Photo by Courtesy Photo
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Frank Louda was a true romantic, an adventurer, and a renaissance man. He was a larger-than-life specimen. His last moments were spent blissfully surfing the lefts and rights at Middle Peak, Hollister Ranch, on June 30.
Frank often showed up late. He was on Louda Time. (Frank was born of Czech parents; “Louda” means “pokey” in Czech.) Never a road did he go down without stopping to smell the flowers along the way. He truly enjoyed life to the fullest.
He exuded kindness. In his presence, you instinctively dropped your guard. You just felt safe around Frank. He was the most at-home-in-his-skin person we have ever known.
He was taken from us way too soon, but if someone was keeping score, adding up the moments lived in the present, determining who made the most of each minute, Frank would be the winner by leaps and bounds.
Frank embraced the challenge of learning something new. He was an avid reader, rowed on the varsity crew for the Berkeley Bears, passed the bar exam on the first try, but never practiced law save one pro-bono dog bite case to help a neighbor. He was an avid skier and snowboarder, preferring to find his own trails through the trees or out-of-bounds.
UCLA Law School requires that one complete a degree within five years and Frank took it to the wire. He took a year off to live in Aspen, where he learned to make stained glass; then, another year, to clerk for the judge of the high court in Micronesia. From there, he traveled west on a meandering “walkabout” through Malaysia, India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iran, arriving in Los Angeles just in time to finish school. He lived in the UCLA parking lot in his custom VW bus.
On finally graduating, the dog bite case behind him, he was satisfied with his law career and moved on to make his living doing original stained glass. After meeting and marrying his first wife, Sylvia, who survives him, he moved to Carpinteria and was hired to build a house. He bought a book, Modern Carpentry, and read the chapter for the upcoming day’s project (“How to Build Concrete Forms,” “How to Frame Stairs”) each night, then went on to become a master craftsman. He and his partners, Tom Jackson and Skip Van Der Kar, launched Chismahoo Construction. Over 20 years, the team built many award-winning houses on the South Coast before Frank retired to build “Caper,” a 28-foot Rosinante, a type of sailboat originally designed by L. Francis Herreshof.
Jackson said of Frank, “He had a loose, wild, spontaneous elegance. He might one minute be mixing epoxy in a cup and then the next minute propose a toast, hoisting the same cup, this time filled with champagne.”
He was a solid citizen, a rock. He was a great friend who could always be counted on in times of need, always willing to give without expecting anything in return. He was the one to jumpstart the stalled car of a stranger out of an intersection. He was a loving husband and best friend to his wife, Jodie, and a devoted and loving father to his three children, Josh, Eva, and Liv. All four agree, “He had a wonderful, easy way of loving us, making each one us feel we were perfect just the way we were.” He is also survived by his two loving sisters, Svata and Tina.
He loved the ocean and often played in it, sailing, rowing, or surfing. He was a philosopher, and his philosophy was, “You’re on the wave of life. Just surf the wave.” He died doing just that.
Sunday, July 6, Frank went for his final “go-out” as a large group of his friends paddled out his ashes in front of his house on the beach in Carpinteria.
There is a big hole on the South Coast. Frank was loved by a great cross section of our community, and his family and friends want to thank everyone for their outpouring of love. He will be sadly missed. But he wouldn’t want us to mourn; he would want us to find joy in the moment, to live the day as if it were our last.