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"With my skills and techniques somewhat honed, I was confident
and ready to begin. In the series of ongoing obstacles to overcome,
I was now in need of a commercially fabricated mold to make surfboard
blanks. With the proceeds left over from the sale of my new car
and the reserves I had in my savings, I began shopping for a mold.
I found a company in Van Nuys called Techniform that manufactured
molds. I presented my idea to them of a steel and fiberglass surfboard
mold. They were quite receptive and the project was soon underway.
The high cost of the mold required that Techniform be partners in
my endeavor. Building the mold took much longer than originally
projected. As I grew more anxious, the two principals at Techniform
became more frustrated. In my persistence to finish the mold, I
was eventually allowed access to the job and became quite involved
in the outcome of the finished project."
"When the mold was completed in1954 we conducted our first
pour of urethane foam. For just shy of three months we diligently
but unsuccessfully attempted to produce an acceptable foam blank.
Our efforts were not without their exciting moments. More than a
couple of times we ran for our lives, away from a creaking mold
on the threshold of its capacity. Steel latch bolts once flew through
the air like bullets. It's funny to talk about the episode now,
but at the time it was a rather serious deal."
"My partners in the endeavor had basically given up and said
the project was impossible and would never work. There was simply
too much air trapped, preventing a satisfactory foam blow. I remained
steadfast in my belief that a way to make the mold work did exist.
I offered to buy out their half of the mold and they agreed. I amassed
the necessary six thousand dollars from what was left of my savings
and a variety of other sources. The mold was now mine."
Undeterred and no longer hampered by partners with only a lackluster
attitude to successfully employ the mold, Sweet took matters into
his own hands. It was time to make a still deeper commitment. He
found a building at 10th and Olympic in Santa Monica and set up
shop. With what his partners viewed as a defunct steel and fiberglass
mold, Sweet kicked into high gear and implemented a series of ideas
to make his dream a reality. The main problem had been clearly defined:
All the finished surfboard blanks coming out of the mold were plagued
with trapped air. This left the rise side of the blank fraught with
air bubbles and holes. Upon close examination of the mold he noticed
that if he reversed the clamps that held the unit shut he could
produce a blank a half inch thicker. In doing so, he was able to
shave that same half inch off the finished blank with a planer and
eliminate the vast majority of the holes and blemishes. Countless
discarded blanks later, and with experience gained by time and experimentation,
Sweet successfully produced a workable foam blank. In doing so,
circa 1956, Sweet went on to produce the first commercially offered
polyurethane foam surfboard.
During this time the landlord decided he wanted Sweet and his messy
surfboard business out. The fumes, dust and noise were becoming
too much of a problem. Undaunted, he picked up and moved to a new
30' x 150' space at 14th and Olympic for $75 a month. Dave Sweet
Surfboards would remain there for decades to come._Meanwhile, Hobie
Alter and Gordon Clark were working on their own version of the
foam surfboard in Laguna Canyon. Unlike Sweet, they were working
on molding their boards in two pieces, then joining the halves with
a wide stringer to impart width. Says Hobie, "Yeah, Sweet was
working on foam surfboards for a considerable time before us, although
I must add that he had no idea what 'Grubby" and I were doing,
nor did we have any idea what he was up to."
Hobie continues, "We first became aware of urethane foam from
our Reichold salesman, Kent Doolitle. He brought a small chunk of
foam by one day. Grubby was my glasser at the time. He tried a mix
with a bellyboard mold but the foam did not expand as we expected.
This marked the beginning of a long trial and error period for us.
We built a half surfboard mold and did on edge pours, as we were
worried about the pressure of the expanding foam. I had saved eight
thousand dollars and put it all into the project."
"After six months we spent all the money, I got an ulcer and
pretty much got nowhere. The idea of foam was great. I was still
shaping most every balsa board myself. Initially we were attempting
to produce a blank that needed little or no shaping, something we
never achieved. The way we were formulating the Reichold foam did
not lend itself to shaping. Eventually we got some new material
from American Latex that saved us. It expanded better and, best
of all, it was dusty to the touch, which allowed shaping. Sometime
during 1958, Hobie Surfboards made the transition to foam. Balsa
surfboards remained available as a custom order but at a slightly
higher price."
It was during this time that Sweet received a call from his brother,
Roger. He needed work and Dave needed help. Roger joined in with
Dave and began to learn the art of surfboard building and advance
his skills. Roger bought into half of the mold and, for a short
burst of time, the two were partners. Unfortunately, it quickly
became evident that Dave wanted craftsmanship and Roger wanted units.
Consequently, the partnership became strained from the onset. The
newfound collaboration would weather a mere three months.
Recalls Sweet: "Shortly into Roger's tenure at Dave Sweet surfboards,
movie star/actor Cliff Robertson learned of our foam surfboards
and became quite interested. He played the roll of 'Kahuna"
in the movie Gidget. Anyway, he approached me and offered to help
finance or become partners in Dave Sweet Surfboards. I declined
the offer, but Roger saw things differently, Roger's growing disenchantment
with our situation was clearly evident. With the small salary he
was drawing, Roger began considering a business relationship with
Robertson. I couldn't blame him. He was married with two kids, a
mortgage, and financial obligations that far exceeded mine."
Soon thereafter, Robertson and Roger Sweet decided to partner up.
Robertson/Sweet (R/S) Surfboards was created and included a business
plan centered on high production and low cost. The duo opted to
abbreviate glassing and detailed construction procedures in favor
of high unit, low cost production. In doing so, Robertson/Sweet
became the first ever "popout" surfboard builders. Roger
Sweet was set up with a $600 per month salary and would share in
the profits. The short-lived company would never enjoy or reap any
profits before falling into receivership.
Dave Sweet was once again the sole proprietor of his Dave Sweet
Surfboard Company but with an added liability-a mold that was now
half his brother Roger's. During formation of R/S Surfboards, arrangements
were made to share the foaming mold and it was moved to Glencoe
Avenue in Venice. Dave would have exclusive use of the mold on certain
days and R/S on other days. With Robertson/Sweet's impending insolvency,
the mold that Dave so fervently dedicated himself to and worked
so hard to create was now in jeopardy--a company asset that could
be seized by creditors.
In the eleventh hour with R/S on the verge of its demise, Dave's
dad, who had financed Roger's half of the mold, wrote a letter to
the sheriff explaining that the mold was his and belonged at 14th
and Olympic. With no interference, the mold was saved and moved
back to Dave Sweet's shop. Days later, Robertson/Sweet was padlocked
shut, the contents auctioned off, and closed forever.
Manufacturing and pouring the blanks accurately required Sweet's
uninterrupted attention and focus. A single break in concentration
during the several second exercise of pouring the activated liquid
foam then clamping the mold shut would likely yield a reject blank.
Often the work became nerve racking if only because of the discipline
the process required. During periods of back orders and heavy demand,
Sweet tells of how he would come home at the end of the day mentally
exhausted. Maintaining an acute focus for hours at a time occasionally
took its toll, although there was an upside of these seemingly endless
stints of repetition and observations working the mold: Knowledge.
Continued...
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