MERWYN T. BROWN A Story of Accomplishment

Merwyn T. Brown, a Story of Accomplishments

Winter surf in Hawaii can be huge, can be brutal, can be beautiful. Only the most skilled and experienced of the elite surfers in this world endeavor to ride the storied winter surf at Waimea, Oahu. Waimea Bay features a very shallow beach protected on one side by large jutting lava rocks, both above AND below the surface; while the other side is a lava rock wall. Strangely enough, the big waves never break to the narrow beach of softer sand and small pebbles…only to the rocks or the wall. To surf Waimea, a surfer must first paddle all the way out to the ‘staging area’, paddling through swells so big that people on shore lose sight of them for several seconds at a time. It’s hard-ass work; no Skidoos to pull you out in those days; but that’s where the big waves begin to form and gain their awesome mass….and speed. This is where the picking of waves is critical.

Many folks do not realize that the larger a wave, the faster that wave is moving. The faster that wave, the less time afforded for decision making. Grab this wave….or wait? Waiting is easy, but that’s not what ABC Wide World of Sports or the World Surfing Federation wants to see; BUT once one grabs a wave, there is no changing one’s mind…not without suffering a merciless pounding as the thousands of tons of water drive you into the floor of the ocean, rolling you in all directions and destroying your surface orientation…..not to mention what can happen to a frail human body being slammed into crystalline-type lava rocks as big as a car or bigger. One may die….several have.

One January day in 1968, I was surfing Ala Moana with a couple of friends. This is a ‘touristy’ beach with 4-5 footers on a good day…perfect for ‘learners’. Also, that side of the island, the Waikiki side, does not feature particular good surf in the winter. It’s not even good for body surfing or belly boarding. Nonetheless, we were enjoying ourselves and teaching Merwyn T. how to surf. He’d surfed small stuff with us quite a bit, but never anything over 6 or 7 feet, and certainly not in particularly dangerous conditions or at craggy beaches. He enjoyed himself a lot and felt ‘challenged’. That’s what he said. Merwyn T. was about 6’3” and built like Tom Selleck when Tom was young. Merwyn T. had character and fortitude. Merwyn T. was a good looking guy, but quite shy around girls. Sad, huh? Merwyn T was from a remote area of Tennessee; and yet he had earned advanced black belts in 3 different martial arts, one of them a ‘killing art’. He was very mild; but, for a woman or a friend, it was almost evil how quickly he could react to a ‘situation’. He was a man of commitment, his word his bond, his actions undaunted. Since he was a big guy, I gave him my first surf board, a “big board,” a 9’6” Hobie with an egg-shape “rudder” at the end of the skeg or fin. Boards were transitioning quickly to smaller and more maneuverable sizes. This was perfect for his level of expertise and, after all, free is usually good. I bought a 7’6” board to replace it.

So, we were enjoying the day when, all of a sudden, the horns started sounding, signaling the storm surf on the North Shore. We threw our boards into my rusty and ratty, red and white ’56 Chevy convertible and took off. By the time we arrived at Waimea, ABC had already set up a little booth high on the hill above the beach. Many people were gathering on the hill and the beach to watch. The Coast Guard had a cutter out beyond the break and to the side….just in case of disaster; and a rescue helicopter was circling overhead, ready with a ‘saddle’. The announcer was talking to a few of the ‘noted local personalities’ and surfers about the conditions and who they expected to take the challenge of Waimea. Locals were saying they had never seen early waves as big and as fast as these, except on the island of Maui. They weren’t sure anyone would brave such an onslaught. Many folks do not realize that the bigger a wave is, the faster it goes. This reduces available reaction time for the rider. Instincts and experience must prevail. These were 35-40 footers, racing across the bay in a few seconds and breaking on the lava wall. As if to discourage participation, the cutter personnel threw a surf board into a forming wave. In just a few seconds, it was splintered into hundreds of pieces. According to the locals, a guy would have to be crazy to go. After all, there’s no reward…but accomplishment.

