More Miki

ALL FOR A FEW PERFECT WAVES had to be 500 pages or less --
not the original 850! Material was cut that, in the final analysis,
interrupted the dramatic flow and story. Some great scenes
were lost, but even a great scene can't just come out of
nowhere.

Maybe one day I'll do a special edition, an author's cut. But until
then....enjoy. And check back now and then for new stories,
and individual interview excerpts.

All stories Copyright David Rensin/All For a Few Perfect Waves.
You may link but you may not reproduce elsewhere without
written permission.

MIKI DORA IN MOROCCO
JANUARY THROUGH MARCH 1999

As you know, the original manuscript would have resulted in an 850
page book. Much had to be deleted. Below is a chapter about Miki’
s trip to Oulidia Surf Camp in Morocco. He’d just moved back to
Guéthary on the Cote Basque, and made a deal with Quiksilver to
be a representative without portfolio. In other words, Quiksilver,
through Miki’s friend Harry Hodge – who ran the company in
Europe – agreed (at their own suggestion) to pay Miki’s living
expenses, give him a car, insurance, golf and tennis club
memberships, and an allowance. In return Miki had only to be Miki .
. . that is, hang out with whomever he wanted to and be on the
scene. Wearing Quiksilver clothing and hawing company products
was not involved. Harry simply wanted to give the guy a way to
sustain himself.

Mike McNeill worked for Quiksilver. Susan was his ex-wife.
Laurent Miramon ran the surf camp. Virginie is his sister. Rick
Hodgson knew Miki from Topanga, and had played a part in having
some of Miki’s belongings left behind in New Zealand returned to
him. Michael McDonnell is a movie producer. Cynthia Applewhite
met Miki in 1959 and was a lifelong friend. Barry McGrath also
worked for Quiksilver.

SUSAN MCNEILL: Miki would only compromise his freedom for
short periods of time, like when he was supposed to be working for
Harry Hodge, or when he would have to compromise to involve
himself with a woman. He would make small compromises, but he
saw them as a means to the end.

He would never say yes to projects because it would be too much
work. He was probably capable of running a large company, if he
had chosen to do so, but it would have taken too much time away
from his personal freedom. I think he resented people who would
give up their personal freedom in order to work the machine. He
was also a little jealous.

Part of Harry Hodge’s deal with Miki was that he was supposed to
be the Welcome Wagon. But when the first wagon came to town,
Miki went to a surf camp in Morocco and stayed three months. The
wagons came and went, came and went, and all these guys were
here who were supposed to be playing golf, going to the Alps and
surfing, and the guide was down there going, “Oh, I can’t get back.
I’ll be back next week.” Then he left a huge tab down there that
Quiksilver had to pay as well. And then he was always getting ill. He
used to say it was because of what he ate, but I knew it wasn’t.

Meanwhile, Bob Simpson was complaining: “He doesn’t get paid
very well.” I said, “Bob, he’s not doing anything.” I don’t think Bob
knew Miki very long, but there’s another one: he really loved Miki.
He did a lot for Miki, gave Miki so much.

VIRGINIE MIRAMON: He was sent by Harry Hodge to the surf
camp in Morocco, in a small village called Oualidia, in January,
1999, for a vacation. I was visiting my brother Laurent, who created
the camp and surf school for kids and adults fifteen years ago, and I
just happened to be there when Miki came. The surf camp was
sponsored by Quiksilver, in a way. Not financially speaking, but it
added to their image. He was supposed to stay two weeks, and he
ended up staying much longer.

MIKE MCNEILL: Quiksilver buys time in the camp, leasing it for a
two-week period to send our team riders down. They used to do an
exercise program where we’d get fit. Miki started out on one of
these deals, but then everyone left and Miki stayed. Which Miki
often did.

VIRGINIE MIRAMON: My brother always wanted to pass on his
knowledge of the ocean and surfing, especially kids. We were born
and raised in Morocco and had a fantastic childhood. We were
surrounded by wonderful ocean people who were always sharing
with us, teaching us, taking us fishing.

LAURENT MIRAMON: I have a special life here in Morocco. I
teach surf to kids and I’m very involved in preserving the surfing
conditions and the spirit of the area.

I work from March to November, then I have four months of
holidays. It’s the best period for surfing in Morocco, so it’s good for
me. Quiksilver called me in late December and asked me if I could
host Miki Dora for a week at the beginning of January because it
was too cold in France and Miki was tired. I said yes, with
pleasure.. He came for one week and he stayed three months, and I
spent my holidays taking care of Miki Dora. He should have been
back in France but he would always say, "No, I need one more day.

I picked up Miki at the airport. We had a very good feeling
immediately. Where I live is not crowded. We surfed alone on very
good waves. There are the famous waves off Safi, a right point
break, much like Jeffreys Bay. Oualidia is a beach break with rights
and lefts. Miki brought a special board. He was always trying to find
the special shape. He had a 9' with no rocker. Otherwise he was
traveling very light. He had a bag and a backpack. Some stones. He
opened a little bag and showed them to me one night. I was scared.
Tthere were some crazy pieces inside. It was a little fortune. I said,
“Let me put it in the office.” He said, “No no, it stays always with
me. This is my bank.”

When people arrive in Morocco I take their passports so they’re
really on holiday. They don’t have to think about their paper. I said
to Miki, “Give me the passport. I keep it with me. No problem.” He
didn’t want to. When you have a client who’s had his passport
stolen it’s big shit. I didn’t understand it.

I said, “Miki, it’s no problem.” Finally, he trusted me but he said,
“Hey Laurent, please take care. This is my heart. I haven’t got a
passport since 15 years.” He used to change the pictures. His
passport had no residency. That’s exceptional. It means you are not
registered really any place in the world. It means you don’t pay any
tax, any insurance, any anything. The residency of France was paid
by Quiksilver. It was an American passport he got when they
cleaned the case of Miki Dora at the FBI. Miki said, “You should
have seen the face of the young inspector from the FBI. They were
looking at my old case; it was like a mountain of paper, about 30
centimeters.” But it was nothing serious to chase a guy for 12 or 15
years. It was stupid. He had some stuff with American Express or
some fight, but he wasn’t a gangster.

He said the FBI came to his house in New Zealand and he escaped.
He left everything. The story is crazy. From France, when he went
back to New York to clean his case with the FBI. I said, “Hey,
Miki, why did you go back to New York?” He said, “For my
mother. She called me. She was sick.

She was getting too old.” She wanted to die thinking that everything
was okay for her son. So they took the best lawyer, and that’s the
way Miki went back to New York. Miki was tired after three or six
months in jail in Bayonne.

VIRGINIE MIRAMON: My first impression of Miki was that he
was a charming, well-educated, knowledgeable person. A very
complicated individual. I could tell he was complicated because I can
see through people. He was very curious; when he’s introduced to
someone, he would ask lots of questions. And yet he liked to keep
his privacy, he was secretive. You can see some looks in his eyes.
But he enjoyed being with us. We had a wonderful time. We surfed,
we played, we laughed, we enjoyed the sun, we read, we talked, we
played backgammon and ping-pong. I beat him all the time at
backgammon. He hated that! He was angered, tense. Of course, he’
s a Leo. I’m a Cancer. Leo is the father of the zodiac. Cancers are
the mothers.

Right away he told us who he was, the first day. He said, “OK, this
is who I am, this is where I come from, this is my story. I’m here to
relax. I don’t want to interact with people. I like my privacy. I don’t
like to have my photo taken.” That’s about it. We said, “OK, fine.” I
didn’t care much who he was – this “Miki Dora” legend. I had heard
of it from my brother, seen a couple of photos. To me he was like
every other person.

He had traveled a lot, so he liked to talk about distant places and
other people’s ways. He was still upset over being in prison. And
upset about his house in South Africa catching on fire; and his dog
was his passion. He carried a photo of Scooter Boy with him
everywhere. And he was quite emotional about it, because at the
surf camp there’s lots of dogs.

I’m not here to judge him. I don’t want to go into analyzing who he
was, what he did. I’m not interested. I think he truly enjoyed and
appreciated that. He didn’t have to put an act together or play a
game. He didn’t have to be malicious. He just had to be…maybe
the true Miki. He was funny. He still had the hand gestures, always.
He was self-deprecating to the point that he was taking himself
down all the time. At that stage in his life, he was probably doing a
review of his life and what he had done, and was aware of all this
stuff. He didn’t do that good, and he was probably aware of what
he had done wrong. Because he was a smart individual.

I think we were a fresh breath of air for him because we did not care
– about what had happened, what he did. We didn’t want anything
from him. We just accepted him for who he was, with his heart and
his soul. It was good for him to interact with people who were not
from his past. It just simple with us.

LAURENT MIRAMON: I live a special life in a beautiful place. We
are the same distance between Casablanca and Marrakech, a two
hour drive, near Essaouira, also called Mogador. Mogador was a
very special place in the ‘60s hippie movement. Jimmy Hendrix was
there. You know the song about the castle made of sand? It was
written in Essaouira; there’s a castle on the beach. I also took Miki
there. I live in such a place and do good business, but I don’t sell
myself. That was the big complaint from Miki: all his friends sold
themselves. He stayed the same.

I took him to some special places like Desert Point where you have
to walk for one hour. But he was tired. Sometimes I could hear him
coughing all night long. He slept poorly and always with the
BBC radio on. It was impossible to sleep with him in the same
room, though we had to share sometimes when we traveled.
Because I thought he would only be one or two weeks, we went
straight on a trip to Marrakech and to Essaouria. He told me he’d
been to Morocco in the ‘60s, to Kenitra, in the north. There was an
American military base there and he went to see some friends.

I introduced him to James Stewart Church, a great painter. Stewart
was like Miki. He had the same character. He stopped painting
when he realized that his paintings were used in a commercial way.
In the USA, for stealing one pencil he went to jail for two months.
Finally he went to Tangiers in the ‘60s and stayed in Morocco. Miki
met Stewart in a beautiful house in Marrakech, like one out of A
Thousand and One Nights.

He had an old friend in Marrakech named Virgil Bertoné. He’s a
guy from Biarritz. In the ‘60s, ‘70s he had a limousine business. It
was also the ‘70s, so he had a good address with everything you
need to get happy: the best restaurant, the best wine, the best coke,
the best hash. He went also to jail many years. He’s been in
Morocco for 15 years and we found him for Miki. It was funny to
see the two guys together: “Hey, you’re getting old!” “No, you’re
getting old!”

                                             ~

Quiksilver paid for the first two weeks. After that, Harry wanted to
have Miki in France for marketing – parties for the company, surf
conferences, contests. He was really feeling bad. He was coughing.
It seemed serious. He took a lot of vitamins but no medicines. The
marketing guy sent a fax to Miki saying, “You must come back. We
will stop paying your bill in Morocco.” It was a little tough. It was a
young guy in marketing telling that one sentence to such a character
who was 64. I said to Miki, “Hey, no problem if you want to stay
more.”

VIRGINIE MIRAMON: We were concerned. “This guy isn’t
young. He’s not old, but he’s not doing well. What can we do?” He
had his own medicine cabinet. There was nothing we could give him.
Sometimes he stayed in his room for two days, and ask nicely if he
could have his dinner in his room --but that’s all the help he asked
for.

