|
|
|
Billy Hamilton (August 27, 1948- ) |
 The Largest Surfing EncyclopediaA-Z: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Advertisement
|
|
|
With surfing, as with most things in life, style is everything. You wouldn't know it from watching a professional contest today, or from scanning the lineup at your local hot spot, but making the difficult look easy is what separates a gifted surfer from the rest. Gerry Lopez and Tom Curren had it, and Rob Machado and Joel Tudor have it today. When we forded the great chasm from longboards to short, it was nearly lost in the shuffle. Billy Hamilton saw that it wasn't.
William Stuart Hamilton was born in Long Beach, California, to John and Giselle Hamilton. Accompanied by his half-brother Gordon, Hamilton made South Laguna Beach his personal playground. There, the two boys were left alone to hunt and learn about life on the edge. In 1959, Hamilton was introduced to surfing by way of a Hobie double-ender, and his playground would soon extend from Rincon to Baja. He played football and ran track for Laguna High School, but seeing the world in a Bud Browne movie sold him on the surfing life. He was determined to become one of the best. Winning the Juniors' Division of the Brooks Street Classic in 1963 earned Hamilton membership into the prestigious Windansea Surf Club. He joined them for the annual Makaha Championships the next year and, on the trip, discovered the attraction of the North Shore, vowing to return. Meanwhile, he found work at Joey Cabell fledgling Chart House in Newport. The era of psychedelic drugs was sweeping the population, and Hamilton was a willing experimenter. He was expanding his mind and surfing with the best crews in Southern California. In 1966, he returned to Hawaii, fresh from high school and already acknowledged as one of the most popular surfers around (landing sixth in the Surfer Poll). The young filmmaking duo of MacGillivray/Freeman chose him to costar with Mark Martinson in two monumental films, Free and Easy and Sunshine Sea. Occurring on either side of the shortboard revolution, the movies depict Hamilton's seamless transition across the surfboard gap and ascendancy to legend status. Never inclined toward competition, he still managed runner-up finishes at both the Smirnoff and Duke in 1970. By that time, he already had a family and would soon leave the scene behind. Joann Zyirek's toddler son, Laird , had chosen Hamilton to be his father on the beach at Ehukai in 1967. Fortunately, Billy and Joann were also attracted, and they soon married. Another son, Lyon, was born in 1969. The next year, the clan relocated to the lush isolation of Kauai, an area Hamilton had longed for since experiencing it in his days with MacGillivray and Freeman. He had begun shaping under the tutelage of Surfboards Hawaii's John Price in 1967, but turned to commercial fishing on Kauai for more income. He would continue shaping, finding work with Country Surfboards, Chuck Dent and Lightning Bolt. In 1976, Hamilton was chosen to do the surfing for Jan Michael Vincent's character, Matt Johnson, in John Milius' Big Wednesday, as well as the scene in which lifeguards abandon their small boat in the pit of a giant, oncoming wave. Afterward, Hamilton began shaping under the Bear label depicted in the movie. Business boomed with the late '80s surfwear explosion as Bear expanded its line, replacing fishing as his main source of income. The success was fleeting as Milius sued for patent rights, leaving Hamilton back where he started. Hamilton remains on Kauai, near Hanalei, with his wife Rhonda (he and Joann divorced in 1977). He enjoys playing flamenco guitar (something he picked up at age 14) and stepped up his shaping under the Billy Hamilton label since the '90s longboard revival. He is actively involved in environmental matters that affect his adopted home and has enjoyed success in opposing detrimental building projects. Stepson Laird has established himself as the sport's premier big-wave rider, leading the tow-in revolution around the world. With surfing still an integral part of Billy's life, it is refreshing to know that style is not lost. There's still hope for the flappers. -- Jason Borte, January 2000
|
|
