An Activator of Creative Dreams

I first met Francis “Duke” Boyd in the summer of ’63 at Ole Surfboards in Seal Beach, where I worked for shop manager Mickey Muñoz. One day, in walked this guy selling surf trunks with two funny little feet on the leg that he called Hang Ten. We told him the name was corny and that we were a surf shop—we sold surfboards. Luckily, Duke found some other visionary retailers who would stock them, and the rest is history. But Duke kept coming back to Ole’s to debate all aspects of surfing with us. Eventually, he, Mickey, and I became buddies for life.

During the next 10 to 15 years, Duke invented much of what we now call the lifestyle industry. Around him, the ideas always rolled, and he was the catalyst that made them happen. His first trunks were patterned after tailor M. Nii’s bitchin’ Makaha shorts because Duke had been in the Islands early and knew they were the real deal. He was one of us, not some rag merchant trying to leverage a fashion trend. Duke made surf stuff because he loved surfing himself.

In 1964, he and Muñoz tried to talk all the top cats of the period into forming a professional surfers’ union to make surf events for TV. At the time, they all politely rolled their eyes. He was 25 years early on
that one. 

However, Duke successfully introduced branded surfwear and brand licensing. He talked Hobie Alter into trying the surf ’n’ sport retail concept. He created the landmark Phil Edwards line for Hang Ten. With George Downing, he introduced objective judging in surf contests. With Jeff Hakman, he pulled off the revolutionary idea of expression-session non-contests for Golden Breed (another of his startups). In his spare time, he created the popular Pipeline column for Surfer magazine, coached the Miki Dora “Da Cat” model ad campaign, and helped Bing with his Nuuhiwa model ads. With artist Bob Dahlquist, Duke invented the Body Glove hand logo. As managing editor of International Surfing magazine in the late ’60s, he nudged ISM momentarily ahead of Surfer by romanticizing underground heroes. At the same time, the “bible of the sport” was still stuck in the clean-jean groove. Duke even helped ’60s filmmaker Dale Davis make a couple of surf movies.

In 1974, after selling Hang Ten and retiring to Aspen, Duke got with the Lightning Bolt surfboard guys and built the Strike into a major clothing brand. For Duke, that project was more about seeing if he knew what he thought he did than making money. It turns out he did know.

Duke touched my life a lot in direct ways, too. Besides our hitting Rincon, Trestles, and Matanchén Bay together, he was always chiding me to activate my creative dreams. He pushed me (and my Creative Designs surf shop partner, Stu) to write the first “technical” surfboard-design articles for ISM. From that start, I went on to a 21-year career as Surfer’s publisher, then co-founded with my wife, Debbee, The Surfer’s Journal—which is mostly about the soul of surfing, the part that really matters. 

That’s a lesson that Duke and I, over the years, learned together.