“Can I walk and talk with you?” the man asked, finally identifying himself as the father of a competitive surfer from Virginia Beach.
The two talked for nearly an hour as the man had a long list of questions about surfing in Sheboygan. All the while, Lee kept the putting green well groomed, picking up the occasional wayward golf ball.
“My daughter is going to be so impressed I met you,” the father exclaimed as he shook Lee’s hand one last time. “This is definitely the highlight of my weekend!”
Since Step into Liquid had made them the new faces of freshwater surfing, Lee and Larry were invited by fellow Lake Michigan surfer Vince Deur to participate in his latest documentary film, Unsalted. The film captured the heritage and majestic backdrops of surfing on the inland oceans through a combination of beautifully shot contemporary footage and home movies going as far back as the 1960s. For the Williams brothers, Unsalted not only reflected their passion for the Great Lakes surfing scene but also became somewhat of a surfing scrapbook since it featured many of their photographs and Super 8 films from their early days of wave riding on Sheboygan’s lakefront.
The Lake Shore Surf Club reunited in 2005. Back row, from left to right: Rocky Groh, Randy Grimmer, Chuck Reis (obscured), Tom Ziegler, Andy Sommersberger, Steve Ceskowski, Bill Kuitert, John Rusch, Mark Wente, and Chuck Koehler. Front row, from left to right: Lee Williams, Kevin Groh, and Larry Williams
Another opportunity afforded Lee and Larry as a result of Step into Liquid was an invitation to surf several of Southern California’s breaks. Since their lifelong friend Kevin Groh had gotten divorced earlier in 2005, the Williams brothers decided it was time to reintroduce him to surfing. Through the years, they had never lost touch with him, but Kevin rarely found his way onto a longboard anymore. His interests had shifted to trapping muskrat, beaver, and raccoons for their pelts as well as to fishing nearly every day. Though an ardent outdoorsman, Kevin had never been farther west than the Dakotas, where he had hunted pheasant, or farther east than Grand Haven, where Lee and Larry had taken him to surfing events. When Kevin’s divorce papers were finalized, he decided to accompany the brothers on their surfing trip to California, which all agreed would be the best therapy he could receive.
When Lee and Larry first brought up the idea, Kevin said, “My kids are grown and out of the house. My wife took me for everything I had, and she’s not getting another dime. So I’m going to cash out my life insurance policy, take that eight hundred dollars, and go with you.”
Having never been on an airplane before, Kevin was awestruck, like a five-year-old with both hands pressed against the window and his nose between his hands. He never took his eyes from the window, watching the scenery pass below, speechless during the entire flight. As the plane flew over the Los Angeles basin before landing at LAX International Airport, Kevin couldn’t stop pointing out the famous landmarks. “There’s the Hollywood sign. There’s the Santa Monica Pier. Isn’t that the Capitol Records building?”
From the airport, they drove their rental car north on the Pacific Coast Highway toward Malibu. Kevin looked in wonder at the palm trees whisking by at fifty miles an hour. His enthusiasm was contagious as all three grown men started acting like teenagers again. Within an hour, the three lifelong freshwater surfers were surfing in the Pacific Ocean’s salty waves as the marine layer of clouds encroaching over the horizon created another legendary California sunset.
“Are you having fun yet, Gripper?” Larry asked.
“This is a dream,” Kevin replied, inhaling another breath of ocean air. The next morning, they ventured down to San Clemente, rented boards, and enjoyed an authentic Pacific Coast “Dawn Patrol.” By seven o’clock, their boards were strapped on top of their car, and they headed to San Onofre for breakfast. Following a feast of pancakes, eggs, and avocados, they headed out to catch the ten-foot surf. Not long after they were in the ocean, they noticed schools of fish jumping out of the water all around Kevin. As seagulls swooped down, attacking the airborne fish, Kevin looked in awe at the wildlife bursting around him. The Williams brothers realized something more sinister was brewing underneath their friend.
“Gripper!” they called out to him. “Get out of the water!”
Kevin didn’t hear them, consumed by the arcing fish and the seagulls snapping them up.
“Kevin!” Larry finally blasted at the top of his lungs.
Kevin looked over at him. “What?” he shouted back.
