As the night wound down, Gerry Lopez walked up to Lee and Larry. “You know, the best part of Step into Liquid was seeing you guys in Sheboygan,” Gerry said. “I see a lot of surf films, and they’re all kind of the same, but you brought something unique and different. It’s great to see that’s what you guys are all about.”
The brothers talked to their idol for a while, feigning ease but still feeling like the teenage boys who had idolized him back in the days when they were mere gremmies hanging around outside the Lake Shore Surf Club’s garage in Sheboygan and hoping someday to be recognized as genuine surfers. When the bartender dimmed the lights to signal that the party was over, Lee and Larry said good-bye to Gerry Lopez, still not quite believing they had met him and been treated as equals.
Dave, who had witnessed the entire exchange with Gerry, tried putting the night into perspective. “How do you get to the point in life where you’re recognized by the biggest names in surfing?” he asked.
The boys shrugged. They felt as amazed as their friend.
“As a kid,” Dave said, “you read the magazines, and if you were lucky, you got to see a guy like that in a movie. So just to see them in person would be a thrill. But they’re coming up to you and putting their arms around you and asking for a photo.”
As Dave walked with the Williams brothers to their car, Larry turned to Lee and said, “Through the years, our surfboards have carried us over the tallest waves and kept us afloat in the roughest waters.”
Lee smiled and replied, “It’s definitely been the ride of a lifetime.”
Fourth Wave
Chapter Ten
It was a cold autumn morning in 2012. A thick fog hung atop the white-capped waves crashing against the idle shore of Lake Michigan. At the edge of the stone-lined pier that jetted out from the sandy Sheboygan beach, Lee and Larry Williams stared east toward the horizon. Neither said a word to each other, but both knew what the other was thinking.
We just hosted our last Dairyland Surf Classic.
What began in 1988 as a casual excuse to reunite a bunch of surfing buddies over the Labor Day weekend had evolved into a full-blown organized event two-and-a-half decades later. For years, the adrenaline rush they experienced from hosting the largest gathering of freshwater surfers in the world was second only to riding an actual wave. Their unwavering dedication to the three-day event attracted surfers from all the major Great Lakes surfing organizations. Even surfers from as far away as Honolulu and Australia attended the annual extravaganza because Lake Michigan was on their bucket list of places to surf before they died.
Over the years, Lee and Larry Williams’s brazen embrace of their hometown’s extreme surfing conditions earned them acclaim, credibility, and respect among those within international surfing circles. When they traveled, complete strangers would approach them to exclaim, “Hey, I know you—you’re those crazy guys who jump off icebergs!”
A packed Sheboygan beachfront during the 2008 Dairyland Surf Classic
COURTESY OF WILLIAM POVLETICH
That grassroots admiration was always appreciated, earning an aw-shucks guffaw from either of them in response: “I guess that’s quite an accomplishment for a couple of teenagers who just wanted to surf in Sheboygan.”
But even today, despite Lee and Larry’s cult status, most of Sheboygan’s 50,000 residents are unaware of their community’s popularity as an internationally respected surfing destination. Ask any number of shop owners along Indiana Avenue or coffee drinkers at the Weather Center Café about the area’s thriving surf scene, and they’ll likely scoff, “You can’t surf on Lake Michigan.”
The Williams brothers and their Sheboygan surfing brethren have spent a lifetime debunking that perception with both tangible and intangible results. Word of their exploits has carried far beyond the fraternity of surf fanatics and wave riders. Not long ago, Larry was strolling along the lakefront when he came across a man in a tuxedo, his toes in the sand. The man, a doctor from Boston, had just driven up from a wedding in Milwaukee, explaining that he made the hour drive north because he couldn’t believe people actually surfed in Sheboygan.
Larry, always the generous host, considered the circumstances to be an ideal opportunity to extend his distinct brand of Midwest hospitality. “Wanna borrow a wetsuit?” he offered. “It’s in the car, along with an extra board, too.”