                                             ~

LAURENT MIRAMON: Miki had some people who wanted to do
a movie. I remember only John Milius and another guy who did The
Usual Suspects, but there were others. Everyone who wanted to
contact Miki sent faxes to my office. I used to give the faxes to Miki
and every time he was, “Laurent, can you read this and tell me what
you think about this guy? I think he’s a stupid guy. He must be gay.”
I saw the fax from John Milius and said, “Miki, I don’t think he’s a
stupid guy.” It was a way for Miki to have fun and make shit about
all this. These guys wanted the bad past of his life and Miki didn’t
want to do a movie about being in jail. Miki wanted to do a movie
about his real life.

RICK HODGSON: I think he knew that if his story was really told,
that he wouldn’t look good. He old me that he saw the movie about
him being a Lawrence of Arabia sweeping epic, with all the
adventures, with the humor and the beauty and the scope. Probably
with a few clever, harmless scams, but not with the truly evil stuff.

However, when Miki hadn’t heard from McDonnell for a few weeks
he become anxious that the producer had suddenly lost interest.
Shortly after settling into the surf came, he wrote to Cynthia
Applewhite:
Thank you for your encouraging FAX:! I left France Jan 1, for
Morocco to escape a flu epidemic. I didn’t make it. Its caught
me. I’m down for a week now. My trips in shambles… As for the
producer, before I left a 3 page fax was sent off with some
answer to questions he had sent me! No reply? Please try and
call Michael. I think he has lost interest. I haven’t heard a word
from anyone in a month now. I must plan my life accordingly.

Applewhite replied:
This is a project he’s been thinking about for a long time and
now he has your permission, I’m sure he’s doing the job
efficiently, scouting out money, screenwriter, getting the star’s
interest, and all that a producer has to do to get it going. My
advice to you is don’t even think about it. I’ll all happen
without any effort on your part at all.

After I contact M.M. I’ll fax you what we talked about.
What an exciting movie this will make!

Don’t worry. This guy feels so lucky to get this opportunity to
create a movie of your life! Remember, Mickey! Your fascinating
image that intrigues everybody is that of a lone, aloof,
inaccessible, remote sports celebrity . So keep your image. Let
M.M. do it all for you. He hasn’t lost interest!

Right here I should put in the remark that this is Hollywood:
“Hurry up & wait.” Have
Faith – be cool – Love you.

Finally, McDonnell wrote:
Happy New Year Mickey.
Interestingly, I got put together with Johnny Fain in a doubles
game and now I’m his new favorite partner. He’s got bad knees
and an artificial hip. He likes me because I chase down all the
lobs that go over him. He’s still got pretty good ground strokes.
We’ve beaten guys that should have beaten us.

He wants me to do his story as a movie. He gave me the Surfers
Journal article on him. I called him yesterday to say that in my
view there is no movie there. Incredible stories, characters,
incidents yes, but no feature film. He’s a tenacious little
bastard, isn’t he? I’m not going to pursue it.

I called Milius. As you mentioned he was someone who always
seemed to respect you, and we talked at length (as he is wont to
do) about you, Malibu, Big Wednesday, and movies ivolving
surfing. He didn’t see where the movie is in your story at first
but seemed intrigued after I told him what I had in mind. He
invited me to lunch next week. I’ll see what I can learn from
him and I’ll fax you to tell you about it. I look forward to
meeting you one day.

Relieved, Miki replied on letterhead from the Hotel Kenzi
Semiramis, Morocco:
“I’m paying off the local-Controlling-Chieftain, against the
clock, so I won’t get slam-dunked by his snap of the finger
strong arm morons. So the world turns everything has its price,
even out of the dim past – ancient MOROCCO. You have to pay
for every wave! Time marches on . . . . I’m sorry to hear of
Johnny’s physical problems. I have not had a word from him in
30 years…! He was always a bit confused on the facts of life –
along with the rest of his generations….. The 60s were
audacious times to bad no one learned anything!

And yet the same day he faxed a letter to a trusted friend in Malibu,
in which he said, “I just might have to come back to the United
Snakes. It looks like I got a film option pending from the
producer of “The Usual Suspects.” Is it any good? Do you
know this joker Michael McDonnell of Malibu?

Finally, Cynthia Applewhite met with McDonnell and reported back
to Miki.
As to your film: Mickey, you are lucky! This is a well-known film
producer who wants to do this and present you a la “Cool Hand
Luke,” starring Paul Newman, which was about a glamorous
non-conformist. Maybe you’ve seen it. If not, try to find it in a
video store over there and rent it.

Knowing this, you should have the confidence to just relax and
let him do it all, get the star, get the financing. When a deal
comes about, our agency, CAA, best in Hollywood, will act for
you and get you the most money. So just enjoy life and let the
wheels move. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be. Could happen fast,
could take forever, could (sigh) all fall apart. We trust not, but
we’re all in the hands of Destiny. It’s taken almost a year for
them to select a screenwriter to do Louie’s life and
start on our project.

Michael wanted to go over there and interview you but I said,
“No, bring Mickey Dora over here and put him up in a good
hotel.” When I spoke to him yesterday to get your correct fax
number, he said they were going to do that -- bring you here.
Maybe rent you a car?

Yay! (We’ll also go to) El Cholo (restaurant and to) Dr. Starr’s
for checking you out on her magic machine and prescribing
youthifying and healthifying supplements to keep you feeling
great and limber and flexible for tennis, golf and WAVES!
Love, Cynthia

PS: I hope I did right in suggesting they bring you here. Besides
my pleasure in seeing you again, I’m thinking: Mickey spending
more time with Senior Dora -- also face to face meeting with
CAA agent & discussing $ matters. Let me know when you’re
coming.

Miki wrote: “Thank you for faxing me back.I’m feeling a little
better now. Perhaps I “over-reacted”. When one is sick as I
was it’s a hell of a thing to fight it alone in a strange country. I’
m used to it but when some one I don’t know is juggling with
my life, I become a wee bit jittery, particularly when he plays
tennis with Johnny Fain. There’s no telling what this confused
little nincompoop puts into Michael’s head. Anyhow its not
important, there’s nothing anyone can do to me that has not
been done … He did however finally fax me. He’s off to Costa
Rica for a while. He claims he talked to John Milius. You know
how discomposed I get about my life! I went through a lot to
make it work; to let Hollywood carve me up in little chunks and
served up to the Public – with or without me, it makes my flesh
creep. I have no one to help me in these matters. If by some
trust to luck and tempt for time, this all comes to pass and I can
make something of it all, I will show you my appreciation! I don’
t want you to get too involved with this venture to the
impairment to your normal life, one only has so much energy to
expend.

                                             ~

After the flurry of Hollywood business that followed him to Oualidia,
Miki turned his energy to other matters.

LAURENT MIRAMON: He had a lot of time to think here. It’s a
beautiful place on a lagoon. In the winter it’s empty. He surfed with
me and he walked a lot on the beach. He was always thinking about
the places he saw in his life. Whenever he came back from a
promenade he would tell me about Malibu in the old times. He told
me about South Africa. It was sad. His house burned, his dog died.
He left from there with nothing. Just some stones in the pockets. He
said it was on purpose.

He wasn’t respecting the rules. He said he especially loved to in the
white parts with a black friend.

Miki was always giving me some advice. Every day I got three or
four stories from Miki’s life. He was always comparing his life and
my life from every point of view – surfing, women, everything. It was
fantastic to spend three months with him. He had always a view on
the future. He was always telling me, “Laurent, take care about this,
take care about that; it’s gonna happen like this, it’s gonna happen
like that.”

He wanted to make a new board in balsa. He wanted to get a free
trip to Ecuador from Quiksilver to buy wood. He wanted to take me
there because I speak Spanish and I take care well of Miki. He said
to Harry, “I have to take Laurent with me.” He talked about special
skin for the wet suits. He was a little dreamer, talking like this. But in
one way he’s right. He’s whole concept was right. I think he met
Yvon Chouinard, from Patagonia, but quickly. He was always
talking about Yvon and what he did with textiles.

He was always giving me advice about the evolution of my business.
He saw the whole system, the capitalism, from the ‘60s. It’s hard to
deal in this world. He hated the surf industry except the special
relation he had with Harry Hodge. Harry was the part that Miki
wasn’t: he was successful and doing well. He had a lot of admiration
for Harry: he gave all his time to the business. It was very bizarre
because then most of the people I met had a bad opinion of Miki.
They didn’t understand why Harry was helping him. Miki was a man
abusing people. Harry was the only guy helping him. The relationship
worked.

After two months of not working I had twenty-five kids coming to
the camp. Miki said, “Hey, kids’ coming? I must leave! It’s time to
leave.” I told him, “Hey, Miki, no. There is no problem. You’re
gonna see the kids. There is a lot of respect. You can stay here.” He
did. Finally, at the end of the week, we were having dinner in the big
tent with all the kids on one side and me and Miki. He looked at me
and said, “Hey Laurent, they are very cool, these kids.” To him all
kids were a mess because of the education, the system, all that. Miki
had said, “They’re going to eat you! They’re gremlins.”

Another time a journalist from Eurosport came with a cameraman.
Miki got paranoid. “No, no! I leave! I leave!” Again, I said, “No,
they’re very cool. They’re going to respect you. I’m going to take
care of that.” I told them not to film him and obeyed. He spent the
week with them and had a very good feeling with them. A very good
time, having dinner, talking. He became more flexible and more open.

In fact., he began dancing salsa here.

I have Cuban blood and Spanish, and we love salsa. Most of the
time there is salsa and people dance, and he was very happy to see
people dancing like this: no party, just for the occasion. Great
dancers and girls. One night we were dancing until three or four. He
woke up and began dancing. He was very smart, dancing salsa. He
was good.

My sister dances very well, especially salsa. I heard the rumor that
he was in love with her.

VIRGINIE MIRAMON: The only reason I was at the camp so
often – I came down on weekends – is because I was on my way
back to America and I’d fallen in the street and dislocated my elbow
really bad. I had to stay there longer than I planned.

Later that year I was in France and Miki helped me find a place to
live in Guethary. We were in the same building. Whenever Miki was
invited to a party, he always would say, “Hey Virginie, I have an
invitation, do you want to come?” He was very nice to me. He was
a good friend. I heard he had a crush on me. But I couldn’t sense it.
Maybe I can see through people, but when I’m concerned, I have
no idea. From what I saw – and I saw him in the company of other
women – he was a real gentleman. I never saw him out of line with a
woman. My brother’s girlfriend at the time was Spanish and living in
San Sebastian. He liked her too, he liked being in her company. We’
d always spend a couple of hours together, having a coffee, playing
backgammon. He was the same with her as with me.

                                             ~

LAURENT MIRAMON: The FBI came to visit Miki at the surf
camp. I think they didn’t want to let Miki do a movie or a book. It
was bad advertising for them.

Imagine the situation. We were at the camp with five or six friends.
A guy came, a solid guy. He said he was a mountain guide and was
just back from the Kilimanjaro; it was the third time he’d done it. He
said, “Yeah, I’m a surfer.” He had no board. I said, “No problem. I’
ll rent you a board.” He began talking with people and with Miki. He
was a very friendly American guy. Smiling. Talking. We went for
dinner and the guy wanted to talk to Miki. Miki looked at me and
said, “Hey Laurent. Please tell this stupid guy that I don’t talk with
police.” The guy was laughing. He was next to him.It was very
uncomfortable even for me. I was like, “Oh. Miki’s radical.” The
guy was having fun, laughing. He tried again to talk with Miki. Miki
told me again, “He’s stupid really, this guy. I believe he’s really
stupid.” In front of him and in front of people.

That night Miki said, “This guy, are you sure he’s coming from the
Kilimanjaro? He’s not sunburned. His lips are fresh. They’re like lips
from New York. And look at his clothes: He’s so well-packed. He’
s not a guide.”

