One night Max and I hit the bar at Funky Reggae as Herbie Hancock’s “Rockit” plays. There’s a DJ scratchin’, neon lights flashin’, B-boys break-dancin’. Chynna Phillips floats by, nods and smiles, and Pauly Shore whispers something in my ear that’s drowned out by the music. I reach for my wallet to pay for our drinks, but the bartender won’t take my money. Max and I click glasses and down shots. Here’s to being us!
I’m partying hard, but no matter how crazy I get, I take skating seriously. My main competition is, of course, Tony Hawk, but Lance Mountain, Gator, Chris Miller, Mike McGill, Cab, and a few others can finish either of us off if we fall or don’t skate our best. We’re at the top of the pack now, doing moves that few can keep up with.
While there are many great skaters, I think I enjoy Cab’s skating the most at this time; he’s known for high airs, radical skating, and making it all look easy. He has bleached hair and wears suspenders, punk style. We hang out at contests together, though he’s three years older than me, and when we skate we have a blast. Cab’s an idol to me, especially after he takes down the top pros of the time, Duane Peters and Eddie Elguera, and becomes recognized as the top skater in the world. (He would later tell me that he fell behind for a while when he didn’t learn the 540. Still, nobody can say he isn’t one of the best ever.) While I love Cab and all the other pros, I don’t want to imitate any of them—not even Jay or Alva. I have it in my mind to develop my own style of skating.
Alva Skateboards fits me better than any other skate company, but in a way we’re like a rock band with two leaders, both with their own ideas and both capable of being the front man. TA’s not only a friend and the owner of the company; he’s a good mentor, showing me how to create something that will last in skateboarding. Because of our age difference and because he’s no longer skating competitively, there isn’t really any competition between us. But we’re both headstrong and bound to clash at some point.
When the clash comes, it splits us up. I design a swallowtail skateboard as my model. I choose that design because one of my favorite moves, the tail tap, has become more difficult to do since ramps started using PVC coping. With a swallowtail you can do a tail tap and it will hold in there. I launch that board with Alva while TA designs a diamond-tailed board with a dolphin nose. Then he does an ad in Thrasher, pointing to my design with his name on it instead of mine, along with the words, “Obvious superior design.” TA remembers things differently, saying the swallowtail was a collaboration between us. But I’m so pissed that I don’t even go to him; I go to his business partner and say, “How can TA disrespect me like this? Tell him I quit.” Despite my anger, I realize that for TA to take credit like that is actually a compliment.
THE ORIGINAL SEED
Skate photographer and historian Craig Stecyk dubbed Jay Adams “the original seed.” That makes sense to me. Ever since I’ve known him, Jay has seemed free from all the normal entanglements of life. He has what everyone else wants—natural ability, good drugs, and hot chicks. Whether he’s skating or not, you know something crazy’s going down when he’s around. There isn’t a lot of film of Jay skating; that’s because he doesn’t care if he’s famous or not. Jay skates only for fun, and he thinks commercialism is causing people to lose control of their egos. He doesn’t have much money, but if he doesn’t think something is cool, he won’t be a part of it no matter how much it pays. As an example, he’s offered a Band-Aid commercial for TV. All he’d have to do is sing, “I’m stuck on Band-Aid, cuz Band-Aid’s stuck on me,” to get paid more than he usually makes all year. But his soul is not for sale: he turns the job down. Instead of cash, he earns something greater—the undying respect of his friends, because most other people would have sung that jingle and taken the cash.
Jay and I have been doing coke for weeks, and now I’ve been up all night before competing in a contest at the Eagle Rock ramp the next day. I haven’t practiced at all, and when I skate my heat the next morning, I think I manage third place. Not bad, considering, but I could easily have won if I’d had even a little sleep. It finally hits me that coke isn’t good for my career. No kidding, duh!
Does that stop me? No. Cocaine continues to fuel my party-till-dawn ambitions until the day I think it’s literally going to kill me. When that happens I’ve been doing coke for days on end with some girls who have an endless supply of it. The party rages for what feels like weeks, all of us doing lines as long as your arm, all day and all night. We do so much blow for so long that we’re delirious on the stuff. When I finally go home early one morning, after snorting coke all night, my heart is pounding so hard and fast it seems like it could explode out of my chest. I tell Pops that I think I’m about to pass out, and he casually asks, “Are you too high?”
“Yeah, Pops,” I snap. “I’m too high.”
“You’ll be all right; just relax.”
“This is serious.”
“Don’t panic,” he urges. “You’ll be all right.”
I’m not convinced. “I’m afraid I’ll stop breathing while I’m sleeping, and then I won’t wake up tomorrow,” I say. Then I beg like a little kid: “Please watch me while I sleep.”