The doctor was beside himself, graciously accepting the offer. For the next three hours, Larry taught him how to surf freshwater waves. They were having a blast. Only the encroaching dusk forced them to stop. When the doctor asked why Larry was being so generous, Larry replied, “What’s the point if you can’t share it?”
That lifestyle approach was embedded into Lee and Larry’s personalities long before they learned how to surf. Since they were children, the brothers loved the lake; they still recollect with fondness the strolls taken with their parents around the North Point Lighthouse only a few blocks from their childhood home. Surfing provided them the vehicle to express their love of the water, even if they didn’t realize how at the time. From the moment they started hanging outside the garage of the Lake Shore Surf Club, surfing provided their lives with purpose. It may sound shallow at first, but their motivations were rooted deeply in a spiritual foundation.
Their passion focused on a common interest, driving them to learn and succeed at something like never before. First, it was researching how to build a surfboard. Then it was learning how to read weather forecasts based on their surfing needs. Their ambition directed them to find the best wave formations along the Sheboygan lakefront, regardless of how far the trek was from their house. As they grew older, Lee and Larry started to articulate how surfing symbolized their approach toward life: “All life should be lived as if you’re on the beach. Keep a positive attitude. Wear comfy clothes. Always be aware of your surroundings. Respect nature. Maybe you get inconvenienced when finding sand in your hair, or getting sunburned one day. But it’s the beach. How bad can it be? You’re living the dream.”
For them, their pursuit of that dream began when they dragged their ten-foot wooden surfboard, complete with a rubber plug in the nose and a big wooden rudder on the bottom, into the forty-degree water of Lake Michigan on a cold winter afternoon. Underdressed for the brutal winter conditions in denim jeans and sweatshirts, and ignoring the early signs of hypothermia, they were determined to surf that afternoon, even after watching their kook board take on water quicker than the Titanic. When they finally found their balance atop the board, they rode their first of countless thousands of waves into shore, which is when both of them shared the same prophetic premonition: “I’ll remember this day for the rest of my life.”
Five decades later, that exact moment in time is still recognized as the catalyst for the path Lee and Larry still navigate. Although born during a more innocent time, their love of surfing provided them with the tools to live their lives to the fullest despite more than a fair share of tragedy and crisis. With the loss of that innocence came experience. Because of surfing, they were able to adapt the same techniques used to ride atop unpredictable waves when they faced difficult times in their lives, such as divorce or death. Their keen sense of balance, on and off a surfboard, helped them recycle every failure, disappointment, and setback into a steppingstone toward future success. As with the opportunity to ride a perfect wave, they learned to take nothing for granted. It’s that approach that has them reveling in the benefits, seen in the loving relationship Larry shares with his wife Kerry and their daughter Mady, and in Lee’s unconditional support toward his son Trevor’s dream of becoming a renowned chef.
On New Years Day 2010, Lee heads to his car after another
successful day of surfing.
Although Lee and Larry never went looking for adversity, it always had a way of finding them. Even in high school, when only a few Sheboygan residents had heard of the Lake Shore Surf Club, most dismissed the group as nothing more than a band of rebellious misfits and their love of
surfing as little more than a fad. On Friday, June 21, 1968, the Lake Shore Surf Club’s existence in obscurity ended, appearing on the national consciousness thanks to a Time magazine article entitled “Students: Sniffing the Devil’s Presence.” The article, which detailed the goings-on of Students for a Democratic Society, stated: “If there was one common new goal it was a drive to expand S.D.S.’s influence in the nation’s high schools. The Madison, Wis., chapter will try to do so this summer by publishing a state-wide underground newspaper aimed at teenagers [and] sending a ‘radical rock-’n’-roll band’ to tour youth-recreation spots. It even hopes to ‘radicalize’ a surf club in Sheboygan.” Although Lee, Larry, and the rest of the Lake Shore Surf Club members appreciated the recognition, they had no idea who or what that group was all about or what the politics of Students for a Democratic Society had to do with them. Regardless, that didn’t keep them from enjoying the thrill of being mentioned in a nationwide news article.
