If Pete Smith could be a bit of a curmudgeon—and most everyone says he could—he was a very loveable curmudgeon.
He was loud, he was opinionated, and he was blunt. And yet, when he passed away three weeks ago, the people of Bolinas lined the streets to pay their respects in a remarkable display of communal affection.
Eight fire trucks from three different departments escorted the van that carried his body over the hill to the mortuary. And when the caravan passed, hundreds of people lined the roadsides to say goodbye. They tossed flowers, they cried and hugged. A few raised signs with a simple message: “We love you, Pete.”
Mr. Smith succumbed to pancreatic cancer on Dec. 6, just three weeks after receiving his diagnosis. He died in his home on the Big Mesa, one of many he had built or remodeled in Bolinas during his career as a contractor. In his final days, a procession of friends, neighbors and colleagues came to visit, an outpouring of affection that left his hospice nurse in awe and proclaiming that everyone should have such a farewell.
Mr. Smith, who was 72 when he died, was a restless and prolific spirit who liked to get things done. He was a carpenter, firefighter, surfer, fisherman, golfer, skier, mountain biker, family man and jack of all trades. He didn’t just surf; he also made surfboards. Plenty of people in town have a Board by Pete, as they’re known. He didn’t just fish, he transformed junky boats into something seaworthy and special. He helped his friends and neighbors do the same, lending time and tools to anyone in need of a hand.
“The guy just couldn’t sit still,” said his stepson, Kevin O’Connor. “He was always working on something at his own house or helping a neighbor on a project. He was just nonstop doing projects. He loved projects.”
One of them was helping Willie Norton, his young next-door neighbor, repair a beat-up $500 fishing boat he found on Craigslist several years ago.
“He instantly offered to help me re-fiberglass the boat and do all the electricals,” Mr. Norton said. “He was there to not only fix it all, but to teach me how to do it. We did a lot of fishing together on that boat, and on his boat. He was my best friend.”
Mr. Norton, who is 24, has since become a commercial fisherman and a volunteer firefighter, following in his mentor’s footsteps.
One of Mr. Smith’s greatest passions was his work with the Bolinas Volunteer Fire Department, where he served for 27 years, ascending to the rank of captain. He had a major role in getting the new fire station designed and completed, and he answered virtually every 911 call made by neighbors in distress.
“He was often the first on the scene when an alarm went off,” said George Krakauer, the fire chief. “He responded to almost every incident, and he dropped whatever he was doing to show up. He had such a big impact on so many people.”
One of them was John Borg, whose elderly uncle broke his shoulder in a fall while visiting town several years ago. “Pete got down on his knees, close to him, and calmly told him everything was going to be okay,” Mr. Borg recalled. “He didn’t sugar coat things; he told him it was going to hurt like hell when they moved him. But he just sort of took total control, and the way he handled it made things a lot easier.”
Mr. Smith was also the first to arrive when a eucalyptus fell on the roof of the pickup Annabelle Scott was riding in during a storm two years ago, crushing the cab and fracturing her partner’s neck.
“You always felt like Pete would know what to do,” said Ms. Scott, a close friend of Mr. Smith’s family. “When he told you it was going to be okay, you really believed it, because he would tell you if it wasn’t. There was no bullshitting.” Nearly everyone in town knew Mr. Smith, or at least they knew the sound of his voice.
You couldn’t miss it.
“He didn’t have an indoor voice,” said Jeff McPhail, a close friend and contractor who hired Mr. Smith to work on his construction team. “When he came down to the wharf in the morning to go fishing, if it was 5:30 a.m., he would wake everybody on the street. He had his music playing, he’d be calling his dog and talking really loud.”
When they met in the ’90s, Mr. Smith and Mr. McPhail had both quit drinking, a commitment that united them.
“Sobriety was a real important thing with him,” Mr. McPhail said. “He didn’t really become the man he was until his second act. After he got sober, he joined the fire department. He got involved with the Bolinas Rod and Boat Club. He bought a boat, and he was fishing all the time. And through the fire department, he really began a life of service.”
Their friendship was sealed when they went on a surfing trip to Samoa with an incompetent guide. “We had a couple of near-death experiences,” Mr. McPhail recalled. “The guide sent us to a reef that was a mile or two offshore, way out to sea, and the tide was going out and the waves were giant.”
Terrified, they paddled a long, harrowing mile down the shore before they could safely extract themselves from the surf.
Peter Provosty Smith was born on Aug. 2, 1952, in El Sobrante, the third of four children. His parents, Saint John and Betty Smith, were high school teachers.
