Ocean Beach, San Francisco, 1952. The Beach is the badlands, no man’s land. Winos drink in the dunes and the Sunset’s a work in progress. From 19th Avenue west to the Great Highway, it’s sand, wind, fog, and a cold, unwelcoming ocean. The grand old city by the bay is quiet, still emerging from the post-War haze. A seismic generational shift has yet to take place. Jack Kerouac has just made his first foray west. On The Road is five years from being published. Chinatown’s still like stepping straight into the orient. The docks are run by gruff longshoreman and pirates. The Castro’s still straight. Nobody’s heard the word ‘hippy’ yet. And it is here where the story of the surf shop as we know it today begins… read more of this great piece on surf shops at Stab Magazine>
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