Thanks Phil. It's a wonderful obit for a great bloke.

I was lucky enough to work for/with/under/over Lester during the Surfari years, when Lester and Garth supplied gainful employ to a ragtag assemblage of surf dogs who weren't good for much else other than the carousing, drinking and surfing that Surfaris required. I don't think much of what we did would have passed health and safety but no-one died although there were a few trips to Kempsey and Macksville emergency.

Lester was the master of controlled chaos, standing in the eye of the storm laughing his head off as things threatened to go tits up around him was his specialty. Not only was he a very accomplished surfer well into his later years he was also an extremely intelligent man of wide interests. He could hold court on just about any subject from American politics to the shortboard revolution to the psychology of human behaviour and anything in between. He had a knowledgeable opinion on most things, many of which were the fruit harvested from bitter experience. Every trip he gave a long lecture on the history of Australian surfing......quite often this differed from the more sanitised version offered up in books. I took Lester's as truth, because he lived it, as well as represented as legal counsel those who had taken a detour off the tracks of sanctioned behaviour. As you mentioned, he never ratted on his mates during the Woodward Royal Commission, for which he served time in the pen. Like every experience in his life, he turned that into a positive.

In quieter moments Lester had great capacity for self reflection; able to determine the mistakes he had made, the consequences of those mistakes and ways to avoid them in the future. I believe that is why he always maintained the love and trust of the people around him. Despite the criminal record, he was a man of great integrity; incredibly straight up and staunch even if you didn't like what he was telling you.

The apple didn't fall too far from the tree with son Garth who shares the keen intelligence, wit , sense of humour and endless capacity for adventures that seem mad at the time but in the passage of time acquire legendary status. I spent a couple of weeks surfing Cloudbreak with Garth last year. Every night he was last man standing at the Bar, having the time of his life. Every morning I thought there's no way that bloke is getting in the boat let alone surfing. Garth was first off the boat every time, last on, hucking himself over every wave that ledged up in front of him. Like Lester before him, he's a great enthusiast of life.

I'm very grateful I got up to see Lester last week, just before he passed on. He was surrounded by loving family, in his home in the hills. Through the morphine haze I held his hand and told him how much it meant to me to have known him.....he opened his eyes which rolled around in his head before snapping into focus. His mouth opened and the famous Lester cackle ensued. He drifted back into semi consciousness but it was the most fitting statement imaginable. A man on his death bed still able to laugh at life. He died peacefully at home, surrounded by family, perhaps the most fitting summation of his life's worth to those around him.

Got a feeling his wake is going to be a pretty legendary affair.

Nice words FR and Phil.

RIP.

Same. Great sentiments fellas.

Les (and his "ragtag assemblage") taught me how to surf on one of those Surfaris back in 2001 when I was in my early 30’s – that trip completely changed my life.

Surfing was one of the few things that showed me there was more to life than getting hammered (eventually, but definitely not on that trip! - it’s now been a decade since my last drink) and got me into marine science.

I still surf; nowhere near as often as I used to in the first 10 years, or as often I’d like. I’m in my mid 40’s and will never be better than average. But I don’t care – I can surf a shortboard in surf up to 6’ – and that’s because of Les.

RIP Les

Great stuff fellas!

I enjoyed the book, the Ton Run....
RIP

Great stories everyone. No doubt he will be really missed.

Would liked to have met the bloke.

Well said guys.

Him and his son sound like great blokes. RIP

Well said PHIL. RIP
Any more stories ... Sure there are more.

I remember being enthralled watching Lester surf at Freshie in the early sixties. Then used his legal expertise when I moved to Byron a decade later. He was always a man who stood by what he believed in. It must have been quite humbling to survive the various calamities that befell him but he always seemed to rise above them and get plenty out of life. Well said Phil. A fitting obituary for a larger than life figure.

SURFARI

We leave well before dawn
some more anxious than others to arrive
greeted by Lester muttering of his manifest, the perfect host
offering coffee and sour dough toast

We know its on then
our annual old guys surfing trip
tingling anticipation rounding the last tree-lined bend
to see what surf the Plomer swell will send

We listen to the wise
“It won’t rain” says Roscoe, and Sheep declares “milk it
for what It’s worth cause tomorrow she’ll be flat”
Jack says little but just enough,and we’re still not sure about Pat

We know some things though
dare not ask to borrow Sheeps rod and lookout if
the camps not ship-shape or you’ll hear Jacks howl
and to free-loading campers we’re well trained in Pats great scowl

We are still the students
Is the surf walling-up,closing out,clean or sucking hard off the bottom
all unsure whether it’s sick, fully sick or insane
and spotting our status with a glance the locals reign

We savour the enjoyment
of meeting all our companions travelling the globe
to camp beneath the southern star
and endure the humour sometimes gone too far

We have been away awhile
ageing and doing the things that had to be done
unfairly the waves have changed none, showing no passage of time
so now to ignore the beckoning of the sea might seem to some a crime

We owe thanks to Lester
and his crew for reigniting the flame
knowing the best is yet to come it’s the trip for which we yearn
so guaranteed it seems is our return

Wrote this 10 years ago, after a couple of trips. Still the only poem I've ever written. Upon reading it Lester suggested not giving up my day job, thanks mate

so sad to hear this news. surfed freshie in the early sixties with lester. he and tony dennon formed up the freshwater boardrider's club in, i think 1962, and arranged sponsorship through the now defunct freshwater motors. we were as sharp as rats with gold teeth in our yellow tee shirts. a mob of us traveled to work on the ferry each day and there was a great temptation to give work the miss if the bus ride down showed us good surf. simply got back on the return bus and went back to freshie. but not lester as he was dedicated to becoming, first an articled clerk and then a solicitor.
but one perfect rainy day i managed to convince him to ring in sick. the surf was all time and we went back to harbord to get my board and my austin a40. picked up lester's shooter and headed back to fairy bower which was running 8 foot perfect waves. had it to ourselves for over 3 hours. then back to queensie where after a dozen near perfect waves i simply sat on the beach and watched lester rip. best i ever saw him surf . think it was the year he placed third in the nsw titles. back to freshie for the rest of the day and surfed until after dark. will live in my memory forever. lymie was a quiet sort of bloke with a strict set of parents. his father was a tough man and taught lester how to hold his hands up. we saw true evidence of this one day at freshie when a mob of rockers from the western suburbs descended on freshie beach and terrorised the younger grommets. lester stepped in and confronted one greaser who promptly pulled a large spanner wrench from his belt and swung at lester's head. next moment this hoon went sailing down the stairs, landing ten feet down on his back with his nose all over his face. another went for lester only to run into one of mickie it's large fists. a crowd of surf club blokes came across to lend a hand and for a moment we almost forgot the tension between our two surfing camps over the restriction of surfing on freshie beach, but only almost! lymie's jousts with justice woodwood were still to come, but he showed early on he wasn't a man to back down. one of freshie's finest ever, and if you came from the village then you would know what a compliment that is. rest in peace mate.

thats classic.