ROBERTO DAMINAI

Roberto shaped his first board in 1969
photo Altaintida, Uruguay 1970

L-R Alex and Roberto

Decal of the Club

Homero standing next to his factory

Shaping at Homero's factory

In the shaping room 1973

Johnny Rice walking towards his surf shop in Guaruja Island, Brazil 1970's

Flaco Barreda, Sergio Barreda, his son and Roberto

La Herradura souveniro

Board Expo in Rome, Italy. Roberto shaped the 2 boards next to him

Surfing south of Naples, Italy

Shaping sailboards in Italy

Story by Roberto Damiani
Written by Tom Takao

"There is no way to anticipate the warm, humid, flower-scented air of the islands" recalled Roberto on his trip to Hawaii. Roberto Damiani is a well known boardbuilder in Uruguay and South America. While on Kauai he met Bill Hamilton "The Style Master" through a mutual friend. In the short time Bill and Roberto got aquainted, Roberto says "It seemed like we knew each other for a long time."

After the day's surf session at Hanalei Bay, as sunset turns to nightfall. Roberto was at the Hamilton's that evening, sitting on the veranda and having a beer. Gazing out at the sparkling waterfalls that was some distance away, in the tropical night landscape. While Roberto and Bill talk about shaping and things in general. The scene slowly fades as we go back some years to when Roberto Damiani started building surfboards.

In the mid 1960’s Roberto’s family lived in Southern California where his father was employed. Previously they had lived in Uruguay. It was at Hermosa Beach where Roberto first rode a wave on a surfboard and was hooked on surfing.

Having watched the other surfers catching waves that day. He borrowed a friend’s board, and paddled out somewhat awkward. Managing to get pass the impact zone where the waves were breaking 2 to 3 feet. Roberto caught his first wave ever and stood up. Balancing himself as the white water rolled toward shore. With a smile on his face, Roberto was one happy beginner.

The family was soon taking a flight to Uruguay. Roberto thought it was for a few weeks. But it turned out to be over forty years. His time in Southern California had lasted a few years and he had just learned to surf. In Uruguay he felt like Robinson Crusoe; nobody had any idea of the word surfing. Then he met Ariel Gonzalez a gym teacher that actually surfed. Ariel was one of a handful of local pioneers that had recently started riding the waves in Uruguay.

The encounter sparked the founding of the first surf club in Uruguay. The name of the club was called Uwaris short for Uruguayan Wave Riders. Since the club was on a budget, the club’s clubhouse was at his parent's house. It had admission rules, hand painted surf posters (surf magazines were a very rare luxury) and live Mauser ammo hanging from their necks. A very eye catching surf gear to represent a tribal token.

The club members did not have a single surfboard. Getting a surfboard in Uruguay was very difficult. No one knew how to shape foam and glass with resin. So they ended up doing a lot of skimboarding and bellyboarding on wood planks. This would change when Roberto started shaping and glassing. He made his first board in 1969. Soon afterwards he would start making boards for the rest of his fellow club members.

Uwaris Surf Club with Roberto on the left
Roberto had studied to become a graphic artist, and it appeared that was the direction. But after shaping and glassing his first surfboard and then riding it, he sensed that surfboard building was his calling. After doing some art business, his path changed towards the surfing lifestyle. “All I really wanted was to be soaked in salt water all day” recalled Roberto.

In Uruguay and the rest of South Americas normal people were all into soccer. On the other end of the sport spectrum, Roberto's bunch were thought of as weirdos. That didn't change their way of thinking, they continued enjoying the ocean. There wasn’t that many surfers in Uruguay. So when Roberto ran out of people to make boards for in his area, he decided to go to Brazil.

The surf industry was booming there, and new factories and surf shops were springing up everywhere. Some brands were turning out hundreds of boards a month. People came from other countries to join in on the "Surfing Rush".

Brazil’s and its tropical surroundings were 1200 miles to the north. Roberto and his good friend Alex (In the picture el muelle las foscas above left) hitched hiked more than 3000 miles to Brazil and back to Uruguay. They would stay for 2 months and meet a lot of nice people. On this first trips, they didn't bring their surfboards. So whenever they were at the beach, they would have to borrow a surfboard from one of the locals. The following year they would hitch hike back to Brazil and this time they bring their own boards.

