Morey vs Morey!

Three weeks ago, the free-thinking inventor of the boogie board and surfing hall-of-famer Tom Morey died, aged eighty-eight. 

“Tom was smart as hell, creative, a bullshitter who knew he was a bullshitter, with a great sense of humor,” wrote Matt Warshaw. “Surfing doesn’t have a surplus of those people. We’re no longer producing them as fast as they’re dying off. That’s what I meant by saying that Tom dying is a big one.”

Ol Tom wasn’t in the best shape. He was blind and broke, pretty much, despite the outrageous success of the boogie board, which celebrated its fiftieth anniversary this July. 

Now, with Morey dead, InterSport Corp, owners of the Morey trademark, which Tom sold in 1977 before the design took off, is taking pre-orders for a limited edition re-release of his classic MACH 7, priced at a surprisingly reasonable one hundred and ninety-nine dollars.

From the promo, 

“This board is one of a kind in the Morey family. The MACH 7 Commemorative Edition is the only Morey Boogieboard that has Tom’s signature.” 

All pretty nice, money to the fam etc. 

But fans of Tom, as well as the family, have slammed it as a cash grab.

From Tom’s FB page, 

“This is the Morey Family and WE DO NOT APPRECIATE THIS THIEF IN THE NIGHT ACTION OF THIS CORPORATE MOVE. THERE IS NO CONTRACTURAL AGREEMENT HERE TO MOREY FAMILY FOR THIS TYPE OF CORPORATE FINANCIAL GAIN IN THE MIDST OF OUT LOSS. TOM’S grieving wife and family are in shock. Why would someone post at midnight a pre-order for a board that Tom had no contractural agreement. Our hearts are broken as we continue to work on arraignments for him to Rest in Peace.” 

A few choice cuts from the comments, mostly from high-level bodyboard pro’s, all with a penchant for caps lock, so high rides the emotion, I suppose.

“BE WARNED! Morey family do not want this sale to occur. AT VBC (Vintage Bodyboard Collectors) we respect their wishes and recommend no one buy this board.” 

“No, FUCK YOU GUYS. NO WAY WILL I BUY THIS OR ANY PRODUCT FROM YOU, EVER, YOU FUCKING SOULLESS PARASITES.”

“Just disgusting.” 

“FUCK MOREY!!! Other than the name, this company no connection not the great man, our sport or to the community. Support the companies that give back and have true connection and relevance.”

“Grubs.” 

And,

Pre-order your Mach 7 here!

How many documentaries have been made about surf shop owners?  

I caught Sid Abruzziight, owner of Water Brothers Surf Shop, after a solid head-high morning session at Ruggles as Hurricane Ida ripped by Rhode Island. 

He is seventy and riding a 6’1”.  

We talked about the documentary in production about his life. Water Brother: The Sid Abbruzzi Story is set to release next year, a jaw punch of a flick.

Check out the sizzle reel here.

How many documentaries have been made about surf shop owners?  

Abbruzzi might be the most famous shop owner alive today. Maybe not famous-famous but surf-famous, at least. His grey ropes of hair and tattoed body are more Pagans Motorcycle Club than surf icon. A model of the underground hero, Abbruzzi don’t own no clean Vans. Scars run down both legs with mehanical hip replacements caused by over fifty years of proper vert skating. 

Part animal―Part Machine.

But this isn’t an advertisement for his Water Brothers shop, that brick-and-morter citadel in Newport, Rhode island. Even if it was, you’d be outta luck. Abbruzzi doesn’t keep a website.  

Part animal―Part machine―Part idiot.

Sid isn’t living for money, and he’s beautiful because of it. Abruzzi’s lost countless dollars from shunning major brands, preferring to stick with five-to-ten grand of inventory: Buell wetsuits and select custom boards. 

Moms come in. “Do you have Billabong t-shirts for my son?’  

“Sorry” Sid says.

But he’s not.

Like Andy Warhol at a Manhattan dinner party when asked why he wasn’t dining on the feast before him. 

“I only eat candy,” Worhol deadpanned. 

Abbruzzi only eats candy, too. A shop that exists to support his own skating and surfing. Everything else is broccoli and he says the hell with that.

Sid started selling surfboards in his basement in ’69 then opened up a little beachfront surf shack down the street, the first Water Brothers. And a shack it was.

“I dug a little trench between the shop and the bar next door. Dropped an extension cord in it to get juice. For years, that’s where we sucked our electricity from. Every time a car drove over it in the beach parking lot, though, we lost power. We had a pot belly stove. It was a blast. We had it for twenty years. From ‘71 – ‘93. Never had a lease. We paid three-hundred a year to the landlord.”

It was Sid’s way from the get-go.

He says, “If you ever want to do anything, don’t ask. No games. Just do it.” 

Case-in-point. Sid wants to build a full-sized halfpipe in the lot next to the shack. Does it―sans blessing. The landlord shows up. Sid explains that it’s part of a project for their Explorers Troop. (A division of the Boy Scouts: changing boys to men, one ascot at a time) They were not, of course, Explorers. To cement the tale, Sid had uniforms made complete with a made up troop number patch set on the shirt sleeves. 

―And part genius.  

Sid moved into a larger store front in the ‘90’s but still held onto that independent streak. 

Water Brothers have hosted countless surf and skate royals over the years: Curren. Fletchers. Even actor Bill Murray, who once dropped down on the shop couch for a week during the shoot of Moonrise Kingdom. 

Like many surf traveler, Murray knows the spot to go when in Newport. Skip the Cliffwalk mansions, hit Water Brothers.

For Sid, however, ignoring the mansions of Newport has never been an option. These Gilded Age estates sit in front some of the best waves in all of the North East, Ruggles in particular. But as more surfers started to dot the lineup, the police began plucking them out, clearing the oceanviews of the proletariat. 

“It was Millionaire’s Row. They didn’t want us there.”

Sid grew tired of the hassling. 

“One day, I stayed in the water. All of a sudden there’s one cop, two, cops, five cops. They yelled that they were going to tow my car. ‘Go Ahead!’ I yelled back.  I finally came in when I was done. There was no love.They arrested me. Went to court. Found guilty. Fined. I took it to appeals court. And while we were waiting for trial, I was still surfing there. The judge said that banning surfing at Ruggles was unconstitutional and that was that.”  

Abbruzzi admits the victory stings a bit now. He says the water’s infested. 

On a good day, there can be a hundred guys in the water but only a couple dozen from Newport.

“Ruggles is still our spot, though. We still give a little elbow to the ribs, you know what I mean?”

Sid wears his Newport pride like a hood ornament.

“In the seventies, there was a bouy that separated surfers. If you were knowledgable you’d surf on one side, and the other side was for full-blown kooks. I wouldn’t mind havin’ that back now.”

Sid is more hands-on in Newport than a priest in a Catholic Boys School. He was at the heart of a campaign to save the break by keeping a pair of wave-crushing jetties out of the water, recommended after Hurricane Sandy. He’s put his weight behind a proposed skatepark at Abbruzzi sports Complex (named after his father.) The skatepark has just been green-lighted.

When it’s flat, you can find Sid at Water Bros. But when it’s on, he’s in the lineup, all seasons.

“I’ve surfed 55 winters. I refuse to wear a 6/5. I’m out every time there’s waves.”

If you’re ever in the Newport area, I highly suggest a visit to Water Brothers so you can touch Sid.