“Odi profanum vulgus et arceo”
The above quote was inscribed by Miki Dora on a personal board that was crafted for him in his twilight years (1990s) by San Diego shaper Rich Pavel. It loosely translates to “I loathe the vulgar crowd, but hold myself aloof”. The meaning is as pretentious as the fact that he wrote it in ancient Latin. But that was Dora. If compared to a deity of Greek mythology, historians may be tempted to align surfing’s antihero with the cunning god of the underworld, Hades. In reality, Poseidon is a far more apt likeness. Not only did Poseidon hold domain over the ocean, he was a fearsome, haughty, and cold-hearted daemon who despised humanity and considered them with the same regard as dirt. But boy, could he surf.
In 1949, at an age of 15, the mischievous young longboarder was already making his mark at San Onofre, where he caught the attention of an established crew of board riding (and building) innovators including Joe Quigg and Matt Kivlin (more on them below). He boasted a relaxed and smooth-as-silk style that worked at the break, but his destiny awaited 106 miles north to join Dewey Weber, Mike Doyle, and Mickey Muñoz as tanned royalty that prowled the surf and sand of Malibu. As Dora grew older, burlier, and more self-assured, his Poseidon-esque indifference or destain for nearly everyone in his surroundings also manifested. And this was not exclusive to a visiting barney from the valley, as even a Malibu compatriot could never truly claim to be a great friend of Dora. At best, all you could hope for was for him to not sneak a clam from your wallet while out surfing First Point. At worst? You’d better run for the Santa Monica mountain range. Of course, none of this is news to even the most casual observer of SoCal surf culture. Dora’s character has been dissected and beaten to death. If you want more on what’s known about the infamous character, feel free to read the book or cross your fingers that Leonardo DiCaprio’s production company gets around to the biopic they promised more than two decades ago.
So what are we doing here? The intent of this article is to instead do we do best at SMH – take a look at Hawaii’s influence on the subject at hand. At a glance it may seem as if the spirit of the islands failed to rub off on the cocksure Malibu scoundrel. But in reality, Hawaii not only claims partial responsibility for shaping the one trait that made him universally worthy of admiration, it may have proven to be Dora’s soft spot.
Overview of Hawaii’s Influence on Malibu Antihero Miki Dora
Surfing came naturally to Miki Dora, but preceding his claim over the kingdom of Malibu was not an abnormal, but curious, growth in his surfing. It was this subtle reform that catapulted his status. After all, handsome brooding and dark charisma alone would not get someone a pass to rule Surfrider Beach. Was it a natural evolution that occurs as an adolescent male’s testosterone production separates the strong from the weak? Or was his advancement comorbid with something else?
At the same time Dora was making a name for himself along the stretch running from San Onofre to the South Bay and further north, would-be mentors Quigg and Kivlin (along with Dave Rochlan and Tommy Zahn) made their first sojourn to the south shore of Oahu (1947). They did so with their new balsa surfboards in tow, and shared the craft with Rabbit Kekai and his legion of Waikiki Beach Boys. Kekai and fellow Hawaiians graciously took the tools that the SoCal crew came with, and showed them what to do with them. So impressed by what was being witnessed, informal leader of the pack Joe Quigg literally sketched Rabbit Kekai’s every move upon the waves. The goal? To return back to the California coast and spread the gospel. You can read more about Rabbit Kekai’s influence on southern California surfing right here.
“Quigg and company took Rabbit’s aggression and open faced mobility back to Malibu and San Onofre, where young surfers like Miki Dora and Phil Edwards learned to blend California point-style with the whip-turns and nose-riding of Kekai.” (Hawaiian Godfather of Malibu)
While entire clans from San Onefre to Surfrider Beach were beneficiaries of the Waikiki surf safari, it was Miki Dora who had the raw talent and devil-may-care attitude to own it. But it wasn’t appropriation on Dora’s part, not in the same way that others have tried to claim surfing. Dora had a respect for Hawaii that he did not dole out to anything or anyone else in his life that he didn’t share DNA with. In fact, some may say that Hawaii was the Achilles heel to Miki Dora’s predaciousness, and even his knack for running a hustle was thwarted by the islands. Accompanied by Mickey Munoz, Dora visited Oahu for the first time in 1954. His stay was short lived as he was arrested for stowing away on a cruise ship from Honolulu to Hilo (Big Island), was fined, and sent back to Malibu before having the opportunity to surf Waikiki. His next arrival in Honolulu in 1962 was more official, as he was called upon to be a stuntman for the filming of “Ride The Wild Surf” (released in 1964). There are very few stories of his time on the island during the 1962/63 period, even though he had already made quite the name for himself. Dora may have been bigger than life back on the mainland, but North Shore Oahu’s waves cast a larger shadow. Rumor has it that when asked if he was afraid to surf heavy winter swell of the North Shore, he replied that he was more afraid of being afraid. To prepare Dora for filming, Greg Noll took Dora out to Waimea Bay, where he surprised most in his ability to ride the thrusting beast without any prior experience on such a wave of consequence.
Images: Ride the Wild Surf, Columbia Pictures (1964)
Despite showing prowess, Dora was humbled by the North Shore. Meanwhile, he didn’t have the greatest time playing the role of stuntman and indicated that he may have burned a couple of bridges during the excursion. The following snippet from an interview in SURFER magazine (Volume 6, Number 3, 1964) infers the mixed experience:
How about the Islands?
How about it? I’d rather go to Selma, Alabama. There’s too many hard feelings over there.
What spot do you like best in the Islands?
The Pipeline is rather delightful if I wouldn’t spaz up on my left turns. I could get stoked on the place.
Well, Miki, you’ve ridden the Islands’ big surf and then gone back for more. As a movie stuntman, didn’t you do several planned wipe-outs in 20 foot Waimea Bay surf for the film “Ride The Wild Surf?”
Planned or not planned, Mother Nature has her own rules. And I’ve been getting the short end. In other words, my bottom turns usually end up on the bottom.
Dora returned two years later as an invitee for the 1965 Duke Kahanamoku Invitational Surfing Championships. For a man who expressed nothing but contempt for organized competition, his presence alone exhibited an affinity with Hawaii. In a rare interview that occurred during the event, Dora doled out equally rare praise for the contest and perhaps more shockingly, for the judges:
Image: 1965 Duke Kahanamoku Invitational Surfing Championships by Leo Hetzel
The 1965 Duke Kahanamoku Invitational was about it for Dora in Hawaii. Was he afraid that the aloha-spirit of the islands and its people would compromise the detached character he worked more than three-decades to curate? Or perhaps he wanted to leave on a high-note?
No, it wasn’t any of that. Even though Hawaiians had evolved a young Dora’s surfing, and he demonstrated a never before seen vulnerability while on Oahu, Hawaii was not in his genetic coding as a rider of waves, nor as a human being. Dora knew who he was and where he felt most at home.
“Although Dora rode the towering surf at Waimea Bay in Hawaii as a stunt double in ‘Ride the Wild Surf” (Steve) Pezman said, ‘He always said he was a 4-foot-and-under man. He had the guts and skill to ride larger surf, but it just didn’t appeal to him. It wasn’t elegant. It was survival. He wasn’t into survival surf; he was into the dance.” (Los Angeles Times)
