The Man, The Myth, The Legend: Terry Senate

If we could be so fortunate to come across people like Terry Senate, we count ourselves lucky. People who operate with their whole heart, give you the shirt off their back and expect nothing in return are increasingly rare these days. As of November 21, 2024, the Earth’s good human count decreased by one. Heaven: 1 Earth: 0

On January 25 this year, hundreds from across the nation showed up to Terry Senate’s paddle out celebration at Doheny State Beach. You can’t write about the sheer amount of love and tears that were felt. Despite cold and windy conditions, the warmth radiated like a summer day in Hawaii.

San Clemente’s Surf Ghetto will miss decades’ worth of terrible dad jokes but, much more, a legendary local surfboard shaper: Terry Senate

No matter who you are, Terry just accepted you. It didn’t matter if you were from Oklahoma, Maine, or grew up in San Clemente ripping right beside the pros, if you walked through Terry Senate Surf Shop, you were instantly part of Terry’s very large surf family. Always greeting me with a smile and a brightly toned, “Hi, Jackie!” I’d often find Terry sitting behind his front desk with a big grin or in his shaping bay circling a blank with his sander and tools conducting board surgery. If you had at least 30 minutes to kill, you could walk in, plop down on his foam-covered stool and watch the master at work with Green Day or Quiet Riot or any variety of classic rock music blasting over his speakers. And the stories–he would tell you a story, after he caught up on yours, and somehow find a way to tie in several terrible dad jokes.

“What did the triangle say to the circle?”

“Did you hear about the circus fires?”

“If seagulls fly over the sea, what are they called when they fly over the bay?”

I met Terry in the summer of 2006. I was teaching at a local San Clemente surf camp at the time with my then-boyfriend who eventually redirected us both to Terry Senate’s surf camp located at San Onofre’s Trail 2.5. I spent the last week of the summer teaching at Terry’s overnight camp. It was the MOST fun, the real deal–10-13 kiddos ages 7 -15 all huddled up under a giant white tent watching classic surf flicks while Terry’s lady chef Mimi prepared dinners every night. Terry told jokes, we all played games, roasted marshmallows…it was the quintessential surf camp experience. Every morning, we would wake up, gather a group of 6-7 kiddos per instructor and schlep soft tops and all the bravery down to trail 2.5 to surf the gentle, small summer waves. He taught everyone surf etiquette with the last remaining, but most important rule: Have fun

Years passed and I would float in and out of his shop and shaping room–teaching private surf lessons for him, telling him all the stories about the local news I’d cover or boys I’d met (God bless the man), or the latest job I got–Terry always providing an ear and a ton of jokes. I met so many friends through Terry, from artists and other surfers to shapers and glassers. Everyone knew Terry and he knew them. He would tell me all the local stories growing up in San Clemente, his adventure down to Todos Santos and spending the night on the island, surfing the North Shore or Trestles and mentoring under legendary shaper Ben Aipa. He didn’t need fancy surf marketing, Terry had word of mouth. In fact, in 2022 he was named San Clemente’s People’s Choice Awards-Best Surfboard Shaper by Pickett Fence Media.

I guess 45 years of shaping surfboards will do that–make you a bad ass shaper with a penchant for cheesy humor.

Once, Terry explained his logo to me, though reminiscent of his previous employer Infinity Surfboards, to Terry, his logo represented the holy trinity: the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. He said it was a tribute to his dad, who was an Orthodox Priest. He never hesitated to talk about God–always encouraging everyone to believe and have faith, and despite any struggles that he encountered in life, God always, and still does, have his back. He was familiar with my Greek background because of the Orthodox side of things and I’d bring him baklava, a Greek pastry. He’d tell me stories about his North Carolina background and his family, his brother, a veteran of the Marines.

Terry shaped me many boards over the years that I’d often take to Lowers, where he surfed in his hey-day. They used to call him “Mr. Trestles” –the proof was not only in the shortboards he’d shape me, but it was also all over the walls of his surf shop. Pictures of him ripping Trestles walls and pictures of friends on Senate surfboards charging Trestles and tropical locales. I’ll never forget the first years of exploring his shop, I’d study every photo as if it were straight from Surfer Mag.

My 20-something-year-old routine: Surf Trestles and stop by Terry’s shop, talk story and tell him about the waves OR: Stop by Terry’s shop, talk story and ask about the waves or watch him help customers find the perfect board. Over the years, that changed to taking his neighbor out to dinner once a month and occasionally stopping by just to hear his jokes and check in. As life started “lifing” on me, stopping by Terry’s shop got harder and one day, his shop was gone and my heart sank.

One of my favorite memories: I was surfing a longboard at the San Clemente Pier–waves were tiny, but it was a hot summer day and I needed to get my mind off life. I took a right off Clocktowers, fell off my board and the board smacks me in the face, cartoon-style. That was the first time I saw stars and I’m happy to say it wasn’t a  Terry board that gave me that concussion. My nose started bleeding and people rushed down to the water to help me. Lifeguards came to my rescue (it also helps that this happened right in front of San Clemente Lifeguard headquarters) and said I shouldn’t drive home because I was dizzy and kind of delirious.

I called Terry and in 10 seconds, the guy was down at the pier with his white Toyota pickup truck taking me (and my board) back to his shop. The lifeguards said I needed stitches, and I had no medical insurance at the time, so he called his EMT friend who drove down from North OC to stitch up a small gash in my nose. Terry cleared a space on his office desk behind his front desk and EMT guy cleaned my cut and stitched me up right then and there–the worst of the pain being the cleaning. Terry took a picture of my gonzo-sized nose and, eventually, drove me back to my car. I laugh to this day.

There are so many more memories I can think of and that might take a while. Something 2024 has consistently taught me through so much personal loss including my father and now, Terry, who I considered to be my West Coast dad: time waits for no one and life is too damn short. If you have an itch to talk to someone, don’t hesitate and do it. You never know when you might hear their voice last.

Until we share peaks in Heaven, Terry. Aloha!