The day after, we went surfing. It was not big, but they were solid
five-, six-foot beach break. I saw the guy in the water. He was a
nut. He was not able to paddle correctly. He got crashed in the
waves. He broke the board. First day. He had to pay for the board.
He wasn’t a surfer. He probably was someone who had one week
of lessons to go into a surf camp and ask where is Miki Dora. It’s
ike a movie, I know, but we were convinced that this stupid guy was
lying.

We had three days like this. The third day I made like I was closing
the camp, to put this guy out. We went to Ksar. The guy went in my
van with us. I left the guy in the street at a hotel, and he was crazy.
He wanted to stay in contact with us. He wanted to get information.
He wanted to see us for dinner. But everybody was not simpatico
with him. I didn’t want to talk with him; Miki was radical with him;
my sister was the same. I believe he was like a general information,
maybe FBI or not. I don’t know, but it was very bizarre.

Another time, maybe one week later, a young man came to the
camp, maybe 25 years old. We were having coffee. They knew I
was closed, so he asked for a leash. I looked at the guy and said,
“You’re coming from Europe or the USA and you think you’re
going to find a leash in Morocco? If you come to surf in Morocco
you have a guide, and you must know the only surf shop is in
Casablanca. So why you didn’t go to Casablanca to buy a leash as
soon as you arrived?” It was another story. Another blah-blah-blah.
Me, I’m quite radical because we don’t have stuff. It’s hard
for us to get essentials and boards. Even if I have ten leashes I’m
going to tell such a guy, “No, I don’t have leash.” Leash for
Moroccans, not for foreigners who forgot his leash.

I said to the guy, “Go to Essaouira. It’s 160 kilometers. Maybe
there is a surf shop there and you can find a leash.” The guy had a
block of wax in his pocket. He said, “It’s hard to have material in
Morocco, so take this. I give you the block of wax.” I took the wax
and said, “Thank you! Thank you very much. Ciao. Bye-bye.”

He should have gone. It was three o’clock p.m. I went back to my
house. I was in the living room and he couldn’t see me, but the guy
was on the beach right in front of my house. An empty beach.
No t-shirt. Nude. I saw the guy was really fit. And he was always
looking always to my house. It’s the only house open in the
wintertime and he knew that Miki was there.

So, I don’t know exactly the truth about all this, but it was two very
strange visits. In all my relations, if it’s not clear I’m very sensitive. It’
s my job, communications, and I can feel people.
And I can tell you, these two guys were very bizarre.

~

When Miki finally went back to Biarritz, Harry wasn’t so happy that
he’d stayed so long in Morocco So Miki told Harry that I gave him
poison and tried to keep him in the camp because it was good
promotion for the camp. [laughs] It’s funny but he told Harry
seriously. People from inside and outside the company told me that.
He said, “It was a trap! They gave me drugs in Morocco, like black
magic.I was sick and I couldn’t move! I stayed there and it was
good for the camp.”

                                             ~

BARRY MCGRATH: A friend and I decided to go to Morocco, to
surf for a month or two. Through working with Quiksilver I knew
Miki, and that he was at a surf camp in Oualidia. He’d been there for
a few months, quite sick actually – caught chronic flu or bronchitis.
On the way to Taghazout, we decided to drop into the surf camp
and hook up with Miki to see what he was doing, and try to get
him out of his rut.

We stayed a few days, had a few meals, and Miki decided to come
with us, a few hundred kilometers further south to Taghazout. But
knowing his problems of sharing money for expenses, we were a bit
worried. Everything was OK until we got to the second or third
petrol station and by then Miki didn’t want to participate in anything.
At the same time, he was buying very expensive things in
the shops.

At Taghazout we stayed in a little house on Anchor Point. Miki
immediately took over the biggest room, even though we were
paying. Miki actually went out for a couple of surfs, but after a
couple days, Miki just wasn’t participating in anything. After a
couple of weeks Miki was kind of freaking out a little bit as well,
listening to the radio all night, talking about some mad programs he
was listening to in China, and “we’re all going to get invaded by the
Chinese.”

Generally, things not going well. My friend and I spoke about it, and
decided we didn’t want Miki to be with us anymore. We hinted
about it, he didn’t care. He just hung out. So we decided,
while we were surfing, we’d tell Miki. We were going to tell him
together, but my friend got out of the surf first. As I walked up on
the rocks, Miki comes running down to me, and says, “Fuck! What’s
going on?! Your friend’s just told me I have to get out of here!”

I said, “Miki, stop. I don’t know what my friend said to you, but
whatever it was, I completely agree with him.”

He said, “He wants me to get out on the next bus.”

I said, “OK, we’ll get your things together and take you to the bus
station.” We took him into town and got him a bus ticket and he left,
to, Agadir I suppose, then took a plane back to France. Later, he
thought what had happened was quite funny.

In the end, Miki told few people about his time in Morocco, but
when he did, it was often spun into a wild tale.I went with my best
friends for 35 years. We hadn’t been on a surf trip together for years
and years.So we didn’t really want to take Miki with us, but it
seemed OK, so we took him. Maybe under different circumstances
we probably would have held on a bit longer. But we just were
down for a month holiday, and had been working, and we didn’t
need Miki and his mad stories about being invaded by China.
Although there were some things that were quite interesting and
funny.

What’s funny is how Miki would do things like say, “It’s absolutely
impossible for me to help you guys out with petrol, absolutely
impossible,” and then he’d be buying fossilized shark teeth for loads
of money. He’d open his wallet and it was full of money, but it was
impossible to buy a carrot to put in the tagine. That was Miki. If it
hadn’t been Miki, we would have left him in the first petrol station.
But of course, it was Miki Dora. He told us loads of great stories, in
the beginning. It happened over probably two weeks, ten days,
there were lots of positive things. His New Zealand stories. It was
fantastic. But the hassles over time became stronger than the stories.

I must say when Miki got sick here afterwards, I saw Miki quite
often. We always had a beer together, hung out with the same
people, and he didn’t hold any grudges about that, I don’t think.
I think somewhere along the line, he thought, not that it was good
exactly, but at least it was a couple people not ass-licking Miki
Dora. I’d see him having beers in Guethary and everybody would
just be, “That’s Miki Dora! Miki Dora!” And of course, classic Miki
Dora, he didn’t want to be recognized.

When he got sick, he was a different person. We had a laugh. It was
great. It always comes down to basic, “He was Miki Dora.” Even in
South Morocco, people would go, “There’s Miki
Dora.” “Are you staying with Miki Dora?” And we’d say, “Yeah,
maybe he could stay with you!”

RICK HODGSON: Miki later told me that the only way he could
get into the surf camp in Morocco was by pack mule, that a Cuban
mercenary ran the camp. There were guards with automatic
weapons everywhere, and if you took off in front of anybody you’d
be shot. And the waves were black and the bottom so full of rocks
and poisonous things that you’d die if you didn’t make the take off.
Miki always liked you to think that he went right into hell and artfully
maneuvered out of hell with priceless panache and/or priceless
booty. That was his whole quest. That was the story he wrote for
himself; that was his real mythology. It was beautiful, but not what
was really happening. The beauty was the contrast with the real
story: When I was talking to a person unrelated to Miki, he said said
he’d just gotten a postcard from a friend in Morocco who said Miki
had been kicked out of this family surf camp because he wouldn’t
pay for food and he kept trying to weasel it from cafeteria. There
were no mercanaries, automatic weapons – nothing – except moms
and kids and surfers and he was trying to have a free ride.

Miki’s view of reality was so Walter Mitty. And he’d keep you
spellbound with the stories.He had an amazing ego with a life story
that, by design, was almost impossible to keep up with.

MAGIC CARPET RIDE
Denny Aaberg, brother of Kemp Aaberg, co-wrote
the John Milius movie "Big Wednesday."
Joey Cabell is the iron-man of surfers and lives in
Hawaii.

DENNY AABERG: In the summer of 1973, Joey
Cabell invited me to visit him in Kauai. Joey is a
world-renowned surfer, co-founder of the Chart
House restaurants; he now owns the one in
Honolulu. Joey also won a bunch of surfing
contests in the ‘60s: Duke’s, Makaha, Malibu, and
more. He’s also a skier, and an adventurer. He’s a
health-conscious guy and always exercising.

At the time I’d been hanging out a bit with Miki. He
took me surfing at the old Pacific Ocean Pier. POP
Pier. The place was in shambles and kind of spooky.
Miki showed me how to walk along the edge of the
pier, to the Mystic Isle ride, throw your board in
the ocean, and jump down into the dirty water.
You didn’t know if pilings were just below the
surface, so it was scary.

When I got to Hawaii that Fall, I asked if Miki could
join us. Joey and Miki met in the ‘50's and had
been friends on and off for years. Joey didn’t
mind. Miki came over with Linda Cuy. Joey had a
fantastic house, not far from Cannon’s, up this
little canyon road, maybe a mile from the hillside.
He’d built it.

JOEY CABELL: Miki slept in the garage with his
girlfriend Linda. The house was the edge of a
forest, and the garage dug out of the hillside. I
used stream bed rocks for the foundation, and
eucalyptus logs and corrugated iron ropes to hold it
up. In one corner I framed out a bedroom. That
night a centipede that crawled onto the eucalyptus
logs, crawled under the corrugated iron, walked
along the log, and fell on Miki Dora’s chest. The
lights went on and I heard complete turmoil:
Screaming, yelling. Linda screamed. Some night.
The next day, I planned to go with my wife Gail
into Koloa. I put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt
and moccasins. I had a little waist-pack and a
space blanket, some food – a couple bags of poi,
some avocados, cans of tuna fish. The trail was
eleven miles. Most people went in with climbing
boots and heavy backpacks. I went in light and
easy. Miki, Linda, and Denny wanted to go, too.

DENNY AABERG: The mountains are high and
serrated, just beautiful, with huge drops to the
ocean, like Big Sur. Narrow, windy up-and-down
trails. For a normal person, it’s a pretty tough hike.
I was in OK shape, Miki, too. The night before we
packed light, took boiled eggs, bananas. The idea
was to spend the night along the way.

JOEY CABELL: Linda had tennis shoes, a bad thing
to wear on that sort of trip. Everyone gets blisters
– but they don’t know until it’s too late. Miki was
totally unprepared. His boots were like elf shoes
with turned up toes, no traction, no nothing. Some
kind of leather pants. I said, “I don’t recommend
dressing like that.”

We got two and a half miles in, across the stream,
to the first good ridge climb. Gail and I were
ahead, the other three falling way back. At the
ridge top, I could see the ocean. I went back to
check on the stragglers. Linda was ready to turn
back. She had heavy blisters. Denny and Miki
decided to continue. I said, “You have to pick the
pace up a little bit or we won’t get there before
dark.”

DENNY AABERG: Soon, Miki complained his feet
hurt. We saw star fruit in the trees, and I tried to
eat some. I don’t know if it was that or the water I
drank from waterfalls, but I started to feel sick and
weak. I fell over at one point with the pack, and
Miki went, “Oh my God! You’ve squished the
deviled eggs!”

The day wore on. We’d climb a big hill, go down a
big drop. Then it started to get dark. Miki said,
“Look at us, we’re like a couple of stumble bums,
out here.” We had no flashlight; the drop to the
ocean was a hundred feet, there was no moon.
“This is the end,” Miki said, kind of making fun, but
kind of serious. We felt our way through the brush.
I fell a couple of times, missed the trail, got
scraped up.