As they grew older, life changes rolled in like the fluid waves of Lake Michigan. Difficulties arose during the ride. Even when faced with the loss of family, they struck balance by applying their surfing skill sets, which allowed them to adjust to even the most unpredictable incarnations of a rolling wave. In all cases, it was about making the best of whatever came their way. For them, the prize was never about looking good on the smoothest of rides. Rather, it was in how they acclimated and survived by staying on their feet atop the most volatile waves, aware that success was not dependent solely on one’s talents or abilities.
Nearly fifty years later, those same tumbling, white-capped waves were now crashing at the feet of Lee and Larry, pulling them out of their fond recollections. As they stood at the edge of the stone-lined pier, instead of basking in the glow of the Dairyland’s twenty-fifth anniversary, they were trying to keep from being pushed over the edge by exhaustion. Each year the event got bigger, with increased workloads and rising expectations. It had become a year-round job. With increased popularity surrounding the event came an exponential avalanche of demands—be it from corporate sponsors, national media outlets, or simply their own desire to host the perfect weekend. Surfing was now providing Sheboygan with paybacks beyond the financial impact, benefiting local hotels, restaurants, and gas stations. Everyone wanted to be a part of the Williamses’ internationally-renowned extravaganza. When the Sheboygan and Wisconsin boards of tourism began promoting the event with billboards, paid advertisements, and feature articles in several of their publications, the irony of such civic support wasn’t lost on Lee, who remarked to his brother, “It’s funny how life works. We first got into surfing to rebel against the system. Now we’re a part of the system.”
Lee and Larry Williams, still surfing in Sheboygan after nearly five decades.
A few days after the twenty-fifth Dairyland, the reality that they were now involved in a complex bureaucracy presented itself to the grass-root founders when city officials offered to coordinate parking, permits, and promotion. Lee and Larry didn’t need to debate or discuss the offer. Both had felt the realization brewing in their hearts for some time: “We never wanted to do this as a committee. It was always going to be run by us and only us. No thank you.” And with that, the Dairyland Surf Classic was over. No fanfare, no press release, no tears shed.
Critics thought the Williams boys’ surf party would go down in a blaze of controversy. Their friends thought it would live forever. All Lee and Larry cared about was ending the Dairyland on their own terms, just as they had started it twenty-five years earlier.
In the years since the Dairyland ended, Lee and Larry have been approached numerous times to re-launch the event. They’ve refused, even declining increased sponsorship offers and civic assistance to ensure greater success. Those they decline have accused them of surfing in so much cold water over the years that they’re brain damaged, having lost the ability of rational thought. “It can be argued we never had any to begin with because we chose to step into Lake Michigan with a surfboard in the first place,” Lee joked in response to the accusations.
But surfing in such frigid temperatures has also brought the brothers clarity. They had nothing left to prove. After five decades, they had tackled and conquered nearly every major and minor life obstacle with the support of Lake Michigan’s crystal blue waters. If surfing was about finding balance atop a rolling wave, maneuvering until comfortable and secure, they were each still standing on their own two feet. If surfing was about trusting Mother Nature and respecting her power, they had stopped flirting with her wrath years ago. If surfing was about camaraderie, they had become distinguished ambassadors to a unique brotherhood of Great Lakes surfers. Their legacy helped influence a whole new generation of Midwestern surfers—many of whom chose to “share the stoke” through modern technology.
Across the Great Lakes, several aspiring filmmakers have followed Vince Deur’s documentary masterpiece, Unsalted: A Great Lakes Experience, with their own compelling and entertaining perspectives on the obsession and addiction of surfing in the Midwest. Scott Ditzenberger and Darrin McDonald’s 2009 documentary film, Out of Place, features Lake Erie’s chocolate-milk-colored waters while exploring the diverse and dedicated personalities of those who surf off the coast of Cleveland, Ohio, from lawyers to artists to factory workers. When Australians Jonno Durrant and Stefan Hunt were on a mission to surf in each and every one of the fifty states for their film, Surfing 50 States, they found Sheboygan personified the theme of their movie that no matter where you live, with a bit of creativity, you can always live your dream.
