Andy Cochran comes by here from time to time and drops a comment IN VERY LARGE CAPS BECAUSE ANDY COCHRAN WAS ALWAYS A VERY LARGE CHARACTER when Bondi was emerging from the second world war. The fifties. Almost seventy years ago.
Andy C was a sacred totem in those days, as were the other young men who surrounded him at South Bondi .. every one of them a vain and glorious example of life. Surfing life.
Rascals. Ladies men. Absconders from wives jobs and families. Accomplices in all manner of shady affairs .. they prowled the South Bondi sands and when they weren’t surfing they swept up legions of young women. But how they surfed.
Cochran one of the best. Blessed with natural skill and allowed the biggest wave of a set, rarely challenged by Jack Mayes or Scott Dillon .. Barry Magoo. Though Mick Dooley could beat him.
Andy survives, one of the very few as even the generation that followed him is hollowed out.
So many of us gone. A melancholy list of names. Old friends.
Every time that old boy decides to come by here and unload a few thoughts is an honour. We hardly knew each other back in the day, I was just another youngster out here trying to grab a spare wave.
Andy the Legend returned to his beloved Bondi earlier this year where he took up a prominent place at a Dinner at the ‘Bergs . The guests were told of his conquests both in and out of the surf, but most applause came when AC was honoured for introducing the “Strut “ while he prowled the promenade. Many have tried to copy, but none have done so with Andy’s confidence and success.
The daily gathering of old Bondi locals love it when AC hits town….he’s an entertainer and his stories are like gold .
The Gremlins from yesteryear were in awe of AC back in the day, and that has carried through to the present day. He now has finally conceded that Mick Dooley was a better surfer, but that concession is likely to be withdrawn next time he hits town.
A fun article about Andy, Pete! Andy and I talk about three times a week telling the same old stories which get longer and better every time we tell them! He hasn’t changed since we met in Australia and our many years in Hawaii. He’s still a ladies man with the gift of the gab he’d give you his last dollar, but would I trust him alone with my wife, hmmm gotta think about it (just kidding, am I?) boy I could tell some stories! By the way, in the picture, is that a budgie in his speedos…maybe that’s why he was such a ladies man? He’ll never change. Andy is Andy but a better friend you could never have!
SORRY ABOUT THE LARGE LETTERING.BUT I HAVE NEVER BEEN THE ONE TO E MAIL,I TRIED,BUT IT TOOK TO LONG,SO DOING THE BEST I CAN,AT LEAST YOU DONT NEED GLASSES,
THANKS FOR THE WRITE UP,I WILL CHERISH YOUR COLUMN FOR EVER,
THE THING IN MY PANTS ,IS STILL THERE,BUT SHRUNK A LOT,BUT STILL IN USE,JUST NEED A LUBE JOB EVERY NOW AND THEN.
I TOLD MIKE ABOUT YOUR COLUMN ,I ASKED HIM IF THERE WAS A WAY,TO RETRACT,THE BIT ABOUT HIM BEATING UP ON ME ,,HE SAID NO.SO WE HAD 2 RUN INS AND WON 1,SO I AM HAPPY WITH THAT,
I WISH I COULD COME HOME FOR A MONTH,AS HERE IN HAWAII,HAS TURNED IN TO GILLIGANS ILD,BUT I KNOW THERE IS A LOT WORSE PLACES TO LIVE.
AGAIN THANK YOU FOR YOUR VERY KIND WORDS,I WOULD HATE TO THINK WHAT WOULD WRITE IF I WASNT,I DONT THINK I WOULD EVER PULL IT UP,
THANKS A LOT ,I HOPE I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF SEEING YOU AGAIN ,BEFORE WE BOTH CROKE,
I KNOW MY LARGE LETTERING,IS A PAIN ,AND SPELLING,IS ANOTHER,BUT I AM SURE A MAN OF YOUR TALENT CAN PUT IT TO GETHER
TAKE CARE ,GOD BLESS,
TILL WE MEET AGAIN
YOUR FRIEND ALWAYS .
G’day Andy, great to meet up with you again at the Bergs earlier this year and also at Wheels paddle out. It was great reliving some of our adventures in huge seas at Bondi when you and I were the only ones brave (silly) enough to get out the back, albeit we had to launch our boards off Mackenzies Point, then after two hours of being battered by monster waves of which we could not catch in as there was a giant sandbar that would have smashed us and boards to pieces, you eventually paddled around to Bronte where the water was deeper and scrambled in, then drag your Mal back to the South Corner, meanwhile I took off on a suicide mission when a mini monster turned up, about 20′, hung on for grim death wrapped around my Mal in an Indian Death Lock (Chief Little Wolf) closed my eyes and finally came out of the washing machine to end up in a small gutter near the beach, I’m sure I shit myself, but luckily it was all cleaned off before I dragged my sorry arse up to the ‘hep pit’ and waited for your arrival. That was about as close to death that I ever came to in the surf.