The prophet on a wave!
Now, it ain’t a tragedy by any measure, a man dead at eighty-two, but when a someone like Bob Cooper evaporates from this earthly plain, surfing loses an important strand in its DNA.
Cheerful, freethinking regularfoot surfer originally from Southern California; popular throughout the 1960s, and regarded as the original surfing beatnik. Cooper was born (1937) in Santa Monica, California, the son of an aerospace engineer who died around the time of his birth. He was raised in the Los Angeles-area suburbs of Culver City and Mar Vista, and began surfing in 1952 at age 15, at Malibu; eight years later he was one of the first American surfers to visit Australia.
Cooper earned a reputation not as a contest champion or a big-wave hero or even a small-wave performer—although he had an appealing, loose-limbed style, and a fine sense of trim—but as an articulate, slightly eccentric surfing character. In “Bob Cooper: Prophet on a Wave,” a glowing 1964 Surf Guide magazine profile, he’s lauded for his “Mount Everest beard, radical sandals, spectacular shirts and tunic of a thousand colors,” as well as his ability to “remain composed and totally unaffected even at the most radical parties.” The Bob Cooper Blue Machine signature model, produced in 1967 and early 1968 by Morey-Pope Surfboards, was the only board of the era to feature an asymmetrical fin setup.
Cooper, who was a Mormon which led to him quitting surf contests ’cause they were run on Sundays (“I could have become a professional surfer. But I wanted the blessings that were there”), spent the last fifty years of his life living on Australia’s east coast, first in Coffs Harbour where he kept a surf shop (Cooper Surf Shop, naturally) then headed north to keep his bones warm on the Sunshine Coast.
Given his beliefs it’s likely Cooper is now exalted in a celestial kingdom, covered in divine glory.
“I can go back to surfing and it’s great, but it doesn’t give me the satisfaction that I get out of doing what I’m doing now. You know, wife, family and kids — eternal concepts. Knowing where I came from, what I’m doing here, where I’m going, what the purpose of this existence is and dedicating my life to it. And the more effort I put into it, the more rewards come back,” Cooper told The Surfer’s Journal in 1999.
(Side note: The author of the story, Mike Perry, gave your ol pal DR his start in the biz. Beautiful man.)
Lest he be remembered as too serious, Cooper also said he was, “famous in surfing for being famous; for having been around a long time; for having a beard.”
Met him briefly on the beach at Campus Point in Santa Barbara, around 1968. Me, random kid on the beach. Cooper full legend already. He was incredibly friendly and down to earth. Onward and upward Bob. Hopefully I’m right behind you!
RIP. Loved him in the old movies; a beautiful surfer.
A quiet and humble man. One of the great privileges of my life was having the occasional chat with the man as I delivered his ‘Surfers Journal’ over the past 4/5 years. He always had a sparkle in his eye and slight smile that sensed at some impending mischief, although it might have been just the recognition that under everything he was having fun. His wife, Wils, had the same sense of the surreal about her. A truly wonderful couple together. Sad day.
Les Paul – now there’s a great surfer/shaper
A California pointbreak legend. Smooth when that was being radical. Much respect.
wtf….is Knost his modern incarnate with just a little more flail?
A lot more flail.
Serious shit Leg!
Who among us would most remain composed and totally unaffected even at the most radical parties?
Legendary
Also played first grade for Wests
And state of origin for NSW
Holds record for longest suspension for decking 3 guys in a brawl.
15 months.
RIP Bob Cooper!
..the way he surfed looked like he had a good sense of humour.
Can we get a candid interview with Mike Perry? An interview about you?
Whaddya want to know? I ain’t got no secrets….
Admirable, Keith Richards that shit.
Hiding in the shadows is too much trouble and the source of much anxiety. Learned that at thirteen when I started hanging with what my parents called, and what parents still call, the “wrong crowd.” Every noise, every car at night I was convinced was the police coming to arrest me, not unjustly I might add although FTP forever etc.
Now you are truly speaking to me.
I’m always interested in the “how I got my first break” back stories. That’s all I was referring to.
I believe it was the cover letter I wrote. succinct, with a little brazen. First day on the job, I was led into a windowless office with a telephone, a notepad and a pencil. I didn’t see anyone for eight hours. Then I went home.
What’s with the joo love.
A hot night in the Viv.?
Turned a shitty piece of rock and desert into the middle east’s shining jewel and faced down seven homicidal enemies over multiple wars. What’s not to love?
That was the US. Really.
And GB
Let’s face it.