Sal Zammitti was the Heart of Bamboo Reef
by Peter Radsliff, author and former Oceanic Marketing Executive, CA
I met Sal Zammitti in March 1975 as he checked me in for my first scuba class at his Bamboo Reef dive shop in San Francisco. I was quite nervous because I knew there would be a swim test at the end of the class and I was worried about passing it. In fact, I didn’t pass on my first try, but Sal encouraged me to come and practice over the next eight weeks, and I spent every weekend doing so.
My best friend and I constantly hung around the shop, me practicing swimming, and both of us asking questions about gear we had seen in Skin Diver Magazine. That’s when Sal’s Boston-born ‘in-your-face’ humor presented itself, saying when the store was busy, “If you’re going to hang around, make yourselves useful and go pick up our lunch.” We were glad to be useful and did so with a smile, earning a place in the Bamboo Reef back room eating lunch with Sal and our other heroes who either worked at the shop or taught scuba lessons there.
One summer’s day, Sal said in his faux-exasperated fashion, “If you two are going to hang around here all the time, you may as well work here.” And thus started what would become my 17-year stint in the scuba diving industry – first at Bamboo Reef, then commercial diving for North Coast Divers, and finally at dive gear manufacturer, Oceanic.
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But I spent time with Sal not only as his employee. In 1978, a tight-knit community of Bamboo Reef employees, instructors, and customers – all who circled Sal’s flame—joined him on a boat trip to southern California’s Channel Islands on the MV Blue Sea. This was my first liveaboard boat dive, and except for the eight-foot seas during our crossing and people puking all around, it did not disappoint. I joined Sal on many trips that he led, including weeklong trips to Cozumel and Belize, and at least a dozen long weekends to the Channel Islands on the MV Truth, Conception, and Vision.
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Sal taught me how to dive really deep (or rather, how not to dive really deep). He taught me how to sell gear, repair regulators, and run a retail store. Most important of all, I saw firsthand how he created a tight-knit diving community through the sheer force of his larger-than-life personality. Over the past few years, former Bamboo Reef employees and instructors have honored the community Sal founded at a quarterly lunch we called the gathering of the Dive-o-saurs.
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Sal started his career as a commercial diver, inspecting 18-inch sewer pipes in Boston by pushing his scuba tank in front of him (yikes!). He was the first commercial diver hired to survey the wreck of the Andrea Doria. Later he worked for the chain of New England Divers dive shops, traveling the country and opening up new locations one by one. When the chain sent Sal to investigate a new location in San Francisco and then decided not to open one there, he left the company and bought the Bamboo Reef dive shop from famed underwater cinematographer Al Giddings. He settled down in Moraga, California with his wife and three daughters, commuting to The City every day. He eventually opened other Bamboo Reef store locations in Berkeley, Campbell, and Monterey.
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Sal passed away September 15, 2026 on his 90th birthday surrounded by his daughters and only granddaughter, Nicole. He was one of a kind and someone who lived life on his own terms. The San Francisco Bay Area scuba diving community and diving industry has lost one of its original heroes. Those of us who knew him knew he was a force of nature. From my perspective, Sal was a consummate diver, a pain-in-the-ass boss (sometimes, like any boss), but someone who knew how to wrest every last drop of fun out of every situation. Godspeed, Sal. You will be missed.
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