JOEY CABELL: Gail and I found a place to sleep just
as it got dark, and settled down for the night. Dora
and Denny were still on the trail. About two in the
morning I heard voices and rummaging.” Joey,
Joey, is that you?” I let them sleep on a canvas. It
must have been pretty miserable.

DENNY AABERG: I felt like I had the flu. We slept in
a little cave. Miki said a drop of water kept hitting
his head like the “Chinese water torture.” In the
morning Miki said, “Jesus Christ, there’s poop
stains in your pants.” Apparently, I had some
dysentery, and I guess I shit my pants a little bit. I
was sick. His feet really hurt. He didn’t want to
keep hiking. He’s said, “Jesus Christ, Tarzan is out
there with Jane. We need to be rescued!”

JOEY CABELL: I was ready to leave but Miki
wouldn’t go.

DENNY AABERG: Miki lived by his wits and he
wanted a way out. I watched the wheels turning in
his head. I felt miserable. He fed me some poi.
Then in the early afternoon he disappeared for a
while. When he came back he told me that a
helicopter had landed about one hundred yards
down the beach. He said he’d constructed an SOS
on the beach with rocks, or written HELP in the
sand. “I told them my friend was dying on the
beach,” he said. Dying? “The pilot said he’d be
back for us.” We waited. Meanwhile Cabell, who’d
made a little fire couldn’t believe it. But he knew
Miki.

At dusk, a beautiful red sunset at twilight, this
little black speck appeared on the horizon. The
helicopter. We did the 100-yard dash to the landing
site across soft sand. Twenty yards out Miki said,
“Hey, you’ve got to act a little sicker.” He put a
towel around me. The pilot gave me the once over,
like he expected a dead guy. I didn’t know what
Miki had said, but I saw the pilot thinking,
Ummmm, OK. He let me into the helicopter, but
when Miki tried to climb in he said, “Oh no, this is
for emergencies only.”

Miki was quick on the draw. He pulled out this
asthma inhaler and said, “Oh no, I ran out of
asthma medicine. My feet are bleeding. I can’t
walk. I. Can’t. Breathe.” The pilot went, “Oh man,
OK.” Miki got in, holding back his laughter. We
lifted off. We saw Joey and Gail at their campfire,
green mountains, red sunset, and paradise all
around. Miki took it all in and said, “Magic carpet
ride.”

We landed in Lihu’e, about fifty miles away,
surrounded by emergency vehicles with lights
flashing. These guys expected a big story. But I was
just a stooge determined to act as sick as I could.
When the door opened people converged, “Where’
s the sick guy?” I didn’t pay attention to Miki, and
neither did they. Suddenly, I hear, “Where’s the
guy you were with?” But Miki had disappeared.

At the hospital they found dysentery and a little bit
of blood in my urine. Meanwhile, the cops put out
a bulletin for Miki. Eventually they let me go. I sat
in the waiting room, trying to figure out my next
move, and a big guy came in leading Miki. He’d
been busted trying to rent a car at the airport. The
guy wasn’t real bright, and Miki kept double-
talking him. I tried my best not to blow it by
laughing.

He looked at Miki’s IDs, going, “Are you Chapin? Or
Dora?” Miki said, “I’m Chapin Dora. But I don’t
want to be a bother on you people.” Finally, the
guy just gave up, gave him his ID back. Some kid
gave us a ride back to Cabell’s house, and Cabell
showed up a day later. He was pissed because we’
d taken advantage of the public trust.

MORE THAN ONE WAY TO GET A PINK SLIP
John Reilly now lives in the UK

JOHN REILLY: In 1967 I met Miki through my friend
Diane, who had lived with Miki a few years earlier.
Diane said, “I love this guy, he’s so cool. He’s one
of the wackiest people I know, but also one of the
most brilliant.” She introduced us at a place in the
Valley that we used to refer to as “The Peace
Farm.” It wasn’t a commune, it was just these two
hippy guys that lived in North Hollywood that
would have these weekends when people would
just come over. She brought Miki to one of these
“love-in” type weekends, people walking around
tripping. But Miki and I weren’t. He came over and
said, “Well, you are the only one I can talk to,
because everyone else here is out of their tree.”
That was our first connection. We just talked, and
you decide immediately whether you like someone
or you don’t.

We clicked. Then Miki found out I had an English
car called an Alvis. Classic, similar to a Bentley, but
not so expensive. It was a convertible that could be
open in the front and closed the back at the same
time. Miki told me he wanted it.

Miki treated Diane and me to several dinners. One
night he took us to Chasen’s, at that time a very
smart restaurant in Beverly Hills. We were duly
impressed and had a great meal and a lot of laughs.
When the bill came he smiled and said, “Guess
what? I don’t have any money.” I said, “Neither do
I.” Diane said, “Oh shit.” And with that, Miki asked
us if we had our tennis shoes on because he was
going to the toilet and while he was there, carrying
the bill, he said we should head for the front door
and run, which we did. We got away and looked
back to see Miki leaping over the back fence, and
screaming to us “Keep running, keep running.”
We ended up in Malibu the next morning, on the
beach, getting stoned and laughing, and he asked
me if I had ever surfed. I told him I had tried
without much success, and he told me to get on
the back of the board with him while he paddled
out. We waited for the waves for a few minutes
and then they came big time. As the board started
to move he leapt up, grabbed me, and said, “Get
on my fucking shoulders now.” Soon I was in the
same position as Sandra Dee in Gidget riding the
wave on Miki’s shoulders. And let me tell you this
was no easy feat! I was 6ft tall, weighed 170
pounds and was a gymnast at that time in my life;
so in other words, not a little guy!

To my amazement, we glided in without a problem
and when we stood on the beach I started
jabbering about how sensational it was. He just
laughed and said, “Any time you want to again just
let me know.”

Shortly thereafter, Diane and I decided to leave
manic Los Angeles and emigrate to Europe. But we
had to say farewell to her family and mine all over
the U.S.A.

Miki came up with the solution, one of his many
scams. He knew we wanted to do several flights
before leaving and said, “I know how you can fly
free.” I said, “Ok, what’s the deal?” Miki smiled
and it covered his entire body. He said,” You fly
free and you give me your car because you can’t
afford to take it to Europe.” I said “Deal. But how
we do it?”

He had somehow learned that if you booked your
ticket through the new computerized facility, if
you then re-routed it, the system lost the billing
and you flew free. It was that simple, and it
worked. We flew everywhere saying goodbye to
friends and family before we sailed from New York
to the United Kingdom.
When we’d met to say goodbye, Diane kissed and
embraced him. He shook my hand and then said,
“Oh shit, give me a hug. I’m going to really miss
you guys.” We hugged, and he said, said, “Never
hugged a guy before – but you gave me MY car!”

OH, AND NO STARCH ON THE SHIRTS
MIKE MCNEILL is an expat American living in France
for the last twenty-five years. Surfboard maker
then, now working for Quiksilver Europe. Had "the
pleasure to share voyages with Miki and to be his
friend."

MIKE MCNEILL: In the late 90's, when Miki had
moved back to Guethary, he and I decided to take
a private trip to the Ivory Coast area, to a surf
camp. We’d seen neat pictures of African kids,
empty waves, a beautiful coastline.

I got my vaccinations, but Miki didn’t want to get a
shot; he said in Africa he’d gotten a yellow fever
vaccination but he’d lost his card. So we made
photocopies of my vaccination card and forged his
yellow fever card. He said, “Don’t go with me
through Control because they’ll see your card and
notice that mine’s a little off-color.”

While going through customs Miki disappeared. I
got our baggage, and still couldn’t find him.
Suddenly, uniformed officials grabbed all our stuff,
took it to a separate area and started opening the
bags. Miki had brought three huge bags and a huge
board bag with two surfboards inside, but when
opened Miki’s stuff they were full of Miki’s dirty
laundry. Not just from the week before; I mean
months of dirty laundry. Even the Customs guy
couldn’t take the smell. They kept pulling it out,
and piles grew everywhere. And I don’t know
where Miki is.

I repacked Miki’s laundry. The officials wanted
money. I said, “I’ll give you the clothes.” When I
found Miki, he shrugged and told me everything
was fine.

At the surf came he left all his laundry with the
lady who ran the place. She washed and pressed
evrything. We were gone for two weeks and by the
time he came back he had three bags full of clean
clothes. It was like going to your mother’s house to
get your laundry done. Worse.

We stayed in a hotel for one night. Mike didn’t
want to share a room. The clerk said, “You should
share it. It’s like two rooms.”

Miki said, “No. I want my own bathroom.”

The guy said, “Okay, but you’re not going to like
it.”

In his room, Miki saw an airconditioner. “Perfect,”
he said. They guy tried to say something but Miki
didn’t want to know about it. Turned out the air
conditioner didn’t work, the fan didn’t work, and
the windows had no screens. There he was, boiling
hot, no air, and no mosquite netting. I think he
spent all night in the shower.

When it came time to leave, all of our stuff was on
the plane, the propellors were spinning, we were
the last people who had to board. Suddenly, Miki
said, “I want my bags off. I want to stay.” I said
“Whatever. I’m going.”

Of course, he couldn’t stay because all his bags
were on the plane.

MEXICAN MYSTERY TOUR
GARDNER CHAPIN, JR is the son Gard Chapin and
Ramona Stancliff. He is Miki's half-brother. Born in
Los Angeles, California, on August 4, 1946; passed
away August 4, 2006.

GARDNER CHAPIN, JR.: One day Miki said, “Have
you ever dropped acid?” and I said no. He said, “I’
m going to get some acid from Switzerland. This
will be pure pharmaceutical.” He called me about
three weeks later. “I’ve got it.”

We drove to Mexico, to Salsipuedas, about five
miles north of Ensenda. There was only a ranch and
a little dirt road. We each dropped half a cap as we
crossed the border. Then we went to a fresh fruit
market, went to the beach and surfed. Afterwards,
we went to a restaurant and had a late lunch. I was
pretty high on LSD and all of a sudden Miki started
choking on a fish bone. I thought he was gonna die,
but it was all enhanced because of the LSD.

Back at the beach we started coming down. Miki
said, “I’ve got one more capsule. Let’s drop that
too.” Afterward we walked on the beach and he
said, “Look at the rocks – they’re all alive.
Everything on this beach has life in it.”

We came to a spot where a car had gone off the
cliff behind the beach years before. Only the
engine remained, laying in the rocks. Miki said,
“Look at that engine, which is dead. It’s man-
made. Compare it to the rocks.” Well, I looked and
at the time it seemed like Miki did have an awfully
good point. Miki carried the conversation. He
talked about nature, said everything was made by
God, and that everything not man-made was alive,
from the water to everything else. We looked at
the stars coming out. He went on and on.

Eventually we got into our sleeping bags. We lay on
the beach, looking at the stars, and suddenly we
heard a car coming. The car, a real old Chevy
sedan full of Mexicans screeched around the
corner. We could wear their music. They were
flying. But when it hit next corner, they didn’t
make it. It sailed off the road. Oh, man! All we
could hear was the sound of music. Then, BOOM!
boom! boom- boom-boom!

I said, “Sheeesh!” Miki said, “Sheeesh!” I said, “Let’
s get outta here!” Miki said, “Yeah, let’s get outta
here!” We were both wiped out and didn’t want to
be around when the cops got there. We threw our
stuff into the car went a couple miles down the
road, and camped there.

