruja