Bryan Newman, for many years a fixture in the ocean off Hermosa Beach, passed away recently from a pulmonary embolism. He was 55.
A memorial paddle out to honor Newman will be held this Saturday at 2 p.m. at 14th Street in Hermosa Beach, where he could be found on many mornings.
Newman was a native son who could seem out of step amidst a rapidly changing South Bay: a surfer who thrived when the waves were at their most critical, but shied away from any attention it might bring to him; a family man whose struggles with addiction to alcohol and drugs periodically challenged those he loved so much.
“The sober Bryan was the real Bryan, and the sober Bryan was a sweetheart,” said Rick Fasullo, a pastor at New Hope Fellowship in Gardena who officiated at Newman’s wedding. “I loved him like a brother.”
Newman’s wife Karen said that her husband’s strength and intuitive intelligence allowed him to thrive in the most inhospitable conditions.
Once, while visiting his step-daughter in Humboldt County, Newman paddled out at a break known for fierce localism. It was the kind of intimidating surf spot — powerful waves, cold water, big sharks — that would not seem to need the added menace of locals. But they were there anyway, out in force to protect their waves against interlopers.
Being from Southern California, Newman was exactly the kind of surfer they tried to deter. He paddled out anyway. And before too long, he had ingratiated himself among the pack.
“They were not very nice, and they loved Bryan,” said Karen, who was sitting on the beach.
Newman was born Dec. 21, 1959. He attended Adams Middle School in Redondo Beach and MIra Costa High School before transferring to Redondo Union.
Newman’s mother was from Hermosa, and his connection to the town was very important to him.
“He was proud of being born and raised in Hermosa,” said Tommy Chaffin, Newman’s nephew and the girl’s volleyball coach at Redondo Union. “He had an immense love for this town.”
Newman took in the blossoming local music scene at local venues like the Sweetwater in Redondo Beach. He kept fliers from the many shows he attended, advertising bands like Black Flag, and his family still has them in a bound folder.
Newman’s family said that he was always surprising them with information about music, history and other subjects.
“Bryan had so much random knowledge,” said Tana Durbin, Newman’s stepdaughter. “We would watch Jeopardy at home together every night, and he always knew more than I did.”
Newman began surfing when he was nine years old, and later became a regular at ET Surf on Aviation Boulevard.
“Bryan was an excellent surfer with a real casual style,” said Dan Connell, now a manager at ET Surf who was regularly out with Newman at 14th Street. “He would ride waves till the end, right into the sand, because he didn’t care about paddling back out.”
Newman’s powerful but understated way of surfing, arms always extended for balance, mirrored the way he conducted himself in daily life.
Though he mostly avoided contests, Newman was once surfing in a Katin competition at the Huntington Beach Pier, and had made it through several heats. He had a chance to surf against four-time world champion Mark Richards. But while warming up in between heats, Newman accidentally hit a kid playing in the shallows with his board. He felt so bad that he refused to surf any more heats.
In December of 2005, local shaper Don Swift broke his C2 vertebrae and was floating face down, paralyzed, while surfing at Topaz Jetty. Newman was surfing nearby, and helped bring Swift to safety, but resisted efforts to portray himself as a hero.
“[Newman] just went up to him and snatched him out of the water,” Karen said. “The guy was seconds from death, and Bryan never wanted any credit.”
Newman’s father was a stonemason, and Newman followed him into the construction trade. Newman later found a job working as a superintendent at an apartment building for close friend Steve Vargas.
Newman would surf before work almost every morning.
“He would surf from dawn till 10 a.m., because that’s when the meters began,” Karen said. “In all his years of surfing, I don’t think he ever got a single parking ticket.”
Newman’s presence was so regular that Connell could tell how good the waves were by looking for Newman’s car. Newman, Connell recalled, would get up hours before dawn, watch old television shows, and arrive at the lineup humming tunes and jingles.
“It was good surfing next to him,” Connell said. “He would sing out in the water, and people would be kind of weirded out and stay away. We could get waves to ourselves.”
Newman met Karen in 1999. The two had many mutual friends, going back to Karen’s days at Pier Avenue Junior High. The two got married on the beach at 14th Street in 2007.
Newman approached Fasullo the night before the wedding, asking to be baptized. Fasullo suggested waiting, but Newman was insistent, “wanting to do it right,” as Fasullo recalled. So he baptized Newman on a chilly Friday night, using the water from the pool at the Sea Sprite Motel.
“I swear, that water was 57 degrees,” Fasullo said. “But he wasn’t cold, he was so excited.”
Finding the love of his life and committing himself to a family brought out the best in Newman.
“I was so proud of the man that he had become,” said Chaffin, who served as the best man at Newman’s wedding on the sand. “He loved that Pier, he loved that town. How awesome it was for him to be married on the sand in the place he loved so much.”
After marriage, Newman dedicated himself to his family. He was always taking his son Jimmy to the beach, and would spend hours drawing on the floor with his grandchildren.
But about a year ago, Newman fell into a period of heavy drinking. He left home and ended up in the hospital.
“He went into a coma for three-plus days, he was in septic shock, all of his organs were failing,” Durbin said.
While Newman was in the coma, Karen was left in charge of medical decisions about her husband.
“It was a wakeup call,” she said. “I told him he could move back in when he had a year of sobriety. And he still asked every single day.”
Karen eventually relented, letting Newman move back in after a few months. She did not regret it, as 2015 was among the happiest of their lives. If anything, having Newman come so close to death made his actual passing seem improbable.
“It was 10:51 a.m. He came in from outside, looked at me and fell into the dryer,” Durbin said. “I never thought that he wouldn’t make it.”
Since his passing, Karen has been deluged with people summoning memories of her husband. Speaking of the memories, she switches to the present tense, as though Newman is just getting ready for another jump in the ocean.
“He hasn’t changed,” she said. “The neighborhood has changed.”