WAITER, I’LL JUST HAVE ANOTHER PISCO SOUR
Everyone knows championship surfer Corky Carroll

CORKY CARROLL: Miki and I went to Peru together
in February 1967 for the International Big Wave
Championship. I was 19. We sat next to each other
on the plane—Saturn Airlines, a big green jet. It
was a long flight, plus we got stuck in Panama for
five hours because a bird flew in the plane’s
engine. We sat in the airport in the middle of the
night. It was like 120 degrees.

I was a full-blown surf punk. I lived, ate, breathed,
and drank surfing. Miki was older and into different
stuff. The whole way down there he was talking to
me about politics, communism, the president,
world issues. He talked about Gard Chapin a little
bit. I knew nothing about all that. It was like being
with a teacher, but it went in one ear and out the
other. All I could think about was how the waves
were going to be.

In Peru, they put us up at different people’s
houses. The surfers there at the time were the
really affluent, so we’re in these beautiful
mansions in Lima. Miki had brought along one of
these portable Sony televisions. The first thing he
did was plug it in and blew out all the electricity in
the house.

The surf club was the Club Waikiki. All the
members drove Ferraris and Jags. They’d speed
through town going 120, and if they ran someone
over they’d jump out and yell at them for getting
blood on their car. Miki was perfect for the place.
He had the look, he wore the clothes, he tried
their Pisco sours, hustled the girls. He had a
girlfriend at the time, Peaches. He’d sneak
downstairs to use the phone, and talk to her for
hours. The guy he stayed with told me later about
the bills.

The first weekend of the contest was the big
elimination, and the finals would be the following
weekend. On Sunday night of the first weekend, I
got sick. I had been surfing with some guys on one
of the local beaches where the water wasn’t clean,
and I got incredible dysentery. I threw up until
they found me on the floor of the bathroom passed
out, and they took me to the hospital. They fed me
intravenously.

I was there all week, and then it was Friday. The
finals were Saturday. Miki had visited me every
day. He may not have the finest reputation but
Miki was a good guy. Not if you owned the house he
stayed, but otherwise! So I said, “Miki, I’ve got to
get out of here, finals are tomorrow!”

Miki came up with a scheme. He said, “I’ll get the
doctor, take him around the corner, talk to him
about your condition, and you jump in the elevator
and go down. The car is parked right in front of the
hospital.”

I had on a hospital gown that went only to my
waist, and Miki wouldn’t take out my intravenous
needle, so I had to jerk it out myself. I’m dizzy,
but I wandered out the door and stepped into the
elevator. The wrong elevator. This was the service
elevator, and when the doors opened I was in the
kitchen of this huge downtown Lima hospital.
Suddenly everyone was looking at me, which was
understandable since I was exposed from the waist
down. Totally exposed. There’s screaming and
yelling. But I saw this open window, and through it
I could see the street. So I just dove through. How
I didn’t hit an elbow or a knee, I have no idea. I
made a perfect dive into some grass, did a perfect
roll up to the sidewalk and found myself three feet
from where the car is. But I’m also in downtown
Lima, half naked. Then I saw Miki coming out of the
hospital and I dove in the backseat as the car is
peeled out.

The next day at the finals the police came to arrest
me for escaping from the hospital. I was out in the
water, the police were on the beach, waiting. But
the Peruvian club members took care of it and it
was all settled before I even got in.

Oh – I won the contest. Probably the only reason
was because I was so sick. At the time they judged
based on who caught the biggest wave and went
the greatest distance. The surf was real big. It was
your best five waves. I had just paddled way
outside of everybody else, because I was really
weak. So when a big set came along, I’d catch it.
Then I stayed on a long as I could because I was too
weak to risk falling off. In two hours I caught the
five biggest waves that went the longest distance.

Miki didn’t make the finals. He was probably on the
beach drinking Pisco sours.

ADDED 3/20/08

Miki’s friend, Allan Carter, said, “I once took Miki
to Lyford Cay, in the Bahamas, to a private club
belonging to a Canadian tycoon, E.P. “Eddie”
Taylor. Next door to us was Stavros Nicharos, a
Greek shipping owner; on the other side, down the
road, was Bill Paley, from CBS. Bill had the junkiest
shack down there. The house where I used to stay
was called Villa Capricorn. It had a half-mile of
private beach. When the Queen and Prince Philip
came, that’s where they stayed.
“Miki, David Frost, Lord Henry Montgomery – who
was my best friend in England – and I were playing
Monopoly and I got a phone call from Los Angeles. I
was winning and Miki was losing; Henry and David
watched, bemused. Miki didn’t like to lose. When I
came back after my phone call, half my deeds were
missing and all my money under the side of the
board. If Miki had to cut the corners to win, he’d
do it.

“Lord Henry Montgomery had brought David Frost
over because David was doing his show in London
and New York at the time, and British Airways was
on strike. We had dinner and a couple really good
bottles of Pouilly fuisse. Then David Frost and Miki
and I sat around until about 2:30 in the morning,
talking about jets.”

“Later,” said Marcia McMartin, “Allan told me later
that Miki had brought out his bag of jewels and
showed them to David Frost. Afterward, when Miki
was out of earshot, Frost said to Allan, ‘Is your
friend a jewel thief?’”

        ~~~

LEROY GRANNIS: In the late ‘90s I wrote Miki in
France and asked him if he’d be interested in
picking out ten of my best pictures of him, putting
them in an album and selling them through
Longboard Magazine. I got a letter back, “Sounds
like a good idea.” I sent him twenty-five Xeroxed
copies – I didn’t know what he’d do with them if I
sent him the real prints – and he picked out ten.
Steve Pezman had told me, “Be careful!” and so
had Greg Noll, who told me he’d left the
negotiations for the new Da Cat boards to his wife
Laura because he couldn’t take it anymore.
I made twenty-five sets of the ten Miki chose, and I
sent them to him Fedex, with a $100 cashier’s
check to pay for sending them back after he signed
them. I told him about a big contest at Malibu
coming in the first week in August. “If you can get
the repints back before then I can probably sell a
few there. Please be careful of fingerprints on the
photos.” A couple of months went by and no word.

JEFF HAKMAN: LeRoy called me about two months
later and said, “Hey, Jeff, you see Miki ever? Could
you help me out? Could you push Miki along to send
me these things back? I’ve sent him all these prize
photos and I haven’t heard anything.”

I went to Miki and said, “Listen, I don’t know really
want to get involved here, but my friend Leroy has
just asked me if I could stick my nose in. What’s
the deal?” Miki just went, “Never got ‘em.” I said,
“Miki, he said he sent them FedEx.” Miki said,
“Never got ‘em.

LEROY GRANNIS: I offered him $4000 if he’d just
send the pictures back to me, because I said I could
sell them without his signature and I’d still split the
money with him. Pezman said he’d mention the
sale in The Surfers Journal, I could take ads in
Longboard magazine, and we could sell them on
the internet. Nothing. Finally Pezman told me, “I
talked to Miki and he said he sent them so they
must have been lost in the mail.”

Miki sent me a letter: “I am very concerned! with
apprehension. I’m now checking with the postal
authorities on this end. May I suggest you do the
same. Photos were sent on 08/08/99. By air mail.
Perhaps it was sent by surface mail -- by
mistake....” He even included a postage receipt
for 155 Francs.

After he died, they found all the pictures in his
apartment.

        ~~~

GREG NOLL: A couple years after we started selling
the new Da Cat boards we discovered some guy
doing knockoffs. I walked into Sam Ryan’s shop in
Encinitas, and saw a couple Black Cats, but the
goddamn boards just didn’t look right. I got a tape
measure and discovered the boards were twenty-
three inches wide. Mine were never more than
twenty-two and a half. But the boards were damn
close. The guy did a pretty good job.

Four or five guys with these boards got wind of it
and asked if their boards were knockoffs. One guy
was a cop [laughs] and, man, he didn’t like it. He
called his buddies on the LAPD fraud squad; his
buddies were surfers, too.

They located the counterfitter and planned to set
him up. He worked out of a garage on an alley, so
they put cars at either end, to block the escape
routes. They wired one cop who went in for the
kill. He said, “You know, my Dad wants a Cat board
and I’ve been looking high and low to get him
one.” The counterfitter said, “Oh no. I had a
couple but I just can’t get them any more.” The
cop said, “Jesus, I really want to get this present.”
The guy says, “I got a really close friend who’s got
one. I might be able to talk him out of it. Give me a
deposit and I’ll get you the board.”

At that point an unmarked car pulled up. The guy
said, “I’m sorry sir, but you can’t park there and
block the road.” The cop said, “Man, you don’t
understand. You’re going to jail for fraud.” They
hauled him in, the boards were confiscated.
But I never went to trial. The cops said, “The guy
has paid restitution. Do you want to press
charges?” I said, “Look, I don’t blame the guy. If it
was me, I probably would have done the same
goddamn thing when I was young.” As far as I’m
concerned I let the guy off the hook, and that was
the end of it. The boards went to the big holding
deal in Los Angeles. I saw them in a big room
stacked on a pallet. They gave them to me. And
that was that until the Los Angeles Times got ahold
of the story. The headline was COPY CATS.

I’ve still got one or two knockoffs left. I bought a
bunch of the newspapers and framed the goddamn
article, stuck it with the board and sold one board
for a couple grand. Collectors are attracted to
some strange things. But think about it: Twenty
years from now it’ll probably be worth something.

        ~~~

MICKEY MUNOZ: Dora was often more puff and
bluff than conviction. My wife and I were in
France, hanging with a photographer friend, Bill
Parr, and his girlfriend. Dora’s there. We’re in a
restaurant. Other surfers are there, as well as
people who have nothing to do with surfing. One of
the Hawaiian guys, a really tough guy, sitting at
another table, comes over and says, “Hey, I’d like
a picture with Dora. You, me, Dora.” I said, “Well,
I’m not going to ask him, but I bet if you ask him,
he’s not going to turn you down.” So he goes over
and says, “I want a picture of you, Miki.” Dora goes
[barely speaking], “What do you mean?” The guy
says, “I want a picture of the three of us.”

Now the negotiations begin. Dora is with a French
photographer, and his lawyer,Robert Simpson.
Dora’s getting all these people involved in the
negotiations. We’ve got a couple point-and-shoot
cameras, not for publication quality, but Dora gets
them all involved. I go over there and talk with
them. I say, “It doesn’t have to be complicated.
Let’s just shoot a picture.” Of course, all the wives
of the different surfers are going, “I’d like to take
a picture, too.” Now there are probably 10 or 12
cameras. I’m going, “Peggy, I want you to take a
picture with our camera.”

The three of us get over by the fireplace. Who’s
going to be in the middle? Here’s this crowd of
people with their cameras, getting ready to shoot a
picture. Bill Parr’s got the only professional camera
and is kind of in the middle of the crowd. We’re
posing for the picture and Bill’s pre-flash goes off.
Dora comes out of the pose, goes rushing into the
crowd, grabs Bill by the neck, runs him across the
room and pins him on the wall: “You fucker! Don’t
you EVER take a picture of me!” Just screaming at
him. Women are crying. Children are screaming.
Bill’s going, “What’s going on?” The Hawaiian goes
over to Dora, grabs him and pulls him off.

I talked to Bill later on. Bill said Dora never
squeezed. He said, “He never really pinned me.
It shocked me, but it was all showbiz.”

I never saw a photograph out of that.

