by Bart Key
Not long after Cory came on board, Sur started leaving work early and would be gone for the remainder of the day in order to deal with lessee issues. He also was becoming increasingly busier with his stock market investment activities. The three of us began wondering if the time was coming when we would become a team of three.
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When Cory joined us, I had some trepidation about being the only one who had never been in the army and served in Vietnam. In truth though, none of them ever talked much about their war experiences nor did any of them ever show any inclination toward looking down on me for not having been in the military. I guess they all figured I was just not the soldier type. I wouldn’t disagree with them.
I was very impressed when Cory asked us to teach him how to surf. Cory was fairly athletic and picked it up pretty fast. While he wasn’t as passionate about surfing as the three of us, he was determined to fit in. We learned that his passion was martial arts. We were most impressed when we found out he was a certified taekwondo black belt and, as if that wasn’t enough, he began taking instruction in Thai boxing soon after he moved in.
We learned also that Cory was an outdoorsman extraordinaire. He had grown up backpacking with his family and later backpacked by himself for days at a time in the wilderness of the High Sierras. Personally, that didn’t click with me as being something I would ever want to do. But if Cory could take up surfing in order to be with us in the waves, I guess I might have to gut up and give backpacking a try if the others wanted to go. At the moment, I was not looking forward to the experience.
Chapter 5
Fashion
Once Cory joined us, I bought four more run-down beach houses and had Eric keeping his eye out for more. The team seemed to be able to function pretty well now without my full-time participation which was good because increasingly I was busy with lessee issues and attending to my growing investment portfolio. I also realized that working out of my house just wasn’t cutting it anymore. I needed a real office. On day, quite unexpectedly, I received a call from Randy, an enlisted man I had worked with briefly at the Pentagon and kept in touch with. After having completed his service obligation, he and his new bride decided they wanted to move to southern California and he inquired whether I had might have any ideas about finding employment in the accounting field. I remembered that Randy had an accounting degree and that during the brief time I worked with him I had been quite impressed with his work ethic and analytical skills. I told him about my plans to soon open a small office in Ventura and that I would need someone to run it. The position would entail keeping the books of my rental company and dealing with lessee issues. The pay was not much to start but I expected the job to grow over time and the pay along with it. Was he interested in something like that?
He was and, after discussing it with his wife, he called back and accepted my offer. They would be driving from New York City and anticipated arriving in Ventura in about a week. After we hung up, I called Eric and asked him to find me a small office space for lease and to call Randy so he could assist him in finding the couple an apartment. Once Eric found an appropriate office space, I took time off to purchase the necessary office equipment and furnishings. When the couple arrived, I hosted a gathering at my place and introduced them to Jeremy, Ward and Cory.
During the gathering, the couple told us all about themselves. Randy’s parents were Japanese who had immigrated to Hawaii where Randy was born. When he was ten, the family moved to New York City. Mei’s parents were Taiwanese and had immigrated to New York City where Mei was born. The couple met in college and fell in love. After his graduation, Randy was drafted and, after basic training, was assigned to the Pentagon. Mei graduated a year later with a degree in fashion design and went to work for a fashion house in the New York City. For a year, the two were able to see each other only when Randy was on leave or she could come to D.C. for a long weekend. Right after his discharge, they got married. The couple was charming. Mei was short and petite with soft skin and a funny infectious laugh. Randy was taller by several inches and had an engaging, friendly personality.
Very early on Randy became adept at resolving lessee issues. He also put together a new accounting system for my rental company which made much better sense than mine. This was followed by his taking over the purchasing function which I was only too happy to shed.
Randy no more got settled into his job when I decided to expand it. Being convinced that investing in Ventura beach houses was an opportunity not to be missed, I asked Randy to work with Eric in finding beach houses on the market which would need no remodeling. When they found one that suited our purposes, Randy would negotiate the terms of its purchase and, after closing, he would lease it. As beach houses didn’t go on the market that often, we decided to become more proactive. Eric began identifying homes of the type we were looking for and Randy would contact its owners to determine if they had any interest in selling. His friendliness and persuasive talents occasionally paid off and, over the next several years, we were able to purchase several beach homes through this process.
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From the moment we arrived, Randy and I loved Ventura. We had decided I would not go to work right away as we wanted to start a family sometime soon. As we hardly knew anyone, we were delighted when Jeremy began dropping by our apartment occasionally just to say hello. If the gang planned to go surfing somewhere on a weekend day, Jeremy would often invite us to join them at the particular beach where they would be. Many times we accepted as going to the beach had been one of activities we had most looked forward to when deciding to move to southern California. Jeremy taught us how to body surf which we loved doing but neither of us had any inclination to learn board surfing. We did however enjoy watching the gang surf especially Jeremy who was quite good.
