SANTA CRUZ — Local surfing pioneer Harry Mayo, one of the founders of the famed Santa Cruz Surfing Club in the 1930s, died Monday afternoon at Dominican Oaks. He was 99.
Hang 10? He nearly hung 100.
Known as the “The Mayor of West Cliff,” Mayo lived in Santa Cruz for 97 years. His roots and local knowledge made him an excellent resource for city history and its now-rich surf culture. He was as much a part of the history he cherished.
“He was something else,” said Howard “Boots” McGhee, 75, a legendary longboarder and famous surf photographer. “He had 99 years under his belt. That’s a lot of stories and most of it here in Santa Cruz.”
Mayo assembled an extensive photo collection on Santa Cruz city and surf history and donated it to UC Santa Cruz Special Collections, which is available online as “The Harry Mayo Surfing Photo Collection.”
“If it wasn’t for him, that particular timeline would’ve been lost,” said Kim Stoner, one of the founding members of the Santa Cruz Surf Museum with Mayo.
A paddle-out and memorial will be held in his honor, though no date has been set.
“He was so affable, friendly and inclusive,” said Dr. Margo McBane, a former history teacher at San Jose State University who has known Mayo for two decades. “If he was at a barbecue, everyone would go over to him because he was so entertaining.”
As 13-year-old who didn’t know how to swim, Mayo became one of Santa Cruz’s first local surfers in 1936, shortly after befriending some surfers from Southern California who attended San Jose State College. Mayo built his own surfboard in wood shop at Mission Hill Junior High, and became one of the founders of the Santa Cruz Surfing Club.
Club members initially stored their boards, which were hollow and weighed between 60-90 pounds, in member David Steward’s basement, and, after his family moved residences, in a barn near Cowell Beach. In 1938, the Santa Cruz jaycees built a board storage house on Cowell. (The board house was dismantled and the club disbanded in 1952.)
In addition to heavy surfboards, club members surfed the frigid waters in a time well before wetsuits. Many of them wore sleeveless wool sweaters in an attempt to stay warm during winter. Yeah, these thrill seekers had a little bit of loco in them.
An unofficial fraternity and brotherhood, the club members were part of something special. They remained friends until they took their last breaths. Mayo, a jokester, spoke at most of their memorials and always kept the mood light with his humor.
“The fact that he didn’t know how to swim and then he’s going out in the cold water at Cowell (Beach), wearing a wool sweater, which is not only heavy, but basically drowning you, and falling into the ocean and then getting picked up by his friends on big paddleboards and spending the night by a bonfire,” McGhee said. “Many of us old surfers, new surfers too, strive to have an experience like he had with his friends.”
Santa Cruz’s Peter Mel, 53, a member of the Surfers’ Hall of Fame, said Mayo’s impact isn’t lost on the younger generations of surfers.
“He meant everything,” Mel said. “We love our history, we love our heritage. It’s one of the things that’s so special about our community. I have nothing but respect for Mayo and the Santa Cruz Surf Club. It’s a huge loss for Santa Cruz.”
After Mayo graduated from Santa Cruz High in 1942, he joined the Coast Guard and served until 1945.
Mayo’s surf career was cut short by life’s responsibilities. After a short-lived marriage in 1948, Mayo remarried Edith Marie “Judy” Parsons, a seamstress, in 1963. They were married 43 years, until her passing in 2006.
After WWII, he worked in the local cannery and ice plant until he joined the Santa Cruz Fire Department in ’49, where he worked for 30 years. He served as deputy in the Fireman’s Association, president of Local 1716, and Santa Cruz Fire Captain.
Mayo was big into giving back. He donated both time and money to The Salvation Army, which had provided assistance to his family during the Great Depression. Mayo’s lifelong support of the organization was recognized in 2017, when he was given a Lifetime Achievement Award.
Mayo was one of the founders of the Santa Cruz Surfing Museum in ’86 and the Surf Statue on West Cliff Drive in ’92. He volunteered for the Santa Cruz Surf Club Preservation Society, served as the club’s photo archivist, and gave tours at the surfing museum.
“He told the story of surfing, but he could also tell you the story of Santa Cruz from the perspective of a kid who didn’t have much,” McBane said.
McBane, who lives in Santa Cruz, was introduced to Mayo after one of her students did an oral history on him and told her, “You have to meet him.”
She did, and they became close friends. Every week for 16 years, he’d show up at her house to talk, play dominos, or join her for a drive around town to tell her how things were way back when.
“My father died 36 years ago,” McBane said. “(Mayo) was a father to me.”
Mayo was a gardener, lover of dogs and motorhome travel, and jokes. At the conclusion of every Preservation Society meeting, Mayo shared a joke or two. It was clockwork, like a tide chart.
“He always had us laughing,” Stoner said. “I’ll always remember him for his humor, his smile and his joke telling.”
The Santa Cruz Surfing Club had 14 original members, but with Mayo’s passing, only one remains, Bob Rittenhouse.
In 2006, famed surf instructor Richard Schmidt and McGhee coerced Mayo into the ocean one last session at Cowell, nearly nearly 60 years after he last rode a wave. For posterity.
Mayo collected more than 1,300 surf photos over the years. It was time for him to be in a few more.
Wearing a wetsuit for the first time and riding a modern board, Mayo did plenty of stretching and posing before he got in the water. Schmidt helped Mayo early on, but Mayo eventually stood up on his own and rode the wave of his life.
“It was unbelievable, really,” said McGhee, who captured images of Mayo’s historic ride. “When you’re behind the lens, in the water, you don’t really know what you have. I got home and downloaded the image. It was like, ‘Holy (crap), I got something here.’”