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.