Roberto first few trips to Brazil were a learning experience on where to go and who to know. He would start shaping for Homero Naldinho at his factory in Santos a port city in San Paulo during 1973. While at Homero’s factory, Roberto would meet a young Californian shaper named Gary Linden.

While working at Homero's, Roberto recalls a board that was being repaired at the factory.
"The Ding"
By Roberto Damiani

Nineteen-seventy-something. Times were groovy, hairs were long, and song lyrics depicted mystical journeys, much like Led Zeppelin´s dreamy "Stairway to Heaven". Hippie culture pervaded the brazilian surf scene. In Santos, Sao Paulo´s port city, inside Homero´s surfboard factory there was this wooden stairway that led to the shaping room. Rather than a factory it was really an old, beat-up house in the middle of a parking lot, distant just a frisbee´s flight from the waves.

Outside, dusk was setting among the incredibly leaning buildings crowding the Canal 5 shoreline. I was standing close to the stairs, fiddling away some spare minutes after a day´s work, waiting for the rest of the gang to dash off and raid some food stand.

The stairway. It was always in the way. Up against the handrail of these creaky, steep and narrow steps someone had previously rested a surfboard. Down the steps comes Homero clip-clopping his terribly obnoxious slaps, the ugliest ever, covered with layers of resin drippings from years of glassing, morphed to rock-solid glass clogs long before.

Homero was a sight with or without his clogs. Wiry and pot-bellied, long, loose-jointed arms, bobbing head as he walked. He looked like right out of a Star Wars screen cast. Watching him describe a wave ride with his peculiar body language was a riot. Anyway, here he comes stumping down the stairs while this unsteady board is just waiting for a slight tip so it can slide to the floor.

This was no ordinary board but a brand new Gordon & Smith. A venerated piece of glass and foam, fresh from the Southern California Surfboard Mecca, and twice as costly as a local clone, not to mention the plane tickets. This was a time when you couldn´t find a board made in the States at a foreign surfshop, just like that.

It was there for a minor repair -already done- and the owner was due any minute, so hastily it banged rail first on the edge of a metal bucket, then clattered to a halt as Homero stumbled the last steps in a futile effort to catch it. The board looked up from the floor with a fresh half-moon smile in the rail, while the man started uttering a string of brazilian curses that seemed to rise from deep within a cavern.

The growls turned into loud shouting as the rest of the crew gathered round...and this, more than anything else, sealed the poor board´s fate. He had just finished shaping and still had his big Skil planer in one hand. Mean, heavy machine -no plastic parts in those days- , easily ten, twelve pounds of metal.

Homero had this Jekyl and Hyde thing about him that was awesome to witness. Even if a bit bossy at work sometimes, he was generally quiet mannered and fun to be with on the occasional surf sessions. But when some upsetting event triggered his behavior changes, he turned into a raging bull. His strength leaped tenfold, his face a tribal war mask, as he charged against anything inanimate with demolishing, unstoppable fury. Once he drove his fist through the triple layer glass window of his own surf shop -collecting severe cuts, of course- though usually it took more than that to unwind him.

But even in the midst of these one-man-battles his fury wasn´t really all that blind. It seemed kind of calculated. Better still: he liked an audience. So when he saw us gawking in disbelief, first at him, then at the board, he just felt inspired. In one swift motion he lifted the board with one hand, held it upright, rammed the half-meter-long planer into it, then let it go as he turned around and left the room still shouting while the thing collapsed once again on the dirty floor.

We were aghast, but we´d seen nothing yet. Instinctively we circled the victim letting out hushed comments while Homero´s imprecations seemed to fade backstage. One of us picked it up and set it on the stairway again, trying to size up the damage, as Homero´s volume went up again a few notches, sounding like he was getting closer.

Into the room he bursts, sensing the paramedic scene, and out of a fierce grimace he mumbles something about the "stupid" board standing up once more, making a line for the victim with arms extended and crisped fingers, Frankenstein style.

We tripped all over ourselves out of the way like fast, man! Many years later, our nightmares still bring us not only the sight but also the dreadful soundtrack. He grabbed the board with both hands, lifted it over his head, looked about for the most suitable landing, and then thumped it on the glassing stall with all his might.

