Paul Sargeant wasn’t tall, perhaps an inch or two under six feet, but his bearing, that of the natural leader, meant he appeared much taller. Despite middle-age, his head swarmed with tight black curls, marked here and there by pieces of grey. His shoulders, though rounded, were made broad by years of carrying the luggage of a travelling photographer. He travelled to every event on the pro surfing calendar, usually in close company with whatever surfer he’d taken under his wing.
His attention with the ubiquitous 600mm lens made careers while his pen enthralled magazine readers. With an intellect vastly superior to the average professional surfer, he became the voice of that indolent crowd; a voice that was lucid, reasonable and convincing. When Lord Paul talked, you listened.
He could dictate editorial direction via stories that were thoughtful and yet gonzo enough to connect with the Tracks reader. He could steer a surfer toward lucrative sponsorship; he read and advised pro’s on contracts; he arranged share cars and accommodation for newcomers at contests. Injured? Talk to Sarge, he knows a doctor/ physio/chiro. If a surfer was down, financially or emotionally, Sarge was by his side. When Clint Kimmins was imprisoned in 2006, he drove the 1000km from Sydney to Brisbane to pay a two-hour visit. His altruism reached its zenith with the creation of LMB in 1995. LMB (a mysterious acronym that stood, at various times, for Lazy Mobile Brats, Love My Bourbon, Losers Mull Big, Loves Madonna’s Boosies and, the popular interpretation, Lick My Balls) was a community of Australian pro surfers aimed at fostering unity and providing assistance while on tour. Joel Parkinson, Dean Morrison and Kai Otton are three WCT surfers who were helped by Sarge’s creation. For nearly 20 years, Sarge held the pro surfing community, and the surf media, in his hands. And then, one day, he was gone. Fred Pawle went to investigate why
— Derek Rielly.
