Two things made my senior year at Santa Monica High School bearable. One was surfing, of course, the other was my friends. All my friends were pretty good friends we had many surf trips and crazy teenage adventures. Looking back sometimes I wonder how we lived through them all. Not to mention how we got away with the shit we did.
A few of us were close friends, guys you could trust. You knew they had your back through thick and thin. One friend in particular came out of nowhere just met him by accident really.
We were riding around in Jeff's green fifty Plymouth, looking for whatever shit we could get into. We did that often. Jeff was driving. We see this guy our age walking down the street by the high school. About my height, Long, long black hair, stocky not fat, solid. Jeff says, "Hey there's morales, watch this," Jeff was kind of a show off most of the time. So he pulls his car up along side of the guy and says. "Where do you think you are going you fucking Mexican?" I think uh oh here we go.
The guy looks at Jeff and says, "fuck you Pilgrim." and stares Jeff in the eye. Jeff cracks up laughing, with a big smile.
"Pilgrim, I can never top you man, whats up Gil?"
"Nothing man just heading to the beach" so Jeff stops the car and asks me, "Dave, Do you know Morales?"
"Nope don't believe I've had the pleasure."
Gil says, "Hey man what are you doing with these lowlifes?"
"I'm just slumming, seeing how the lower half lives."
Gil sort of smiled and and says, "Well you picked the right crew you can't get much lower than these guys"
"Yeah I noticed."
Jeff says, "Hey fuck you guys, kiss my ass."
I said, "Mark the spot motherfucker, you look like you're all ass to me."
Up until then Gil had a dead pan look about him, hadn't cracked a smile. But now he got a big grin looked me in the eye and said, "Quick wit!"
"It's really no challenge, though, Jeff enters a battle of wits unarmed." I said, That was it we connected.
We met at Bay Street beach and in school we just started hanging out, We didn't live that far apart I lived onKansas street one block north of Pico about 27th street and he lived on 21st street half a block south of Pico. Not even a half a mile.
The area was nice with tree lined streets basically the burbs. It was mostly made up of single family homes built, and rented out by the Donald Douglass Aircraft Company for it's employees. During it's peak years, Douglas employed up to 44,000 employees working three shifts - 24/7. Housing had to be built for those employees and it was built in the area surrounding the Santa Monica airport - Both L.A. & Santa Monica zoned residential up to the perimeter of the Airport and adjoining roadways to accommodate the housing demand. Douglass even had a small store where employees shopped. There they could run credit for food and groceries. "I owe my soul to the Douglass Company! store"
My parents hated him immediately, well he WAS a Mexican after all. My mom especially I really don't know why he was a good guy, funny and happy. My dad was indifferently detesting Gil.
Gil's house was cool he had three sisters and a step mom, Joan, who was a mom sent from heaven. She was the coolist mom I ever met. Gil's dad was another story. He was large, not tall, just thick and strong. He was very smart and mean. He was a milk man for Adorh Farms on Rose Ave. Humping milk crates around every day keept him strong.
Gil's sisters were Gwen, a year younger than him and drop dead gorgeous. Like every other guy at Samohi I had an instant crush on her. Vicky, a couple years younger than Gwen. And Cindy about eight and an absolute sweetheart.
Gil's sisters, execpt Cindy were constantly on his ass about everything, "Gil llllbert do this Gil lllbert don't do that." I don't know how he put up with it.
Gil and Gwen were the children of Big Gil and Doris, divorced. Vicky was the daughter of Joan from another marriage. Cindy was Big Gil and Joan's daughter. Doris was, Gwen and Gil's biological mother. She lived with her husband in Inglewood, she was a very nice lady. She had a son by her husband named Scott. Scott was a cool little kid.
My father and I's relationship had deteriorated Steadily from the time I entered junior high school. As I was finishing High School it became totally unacceptable to me. My dad was a rageaholic his temper was easy to ignite. To the point where my mother and I had to walk around on egg shells so as not to piss him off. He was the only one allowed to get angry.
In his defense he was probably suffering from undiagnosed PTSD. He was in the landing force on Guadalcanal in WWII where he lost two fingers, caught malaria, and was shot in the leg. My mom and I knew nothing about PTSD but she said to me later that the war had changed him. He, of course, self medicated with alcohol which made his temper worse. He tried to control everything I did. I was watched constantly. I couldn't fart without an explanation and a scathing rebuke of everything.
It seemed I could do nothing right and I was really afraid of him. He rarely beat me but threatened to constantly. I felt it was just a mater of time until he hurt me.
Gil's dad was pretty bad as well. He beat the shit out of Gil and his step mom regularly. To the point where she took all the kids and moved out of the house on 21st street to an apartment just a block from my house.
