Surf Punks - My Beach

Back in the summer of 1980 when my Navy officer dad got transferred to the Naval Postgraduate School (NPGS) in Monterey, California and we moved into La Mesa Village, the local Navy housing complex there, my brother and I quickly fell in with the other teens who lived up in that area - folks like Mike C.; Jeff and his girlfriend Kathy; sisters Jane, Jill and Leslie; loud and brash Latina siblings Rosina and Gina; brothers Pete and John; Joel; Jenny... and so many others.  But foremost in the group were two middle schoolers, Mike F. and Martin.

We would all gather together on those warm evenings, usually up by the tennis courts on the grounds of La Mesa Elementary school, to talk, bust one another's balls, and goof off, away from the watchful eyes of our parents.  We would also occasionally mess with "Security", the men and vehicles sent over by NPGS during the night to patrol and keep an eye on the neighborhood.  Most of the time, our group and Security coexisted in a sort of sullen, "see no evil" detente - they would drive by the courts, while we would either ignore them or silently give them the 'hairy eyeball'.  But on other occasions, we would hide out in some leafy, secluded spot within La Mesa and wait for the truck to go by, so we could bombard the vehicle with pine cones and ice plants and wait for the satisfying sound of those projectiles striking metal before melting deeper into the woods when the officers stopped and attempted to give chase.  No, we weren't delinquents or troublemakers, per se - just bored kids looking to have some fun and gin up a little excitement in a fairly isolated corner of the city (years later, I learned that the Security officers, similarly bored with their duties, actually enjoyed and looked forward to the cat-and-mouse antics and chases from that time as much as we did).

Half of the La Mesa crew (including myself) would be attending Monterey High School in the fall; the other half would be going to Walter Colton Middle School, both schools located downtown.  My junior-high aged brother would get to be closer to and better friends with that latter group than I was... although everyone was pretty familiar with one another through our summertime hangout sessions.  We played football together on some weekends, made treks down the narrow (and in hindsight, extremely sketchy and secluded) forest path from La Mesa to Del Monte Mall to eat pizza and play video games at Round Table Pizza, and occasionally on weekends some of us hopped on the Monterey Peninsula Transit (MPT) bus (the region had a superb public transportation system, that stopped almost right at our front door) to places like Carmel and Cannery Row (both of which had yet to be befouled/spoiled by the tourist traps that now proliferate at those locations).  Suffice to say, we were a pretty tight-knit group.

I mentioned in a previous post long ago how UNimpressed I was with California early in our stay there; I was the proverbial 'fish out of water', East Coast guy living on the West Coast for the first time and initially not quite getting into the swing and flow of things there, especially in high school.  It was the presence of music that brought me around to this area, starting off with my encounter with a B-52's fan early in the school term.  As the year progressed, I was exposed to a ton of great 'new' bands there, that I doubtfully would have ever come across at my old Massachusetts high school, or if I had, would have been ostracized for, for being one of the 'weird' kids. In addition to my B-52's story (linked above), I also came across The Residents for the first time while there. The year I moved to Monterey was the year Australasian bands broke big in the States, led by Split Enz with their hits "I Got You" and "I Hope I Never" (the band played both songs on the ABC network late-night show Fridays that October) and followed by Men At Work ("Who Can It Be Now" was released in the spring of 1981, then their massive hit "Down Under" coming out later that year, finally topping the US charts almost a year later).

At Monterey High in 1980-81, there were two big bands that the kids there were buzzing about.  The first was The Medflys, a local Santa Cruz/Monterey ska/New Wave band   They were one of the most popular draws in the early and mid-”80s at clubs and festivals from Monterey and Santa Cruz to San Francisco, and were regularly named “Best Local Band” by area radio stations and news publications during its heyday.  The band”s sound was a combination of the New Wave rock that was popular at the time, mixed with fast-paced ska music, even a little ”80s pop. They were known for their theatrical, energized live shows, especially the acrobatic and charismatic front man Christ, who possessed surfer boy good looks and boundless energy.  Their early Eighties hits included "Compulsive", "Belfast" and "State Of Mind", and later in the decade, they scored notoriety with a novelty song commemorating Clint Eastwood's successful campaign for Mayor of Carmel, "Don't Mess With The Mayor":

In their time, the Medflys went on tour with some major headlining acts, including Joan Jett, fellow locals Huey Lewis & The News and Greg Kihn, but especially The Tubes, who they formed a lasting bond with.

