Highlands Surfboard Maker Dies At 89, Mourned By The Boss

HIGHLANDS, NJ — Carl Virgil West, known as "Tinker" by those who knew him, died this week at the age of 89 in Highlands, where he lived.

And Bruce Springsteen knew Tinker.

In his younger days, West managed the early group of Jersey Shore musicians that would become the E-Street Band. That early band, named Steel Mill, consisted of Springsteen, Vini Lopez, Danny Federici and Vinnie Roslin. And it was West who would later introduce Springsteen to Mike Appel, the famed manager who helped Springsteen book a life-changing record deal with Columbia Records in 1972, the Asbury Park Press reported.

On Monday, Springsteen mourned the loss of West, saying West recognized his talent "when I had nothing, nowhere to live, was broke with nowhere to go."

Originally from California, West was a surfer. He trained as a physicist and then worked for Challenger Surfboards in California before moving to New Jersey, where he set up a Challenger Eastern Surfboard shop in Wanamassa, Ocean Township in 1965. He was considered one of the greatest surfboard makers of his time, the Asbury Park Press reported.

"Tinker was a UCLA graduate who went on to be a rocket scientist working on defense contracts. He had a brilliant mind. He could build anything, hence the nickname 'Tinker,'" wrote Big Joe Henry on NJ101.5. "Word got out about his unique and popular surfboards and sales were strong, with close to 80 percent of sales coming from surf shops on the East Coast."

West let Steel Mill rehearse in his Wanamass surfboard shop, where he also lived. He let Springsteen, then 20 years old, unemployed and broke, sleep on a mattress in the shop. In his free time, he promoted their concerts.

West later relocated his surfboard company to Bay Avenue in Highlands, where he lived until his death. In 2015, West was inducted into the New Jersey Surfing Hall of Fame.

Springsteen posted this tribute to West on Facebook Monday:

"Carl Virgil 'Tinker' West who passed away this week at the age of 89 was simply one of the most important people of my young life. In 1970 when I had nothing, nowhere to live, was broke with nowhere to go, he recognized my talent and took me in. We lived together in one tiny room of his Wanamassa, New Jersey Challenger Eastern Surfboard Factory. His mattress was on one side of the room and mine was six feet away on the other."

"He was a natural born misanthrope. He was not an easy man to know, live with, or be around. He was from California and was an old-school frontier individualist asking no quarter and giving none. If you weren’t being useful he didn’t want you near him. If you visited the surf shop for more than ten minutes he’d shove a broom in your hand and tell you to start sweeping. He wasn’t joking."

"I drove across the country many times with Tinker, first at twenty in his 1940’s Chevrolet flatbed truck with all our band equipment under a tarp in the back seeking our fame and fortune out west. The truck was old and huge with an unwieldy, grinding transmission and he insisted we drive straight through to Big Sur, our only gig, without stopping, for 72 hours. He also insisted I, without skills or license drive my share. That’s how Tinker taught you something. He just made you do it."

"We graduated to an old Nomad station wagon in later years and each Christmas we’d find ourselves heading west on I-10 through dry desert and western mountain blizzards. I’d be going to see my folks once a year in San Mateo and Tinker would be headed into San Francisco to see who, I cannot imagine. Did my old friend have parents? I can’t believe so. I believe he sprung near full grown from the mountains, valleys, and waves of a primitive and unknowable California."

"After I became a huge success over the years Tinker asked me for exactly nothing. He was forever alone, working, off the grid and independent. I was always satisfied when I would be the recipient of Tink’s highest compliment. “Springsteen, you don’t fuck around.”

"No, I didn’t and neither did Carl Virgil West. The last time I saw him he was in the hospital, near the end, dying from throat cancer. He smiled when he saw me, and I kissed one of my errant fathers goodbye. I hung out for a while, he pulled me close and his voice raspy and nearly gone whispered “ We sure had some adventures didn’t we?” I answered “we sure did."

"When I was about to leave, I saw something I never thought I’d see in this life or the next. He cried. I loved him."