Whenever I was around Jeremy, I was fascinated with his look. He was always dressed about the same whether it was at the beach, work or wherever. Worn and faded boardshorts and a t-shirt or tank top. It didn’t hurt that he was very good looking with a cute grin and a great body. As a New York City girl, he looked to me like the ideal surfer dude. My fashion instincts told me that a niche market might exist for beach clothes like those worn by real surfers. One evening when he dropped by, I asked him why he dressed the way he did. He laughed at my question saying they just suited his lifestyle and were pretty much worry-free. Though he was hesitant at first, I was able to cajole him into helping me out with some ideas I had for a clothing line. So about once a week for a while he would come over and I would ask him to describe to me the perfect surfer clothes. We started with the boardshorts which he told me had to be long and baggy to protect the surfer’s legs from being in direct contact with the wax on his board. They also had to be durable in order to withstand the constant friction of rubbing against the board while waiting in the surf for waves. The shorts had to be fast drying and have a small vented and sealable pocket for stowing a key or two. If the color faded over time, that was a plus not a negative and the more worn the shorts looked, the better. Above all, the shorts must have a non-flexible waist band with a lace-up tie in front which could be tightened up before paddling out. These were essential in order to prevent the shorts from being pulled off during a wipeout. I hooted when he told me that more than once he had the unenviable experience of walking back to the beach buck naked. While it didn’t bother him that much, he noted that others on the beach were somewhat unsettled. And, of course, his buddies would just laugh and point at him to make sure everyone looked.
On another evening, he described to me his preferences for tank tops and t-shirts which had to be quick drying, loud and colorful. Again, material which faded was preferred. On cooler days, sometimes surfers wore long-sleeved woolen or flannel plaids to keep them warm while on the beach. As I knew that surfers around Ventura often wore wet gear when surfing, I asked him hesitatingly if they wore anything under their wet suits. He grinned and said no, at least he
didn’t. I blushed.
So I got busy and cobbled together a sample pair of boardshorts and designed several t-shirts and tank tops. Jeremy loved them all. The next step was to approach Sur who would be the money guy. I called him at his office and asked if I could have a few minutes of his time to tell him about my project. He told me to come right over saying that he already had wind of it from talking with Jeremy. After listening attentively to my presentation, he complimented me on it and said that it was worth pursuing. He would start things off by having his attorney form a company to undertake the project. He would be the company’s sole owner and I would be an employee with a small salary and an opportunity for bonuses based upon success.
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When Mei came to my office, it was a genuine pleasure listening to her pitch. She was as creative and intelligent as she was charming. Most importantly, she had done her homework. And who would have thought Jeremy would get involved in fashion design? On my way home that evening, I dropped in and had a beer with the gang. I kidded Jeremy on his new fashion career. He seemed a little embarrassed if that’s possible but was resolute in his belief that Mei was very talented and that he was glad to be of help in bringing her project to fruition. He had no desire to become involved in the business or to profit in any way. He just wanted to help Mei succeed.
So here I was at the cusp of starting my second company which I would ask Randy to manage also. He, Mei and I met several times to develop a business plan. Randy found three sportswear companies in the greater Los Angeles area that were interested in manufacturing Mei’s line. Randy and I selected the one we thought best for our particular needs and Mei began driving to L.A. to work with its staff on finalizing patterns and cloth types. The garments were to be made of top-quality materials which were quick drying and could take lots of abuse. The boardshorts would be of one design only and offered in four neutral colors. The T-shirts and tank tops on the other hand would come in a number of bright colors and patterns. Every garment would carry the “Jeremy” label and bear an embroidered logo she and Jeremy had designed. Before mass production started, Mei showed Jeremy the final products. He loved everything except one t-shirt which she immediately rejected from the line.
As the clothes were manufactured, they were shipped to a small warehouse Randy had leased. Mei was dancing on cloud nine. With her quirky smile and convincing nature, she persuaded several of the local surf shop owners into carrying the line. The garments sold out quickly and new orders began to come in. The boardshorts were especially popular and eventually would became standard wear for surfers in the area. Then, as Mei predicted, the clothes caught on with “would be” surfers or posers as Jeremy called them. Posers didn’t surf but the dressed like they did. Orders began pouring in from surf shops and seaside retail stores along the entire Pacific coast.
With both my companies prospering now, I should have been in hog heaven but that was not to be for a while as both my grandparents passed away within three months of each other. Grandma died first, not unexpectedly. At her funeral, it was obvious that Grandpa was crushed by her passing and didn’t seem to have much will to live without her. When I returned to Ventura, I called him every day to cheer him up but then one day I received the news that he had passed away quietly in his sleep. I was disconsolate. The three of us had been so close. I remembered the Christmas holidays when all three of us worked long hours together at the store. Then, after closing up on Christmas Eve, we would come home and sit in front of the fireplace while opening our presents. Both of them were there for my high school and college graduations. How proud they were. I missed them both so terribly much.
I had known for a while that I was their only heir. Not very long after Grandpa’s funeral, I sat down with his lawyer and learned the details. I was shocked to find out that, in addition to their house and mercantile business, they had left me stocks and bonds worth a considerable sum. This inheritance would put me in a position that I could begin investing in the oil business, something I had dreamed of doing for some time.