Gil's whole family was really afraid of Big Gil, who was a womanizing drunk with a horrible temper. Gil's biological mom Doris helped Joan and the kids move out she knew full well what Big Gil was capable of. And he was pissed that Joan had moved out. He didn't know where they had moved, yet. But it was only a mater of time before he found them. Gil was really afraid of his dad.
During this time several events were coming together in the grand scheme of things. One, we were graduating from high school. Two, I was turning eighteen that summer, Gil in November. Three, things were getting worse at home for Gil and me. My dad was always pissed at me. Gil was worried his dad would find him and beat the crap out of him again. So a plan was hatched by Doris, Joan, Gil and I.
Gil and I were surfers first and foremost. In those heady days of surfing we surfed just about every break up and down the coast of Southern California from Santa Barbra into Baja California Mexico.
But there was a place every surfer I knew wanted to surf. The womb of surfing, the place responsible for everything we did in the water, every day, Hawaii.
Four years earlier Hawaii had become the fiftieth State of the union. The waves were the thing of legend. The surfing movies, the surfing magazines all featured the huge, perfectly shaped and powerful waves of the Island of Oahu. Waimea, Sunset beach, Hale?iwa, Ala Moana, Queens and many many more surfing beaches eulogized on screen and in print.
It was the perfect solution to Gil and my problem. We had to get out of Dodge and The magic of Hawaii was the answer. Everyone in Gil's family agreed and supported us. I didn't have much money so Gil's mom loaned me the money for my ticket.
I didn't tell my parents until the night before I was scheduled to leave. The conversation went like this.
"I need to tell you guys something."
"What's that?" My mom asked.
"I going to Hawaii."
"Oh really? When did this come about?" My dad was silent.
"I've been planing it for a while now."
"What if we say you can't go?" My dad asked threateningly.
"Well I expected that and I already have the ticket and I have now turned eighteen and you legally you can't stop me, you know that."
"Hmm, when are you planning to go?" My mom asked.
"My plane leaves at one o'clock tomorrow afternoon." there was a long silence. I was firm but afraid of my dad's reaction.
"Where did you get the money?" my dad asked, surprisingly calm. That scared me more than if he had been mad and yelling.
"Gil's mom lent it to me. I have to pay her back when I can," I said.
"Ah, I see," my mom's voice was full of anger. "I knew that goddamned Mexican would lead you to something bad" she spat out.
"Well this was my idea and suggestion, not Gil's."
"You WANT to leave home?" Now kind of bewildered.
"Oh yes I do," I said in an unkindly tone.
"What are you planning to do for money?" she asked.
"We'll get jobs," I answered.
"Doing what? You don't know how to do anything." dad said. I ignored his question.
My dad said nothing more. I went to bed. The next morning my mom said, "We'll take you to the airport."
"That would be cool but you don't have to if you don't want to I can hook a ride with Gil's mom"
That afternoon we left for LAX. The ride to the airport was to say the least tense. I endured.
turns out we had booked on the "Rubber Band flight" two engine prop plane. We called it, "The Hope you make it airlines" When the plane cleared the ground Gil and I looked at each other and said in unison, "FREE!"
The plane commenced to vibrate and hum loudly. There were two stewardi on the flight. They were in their mid twenty's and rather attractive. Being the horn dogs that we were Gil and I started immediately to hit on them. That made them giggle and laugh. They thought that these two young kids were cute. We flirted constantly with them. They were good sports and they loved it. So they waited until the plane passed the 12 mile limit of the US and started serving us cocktails, all we wanted. In fact, they got us hammered. This was great because the flight took nine and a half hours from LA to Honolulu. Nine and a half hours of hum and vibration. But thanks to those two girls we were pleasantly shitfaced or passed out the whole flight.
Our luggage consisted of one suitcase that contained four tee shirts two pairs of Bermuda shorts, four pairs of surf trunks, and other stuff. On our body's we were each wearing two pairs of Bermuda shorts, three tee shirts, two pairs of socks and two pairs of Jack Persell tennis shoes. THE most expensive things in our wardrobe. The reasons we were packed so light was those were all the clothes we owned In the cargo hold of the airplane was, one, nine foot two inch, Dewey Webber surfboard. And a nine foot two inch Dave Sweet surfboard. There was no room for more luggage. Besides, we left LA it was chilly and over cast so all those clothes were ok.
When the plane circled the Island of Oahu to come in for a landing we were stunned by the lush tropical island and the blue, blue pacific ocean. Actually speechless, and for us that was something. We said and hugged good bye to our awesome stewardi.
We were first in line to deplane and when the ground crew opened the door it was like they had opened a kiln door. As we climed down the stairs to the tarmac we were shedding clothes like molting snakes shed their skin.
We had arrived in the surfing promised land. The only word that could describe what we felt was, STOKED!