Chappy was consistently showcased in Surfing magazine - in graceful photos that displayed his confident and easy mastery of waves as well as in articles where he shared his thoughts and experience about surfing with others.

As an aside, Chappy recently lost a leg. Think that kept him out of the water? No Way! He's back on a board and "going for it". Right On Chappy!

Thanks Duke Boyd. What an inspiration you have been! Chappy

For some months, the possibility of a Trestles State Park has loomed portentously as a landmark of some sort on the horizon of the sport/art of surfing. According to Director William Penn Mott, Jr., the California Department of Parks and Recreation has appropriated the necessary funds, the bill for the opening of Trestles has passed out of State hands, and the approval of the Secretary of the Navy now stands as the sole barrier between the surfer and the Trestle. Almost. One other little bit of reality may be delaying the Secretary's approval: the presence of President Richard Milhouse Nixon's summer White House less than a mile away from the two Trestles breaks. Prior to President Nixon's arrival on the Cotton Estate, the Trestles opening was "a matter of days away." Now that the Chief Exec and the folks are camped above Cotton's Point, however, the matter of days bit may stretch into a matter of 1,460 days (if he doesn't make a second term). Or 2,920 days (if he does). However, abandoning such pointless hope, we can, as surfers, learn from our experiences under the military heel. The prolonged hassle between the surfer and the storm trooper might stand as a lasting allegory representing a hassle that goes deeper than merely the surfer versus the jarhead: an allegory for the surfing philosophy versus the military philosophy.

The self-proclaimed philosophy of surfing, if there is such a thing, is freedom for all people in an environment of peace and brotherhood. The philosophy-apparent of the Marine Corps; and, in fact, all military structures, is restriction for all people in an environment of conflict and self-assertion. No matter how adamantly a military force might attempt to shroud its reality, its existence is to a sole end: killing. What we have at Trestles is a situation where surfers, who almost invariably (on a group level) seek to avoid confrontation, are being forced into confrontation. The reason for this is that Marines, and other military personnel, are bred for confrontation. They are trained to respond to a situation where they come face-to-face with the "enemy." Thus, when the commanding officer says: "They are your enemies!" and points at eleven or twelve surfers floating about, the well-oiled Marine salivates in true Pavlovian fashion and does his trick. Like most conflicts, the Trestles hassle is an artificial one: two groups of people who have absolutely nothing to fight over are put in a situation where conflict is inevitable because the Marine machines have been programmed to salivate on order to a given stimulus, such as: "They are your enemies!" Whether they are or not. The issue at stake is an absurd one: surfers do not wish to give up the privilege of floating in the Pacific Ocean adjacent to Camp Pendleton!

"Born under a bad sign!"