The other band getting a lot of local attention in those years was one I first heard about from some girls who sat next to me in Mr. Clark's science class during my first weeks in school. I noticed early on that their class folders were covered with stickers for Mr. Zog's Sex Wax, a popular brand of surfwax used to aid traction and grip on surfboards.  Of course, I had no idea at the time what this product was; with the innuendo-laden line "The Best For Your Stick", it seemed to me to be a fairly risque image to display. One day, I finally worked up the nerve to ask them about it, and was rewarded with a crash course on local surf culture - the lifestyle, the equipment, the best spots up and down the Central Coast, and the music, especially that provided by their latest fave band, The Surf Punks, from Malibu.

Friends Drew Steele and Dennis Dragon formed The Surf Punks in 1976. While both of them were dedicated surfers and adopted a bohemian "surf'' attitude, their backgrounds were strictly upper class and grounded in big-time show business: Steele's stepfather was Gavin MacLeod of Mary Tyler Moore Show and Love Boat fame; Dragon was the son of popular symphony conductor Carmen Dragon and the younger brother of Daryl Dragon, the "Captain" in the hugely popular pop duo The Captain & Tennille.

The pair recruited a couple of friends and fellow surfers to join the band, including lead guitarist John Heussenstamm, Tony Creed on second guitar and harmonica, and bassist John Hunt, and began practicing in Dragon's garage studio across the street from Zuma Beach in Malibu, one of Southern California's most popular surf spots. The Surf Punks weren't really "punk", per se - most of their songs were various amalgamations of New Wave, surf rock, comedy rock and pop, with lyrics centered primarily on the in-group/out-group experiences of "locals" (surfers living on the beach in Malibu) and "valleys" (commuters from the San Fernando Valley to the private and public beaches of the exclusive Malibu Beach community).  The band has been described more than once as "The Beach Boys of the punk world", an assessment that wasn't totally inaccurate.

Their wild shows, at places like the legendary Starwood in Hollywood and a notorious show in Ventura, were a big draw in the area in the late 1970s, and generated enough attention in the group for a local producer to finance a single, "My Beach/Go Home" b/w "My Wave", released in Australia in late 1977. The Surf Punks' first self-titled album, an independent release on their own Day-Glo Records label, came out two years later, and cuts from this disc began receiving heavy play on L.A.'s influential alternative rock station KROQ-FM. This wider exposure led to the band booking more lucrative local gigs. And it also caught the interest of industry giant Epic Records, who picked up the group on a one-off contract; their debut album (renamed My Beach) was rereleased on the label in mid-1980.  The record was fairly popular in certain quarters (mainly coastal California, Hawaii, Australia and other semi-heavy surf communities), but wasn't a national breakout hit and did nothing chart-wise.  I used to hear it all over the Monterey Bay area during that time, though, and although I wasn't (and still am not) much of a beach bum, I enjoyed the music immensely.  It was stuff like The Surf Punks that really got me settled into life in California, and I began enjoying the area, the school and my neighborhood more and more.

 

Looking back, probably the nucleus of the La Mesa group, the center it all revolved around, were the two Mikes (Mike C. and Mike F.) along with Martin. The three of them lived only a couple of houses away from one another in the upper part of La Mesa Village, and as such they were the closest of buddies, with the same skewed senses of humor and penchants for mischief and danger. A once-legendary story that emerged from that time was the night in late 1980 the three took Martin's brother's car for a joy ride. His brother Carl really wasn't part of the overall group, although everyone liked him just the same; he was sort of quiet and kept to himself and his interests, which included the restoration of a vintage vehicle from the 1940s that he had acquired. This car was a thing of beauty - a huge retro body painted metallic blue with flecks of glitter in it, sporting chromium wheels and a sooped-up engine.  Carl would drive that thing around town and instantly stop traffic and draw stares wherever he was. Prospective purchasers were drooling for that auto to be put on the market... but Martin was to have first dibs on it, going 50/50 on the purchase with his father. The car wasn't in Martin's possession just yet, though - so I have no idea how he got hold of the keys...