A search for “Great Lakes surfing” on You Tube is guaranteed to provide an endless array of the internet’s most unusual surfing clips. With today’s cell phones doubling as high-tech video cameras, it seems anyone can film themselves or their friends riding a wave. However, the video “Year End Swell” by Erik Wilkie and Hunter Rumfelt goes beyond just capturing the visual, proving that Minnesotans rank among the hardiest of winter warriors. Shot at Stoney Point, a popular surf break north of Duluth, the action captured in the six-and-a-half-minute movie torments all five senses of those brave enough to endure below-zero temperatures to ride big waves on Lake Superior, as well as the imaginations of those watching at home. One can’t help but shiver when watching the surfers who, wearing thick wetsuits, surf for hours before walking back to their cars with ornate icicle formations dangling from their faces. Somehow these filmmakers make the sound of 38-degree water feel so downright arctic that the idea of a polar bear floating by on an iceberg wouldn’t be immediately dismissed by viewers as a computer-generated special effect. And don’t even try to imagine the smell created when they head into their idling cars to warm up between sets of waves.
The internet is full of information when it comes to freshwater surfing. One of the most frequented destinations for those aspiring to surf Lake Michigan is the website www.surfgrandhaven. com. Founded and maintained daily by a group of dedicated surfers from Grand Haven, Michigan, the site features marine forecasts, daily weather reports, updated water conditions, and a corporate-sponsored webcam that showcases the latest views along the Lake Michigan shoreline. And there’s no shortage of available merchandise for those aspiring to become Great Lakes surfers. For nearly a decade, Ryan Gerard and his Third Coast Surf Shops in New Buffalo and St. Joseph, Michigan, have been spreading the joy of the Great Lakes surfing lifestyle, ensuring the latest surfboard technology and clothing lines are accessible in person and online. If you find yourself on the other side of the pond without a paddle, the EOS Surf Shop in Sheboygan is second-to-none when it comes to preparing the dedicated surfer or standup paddle boarder to catch the ride of a lifetime.
It’s only fitting that the birthplace of the oldest international surf club on the Great Lakes happens to host one of the most active forums where those who surf along the coasts of Lakes Huron, Ontario, Michigan, Erie and Superior speak their minds and share their experiences. The Wyldewood Beach Club, located on the sandy shoreline of L
ake Erie in Port Colborne, Ontario, Canada, also hosts an annual Eastern Surfing Association (ESA) contest where their famous longboard breaks test both a surfer’s ability and resolve when riding the waves in their notoriously cold waters.
The internet has mobilized and united Great Lakes surfers like never before, providing a way for surfers from all around the Great Lakes to connect through social media outlets such as Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. In 2008, when a Lake Michigan surfer was arrested in the shadows of the Windy City’s iconic skyline, Mitch McNeil spearheaded a powerful media response to bring attention to the injustice. With the help of evening newscasts and internet bloggers, the story of an innocent waterman falling victim to an outdated city ordinance captured the public’s attention, swaying the court of opinion to weigh heavily on city officials until they proceeded to lift the ban. Today, selected city beaches along Chicago’s Lake Shore Drive, including Osterman, Montrose, 57th Street, and Rainbow, are open for surfing. Meanwhile, McNeil continues to be an influential advocate for surfer’s rights as the chapter president of Chicago’s Surfrider Foundation.
During their five decades of surfing along the Great Lakes, Lee and Larry have visited all the major hotspots, frequenting several of them on a yearly basis back when their bodies could endure the frigid conditions on a daily basis. Having so much experience on such a large variety of breaks has given them additional clarity.
Some Like It Cold Page 21