He first came to Bolinas as a kid with his sister Sally, and he fell in love with the place. As a shaggy-haired, bleach-blond teenager, he started hitchhiking to town on weekends to go surfing. The Beach Boys ruled the airwaves in those days, and every California kid wanted to catch a perfect wave.
In high school, he moved in with one of his surfing buddies, Josh Churchman, and transferred to Tam High, where they were classmates. Mr. Churchman, who later moved to Bolinas and became a commercial fisherman, lived in Mill Valley at the time and was one of several lifelong friends Mr. Smith met on Brighton Beach.
“He wasn’t getting along with his parents very well, and my parents decided that it would be okay if Pete moved in with us,” Mr. Churchman said. “We had the same taste in girls and the same taste in waves. We competed for both.”
In surfing parlance, they were both goofy-footed, meaning they surfed facing left and preferred waves that were breaking in that direction. Mr. Churchman, who is still surfing at 73, has two Boards by Pete.
As a construction foreman, Mr. Smith was known for growling at crew members who didn’t show the proper commitment to quality work. As a surfer, he was known for growling at outsiders who came to town and competed for waves.
“He’d holler at them and tell them to get out,” said Greg Brougham, a lifelong friend who knew Mr. Smith in El Sobrante and joined the same tight-knit group of Bolinas surfers after high school.
But his gruff demeanor belied a generous spirit. “The first word I would use to describe him is sweetheart,” Mr. Churchman said. “He was ornery and barking at people all the time, but he was a genuinely nice guy under that façade.”
Shortly after graduation, Mr. Smith and Mr. Brougham moved into the Red House, a famous surfer joint where you could rent rooms for $125 a month, and worked next door at the Gibson House Restaurant, where you could earn two bucks an hour washing dishes. It was a fancy place with a fancy clientele. (John and Yoko dined there once.)
Later, they moved into a house around the corner on Brighton Avenue that Grace Slick and Paul Kantner of the Jefferson Airplane had purchased for their nanny—the mother of Mr. Brougham’s girlfriend.
Eventually, Mr. Smith found his niche working as a carpenter and contractor, starting with odd jobs, then working his way up to become a foreman and superintendent and later starting his own construction business.
“Like a lot of surfers, his primary function in life was probably catching a good wave, and carpentry was a skill that just sort of fell into place for him,” said Roger Peacock, who hired Mr. Smith to work in his construction business 30 years ago and played golf with him every Thursday for 20 years. “He started out doing minimally skilled jobs, but he’s smart, and he learned quickly.”
As a superintendent, Mr. Smith was demanding but backed up his attitude with competent work. “A lot of superintendents just stand around and boss people around but don’t do anything themselves,” Mr. Peacock said. “He had the capacity to get work done and boss people around. He got a lot done.”
While he was working for Mr. Peacock, Mr. Smith met the love of his life, Dana O’Connor, who the caretaker of Rancho Baulines, then a working farm at the mouth of the Bolinas Lagoon. Her first husband had passed away, and she was raising two young boys, Brendan and Kevin, on her own.
“Pete joined us there when I was eight, and he really enjoyed living there, that’s for sure,” Kevin O’Connor said. “He became a caretaker of the farm. He made sure all the water systems were working, took care of all the buildings and animals and just folded right into becoming part of the ranch.”
Mr. Smith remained very close to Kevin until his final days, but the family lost Brendan, who died suddenly of cardiac arrest two years ago at the age of 43.
Mr. Smith was a proud grandfather to Kevin’s twins, Piper and Quinn, who called him Bubba. He began pushing them around the lagoon on surfboards when they were 5 and gave them their first Boards By Pete a couple years later, one adorned with pink polka dots, the other with blue swirls.
When Rancho Baulines’ lease expired and the ranch closed, Pete and Dana bought a house on the Big Mesa and set about transforming it into cozy nest. In addition to being an expert horsewoman and ranch manager, Dana is known around town as something of a domestic goddess. Their competencies were complementary.
“They were such a good team, said Annie O’Connor, the couple’s daughter-in-law and Brendan’s widow. “It was a gift for me to see just how deep their love was.”
After losing Brendan and then Pete, Ms. O’Connor took leave from her job as executive director of the Bolinas Community Land Trust, an organization to which Pete devoted time and talent, building its first newly constructed home and overseeing the renovation of several more.
“Pete’s larger-than-life personality, unwavering dedication, and boundless generosity left a mark that will forever shape this community,” the organization posted on Instagram.
The community outpouring in the wake of Mr. Smith’s passing sprang up organically. A long text chain quickly made the rounds, and less than 48 hours later, people took to the streets to express their appreciation for a local legend.
“Everybody grew to know him and love him,” said Kevin, who joined Dana in a fire truck during the procession. “If you touch that many people in town, they all show up for you.”