I had a chance to meet Duke Kahanamoku once. He was in Huntington Beach for the United States Surfing Championships.
I was too young and dumb to realize what I was missing as I turned away from him toward the ocean and some forgettable 2-foot surf. I had missed my one and only chance to meet the uncrowned king of modern surfing.
If Duke was the king, then Albert “Rabbit” Kekai was the crown prince. By the time I met Rabbit, I was older and wise enough to realize that I was looking surf royalty and surf history in the face.
From the 1930s through the 1950s and beyond, nobody, with the possible exception of the Duke himself, was more influential on surfing.
And, it is doubtful that anyone in the world ever rode more waves than Rabbit.
From the first time I surfed in Waikiki in the mid ’60s, through the late 1990s, I would see Rabbit surfing there, decades younger than his years.
In his mid ’70s, he was still better than most surfers at Waikiki and, according to Hawaiian contest organizer Randy Rarick, “I saw Rabbit take off behind the peak on 10-foot waves at Sunset Beach.” Oh, and did I mention that Rabbit was 75 years old at the time?
While I never did get to know Rabbit well, we were friends and he would stop by and say hello whenever we were in close proximity.
My most memorable encounter with him occurred over 20 years ago, at Greg Noll’s 60th birthday party, at Duke’s Restaurant, on the sand in Waikiki.
I was admiring an ancient paddleboard that had been mounted to the wall when someone approached me from behind and said, “I won the Diamond Head Paddle Race on that board.” I recognized the pidgin-laced soprano voice and turned to get a history lesson from the man himself.
“That board used to be solid redwood before someone hollowed it out. It belonged to the Duke and he loaned it to me for the race.”
Rabbit then paused and pointed to the beach, which was still visible in the final rays of twilight, and said, “Duke was standing right there, cheering for me as I came in.”
I looked to the sandy spot and could nearly visualize a middle-aged Duke and a young Rabbit greeting each other in the wet afternoon warmth.
History had come alive through surfing’s greatest living museum piece.
Rabbit excused himself and took a place at the table with his brother Jamma, Steamboat and other legendary Waikiki Beach Boys.
Once again I was an impressionable teenager, this time taking delight in thinking, “Wow, the greatest living surfer knows my name.” It had taken decades, but I had learned something about regret after not meeting Duke.
Over the years I would meet up with Rabbit from time to time, the last time being at the Moores Cancer Center Lua & Longboard Invitational.
If I had known I wasn’t going to see him again, I would have questioned him on a history that passed from the earth with him.
After living a full 95 years, the surfing world was diminished by the passing of Rabbit Kekai on May 13, 2016.
