Growing up on the shores of Lake Michigan, surfing was a rare possibility, but a possibility nonetheless. There were only a handful of days each year where the winds blew just right (i.e. extremely hard and very cold from the north), causing waves to roll in. Those frigid lake surfing days were a far cry from the turquoise waters and palm trees synonymous with the surf industry's early aughts marketing endeavors, but it was still surfing, and it was enough to get me hooked. It’s also why every month, for so many years, a crispy issue of Surfer Magazine landed in my mailbox—located near the Canadian border over 1,000 miles from the nearest ocean.
For sixty years Surfer Magazine offered a connection to another world, for lifelong coastal devotees and aspiring surfers like myself. In these pages, empty, mathematically perfect pointbreaks existed in what seemed like an endless golden hour light—likely with a lone surfer leaning deep into a bottom turn. It was where travel stories to remote locations in search of unknown waves inspired many more in search of the same. Where music, art, fashion, and lifestyles from around the wave-riding world were on display long before the endless scroll of social media.
Then, in October 2020, the mag sent out its last issue (pictured below). No doubt Covid played a part in its recent and untimely shuttering, though certainly so did social media and the Internet in general, venture capital, shrinking ad budgets, and myriad other factors that have similarly killed dozens of other beloved niche outdoor magazines.
Now, thanks to Surfer Magazine: 1960-2020, published by Rizzoli, the iconic rag's rich history is preserved in a hardcover 304-page coffee table book.