Mickey Chapin Dora, Miklos S. Dora III, Miki Dora, MSD III. The names are many, and so are the facets of the man they call "Da Cat." Mickey Dora is surfing's Black Knight, the consummate antihero of the Malibu era.
Born in Budapest, Hungary to Miklos and Ramona Dora (who soon divorced), his stepfather, the great surfer Gard Chapin, introduced the boy to the ways of the ocean and a life at the beach. Dora was a worthy student and an excellent test pilot for the surfboard Chapin bought him. "Chapin was one of the few guys who instantly recognized that my pintails would work," surfboard innovator Joe Quigg recalls. "I got ridiculed and (Bob) Simmons laughed at them, but Chapin got one, and he bought one for Mickey, and that was his first surfboard."
Young Dora was a touch iconoclastic from the get-go. His early plan to fire-bomb the shack at San Onofre would have been offensive even to his independently minded stepdad had he carried it out. Stories of Dora's youth abound; stories on his Malibu years and beyond are legend. But Da Cat's outrageous scams, ruses and poses mask a man of extreme sensitivity and brilliance -- in and out of the water.
With the advent of foam surfboards and the more maneuver-oriented surfing styles of the late '50s, Dora's subtle mastery of wave positioning and the nuances of board control set him apart from the pack at Malibu, and his appearances there became the fodder of legend. His deft mannerisms on and off the beach and calculatedly eccentric comings and goings epitomized the Jack Kerouac/James Dean cult of cool. Who knew what lurked behind those Ray Ban sunglasses?
After Gidget created a cinematic genre, Dora became a sometime stunt double for several of the early '60s Hollywood beach flicks beginning with 1964's Muscle Beach Party. He was also worked in Bikini Beach (1964), How to Stuff a Wild Bikini (1965), Beach Blanket Bingo (1965) and Ski Party (1965). He was featured as himself in Bill Delaney's Surfers: The Movie (1990).
In his halcyon days, Dora circulated mysteriously, sometimes penetrated the L.A. scene and lived an increasingly covert existence. Occasional interviews with the nascent surf media were veiled, cryptic and showed a penetrating and surreal wit. Above all, he was clearly oppressed by the accelerating loss of the idyllic world of his youth.
As his beloved Malibu increasingly swarmed with interlopers, Dora's go-outs became more like slalom runs as he wove intricate paths through scores of kooks, pushing and shoving his way along the zippering hollows. When accused of being ruthless, Dora told Surfer, "It's a lie. I'm vicious. We're all pushing and shoving, jockeying for position, and if I get the wave first -- if I'm in the best position -- then I feel I deserve it."
In the '60s, Dora grew to loathe contests and the "fascistic" control they exercised over surfers, the beaches and the waves. He called contest judges senile surf freaks and rejected the authority of the sport's self-appointed leaders. At the 1967 Malibu Invitational Surf Classic, competing for the last time, Da Cat took off on a wave, trimmed beautifully across its blue-green face and, passing in front of the judges, bent over, dropped his black shorts and exposed his naked ass to the gathered dignitaries and spectators.
Eventually Dora's disgust with contemporary California forced a decisive career move and lifestyle shift, and he escaped into a self-imposed (and strategic) exile, abandoning his fabled haunts to the Valley usurpers and Hollywood geeks. He has lived in France, traveled extensively in South Africa, Australia and the South Pacific and Indian oceans. He returned to the United States in the '80s to serve jail time for grand larceny (credit card fraud) and perhaps other criminal pursuits.
Since then, Dora, still with no permanent residence, has remained a surf tribe icon over the years. He has been invited (and sometimes attended) legends events, and lives much of the year in France, where he is often seen at Quiksilver functions, giving him a sense of community in the international surfing establishment. Like many of the aging stars, Dora has benefited from the nostalgia of the so-called longboard renaissance, and a new edition of his famous Greg Noll Da Cat surfboard (which sold thousands as the first limited-edition signature model in the mid-'60s) has been a great success.
"We made 250 of them, and we've got eight left," Noll reveals. "We started out at $1,000, which some people thought was outrageous, but then they went to $2,000, and the last 15 or 20 are going for $3,000 each." Clearly the Dora image and name (each Da Cat model is signed by both Noll and Dora) has cachet.
Later a slew of Dora's possessions (presumably sold to lighten his load and raise some cash) were offered for sale via the Internet. The lot included Miki's 1967 Duke Kahanamoku Invitational trophy (name engraved, mint condition), a personal photo album of surf and family from 1940 to the '60s, silver ID bracelet (name engraved, 1942), 23 small surf shots from the Gidget movies and Dora's pencil sketch of a nude woman.
Miki Dora passed away on January 3, 2002 at age 67 at his father's home in Montecito, California after a six-month battle with pancreatic cancer. But interest in him refuses to die. In 2005, CR Stecyk and Drew Kampion released an authorized biography called Dora Lives using approved interviews and vintage photos. Three years later, Dave Rensin published All for a Few Perfect Waves. As the graffiti at Malibu has boasted for ages, the legend not only lives: "Dora rules."