Anyway, with Martin behind the wheel and the two Mikes riding shotgun, these guys decided to go for a spin down Aguajito Road and up the winding mountain road to nearby Jacks Peak Park. On the way back down, legend has it that Martin decided that would be a good time to open the car up and see what it could REALLY do... As they picked up speed, he reportedly crowed "I'M GOING TO BREAK THE LAND SPEED RECORD!!!" - just before he missed a turn and ran the vintage car into a ditch. Fortunately, none of the three were hurt, but the car was a total wreck.  When Martin's dad found out what happened, he rejoined "Well, I was going to go 'halfs' with you on this - but guess what? You just bought the WHOLE car!"

The NPGS authorities finally got tired of residents' complaints of "rowdy teens" and decided to address the issue by opening up a "Teen Center" in the middle of the neighborhood. I was one of those annoying "student leader" types back then, so I was asked to be on the planning and advisory board for the facility, in an unused building up there. In the bylaws I helped set up, it was decided that the kids themselves would run the place, with minimal adult supervision. So we elected officers (I was the first vice-president), stocked the place with vending machines, a pool table, pinball machines and video games, and threw the doors open that winter. The Teen Club was a resounding success from the get-go - every night, 40-50+ kids would pile into the place. We held parties and dances there as well (all the guys angling to dance the longest song (always "Stairway To Heaven") with Stephanie, the prettiest girl in La Mesa).

 

I graduated from high school and left Monterey after one year, but my family stayed on, as well as Martin, Freeman, and most of the old group. During my first few months away, I made an effort to acquire a copy of My Beach, to remind me of the place I had grown to be fond of.  The Teen Club still ran strong in my absence, and apparently continued long after all of us had left the area (Years later, I returned to Monterey as a Navy officer myself. On a whim, I drove up to La Mesa to look around, and was happily surprised to find the Teen Club still in operation. When I told the administrator there who I was and how the place came to be, she reached up on a back shelf and pulled down an ancient photo album, that included photos from that first year of existence!).

 

As it happens in military housing communities, the old, familiar groups tend to gradually dissipate, whittled down by graduations and family transfers. By 1984, everyone who had been part of that close-knit La Mesa circle had moved away.  However, I stayed in touch with many of the folks from that period, and watched as their lives progressed.  Pete ended up remaining in the Monterey area and became a paramedic; Jill became a French teacher; Martin moved down to San Diego and worked as a teacher and high school football coach; Joel also attended Annapolis and became a Navy officer; Mike F. - the wildest of us all - ended up joining the U.S. Border Patrol, and to his credit has advanced within it to high levels of responsibility. I haven't laid eyes on most of them in years, but we all still regard one another as friends - that's how it is when you're a "Navy brat".

 

Several decades have passed since those days... yet I still think back fondly on that time and the people that I knew.  While New Zealand will always be the best place I've ever lived, Monterey ranks a close second, and is the best place in the States I've resided, hands down.

In March of this year, Martin posted a message on his Facebook page, stating that he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.  While it was concerning, those of us who knew him weren't overly worried, as he had worked through some other serious health issues in the past, and seemed ready to lick this thing as well.

 

Alas, it was not to be - Martin died last week, at the age of 55.

It seems odd and strange that someone who was an integral part of that period is now no longer with us. Because in some ways, those times in Monterey seem like yesterday, and therefore I'm still in my youth. I still listen to my old Surf Punks albums from time to time (after My Beach, they released (to steadily worsening reviews and sales) Locals Only on Day-Glo Records in 1982, and their final label release Oh No! Not Them Again! on Enigma Records in 1988 - and yes, I own them all), and they still conjure up that fine teenage period of life for me. But with Martin's passing, the first of the group that I know of to die, it brings home the fact that those times WERE long ago, that I'm not as young as I'd like to think, and the clock is ticking - ticking for us all.

 

Gonna miss you, Martin, man - you made it to the top of the mountain and back this time.

 

In honor and in memory of my time in La Mesa, and for my old friend Martin, here's The Surf Punks' My Beach, released on Epic Records in June 1980. Enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think.

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