“SHARK!” Lee screamed. “They’re eating the fish below you. That’s why they’re jumping. Get out of there!”
Startled, as if out of a trance, Kevin paddled toward Lee and Larry, who stood closer to the shore.
Reaching the brothers, Kevin finally realized what he had just witnessed.
“We ain’t in Sheboygan anymore,” Lee said.
Kevin, his hair dripping, said, “I’ve been a fisherman my whole life. I should’ve known those four-hundred-pound dolphins jumping over the nose of my board weren’t welcoming a first-time visitor to these parts.”
The rest of their vacation was a lot less harrowing until they were approached at the airport by a burly, tattooed Hawaiian man with black wavy hair. Convinced they were about to get mugged, all three reached to cover their wallets as the stranger walked right up to them.
“Don’t I know you guys?” he asked.
The small-town Midwestern boys didn’t respond, eyeing the big man suspiciously, ready for some type of con.
“Yeah, you’re those Step into Liquid surfers from Wisconsin. What are you guys doing here?”
The boys broke into a smile and admitted that, indeed, they were the Sheboygan surfers. The Hawaiian guy said that he, too, was a fan of surfing, and they all chatted for a while, exchanging stories. The guy left feeling he had enjoyed a lucky—and unlikely—celebrity sighting while in Hollywood, one he would take back to the islands with him and one that would leave even his most cynical surfing buddies stoked.
After the guy disappeared into the crowd, Kevin looked at Lee and Larry, hoping they kept their egos in check. “I guess if you do anything long enough, sooner or later you’re going to be recognized,” Kevin said.
The boys agreed. Always surprised and flattered when they were recognized, they knew that their modicum of fame merely reflected their dedication to a life passion.
Over the next few years, they had many encounters with strangers who recognized them as “those twin brothers from Sheboygan who surf.” From nurses seeking autographs at Mady’s pediatrician’s office to customers at the new Chicago restaurant at which Trevor had been named head chef, people approached them. Nobody realized the extent of their expanding sphere of fame until Larry was contacted by a Sheboygan Press newspaper reporter on the eve of the 2007 Dairyland Surf Classic for what he thought was another routine interview.
“I’m not sure how to ask you this question,” fumbled the reporter.
“Well, if it’s about surfing, I’ve probably already answered it,” Larry said, “since ninety percent of my calls this time of year have something to do with it.”
“Okay, great,” the reporter said with a sigh of relief. “So you already know about the new surfing movie you and your brother are in.”
“We’ve been in several,” Larry said. “Which one would you like to talk about?”
“The one where you’re an animated surfing chicken.”
The garrulous Larry was struck dumb. What did the guy say? A surfing chicken? Was this some kind of a joke?
“The movie’s called Surf ‘s Up,” the reporter continued. “How well do you know the movie?”
“There’s a surfing chicken?”
Surf’s Up movie poster COURTESY OF PHOTOFEST
“I guess you don’t know about it then.” The reporter proceeded to summarize the computer-animated film’s comedic mockumentary plotline about a teenage penguin named Cody Maverick who was determined to win the most important surfing competition in the world.
Lar
ry said he had never heard anything about it.
“It’s a parody of classic surfing films—The Endless Summer, Riding Giants, North Shore. The penguins are modeled on famous surfers like Kelly Slater, Rob Machado, Miki Dora, guys like that.”
“Okay,” Larry said, saying the word slowly, still wondering if this reporter was pulling his leg.
The reporter went on to explain that when the writers were developing Cody Maverick’s sidekick, they thought it would be fun to make him a chicken. Thus was born Chicken Joe, a longnecked geek from the Midwest. But they were stumped on where exactly he’d be from. Where would a rooster from the Midwest learn to surf?
“That’s when one of the writers remembered seeing you and your brother in Step into Liquid,” the reporter said.
The movie only references Sheboygan twice—when Chicken Joe is interviewed near the beginning of the film and again at the end when all the characters are announced individually. But the wave-riding fowl who surfs Lake Michigan off the Sheboygan shoreline steals every scene he is in. Throughout the film, Chicken Joe is underestimated by the other surfers, but much like the two characters that inspired him, that Midwestern chicken sure can surf.