-- Drew Kampion (updated, December 2009)
Born in Budapest, Hungary to Miklos and Ramona Dora (who soon divorced), his stepfather, the great surfer Gard Chapin, introduced the boy to the ways of the ocean and a life at the beach. Dora was a worthy student and an excellent test pilot for the surfboard Chapin bought him. "Chapin was one of the few guys who instantly recognized that my pintails would work," surfboard innovator Joe Quigg recalls. "I got ridiculed and (Bob) Simmons laughed at them, but Chapin got one, and he bought one for Mickey, and that was his first surfboard."
Young Dora was a touch iconoclastic from the get-go. His early plan to fire-bomb the shack at San Onofre would have been offensive even to his independently minded stepdad had he carried it out. Stories of Dora's youth abound; stories on his Malibu years and beyond are legend. But Da Cat's outrageous scams, ruses and poses mask a man of extreme sensitivity and brilliance -- in and out of the water.
With the advent of foam surfboards and the more maneuver-oriented surfing styles of the late '50s, Dora's subtle mastery of wave positioning and the nuances of board control set him apart from the pack at Malibu, and his appearances there became the fodder of legend. His deft mannerisms on and off the beach and calculatedly eccentric comings and goings epitomized the Jack Kerouac/James Dean cult of cool. Who knew what lurked behind those Ray Ban sunglasses?
After Gidget created a cinematic genre, Dora became a sometime stunt double for several of the early '60s Hollywood beach flicks beginning with 1964's Muscle Beach Party. He was also worked in Bikini Beach (1964), How to Stuff a Wild Bikini (1965), Beach Blanket Bingo (1965) and Ski Party (1965). He was featured as himself in Bill Delaney's Surfers: The Movie (1990).
In his halcyon days, Dora circulated mysteriously, sometimes penetrated the L.A. scene and lived an increasingly covert existence. Occasional interviews with the nascent surf media were veiled, cryptic and showed a penetrating and surreal wit. Above all, he was clearly oppressed by the accelerating loss of the idyllic world of his youth.
As his beloved Malibu increasingly swarmed with interlopers, Dora's go-outs became more like slalom runs as he wove intricate paths through scores of kooks, pushing and shoving his way along the zippering hollows. When accused of being ruthless, Dora told Surfer, "It's a lie. I'm vicious. We're all pushing and shoving, jockeying for position, and if I get the wave first -- if I'm in the best position -- then I feel I deserve it."
In the '60s, Dora grew to loathe contests and the "fascistic" control they exercised over surfers, the beaches and the waves. He called contest judges senile surf freaks and rejected the authority of the sport's self-appointed leaders. At the 1967 Malibu Invitational Surf Classic, competing for the last time, Da Cat took off on a wave, trimmed beautifully across its blue-green face and, passing in front of the judges, bent over, dropped his black shorts and exposed his naked ass to the gathered dignitaries and spectators.
Eventually Dora's disgust with contemporary California forced a decisive career move and lifestyle shift, and he escaped into a self-imposed (and strategic) exile, abandoning his fabled haunts to the Valley usurpers and Hollywood geeks. He has lived in France, traveled extensively in South Africa, Australia and the South Pacific and Indian oceans. He returned to the United States in the '80s to serve jail time for grand larceny (credit card fraud) and perhaps other criminal pursuits.
Since then, Dora, still with no permanent residence, has remained a surf tribe icon over the years. He has been invited (and sometimes attended) legends events, and lives much of the year in France, where he is often seen at Quiksilver functions, giving him a sense of community in the international surfing establishment. Like many of the aging stars, Dora has benefited from the nostalgia of the so-called longboard renaissance, and a new edition of his famous Greg Noll Da Cat surfboard (which sold thousands as the first limited-edition signature model in the mid-'60s) has been a great success.
"We made 250 of them, and we've got eight left," Noll reveals. "We started out at $1,000, which some people thought was outrageous, but then they went to $2,000, and the last 15 or 20 are going for $3,000 each." Clearly the Dora image and name (each Da Cat model is signed by both Noll and Dora) has cachet.
Later a slew of Dora's possessions (presumably sold to lighten his load and raise some cash) were offered for sale via the Internet. The lot included Miki's 1967 Duke Kahanamoku Invitational trophy (name engraved, mint condition), a personal photo album of surf and family from 1940 to the '60s, silver ID bracelet (name engraved, 1942), 23 small surf shots from the Gidget movies and Dora's pencil sketch of a nude woman.
Miki Dora passed away on January 3, 2002 at age 67 at his father's home in Montecito, California after a six-month battle with pancreatic cancer. But interest in him refuses to die. In 2005, CR Stecyk and Drew Kampion released an authorized biography called Dora Lives using approved interviews and vintage photos. Three years later, Dave Rensin published All for a Few Perfect Waves. As the graffiti at Malibu has boasted for ages, the legend not only lives: "Dora rules."
-- Drew Kampion (updated, December 2009)
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