I started by calling Mason, my former roommate and fraternity brother, who now was a geological consultant in Oklahoma City. He was delighted to hear from me and agreed to look into opportunities for me to invest in the drilling of oil wells. Being a high risk business, he would concentrate on finding exploration companies with past records of success. Within a week, he had identified one company he thought might fill the bill. I flew to Oklahoma City and the two of us sat down with the company’s owner. Suitably impressed, I elected to invest in six of his company’s wells over the next year. The first well encountered oil but not in commercial quantities. The second was a dry hole and I was beginning to get cold feet. On our list of prospective locations, there was one in particular that Mason really liked. We convinced the owner to drill that well next. It came in as a successful oil producer and all three offset wells were completed as commercial producers also. As icing on the cake, at about that same time the market price of oil skyrocketed after a group of oil producing countries called OPEC placed an embargo on crude oil exports from their countries. I became more excited than ever about being in the oil business and hoped that someday soon I would be in a position to start drilling my own wells.
At about this time that I realized my days of continuing as a member of the remodeling team were drawing to an end. I took my three amigos out to dinner to explain. My news came as no shock to them as I was rarely around all that much at the time anyway. They told me they would miss my ass and I knew I would miss seeing them every day too. These guys kept me leveled out and there was no way would I would stop surfing with them, running with them on the beach or joining in whatever mischievous activities they might get themselves involved in. Someday I would find a way for us to become closer again.
Chapter 6
Sabbatical
After Sur left the team, the three of us actually became more efficient than ever as we no longer had to deal with the uncertainty of his showing up or not. But with him gone, I became restless. It was a bit like having an itch that needed to be scratched. Having to deal with it, I asked Sur out for a beer to tell him I wanted to take a year’s leave-of-absence to go surfing around the world. I had dreamed about doing it someday and was afraid that if I didn’t do it now, I might never do it. I had enough money stashed away to cover the anticipated expenses and realized he would have to find a replacement for me on the team. I hoped though that there was a chance I might be able to rejoin the team when I returned. With a huge grin, Sur voiced his unqualified support for my adventure and assured me I would have a job waiting for me when I got back. He was jealous as hell and would love to go with me but that was not in the cards for him at the moment. I think he knew also that I probably wanted to be by myself for a while.
Before I left, Sur hosted a bunch of us at his place for grilled steaks. Some of my surfer friends kidded me mercilessly about being careful not to trip over any bunnies on my journey and I assured them with a wry grin that being tripped was a part of my game plan. The morning I left I stopped by the office first to say goodbye to Sur. We hugged briefly and he told me to let it all hang out. That was precisely my intention.
After loading up my two best short boards, a couple of wet suits, some camping gear and provisions, I headed south stopping first at Oxnard to spend a couple days with my parents. Both of them were what some might call blue collar workers. Mom was a beautician and Dad a carpenter though in his younger days he had worked as a crew member on a fishing boat. I had two older brothers, both now married with kids who lived in northern California. I was the baby of the family and Mom always kidded me about how I was not planned but just showed up. My parents had always struggled some to make ends meet but we were pretty much a happy family. When I dropped out of college and became a surf bum, my parents were disappointed but not all that surprised. The younger of my older brothers was the culprit as it was he who taught me to surf. He was extremely protect
ive and would stay close to me in the surf until I was about twelve when he conceded that I could probably handle myself. In high school, even as a freshman, I was the school’s best surfer. That reputation had its upside socially. Let’s just say that I took advantage of many opportunities for close intimate encounters. I still do.
Mom and Dad waved goodbye as I headed south. Once I hit San Diego, I kept right on going. I was no stranger to Baja having surfed there several times before. I drove to a beach I remembered where I could camp out. It was mostly deserted as I had hoped. I paddled out to a spot where there were a couple of other surfers and enjoyed great surfing until the sun started to go down. With not a cloud in the sky, I slept on the beach that night next to my truck. Each day or two I would drive further south to other great surf venues. There would usually be a few other surfers there but no crowds like in California. Surfers generally are a pretty friendly lot and it was not unusual in the evenings for us to socialize some and perhaps share a joint. There were always good tunes being played and most everyone danced whether you had someone with you or not. Sometimes things could get real friendly.
After about a month, I turned around and slowly headed back. When I reached San Diego, I turned east toward Tucson. Travelling with me was a fellow surfer I had met at my last surf spot. He had come to Baja with his girlfriend but she had a job in San Diego which she had to return to. As he was unemployed at the time, he had decided to stay behind so he could continue surfing and would find his own ride back. When he learned I was headed for Mazatlán, he practically begged me to take him with me and volunteered to share costs. Why not? Having another guy along when travelling the Mexican highways was a plus. Our first night we spent at a campground close to Tucson and set off again early soon crossing the border into Mexico. We drove until nearly sunset and overnighted at a remote unimproved Mexican campground. This became our daily routine until we reached the outskirts of Mazatlán, a city known for having good surf. After checking into a cheap seaside motel, we spent the next three days surfing at a couple of great spots. When I was ready to continue driving south, my buddy wished me well and stayed behind to spend more time with someone special he had met. Ah surfers, they never change.