The movie went on to great success, including an Oscar nomination for Best Animated Feature Film in 2008. Actor Jon Heder, best known for his portrayal of Napoleon Dynamite in the movie of that name, supplied Chicken Joe’s voice, sounding nothing at all like Larry or Lee. The brothers loved the film and were happy to supply a model for such a likable character. They were even happier to see surfing catch the attention of a whole new generation. They’re grateful, however, that the film, unlike Step into Liquid, has not increased their celebrity. They’ve yet to be stopped in an airport or on the beach by an excited fan exclaiming, “Aren’t you the model for Chicken Joe in the movie Surf ‘s Up?”
In 2008, the Dairyland Surf Classic celebrated its twentieth anniversary. What began as an excuse to watch surf videos, eat some brats, and lie about how well everybody surfed had grown into a party that drew nearly two hundred surfers, some flying in from as far away as Hawaii and California. Considered to be the largest gathering of freshwater surfers in the world, the Dairyland Surf Classic had become “the annual gathering of the tribes” with all six major Great Lakes surfing organizations in attendance—the Wagner Surf Club from Cleveland; the Southend Surf Crew from Chicago; the Superior Surf Club from Duluth, Minnesota; the Great Lakes Surfing Association from Grand Haven, Michigan; the Wyldewood Surf Club from Port Colborne, Ontario, Canada; and Sheboygan’s Team Blatz.
Larry, left, and Lee provide final instructions before the paddleboard competition during the 2008 Dairyland Surf Classic. COURTESY OF WILLIAM POVLETICH
On the beach, car stereos blared with the timeless surf music of the Beach Boys and Dick Dale. Nearly five hundred beachgoers, news reporters, and curious onlookers weaved between beach cruiser bicycles, board art displays, and impromptu gatherings along the Deland Park shoreline.
Paddleboard competitors prepare for the next heat during the 2008 Dairyland Surf Classic. COURTESY OF WILLIAM POVLETICH
By mid-afternoon, Larry was tasked with marching up and down Broughton Drive with a megaphone, announcing the start of the Pro Paddling Race. Once all the contestants were wrangled up, nearly forty-five minutes after it was scheduled to begin, the race became a frantic endurance test as a dozen surfers splashed like madmen toward the white buoy one-eighth of a mile offshore. As the paddlers made the turn and headed back to shore, fellow wave rider and local photographer Jim Gardner snapped dozens of photos of them crashing through waves while attempting to distance themselves from one another. When the two strongest racers—with unrivaled athletic builds, coordination and speed—blew across the sand toward the finish line, Lee turned to an enthralled spectator. “That’s why you’ve never seen a fat surfer,” he boasted. “Talk about a full-body workout.”
From the handheld streamer paper that served as the finish line, it was apparent the Dairyland Surf Classic would never be an event the Elias Sports Bureau monitored closely. Although trophies were awarded for first, second, and third place in four age groups, Lee and Larry would be the first to admit that records and statistics from past years were recorded casually, with some of the names of former winners already lost or forgotten.
While walking along Broughton Drive, the main pedestrian thoroughfare of the Dairyland Surf Classic, Lee and Larry couldn’t help but glow with pride about how their modest Labor Day weekend surf party had evolved, much like the beachfront that hosted it. The overgrown scrub brush and footpath that once rutted in the shoulder-high grass had been replaced with stairwells and landscaped lawns. The piles of rotting driftwood had been cleared away to make room for playgrounds and bathrooms.
As they made their way along the various vendor booths, which featured everything from jewelry and wooden tiki statues to designer wetsuits and custom surfboards, the Williams brothers made sure to say hello to everyone who had traveled the many miles and hours to attend. It was the least they could do after watching their friends fall in love, get engaged, and even conceive their children during the Dairyland.
