In the early sixties, surfing caught on in California like an explosion. Suddenly, in a society modeled after “Ozzie and Harriot”, if you didn’t have a surf board slopped to the top of your car or sticking out the back, you weren’t with it.

Among the thousands of wannabe’s, there was a small fraternity of those who had been around a while and were on the leading edge of the development of this new sport. They were all in one movie: The Living Curl.