Suddenly, there was a commotion on the beach. Someone was going out. The announcer was trying to find out who it was that would brave these conditions. “Who is this lone warrior?” he asked. I looked around, looked back down and I knew who the "lone warrior" was…..Merwyn T. What the Hell did he think he was doing?! I quickly walked over and told the announcer who he was and gave him a little background. In the meantime, other surfers, people who didn’t even know Merwyn T., were trying to stop him. He pushed a very big guy down and started out. Another guy paddled over to him to talk him out of it. It was going to happen. Merwyn T. had made a commitment. In the meantime, the announcer is going wild with the “human drama” of this situation: “this one brave soul, paddling to his destiny or his death”, “this lonely surfer, in search of the perfect wave”. Not once did he mention that Merwyn T. was completely out of his element, a novice surfer who, in all likelihood, would die if he did not change his mind. Through the swells Merwyn paddled relentlessly, disappearing for long periods of time, until finally he got to the ‘line’. In those days there were no skidoos to pull you to the "line"....you had to paddle your board. The cutter went over and tried to talk him in. He wouldn’t have it. He kept looking back to pick a wave, as if he actually knew what to look for and what to do. The helicopter hovered above and dropped the ‘saddle’, telling him they would take him to safety. He kept pushing it away. Finally, they gave up and flew to watch from the side. A report came to the announcer that the biggest set of the day was fast approaching, predicting a set of waves 45 to 50 feet in height. Waves this large were far greater than any normal “big wave.” But….Merwyn T. was committed. The announcer let me use his binoculars for a minute. Merwyn T. had this look on his face: “What the Hell have I done?!” He kept looking back for a swell, the right swell. He wanted to come to shore, but he wanted to ride in… on his board. His back-country pride wasn’t going to allow anything else. Suddenly, he was paddling for all he was worth. You could see the wave lift him up….way up. Just then, he broke down into the wave. He went screaming across the face, and because he knew no better, he “roller coastered” a couple of times (moving up and down on the face of the wave). The crowd was in absolute awe…even the best of them; but there was no time for such shenanigans. The wall was fast approaching. So far, it had been an incredibly courageous ride, attested to by the oohs and ahs of the crowd and the reactions of the surfing elite that had opted not to go, not to brave the crashing and crushing walls of water. Even the announcer was silent as we all watched and waited for this young man to meet his doom before our very eyes. At the last possible second and in need of a fast escape, he turned and went screaming up the face of the wave, through the curl and over the back. As he separated from the board (we did not use tethers in those days), he did what ‘hot dog’ California surfers used to do – he grabbed his ankles as he entered the water, making a great splash. It was called a ‘Quasimoto”, named for the Hunchback of Notre Dame. About 3 seconds later, his board was completely splintered. He waved from the water. The crowd went wild. The announcer was frantically searching for words….”this young hero who challenged Mother Nature at risk of his life… and won.” The elite were impressed. The helicopter lowered the saddle and he climbed on. When they brought him to the beach, I met him in the water, as did many others. As I helped him out of the saddle, his legs and torso were violently shaking, as was his voice when he whispered, “Man…I s**t my pants.” I told him no one would ever know. He stopped wading through the water for a second and looked at me hard.. “There is a God. There is a God.” He began to smile as people were rushing to talk to him. “I did it, man. I did it.”

So, Merwyn T., a novice surfer, had somehow accomplished what the elite of the sport would not dare on that day. A few weeks later, it was just 3 minutes on the Wide World of Sports and only a few are still alive that even witnessed the happening. It was certainly one of the bravest and stupidest things I've seen.

Merwyn T. and I were also stationed in Vietnam in the same outfit. While in Vietnam, there was a Southeast Asian Theatre hardboiled egg-eating contest, inspired by the recently released movie Cool Hand Luke. They wanted to see if someone could actually eat 50 hard-boiled eggs in an hour. Of course, that’s just in a movie. Merwyn T. entered that contest. We laughed at Merwyn T. and thought him addled; and Merwyn T. did not eat 50 hard-boiled eggs in an hour….BUT he did eat 49….and it was real life, not a movie. We gave him an entire upper floor of a vented barracks to sleep for a couple of days….ALONE. You could hear him up there after all those eggs……”Oh, my God”……”Oh, Jesus Christ”….”God help me”. His flatulents were near deadly. He was gassing himself to death. He finally vacated the area and slept outside on the grass where the breezes would take away the stench of his accomplishment.

A few weeks later, there was a ‘fried chicken leg’ eating contest. I entered and so did Merwyn T. I love fried chicken, so I thought I had a chance. I consumed 37 fried chicken legs in the allotted hour and thought I had a chance to win; but….NO. Merwyn T. had eaten 63. Can you believe that?! Back upstairs he went.

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