The Great Dane
Aloha 'Oe Dane Kealoha
Dane Kealoha was a giant, one of the truly great Hawaiian surfers of his (any) generation, respected, revered, sometimes feared, and loved by all who knew — or knew of — him. The King of Backdoor for a decade or more in the 1980s. He should have been World Champ a couple times (1982/83) but was robbed by a stupid, corrupt Haole system rigged for Aussies.1 Whatever. Everyone knew who was best.
Dane took tuberiding to another level in waves of consequence, forging a path of daring, graceful, deep, high-performance power surfing like no one else before and everyone since stands on his shoulders in such respect. Generations of power surfers and tube riders — starting with Hawaiian greats such as Johnny-Boy Gomes and Sunny Garcia, as well as others such as World Champion South Africans Shaun Thompson and Martin Potter, and a long list up to and including John-John Florence today — bear his mark and owe Dane an eternal debt of gratitude.
Images of Dane charging giant Honolua Bay or Point Surf Makaha are among the most awesome surf photos I’ve seen. I didn’t know Dane, but I surfed with him plenty, always kept my distance and exercised discretion — everyone did in his presence. The thing about surfing with Dane was that if he showed up, one could be more or less certain about a few things. Number One: that spot was probably the best surf on Oahu at that moment of the day. Number Two: Dane was going to sit outside and wait for the best waves — he “was solitary and strangely quiet [as he waited for sets] almost anchored, not bobbing around like the rest of us at the mercy of the temperamental Hawaiian waters, but somehow rooted to the spot” observed Tim Baker. Number Three: Dane was going to catch and masterfully ride the best, biggest sets. Nobody challenged him. Ever. Dane was a Hawaiian Force of Nature. Pure Mana.
I have a funny little story in such regard. About 30 odd years ago (early 1990s), I was out at Sunset Point on small, but good day, maybe 2’-4’ (Hawaiian = head high). Just a few of us out, spread between the Boneyard and the inside West Bowl. It was gorgeous. Then one heard: “All you Haoles, BEAT IT!” This was a Dane — not the Dane (Kealoha) — but one of his squires, the formidable and very intimidating Perry Dane, who resided at the time on Huelo Street, which is the street Sunset Point is situated. This was back when the “Black Shorts” (i.e., Hui — as in. Hui O He’e Nalu) still meant something very serious, such as the prospect (indeed probability) of immediate, impeding violence (physical and/or psychological) was upon anyone/everyone in the vicinity. Dane and Perry had their Black shorts on, to be sure. They were accompanied by Alika Moepono and a couple other braddahs. Perry was clearing the water — declaring the sacred waters of Paumalu KAPU.
I immediately put my head down and paddled inside toward Vals — the opposite direction of this Hawaiian posse, making sure to keep my eyes downcast so as not to violate the Kapu. I got to the beach, scurried up into the shaded bushes, and watched. It was a clinic in High Performance Hawaiian Hot Dogging. Better than any surf movie. These guys were ripping: left-go-right fades to deep bottom turns; tube rides; figure-eight full roundhouse cutbacks; hitting the lip and sending sheets of water 10’-12’ above the lip line . . . so fast, so precise, so powerful. It was beautiful. One learned from these guys. Respect. Deference. Discretion . . . and How For Surf properly. Like a Hawaiian.
Several months later that winter, I was out again on a bigger day, this time on the Inside Bowl. North Swell, 6’-8’ and barreling. It was epic. Not many out either, spread across the grand expanse of the First Reef, from the Point to the Bowl. Once again, I heard the warning: “Beat it, HAOLES!” Ok, session over. It was the Danes — Perry (sounding the bugle, as it were) and Kealoha, silent and stoic. I started to paddle in, keeping myself as small and inconspicuous as I could. Then I heard something, shall we say, unexpected. “No, brah, you can stay. Just stay out of the way!” Perry actually let me stay and surf with them. Dane might have even glanced at me with something that felt like tolerance. I couldn’t believe it. It was a major Rite of Passage for me and to this day one of my fondest, proudest memories. Mahalo Nui, guys. This time I got to learn up close in the water, in the proverbial classroom with the Ali’i. I’ll never forget it.
My friend Eric Haas (with whom I spoke yesterday) knew Dane. Knew him, his brothers, and his family well. Eric said Dane was “the best, along with Buttons, real nice but could get a little rugged.” Eric didn’t elaborate. Last time he saw Dane at Point Panic in Town not too long ago, Dane said he was headed back to Maui . . .
Mistaken, premature rumors of Dane’s passing started floating across the Coconut Wireless a few days ago and were swiftly silenced as family and friends gathered around Dane in a Honolulu hospital. Dane gracefully transitioned yesterday afternoon to the next realm. He was 64. Dane will always be admired, honored, and missed.
Aloha Nō, Dane.
Wind's gonna blow, so I'm gonna go
Down on the road again
Starting where the mountains left me
I'm up where I began
Where I will go, the wind only knows
Good times around the bend
Get in my car, goin' too far
Never comin' back again
Tired and worn, I woke up this mornin'
Found that I was confused
Spun right around and found I had lost
The things that I couldn't lose
The beaches they sell to build their hotels
My father's and I once knew
Birds all along sunlight at dawn
Singing Waimanalo blues
Down on the road with mountains so old
Far on the country side
Birds on the wing forget in a while
So I'm headed for the windward side
All of your dreams, sometimes it just seems
That I'm just along for the ride
Some they will cry because they have pride
For someone who's loved here died
The beaches they sell to build their hotels
My father's and I once knew
Birds all along sunlight at dawn
Singing Waimanalo blues
In 1983 Dane won both the prestigious Duke Kahanamoku Invitational (he made the finals six times) and the Pipeline Masters in pumping, perfect surf. Yet despite his absolute dominance of competitive professional surfing on the IPS (International Professional Surfers), Dane found himself caught in the middle of a petty political fiasco when the pro tour administration (run by Australians for the most part) refused to sanction the Hawaiian tour events. Adding insult to injury, these clowns also both banned IPS surfers from competing in these events and otherwise punished those who did. Dane defied the Haoles, refused to pay the penalty fee(s), surfed in the Hawaiian events (winning two of the three prestigious Triple Crown events at Sunset and Pipe); and was ceremoniously stripped of his pro tour rankings in a year he deserved to be World Champ. The next year, Dane retired at the age of 25 from competitive pro surfing.
Rell had corralled a group of us to go to The Fog Cutter restaurant to watch the sunset and have their famous banana split ice cream sundaes.
The Fog Cutter use to be across the street from Mauna Lahilahi, known for live local music, great sundaes and the occasional fight in the parking lot.
High stools and a counter facing the ocean. Bird Mahelona holding court and Dane.
Banter and laughter, such a simple pleasure after a blazing day at Makaha, the sound of spoons scraping for that last taste, happy sighs.
Always polite in our community Dane made so many of us proud to be Hawaiian.
Aloha ‘Oe Dane
Thank you Anthony for a lovely remembrance and tribute.
What a brilliant tribute. Thank you.