        ~~~

PHIL GRACE: I’d like to get him going to tell me
stories. One day we did a trip in my old Oak Cadet
panel van, which was quite slow, a diesel. It was
Trudy and myself, and Miki in the back, in the fold
out back-seat. We were plying him with a few
beers. It was a two and a half hour drive on a slow
road. One of the stories was fantastic. Half of it’s
probably made up. It was concerning Charles
Manson. He said that in Malibu, the Manson gang
was hanging around and they were quite
threatening. He wanted to get on the good side of
the gang. He said, “I told them about this party
that was happening next week in Beverly Hills. I got
this guy and said, tell your leader, there’s a really
big party, a lot of pickings for you: drugs, cash,
women. Get your boys up there.” They went up
there, stole cars, money, and drugs. Turns out it
was one of the Beach Boys’ houses. Miki said he
wanted to get back at the Beach Boys for, well ...
being the Beach Boys, and he also wanted to get in
on the good side of the gang. The guy said to him,
“Thanks for the tip, we’ll remember this.” And Miki
said, “It’s just between us.” Wink wink, nudge
nudge.

PETER DAY: When Ovidio and I were doing our
documentary, In Search of da Cat,” we were
watching Dale Davies' films as research and there’s
a very strange outtake of Miki standing at the
beach at Topanga Canyon with some Family-
looking types. It looks a bit like Charlie Manson; a
very odd-looking geezer. I used to kid Ovidio and
say Miki knew Charlie. Ovidio was, “No way, man;
there’s just no way he knew anyone in the family.
They’re fucking miles apart.” I said, “No, stands to
reason. Topanga Beach, Topanga Canyon. Up and
down the road.”

Eventually we were driving around with Miki in
South Africa, and I said, “Did you know Charlie
Manson?” I was trying to wind Ovidio up, who was
in the back seat. Miki said, “Yeah, yeah. I knew
Charlie.”

It sounds improbable, but that’s the story he told
us. Whether Miki was lying or not, winding up some
impressionable filmmakers, I believe he did meet
Charlie Manson. I believe all those people in that
community knew each other.

VOICES IN THE BOOK

A few of the major voices of the book identify themselves
sufficiently in the main text (and are so noted here), but not all.
Therefore, what follows is an alphabetic compendium of those
whose words are featured here, in their own words, or mine, or
as sourced from Matt Warshaw’s Encyclopedia of Surfing. Also
included are bios of some other important characters. Even
though they don’t speak directly, their voices (but not thoughts)
were unfortunately lost due to space considerations.

