EDUCATION // Teaching for the joy of it // Wealthy San
Clemente inventor and surfer has priorities
DATE 11/29/91
NEWSPAPER THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
SECTION METRO
EDITION MORNING
PAGE b01
STORY LENGTH 44 INCHES
HEADLINE EDUCATION // Teaching for the joy of it // Wealthy San
Clemente inventor and surfer has priorities
BYLINE/CREDIT Dan Froomkin:The Orange County Register
SUBJECT TERMS INVENTIONS:OC:FACULTY:EDUCATION
Tall, athletic and tan, Bob Nealy unfolds himself from bed
every morning in his dream house, a custom-built home not far from
the Nixon place.
From his window, Nealy can see the surf breaking on the shore.
If it looks good and he has time, he sprints into the water with
his board and rides the bucking breakers for an hour.
It's a fitting way to start the day for a man who, at age 46,
has made a fortune from marketing surf products -- most
significantly the Velcro surf leash, which he invented one winter
day in 1973.
When he's finished surfing, Nealy showers and gets dressed.
Then he goes off to teach US history at Capistrano Valley High
School.
It's kind of an odd thing for a surf-made millionaire to do, but
Nealy wouldn't have it any other way.
"Once in a while, kids will say to me, `If you own a business,
how come you're teaching?' They'll say, `Why would you want to
teach if you don't need the money?'
"My reply is, I enjoy teaching. I enjoy being around young
people. I think it's a privilege to be able to teach."
Nealy, in his 21st year as an educator, teaches three courses,
or just over half the usual load, so that he can spend his
afternoons at his thriving surf business, Surf More U.S.A.
"It's really an enjoyable marriage of two occupations," he said.
"It's been a lot of fun teaching, and right now I'm enjoying it
as much as I ever have."
Nealy teaches US history to juniors at the high school in
Mission Viejo. His colleagues and students alike say he is an
exceptional educator.
"I think he's great," said Tom Anthony, a Capistrano Unified
School District admininstrator who was Nealy's principal until last
year -- and who remains a surfing buddy.
"He has a real young attitude that the kids love."
Jessica Lee, 17, a senior, said she learned more in Nealy's
class last year than any other she has taken so far.
"It's just, like, a fun class," Lee said, "even though it's
history."
Nealy said most of his students come to class pretty "clueless"
about the history of their own country, and Lee didn't exactly
disagree.
"Before, I thought there wasn't much to it," she said. Nealy
taught her that "there was more to it than I thought there was, and
that there was a lot more to learn."
Stacey Howes, 16, who has Nealy for her third-period class this
year, calls him "more real than other teachers."
She said most students think it's "cool" that he chooses to work
at school. "He doesn't have to be here, but he loves the kids. And
when kids feel they're loved, they're happier to be in the
classroom," Howes said.
Nealy said that making students feel comfortable in his class is
a high priority. But he has other goals as well, he said, including
getting some important messages across.
His students often arrive with a simplistic, chauvinistic view
of the United States, he said. By the time they're finished with
his class, Nealy said, "I hope that they understand that our
society and our government are not perfect."
Although he discusses many positive aspects of US history, he
also makes sure his students learn about the uglier sides of US
imperialism, from the massacres of American Indians to the Vietnam
War, he said.
He tells them about CIA involvement in attempted assassinations,
and describes how "corporate capitalism" has often pressured the
country's democratic institutions into doing its bidding.
The goal is not to make his students any less patriotic, he
said. The goal is to make sure they have a full awareness of the
complexity of US history.
"That's one reason I keep teaching -- seeing that they get a
better handle on the story of America," he said.
Anthony thinks Nealy's careers benefit from each other. Students
"tend to relate" to adults who surf, "because you have more in
common," he said. And teaching is good for Nealy's business,
Anthony said, because "being around kids keeps your thinking
younger."
But Nealy tends to think of them more distinctly. And when he
gets in his van to drive from school to Surf More's headquarters --
a machine shop and mini-warehouse in a San Clemente industrial park
-- it's as if he's entering a different world.
The Velcro surf leash, which made Nealy a rich man, was born in
a flash of inspiration 18 years ago. Nealy, who grew up in Newport
Beach, decided with a fellow teacher that he would make his own
surf leash.
Surf leashes connect surfers' ankles to their surfboards, which
are prone to stray after wipeouts.
Nealy was going to make the ankle clasp on his leash out of
leather -- as was common at the time -- in spite of the fact that
leather leashes were known to either "flop around" on ankles or cut
off circulation.
Then he noticed an Air Force life preserver he had been issued
for his reserve duty. It latched itself on with Velcro, which was
then a new thing.
"I looked down at that life vest and I said, `Perfect! Let's use
Velcro."
He sewed one for himself, and then for some fellow surfers.
Everybody wanted one. Soon, he was making many on a sewing machine
in his garage and selling them to surf shops.
In 1973, leashes were not popular among surfers. "Many people
called them `geek cords' or `kook cords,' and thought they were for
people who didn't really surf well and fell off their boards,"
Nealy said.
"The old ethic was, if you fall off, you pay your dues."
About the time that Nealy and a few companies started coming
out with similar leashes, attitudes changed. Within a few years,
most surfers were using leashes.
And the result was, by surfing standards, totally revolutionary.
Leashes opened up the sport to people who weren't strong swimmers.
"It enabled a lot more people to enjoy a sport and enjoy the
ocean," Nealy said.
He also came up with the name for his company in a flash of
inspiration. He was driving along one day when he thought, "If you
use a leash, you can surf more."
Today, Nealy's little factory makes more than 100,000 surf
leashes a year, which he ships worldwide. There are eight varieties
for surfing, plus six for body boards and two for snow boards.
Prices range from $12 to $23.
And that's not all. His product line also includes Velcro
watchbands and such off-beat items as surfing comic books.
But Nealy has a special fondness for leashes. In addition to the
surfboard, body-board and snow-board leashes, he makes floating
leashes for eyeglasses, racquetball-paddle leashes, and is just
starting to market baby-bottle leashes.
The only leash that hasn't sold well is the one he made for
dogs. He's not sure why.
Nealy said he is looking forward to creating even more useful
and fun items. A recent invention was a body board with a Plexiglas
peep hole, creating a glass-bottomed-boat effect.
He also plans to keep teaching. "Obviously, there's some days
when I think, `Surf's up!" and it'd be nice to be there instead of
here," he said.
But then the feeling passes. And his thoughts turn to such
thoughts as how there are students out there who don't know
anything about the Spanish-American War.