They couldn’t help but notice how the vibe at the Surf Classic was changing. The surfers they grew up with now used the event to introduce their kids to the Sheboygan surfing scene, including Tom Ziegler, who brought his son Jamie to one of the earliest Surf Classics. The Dairyland’s days of drunken, bikini-clad women and foulmouthed, shirtless men partying along Broughton Drive had been replaced with parents pulling their kids in wagons and rolling along the sidewalk on tandem bicycles. As each kid signed up for his or her first paddleboard competition or was helped onto a longboard in time to ride his first Sheboygan wave, the weekend was becoming less about swapping beer-soaked surfing stories and more about being a part of the closely knit group of Great Lakes surfing tribes. To many of its loyal attendees, the Surf Classic had become a tradition not to be missed, like baseball’s opening day or Super Bowl Sunday.
“People have asked if we want it to become the Sturgis of surfing,” Larry told a friend who asked about what the future holds. “Sturgis started out as nothing more than a little motorcycle party and look how that has exploded.”
“At the same time, we wonder why we keep doing it. Most years we don’t break even,” Lee added. “We keep thinking about giving it to the Kiwanis or the Rotary so someone could develop it into a sandcastle-building competition or a Midwest surf-music festival.”
Realizing that in their current state of exhaustion, mixed with a few beers, their feelings about hosting the Dairyland Surf Classic were not to be trusted, Larry said, “We’ll wait until March when we’ve lost our suntans, are frozen under a foot of snow, and can clearly decide what we want to do.”
Lee then finished his brother’s thought: “No matter how it goes, one way or another, the next year’s Dairyland Surf Classic will always be a success to look forward to.”
The recent interest in the event stemmed mostly from their efforts to put Sheboygan on the international surfing map, which was never more evident than when they attended the San Luis Obispo International Film Festival earlier that year. On Thursday night, March 13, Lee and Larry were invited to help honor ninety- six-year-old filmmaker Bud Browne, the pioneer of surf films. As the annual Surf Night event was about to get under way, the brothers walked into the sold-out Fremont Theater to find two seats reserved for them in the second row. The brothers couldn’t help but stargaze as they were surrounded by some of the biggest names in surfing, such as Peter Cole, John Peck, Joel Tudor, Linda Benson, Jack McCoy, Herbie Fletcher, Walter Hoffman, Fred Van Dyke, and surf journalist Steve Pezman.
The 2008 San Luis Obispo International Film Festival Surf Night celebration. From left to right: Lee Williams, Dana Brown, Dave Cole, and Larry Williams COURTESY OF ALAN FRASER
They were surprised to see some of those surfing legends gazing right back and whispering, “Aren’t those the guys from Step into Liquid?”
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As the biggest names in international surfing settled into their seats, the first autograph seeker chose the twin brothers from Sheboygan to approach.
“You’re Sheboygan’s Larry Williams!” the man said.
Larry calmly replied, “Yes, I am, and this is my brother Lee.”
The guy then unrolled the Surf Night poster he had bought in the lobby moments earlier and asked the brothers to autograph it.
“With all the famous surfers in this theater, you want our autographs?” Lee asked.
As they finished signing the poster, Lee and Larry saw Bruce Brown and his son, Dana, seated near them. The brothers gave them a friendly wave, which the Browns returned.
Lee and Larry Williams finally meet the legend, Gerry Lopez. COURTESY OF ALAN FRASER
As the lights dimmed for the start of the film, a gentleman with black bushy eyebrows, salt-and-pepper hair, and well-defined facial lines from years in the sun, turned around in his seat and said, “I know you two.”
“You do?” Lee whispered, his voice cracking.
“You’re those guys who surf Sheboygan,” he said, reaching over the back of his seat to shake hands. “I’m Gerry Lopez.”
Although the movie began with a stirring soundtrack followed by images of waves, sunsets, and bikini-clad women, Lee and Larry would never be able to recall it. All they remembered was the moment when one of their childhood idols had gone out of his way to introduce himself to them. After honoring Bud Browne, Lee and Larry attended the big Surf Night reception held a few blocks away from the theater. Admitted for free along with all the surfing legends and notables in attendance, they proceeded to enjoy the reception’s hors d’oeuvres, refreshments, and surf-band music. As most of the biggest names in surfing congregated in a corner to talk among themselves, the Williams brothers chatted with their longtime friend Dave Cole, who was one of the festival’s organizers. They tried to discuss the state of surfing in the world, but photographers and autograph-seekers interrupted them constantly. David quickly became the talent coordinator, trying his best to manage all of the requests.
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