DENNY AABERG: Writer, musician, and younger brother of Kemp
Aaberg. Cowrote Big Wednesday with director John Milius. KEMP
AABERG: “I am probably best known for being in the early Bruce
Brown surf movies, as well as John Severson’s photo image of me
doing an arch-back turn that he used as the logo for Surfer
magazine for over twenty years. My history with Dora dates back
to the Gidget era.” BILLY AL BENGSTON: Los Angeles artist and
surfer; knew Miki in the ’50s. Now lives on Vancouver Island,
British Columbia, Canada. CYNTHIA APPLEWHITE: Painter,
novelist, free spirit. Wife of Louis Zamperini. Cynthia arranged
the first meeting between Miki and David Rensin. Rensin later
wrote her husband’s book Devil at My Heels (William Morrow,
2003). CLIVE BARBER: Jeffreys Bay surfer and craftsman. “I used
to drink with Miki Dora, and we drank the best. He respected me
because I had a good reputation as a board shaper and a good
surfer in the ’60s.” CAROLINE BARNETT: “I earned a master’s and
Ph.D. in clinical psych. I worked on staff in a private psychiatric
hospital for almost fifteen years and just retired. Now I live on
the Olympic Peninsula in Washington.” PETER BARNETT: “I was
his go-to guy while he was on the run or in hiding from certain
matters. I sent him money when he needed access to his
residuals and other incoming assets. I kept his car, which he later
sold to me (Lotus X7), his skateboard, surf magazines, passport,
driver’s license, bank books, and so on.” BOB BEADLE: “We
doubled as ‘Frankie’ Dora and ‘Tab’ Beadle riding Waimea in 1962
for Hollywood surfkitsch flick Ride the Wild Surf. That was
followed by four decades of scattershot antics in California,
Oahu/Kauai, Costa Rica, and in Brazil, where I’ve recently
returned. For me, the best part of all? Intricate, revealing
conversations with a mercurial, profound comrade in arms.
Neurotically, irresistibly exploited by and exploiting the shallow
roles our world expects of originals. ” RICK BECK: “I was surfing
Rincon in about 1963, the kook of kooks. Miki pushed me off my
board. Years later, I’m driving down to Raglan Point in New
Zealand, and Miki comes driving up in a beige VW bus, stops
window to window, and says, ‘How’s your memory?’ I had a small
surfboard shop there. He would park out front, living there.”
YVES BESSAS: “I’m a lifetime surfer and doctor of pharmacy
(University of Bordeaux). I specialize in nutrition and antiaging. I’
m also a researcher-writer and creator of ‘Sports de Glisse’
concept, a surf and snow films producer.” JIM BEST: “We were
teenagers. He was about thirty. I saw him just about every
summer weekend from 1962 until 1969.” TAKI BIBELAS: “I’m a
photographer, currently filming The Still Point, a documentary on
the spirit of surf (due Fall 2007). Most of my exhibitions and films
have been for galleries or art centers. Published photography
includes Vogue, Vanity Fair, Marie Claire, Elle, Tattler, Glamour,
Sleek, Oyster, Surfers Journal.” GREGG BLUE (MARSH): “In 1971, I
was living in Jeffreys Bay when I met Miki in the car park and
brought him home for dinner. A year later, in September 1972,
Miki and I and a couple other surfers rented an old house in
Guéthary that overlooked the ocean. We reconnected a couple
years later in Val d’Isère, skiing.” DUKE BOYD: Surf entrepreneur.
Founded Hang Ten surfwear in 1960, sold it ten years later. From
1968 to 1970 acted as managing editor for Petersen’s Surfing
Magazine. Boyd now runs Duke Boyd America surfwear. Worked
with Greg Noll and Dick Graham to create some ads for “Da Cat”
boards in the ’60s. GARTH BULLOCK: Currently an artist and fine
arts instructor. 1970s /1980s regional and national award-winning
sculptor and ceramist. Founder in 1988 of Pismo Beach
Longboarders. DAVID CALDWELL: “I met Miki in 1959. He gave me
a “lesson” on a tandem board at 3' perfect Malibu. Crossed paths,
surfing and traveling, 1974 and 1975 in New Zealand, L.A.,
Biarritz, Australia, and Bridgeport. I’m currently building large-
scale animatronics for the special-effects movie trade and the
occasional ultracustom surfboard.” CORKY CARROLL: (see main
text) ALLAN CARTER: (see main text) DOUGLAS CAVANAUGH: “I’
m a writer, surfing historian (1950 to 1968) and the only person
alive who offered Dora money and was turned down!” Cavanaugh’
s forthcoming book, about a legendary surfer who died young, is
called Remembering Butch: The Butch Van Artsdalen Story. JEAN-
CHARLES CAZES: French winemaker, scion of Château Lynch-
Bages, maker of fine Paulliac wine. “When Miki learned I wanted
to surf—I was eleven— he said, ‘You should play golf. Surfing’s no
good.’ I didn’t listen.” RUPERT CHADWICK: Well-connected,
South African–born entrepreneur. Started the Billabong contest
there. Started the Jeffreys Bay Boardriders Club. Founding
member of the Supertubes Trust. Helped create and curates the
J Bay Surf Museum, a “non-corporate-denominational”
establishment, housed in the local Quiksilver premises. RHONDA
CHAGOURIE: (see main text) GARDNER CHAPIN JR.: Son of Gard
Chapin and Ramona Stancliff. Born in Los Angeles, California, on
August 4, 1946; passed away August 4, 2006. C.C.: “Namaste.”
ERIC CHAUCHÉ: “I’m a photographer in quest of light, nature,
and waves. I live in Anglet, near Guéthary, in the French Basque
country. I shared with Miki, during his last four years, trekking in
the Basque country and Pyrenees Mountains, looking for wildlife
and harmony, skiing, a river bath, or simply a good meal.”
Chauché’s many books include Perfect Waves: The Endless Allure
of the Ocean (Edition Herm 2004 and Abramsbooks edition 2006)
with Tim McKenna and Sylvain Cazenave. FRANCES CHRISTOPHER:
Friend of Susan McNeill’s. Married to a marquis. JACKIE
CLEMMONS: Jackie and her husband, Mike Clemmons, “used to
belong to a Charismatic church in South Africa. Miki wanted to
know why the pastors didn’t sell their BMWs and help the poor.
He didn’t like hypocrisy at all, it freaked him out.” STEVEN
CONNERS: Mormon missionary on Mahia Peninsula in 1975.
Worked to convert Miki to the Church of Latter Day Saints. BOB
COOPER: “Regarded as the original surfing beatnik,” says the
Encyclopedia of Surfing. Surfed Malibu in 1952, at age fifteen,
and “eight years later was one of the first American surfers to
visit Australia, where he has lived since 1969.” ADRIAN COTTON,
MD: Miki’s physician at Loma Linda University Medical Center.
LINDA CUY: (see main text) PETER DAY: Producer, with Grant
Keir, of the documentary In Search of da Cat for Faction Films.
BILL DELANEY: Did the ’70s surf film Free Ride featuring Shaun
Tomson, Rabbit Bartholomew, and Mark Richards, then the 1990
film Surfers: The Movie. ROBBIE DICK: “From 1962 through 1966, I
was a member of the Hanson, Harbour, and Hobie surf teams. In
1967, I landed a job with Wilken Surfboards. I helped Mickey
rough out some radical 8'10" pintails that were part of the
shortboard revolution. I started Natural Progression with Skip
Smith and Terry Lucoff in 1968. I left the company in 1985 and
started shaping my own label, R. Dick Custom Surfdesign. I now
live in Oregon.” WILLIE DIX: Owned the Freedom Surf Shop in
Biarritz when Miki lived in the area from 1975 to 1981. PETER
DIXON: Wrote four books on surfing in the ’60s, including Men
Who Ride Mountains (1969). TONI DONOVAN COLVIN: I’m enjoying
life in Topanga Canyon as an aging hippie, passing time with good
friends and my animals, and traveling to exotic islands. I can still
be seen on the beach at Malibu and Topanga. MIKLOS AND
CHRISTINE DORA: (see main text) MIKE DOYLE: “Arguably the
1960s best all-around surfer,” according to the Encyclopedia of
Surfing. “Everyone wanted to look like him, dress like him, surf
like him.” He sold Kathy “Gidget” Kohner her first surfboard in
1956, for $35. His autobiography, Morning Glass: The Adventures
of a Legendary Waterman, was published in 1993, and copies
today sell for collector’s prices. He moved to Baja in 1980, where
he paints. JIM “BURRHEAD” DREVER: According to Steve
Pezman, “One of the best surfers on the coast in the ’40s and
early ’50s.” Contemporary of Gard Chapin. BOKKA DU TOIT:
Filmmaker, producer, herbalist, and Renaissance man from
Jeffreys Bay. Befriended Miki, tried to help him forget the past,
focus on the future, and live a happier life. WOODY EKSTROM:
Legendary surfer from the Tijuana Sloughs to San Onofre. Helped
build the original Windansea Shack. BRIAN EDDY:
Owner/auctioneer/partner at Barwicks in Gisborne, New
Zealand. Eddy still has a plated ewer given to Miki by his father.
It’s a family heirloom and part of a set (with a bowl) in which
Miki was bathed as a baby. Miklos, now ninety-five, would really
like it returned and is willing to pay a fair price. PHIL EDWARDS:
“During my life, I’ve seen a few special people who made me
think, there’s no prior art there. This is true creativity. Miki was
one.” JOHN ELWELL: “I am a retired educator who began surfing
in 1947. My era includes Bob Simmons, about whom I have
written biographical stories.” SKIP ENGBLOM: Native Californian
born in Hollywood in 1948. Began surfing 1959 at Venice,
California. Cofounder of Zephyr Surf Shop and skateboard team.
Founder SMA skateboard label. Published poet. Original member
of Surfrider Foundation. JOHNNY FAIN: The Surfer’s Journal called
Fain “one of the four aces of Malibu.” The others were Dewey
Weber, Lance Carson, and, naturally, Miki. Questions lingered
long about whether their feud was real or staged, but the facts
suggest that it was, at least at the end, authentic. BOB FEIGEL:
“I grew up in Santa Monica and Malibu, started surfing in the late
1950s. I write for surfing and lifestyle magazines and have been
living in Aotearoa, New Zealand, since the mid-’70s. Miki’s and
my paths crossed several times over the years—both in and out
of the water—and each encounter was unforgettable.” JIM
FISHER: Surfer and body surfer from the early days of Malibu and
Hawaii. Lifeguarded at San Clemente, hiring Miki one summer.
Wild at heart and sometimes referred to as “Klepto-Jim.” VICKI
FLAXMAN: Early Malibu surfer. Met Miki in 1950, in San Onofre,
when he was still named Chapin. HENRY FORD: Surfed in all the
Bruce Brown films and was manager of the Jacobs Surf Team. “I
was lifeguard from 1963 to 1969 at Malibu Point. Currently I have
a clothing company, Koko Island, and have model surfboards with
Hobie and Surf Tech.” TRUDI FORSTER: “I met Miki through my
partner, Phil Grace. He played tennis and golf with Phil and came
very often to dinner or just to hang out and watch movies. Miki
poached me from Phil, who doesn’t dance, as one of his salsa
partners.” KIM FOWLEY: What can one say about Kim Fowley that
hasn’t already been said, whispered, or screamed? According to
the website www.rocksbackpages.com, Fowley is, “the greatest
hustler in the history of rock ’n’ roll. . . .” If you go to www.
kimfowley.com, he’ll be glad to tell you all about himself. His
forthcoming authorized and uncensored memoir is titled Vampire
from Outer Space. MARK FRAGALE: Surf journalist, archivist, and
collector of historic surfing artifacts. Mark is a founding member
of the Surfing Heritage Foundation and has been actively surfing
for more than forty-five years; he lives in Kailua, Hawaii. BILL
FREY-MCLEAN: Screenwriter, living in the Okanagan Valley, in B.
C. Canada and nowhere near the surf. Miki recommended that I
read How to Be Free in an Unfree World, one of his bibles.”
ANTHONY FRIEDKIN: Photographer who, according to The Surfer’s
Journal, picked up a brownie “at age eight and aimed it
seaward.” He started surfing three years later—and still does. His
first published photo appeared in Surf Guide in 1963. Friedkin
works often for the movies as a unit still photographer (Titanic,
Dogtown and Z-Boys—in which he was also interviewed—Stand
and Deliver, Riding Giants), and recently published Timekeeper, a
collection of his work. JIM GANZER: Aka JimmyZ. “I’m an artist. I
met Miki in 1959–60. I was about fifteen. We watched him work
Malibu, State Beach, Topanga, Pop Pier, Rincon, parties, movies,
contests, filmmakers, chicks, surfboard makers, surf mags,
skateboards, Africa, Europe, golf, lunch, dinner, plane rides.” ED
GARNER: Friend of the “House of Suede” Wilsons: Tony, Brian,
Jeff, and matriarch Eugenia. Ed went to Beverly Hills High and
hung out with Duane King, Mike Nader, and others and started
going to Malibu. Appeared in the beach party movies, got into
the music business, then moved to Santa Barbara in the mid-’
70s. GEORGE GEORGE: Schoolmate of Miki’s at St. John’s Military
Academy. This really is his name. MYSTO GEORGE (CARR): Retired
schoolteacher, Malibu regular still, in his seventies. SAM GEORGE:
A former professional competitor, magazine editor, surf
journalist and filmmaker, Sam, fifty, is also one of the sport’s
premier surf explorers, having traveled to over forty different
countries in search of waves. LESLIE-ANN GERVAIS: Full-time
athlete. “In 1997, while in South Africa for the World Fencing
Championships, I made a side trip to surf at Jeffreys Bay. At that
time, I was a die-hard beginner surfer, so I am very thankful to
Miki who took me under his wing.” EDWARD GODFREY: “I am still
living on Cape St. Francis, surfing, as well as making buchu oil.
Miki was a family friend who participated in the lives of our
children and ourselves for many months when he lived with us on
our buchu farm in Paarl, near Cape Town, and at our home at the
Cape. We surfed together many times.” BRUCE GOLD: According
to his friend Dr. Kurt Mariano, Gold is “a living legend in Jeffreys
Bay. A free spirit with wit and tenacity . . . surfs every day, more
than once if possible.” Formerly an Afrikaans police officer and
Durban taxi driver. Now, occasionally, a skilled and talented
massage therapist. Says Gold himself, exactly as written: “Can
you Adam and Eve it? SIX 0 years old & now heavily dreadlocked
by Danish beauty in Tofu, Mozambique while shooting a surfing
doccy. Caught biggest wave & longest this year at Supers,
separately. Met MIKI & Scooter on the Main St. of Jeffreys after
studiously avoiding him for a month . . . He thought I was the
last of the Purists. I wasn’t so sure . . . ‘Don’t Sell Me OUT,’ his
last words after leaving me all his stuff. Maybe, maybe not MIKI.”
PHIL GRACE: “I met Miki around 1975 in Pippi Beach near
Angourie. I saw him again in Jeffreys Bay in the late ’80s and in
France in the ’90s, for tennis, golfing, surfing, skiing, and at any
event where they served free food and drinks. Good old Miki was
one of the funniest/caustic buggers I have ever known. When he
went home for the last time, he said, ‘Stick a fork in me, I’m
done.” LEROY GRANNIS: Born in 1917 in Hermosa Beach, when
the Pacific Coast Highway was just a dirt road, Grannis began
surfing in 1931 and eventually became one of the sport’s premier
photographers. His book of 1960s photos, entitled Photo:
Grannis, was published in 1998 by The Surfer’s Journal. His latest
book is LeRoy Grannis, Surf Photography of the 1960s and 1970s:
Birth of a Culture: ’60s and ’70s Surf Photography. RICK GRIGG:
“Supremely confident surfer from Honolulu, Hawaii, winner of
the 1966 Duke Kahanamoku Invitational, and sometimes referred
to as the first big wave hotdogger,” according to the
Encyclopedia of Surfing. Grigg, who earned a bachelor’s in
biology, a master’s in zoology, and a Ph.D in oceanography, is
now a professor in the Oceanography Department at the
University of Hawaii. His autobiography, Big Surf, Deep Dives and
the Islands: My Life in the Ocean, was published in 1998. Six
months before Miki died, he faxed Grigg, praising the book.
SHANE GRIMES: New Zealand surfer, friend of producer Peter
Day. MICHAEL HALSBAND: Portrait photographer/filmmaker. “I
was the tour photographer for the Rolling Stones 1981 Tattoo