Our eyeballs popped out of their sockets. The board was literally impaled on the solid metal "T" ! "Frankie" lost hold for a moment, but bracing himself better he yanked hard, tore it loose as the fiberglass layer shrieked a marrow-freezing "r-r-r-r-r-rip", then threw it down, gripped the fifty-pound stall by the rod and using it as a piston he proceeded to pound the board to paper thickness. Subhuman.

Then he threw this other weapon down -cracking a few tiles in the process- and exited again. Silence. We were breathless. Then, right on cue as if rehearsed, the gate-bell rang.

The End of The Ding.

Continuing on, having heard that another Californian board builder was looking for help. Roberto left the hectic pace of the city and went to the green hills and clean waves of Guaruja Island. Johnny Rice greeted the young shaper and was surprised when he spoke English to him.

Johnny sold a new Paasche airbrush to Roberto and made him the new airbrusher, and sander at his factory. Roberto learned many valuable lessons from Johnny. One of them was: “You can’t do everything perfectly. You have to expect to carve out a fluke every so many boards and be able to admit it.”

Roberto stayed in Brazil for the rest of the 1970s, with several surf and shape trips to other South American countries, like Argentina and Peru. There was this time in Peru during 1977, he arrived just in time to double for Gordo Barreda at the Shaping Shack. Gordo was temporarily out of commission with a broken collar bones after a heavy La Herradura shorebreak beating.

Sergio “Gordo” Barreda was one of Peru’s main shaper during the 70’s, 80’s, 90’s and a former Peruvian National Champion. A wonderful guy with a sense of humor, a good friend to those who knew him and he loved his family. Serigo "Gordo" Barreda passed away a few years back.

Sometime later Roberto had his own sampling of La Herradura power when he broke a borrowed gun surfboard. It was during a paddle like crazy for a large outside set that had caught others inside of it. Turning around on a good looking shoulder, with a two paddle takeoff as the lip started to feather. Just when he was standing, there was someone scratching at the bottom, trying to get through. It threw Roberto concentration off a split second. That split second was the difference in making or losing it. Being lip launch onto his board, shoulder first, the impact broke the board in half.

Roberto swam in with one piece, and went back through the infamous shorebreak and around to the cliffs. Climbed into the caves at the foot of the cliff to recover the other piece, and swam back out again and in through the shorebreak.

Roberto Damiani going left at Saint Lu, Uruguay photo Valentina Damiani
Being of Italian descent, Roberto went searching for his family roots in 1981, he ended up in Pescara, a port city on the eastern shores of Italy. Not a surfboard in sight, just sailboards, sailboarding was happening in a big way. All of Europe was doing it. The board manufacturers of these different countries were taking the sport of windsurfing to higher levels through their pace-setting Research and Development.

“Hookipa in Maui was the testing ground, Robby Naish was king, but it was really the German, the French, the Swiss, the Austrian and the Italian that broke design barriers in the golden days of windsurfing” recalls Roberto.

So he spent a few years surfing completely alone in the eastern shores of Italy. Wishing some other wandering surfer would get lost his way. Eventually he moved to Viareggio on the western side of Italy. To Roberto it felt like going from the Great Lakes to North Florida. From not much happening to a whole surfing scene, complete with factories, shops, contests, and familiar apparel.

Roberto began learning the ropes of custom sailboard making. He shaped hundreds of them, in perhaps a 5 to 1 ratio over surfboards. The amount of input and feedback was awesome says Roberto. Change were going on so fast, it was an exciting time for windsurfing in Europe.

"I did my best to spread surfing in Italy. When I left Pescara, a few kids were shaping and glass. One had even started to make foam". In Viareggio, Roberto helped organize and increase production where he was working. He would lend a hand in local contests, he influenced others through his surfing, and explored new spots along the coast. Roberto could see the potential for the blooming surf business in Europe. However; with a growing family to take care of, Roberto Damiani returned to Uruguay during the late 1980s. After returning, he started building surfboards again for his customers.

His surfboard building business during the 1990’s and 2000’s had grown. Being busy and needing a break, Roberto had an opportunity in 2003 to visit Kauai for the first time. Having traveled some distance to get where he is, we fade back to the veranda and find Roberto thanking the Hamiltons for their hospitality and a good night. With thoughts of tomorrow's waves, Roberto Damiani shapes on.

Uruguay beach break