You Tour. I made the well-known photograph of Andy Warhol and
Jean-Michel Basquiat with boxing gloves. Currently directing a
documentary on the life story of Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, guru of
Ashtanga yoga. I met Miki in Australia in 2001. We surfed
together, spent a lot of time talking about Cuba. I made a
portrait of him alone for Surf Book, and one with Donald
Takayama.” JAN HANDZLIK: A partner in the Securities
Litigation, Government Enforcement and White Collar Defense
Practice Group in the Los Angeles office of Howrey LLP. GLENN
HENING: “I’m currently a consultant doing research into
environmental issues at former military sites. I was recently
named Regents Lecturer at UCSB based on my reputation of
“asking the hard questions” about modern surfing as founder of
the Surfrider Foundation and cofounder of the Groundswell
Society. I grew up surfing State Beach in Santa Monica and saw
Dora’s act in the water—and on the beach—for years. To him, I
was just another gremmie at State. To me he was just enough of
a role model to help me always recognize bullshit wherever I’ve
found it—including, in the end, his.” FRAYNE HIGGASON: Born in
1934, moved to Malibu 1949, and started surfing there regularly
from 1951 to 1963. Recently won the 70-and-over division at the
2006 Malibu Classic. “I’m a landlord with properties in West Los
Angeles and Santa Barbara.” ANDY HILL: “Surfing for twenty-five
years. I started in 1979, in Ireland, aged ten. I’m six times Irish
National Surfing Champion, and owner of Troggs Surf Shop in
Portrush since 1991. I met Miki in Ireland in 1985.” MIKE
HISCHIER: Owner of Wavelengths Surf shop in Morro Bay,
California, since 1980. Collector of surfboards and skateboards.
HARRY HODGE: Harry Hodge started surfing at fifteen in
Melbourne. He began his professional life in the mail room and
became a journalist. In the ’70s, he produced and directed the
surf film Band on the Run with the title track by Paul McCartney
and Wings. In 1982, he became Quiksilver Australia’s first
marketing director and, in 1984, founded Quiksilver Europe with
Jeff Hakman. He is currently an executive adviser to Quiksilver
Inc.; director of the Quiksilver Foundation; chairman emeritus of
Quiksilver Europe; director of SAI (SurfAID International), and
chairman of Better Energy Systems Inc. After retiring from his
positions as CEO and chairman of Quiksilver Europe in 2003, Harry
relocated back to Australia with his wife, Sandee, and three
boys: Mat, Tom, and Ben. He just recently acquired a significant
stake in the Sydney-based jeanswear label, ksubi (pronounced
subi), and is executive chairman of the company. RICK HODGSON:
“Three things come to mind when I think of Miki. First, he knew
me as the Phantom of Topanga Beach when I returned to him
some of his possessions from the Gisborne, New Zealand,
auction. Second, as a surfer, I learned style from him—but not
method. Third, when I correctly predicted a coming swell—and
no one else believed me—Miki said, “You lead a charmed life.”
Ever since then I have. As for what I do, I think being the
Phantom says it all. I’d rather no one know; I’m having too much
fun and I’m very lucky.” PAUL HOLMES: Surfboard shaper, surf
journalist, surf contest director, and surfwear marketing
executive. “I’m a former editor-in-chief of Surfer magazine and
the author of Dale Velzy is Hawk, the story of the legendary
Californian surfboard shaper, cowboy, and hot-rodder, published
in 2006.” KIT HORN: “I was at Malibu before Gidget. I went with
Chuck King in 1942 or 1943. Most of the time you had Malibu to
yourself, or with a buddy.” WILLIE HOUSE: Surfed with Miki at
Malibu but had to quit because of family issues. Miki thought
House’s exit was a tragedy. Currently lives in Switzerland. ROD
HUGHES: Mormon missionary in New Zealand’s Mahia Peninsula in
1975 who performed Miki’s conversion. SCOTT HULET: The editor
of The Surfer’s Journal for nearly a decade. “My interactions
with Miki were brief, collegial, and engaging.” DEREK HYND:
Australian surfer and writer, who lived for a time on Supertubes
in Jeffreys Bay. MIKE HYNSON: Costar, with Robert August, of
Bruce Brown’s Endless Summer. Hynson created the “red fin”
model for the Gordon & Smith label, as well as other board design
improvements. HAP JACOBS: Quiet and thoughtful surfboard
shaper from Hermosa Beach, California. Partnered with Dale
Velzy for four years before starting his own brand and, by the
mid-’60s, producing 125 boards a week. Jacobs quit to become a
commercial fisherman for fifteen years but returned to shaping in
the early ’90s. PHIL JARRATT: I’ve been writing about surfing for
almost forty years and my most recent work, The Mountain and
The Wave: The Quiksilver Story, was published late in 2006. I first
met Miki in Bali in 1975, spent twenty years on his shit-list for
writing about a conversation we had, and twenty-five-years later
we were friends and next-door neighbors in Guéthary, France.
BILL JENSEN: Malibu regular in Gidget era and object of a Kathy
Kohner crush. The real Moondoggie. RICHARD “SPIDER”
JOSEPHSON: “I became a Buddhist monk and ran the Chan
(meditation hall) for ten years, returned to lay life, went to
Nepal and married a Nepalese, and lived there ten years. I very,
very rarely surf because of the crowds. My website www.
buddhadharma.com pretty much covers my days. I now live on
Maui.” DREW KAMPION: Self-described “hodad from Buffalo, New
York, who rode his first wave at Malibu in 1962.” John Severson
made him editor of Surfer magazine in June of 1968. He enjoyed
the job and eventually parlayed it into an extended feature-
writing arrangement with Surfing magazine in the 1970s. Now it’s
x number of years and about nine books later, including The Way
of the Surfer, Stoked: A History of Surf Culture, The Lost Coast,
The Book of Waves, and Greg Noll: The Act of the Surfboard. He’s
currently the U.S. editor of The Surfer’s Path, the only 100
percent green surf magazine. GERRY KANTOR: I am the owner of
Leucadia Surf School (www.leucadiasurfschool. com) in north San
Diego, California. MATT KATZ: While living in Chile, writer/surfer
Matt Katz opened his doors to a mixed bag of idiosyncratic
travelers, most notably Miki Dora. A native of Ventura County,
California, Matt moved to Chile in 1995. He now lives in
Carpinteria, California. Matt edits the Broughton Quarterly travel
magazine. In 2004, The Surfer’s Journal published “Full Circle
California,” his account of six weeks in Chile with Miki Dora. JIM
KEMPTON: Jim Kempton met Miki in 1974 in Biarritz, France. For
the next six years they shared surfing, Ping-Pong, tennis, a lover,
numerous French feasts, and uncountable stories. Kempton
became the editor and then publisher of Surfer magazine, was a
publisher at TransWorld Publications, traveled through several
continents on the Indies Trader Crossing Boat, and now works at
Billabong as the media director. DUANE KING: “I met Miki at
Malibu when I was fourteen, in 1959. I watched as Miki gained
insight and perception into all of the forces working to destroy
the pristine Malibu at the center of his universe. I now work in
Santa Monica, financing commercial construction.” MATT KIVLIN:
Accurately described by the Encyclopedia of Surfing as
“elegant,” Kivlin, born in 1929, and an architect since 1971, set
the stylish trim pose at Malibu that Miki copied; it helped that
they bore a resemblance to each other in hair color and body
type. They did not share temperament. “Matt invented what I
call ‘performance cruising,’” said Kemp Aaberg. “He was
gentlemanly and rode that way.” KATHY KOHNER ZUCKERMAN: “I
surfed Malibu from 1956 to my last wave there in 1960. Did it
again in the mid-’90s. Call it a lull. I was called Gidget at the
“Bu”; Miki was called Chapin.” CHERON KRAAK: (see text) KRIS
KRUSESKI: “I was vacationing in Biarritz in 1985 when I was
introduced to Miki by a dear friend. We had an eight-month
relationship, which included four days of togetherness and lots
of love letters. I still live in the San Diego area where I have a
garden design business.” JUANITA STANCLIFF KUHN: Ramona’s
younger sister, Miki’s aunt. FRANÇOIS LARTIGAU: An artist for
Quiksilver for more than twenty years. “I have been surfing since
1961, one of the first French grommets, and I am still doing it as
much as I can. I met Miki in 1968. He was older but his ‘aura’ was
very strong in the surfing community. At the end of his life I got
closer to him and it really hurt me to see the old Cat fading
away.” PHILIPPE LAUGA: A native from a fishing village in Euskal
Herria (the land of the Basque). “I met Miki as a young man, in
the mid-’70s. I worked then in a financial institution. We shared
friendship and angst, numerous and various activities,
throughout most stages of his life in Europe. Miki was always
ready on the spur of the moment, questioned my intellect,
induced me to look on the other side of the mirror, taught me
that the word compromise contains the word promise.” JOEL
LAYKIN: School and running mate of Miki’s in the late ’40s and
beyond. Joel’s father owned Laykin et Cie jewelers. He currently
lives in Hong Kong. CRAIG LEONARD: My twin brother, Keith, and
I used to go to State Beach. I used to play tennis with Miki a
couple times a week. CHRISTINE LIEPNER: Sister of Jessica
Naude. Works for Cheron Kraak at Billabong, in Jeffreys Bay. Her
relationship with Miki was instinctive and needed few words.
TERRY LUCOFF: Onetime owner and manufacturer of Natural
Progression surfboards from 1966 to 1990. Surf shop located
across the street from the Malibu Pier—the only one during the
golden era of Malibu. “Miki could come into our factory in Santa
Monica and create whatever he wanted without any strings
attached. He rode our boards. We never exploited it.” CHRIS
MALLOY: Oldest of the three Malloy brothers, from Ventura,
California. Seen in front of the camera (Momentum and other
surf videos), and now behind the camera, making independent
surf films through the brothers’ Moonshine Conspiracy collective:
Thicker Than Water, September Sessions, Shelter, and A
Brokedown Melody. Malloy’s direct connection to surfing’s soul is
apparent in the respect he gets from surfing’s greatest
generation. He’s always headed somewhere to film and ride. THE
MASOCHIST: Miki’s designated nemesis at Malibu. Miki did
everything he could to irritate him or frame him for mischief.
“The result was a hate/love relationship.” JAN MAYER: Surfer-
skier friend of Miki’s in the mid 1970s in Biarritz, Chamonix, Val d’
Isère, and Innsbruck. “I was a ski instructor and beginning
leather worker when I met Miki, and now own a fiber arts studio
(Kriska Painting on Silk) and live in Salt Lake City, Utah. I still love
to ski the steep and deep.” Cofounder of Valley Longboarder
Surfing Association. ANNABELLE MCBRIDE: Known as Terry. Her
mother was Rebecca Harkness, of the Standard Oil family.
Rebecca founded the Harkness Ballet, as well as Harkness Pavilion
in the Columbia University Medical Center. Annabelle was briefly
married to Tony McBride, son of Miklos Sr.’s second wife,
Lorraine (mother of Miki’s half-sister Pauline). She died in 2005.
MICHAEL MCDONNELL: Currently a film producer. Credits include
The Usual Suspects and The Replacement Killers. MARCIA
MCMARTIN: Born into a wealthy family with mining interests,
Marcia’s life has been filled with many pursuits, including interior
decorating, photography, and a job as a meter maid. Growing up
she spent summers with her father, an avid hunter, in Bermuda
at his palatial home, Elephant Walk. She has traveled most of her
life, circling the globe, and was Miki’s traveling companion from
1970 to 1974, and friend until the end. MIKE MCNEILL: Former
husband of Susan, below. Expat American living in France for the
last twenty-five years. Surfboard maker then, now working for
Quiksilver Europe. Had the pleasure to share voyages with Miki
and to be his friend. SUSAN MCNEILL: Miki’s longtime confidante,
former lover, spiritual supporter, keeper of many secrets. Co-
owned the Surf Hut in Guéthary. “He changed my life. He was an
intelligent, loving, and beautiful person with a wicked sense of
humor. I now live in California and sell art. He once told me life
was too short to waste it working. I look for joy in what I do and
I have found it. I miss him every day.” GREG MEISENHOLDER: One
of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse, traveled with Miki, Allan
Carter, and Don Wilson to Acapulco and Rio in 1969 and 1970.
Now deceased. MIKEY MEYER: “Although I live in Jeffreys Bay and
knew him there, I met Miki in France in 1985 in Seignosse, which
is north of Anglet and Hossegor in the Côte D’Argent, which
itself is just north of the Côte Basque. He was like a mentor.”
JOHN MILIUS: Hollywood’s ultimate insider/outsider. Directed Big
Wednesday, Conan the Barbarian, Red Dawn, Farewell to the
King, The Wind and the Lion, Dillinger. His writing credits are
stellar: Dirty Harry, The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean,
Magnum Force, Jeremiah Johnson, Apocalypse Now, Clear and
Present Danger, Rough Riders. Created Dirty Harry’s famous
speech: “Do you feel lucky, punk? . . . Go ahead, make my day.”
Also wrote the line “Charlie don’t surf!” uttered by Robert Duvall
in Apocalypse Now. Milius surfed Malibu in the ’50s and ’60s with
friends Shelly Riskin and Jack Barth, both of whom are pictured
with him under the director’s credit on Big Wednesday. TOM
MOREY: “Mickey Chapin was the kid I knew, a year older and well
seated at Malibu, which I’d just discovered in 1953. Naturally, he
was the guy not only to learn from, but to then try and best. At
times I did. ‘They say you’re seven times as good as me, Morey,’
he would always say to me.” BOB MORRIS: Los Angeles
restauranteur. Built Gladstone’s 4 Fish, R.J.’s Rib Joint, and
“twenty-six other restaurants in the Los Angeles area.” Currently
runs Paradise Cove Cafe, on land originally owned—and sold—by
his father. “I never hung out with Miki like Joel Laykin did, but
he would float in and out of my life. He’d show up and always try
to get a free dinner. We’d end up giving him one.” MICKEY
MUÑOZ: One of the world’s most durable surfers. In 1957 was one
of the first to ride Waimea Bay. “He was highly regarded as a
snappy and playful small-wave expert,” says the Encyclopedia of
Surfing. Muñoz continues to shape boards and recently appeared
in Chasing Dora, a documentary based on Miki’s posthumous
article (and original environmental concept)—“The Aquatic Ape”
— in The Surfer’s Journal. Muñoz rode at Jeffreys Bay on a board,
and wearing a wetsuit, both made of biodegradable material. He
had the longest ride. MIKE NADER: Beverly Hills High graduate,
friend of Duane King and the Wilsons. Best known as character
Dex Dexter on Dynasty, but also appeared in the beach party
movies, in The Trip, and an assortment of daytime soaps.
JESSICA NAUDE: Still living in Jeffreys Bay. “Miki was the best
ballroom dance partner I had and I sure miss our lessons together
filled with laughter and fun.” CLIVE NEESON: “I’m a consultant
physicist and grew up in Raglan whilst Miki was there in the
1970s. Miki’s conversations, photo albums, and advice influenced
me to capture the ’70s era and the planet’s unspoilt surf
paradises with a movie camera before they were swallowed by
the pending commercialism he warned of. As Miki’s prophecy has
come to pass the time is now ripe and work on the movie is
under way.” GREG AND LAURA NOLL: Nicknamed “Da Bull,” Noll
coauthored a 1989 biography with Andrea Gabbard, Da Bull: Life
Over the Edge. Originally from Manhattan Beach, California Noll is
generally regarded as the first person to ride Hawaii’s Waimea
Bay, in 1957. A hotdogger in his youth, he visited Haw