“All right,” he says. “I’ll make sure you’re breathing.”
I know he ain’t gonna watch me forever, or even all the way until I wake up, despite what he says. I tell myself to calm down, calm down. I feel like I have to shut it down now or I’m not gonna make it; that’s how far I’ve pushed things. Eventually, though, I do fall asleep.
I’m surprised to wake up the next day—actually surprised to be alive—and I decide then and there to quit coke. Just like that I’m done with it. I continue to smoke weed all day, every day, though, and I drink a little alcohol, do a little XTC, ’shrooms, and acid from time to time. By my standards, I’m drug-free. These remaining drugs seem so minor compared to cocaine that I never consider slowing down my party routine or actually training for an event. Why should I? My skating career is going through the roof, I’m making tons of money through sponsorships, and I’m having the time of my life. Besides, simply put, I love how drugs make me feel.
Showmanship is a little like a drug to me too; it gives me a rush. Style isn’t always helpful in winning a competition, but to my crew it’s everything, on the ramp or off. I want to do my tricks smoothly, yes—but also with flair. I’m an artist, an entertainer. I cut my hair short and dye it different colors every couple of weeks. Since a person can’t have long hair and short hair at the same time, I wear hair extensions. That way I can feel the wind blow my hair back and can change up my look whenever I like. In the contests I’m totally stoned, sometimes smoking joints right there under the grandstand while they call my name for a heat. I like standing at the top of the ramp, laughing and dancing to whatever music is on, before blasting the biggest airs I can. I’m dancing and hooting and laughing, partying my way through each event and through life. What could be better?
540 DEGREES OF INSANITY
In 1983 the group Suicidal Tendencies releases its first album. David Bowie hits gold with “Let’s Dance.” Flashdance is every girl’s favorite movie. McDonald’s introduces the McNugget, and Mike McGill is preparing to serve up the McTwist. This is a move that will forever change skating. Also called the 540, the McTwist is a 540-degree turn accomplished in midair. While these days the 540 is a pretty basic trick, in the early ’80s it seemed almost miraculous. I think Mike invented the trick while he was away, teaching skate camps in Sweden.
Now it’s 1984, and Mike’s got the McTwist ready for showtime. The skate world has been buzzing for some time with the rumor that he has a new trick—one where he flips upside down and twists into a 540-degree spin. Everyone is hassling him to try it from the moment he arrives at the Del Mar Skate Ranch. Then suddenly—bam!—he busts it out and blows everyone away. It’s stunning! I realize I’ll have to learn it immediately if I want to continue winning contests. From the first, the fans go nuts for the McTwist. They expect to see it at each de
mo, and I’ll be on the ramp and all I can hear is “Twist, twist, twist, twist.” By the mid-’80s, you have to do McTwists just to place.
When you’re flying as high above the ramp as we are, you can find yourself lost in space with nowhere to go but down. Sometimes you have to bail your board from a great height and hope for the best. It can be a long drop from there, like twenty feet, and you can get injured either by falling or by being hit by your board as it rockets down on you like a brick. For me the McTwist is especially dangerous, since I don’t want to do it like everyone else. I won’t take any shortcuts by just spinning side to side, like some other skaters do. I’ll flip end over end at maximum height and speed. I have the McTwist down for the very next contest, and because of it I win that one.
My rule when learning a trick is that I need to complete it three times in a row, right off the bat. My advice, especially if you get injured doing a trick, is to just get on the ramp and get it over with, so you’re not a prisoner to that phobia. If I make a trick only once, I know I don’t have it yet. With the McTwist, I fall a lot in practice because of how difficult my method of doing it is. This is one trick I don’t stick every time, not for a while at least. But I’m one of those athletes who get better in competition. I can focus during the contest and make it when it counts. Pressure is like the glue that keeps me on my board, so I skate my best when it matters the most.
SAD PLANT OFF THE EXTENSION. MID-’80S. © IVAN HOSOI.
SANTA CRUZ SKATEBOARDS STREET MODEL GRAPHIC. HOSOI FAMILY COLLECTION AND SANTA CRUZ.
“A lot of my friends are actors during these years, and they tell me they could get me into the business if I want. I’m kinda thinking about it, and have even been contemplating various agents, but when it comes right down to it, I’m not willing to sacrifice my skateboarding for that or anything else. Anyway, my actor friends are always depressed, waiting for someone to call them with work. Who needs that? I can skate and party whenever I like, so I never have to wait for anything.”
I get a chance to dabble, though. It all comes together in the movie Thrashin’. Now, this picture would never win an Academy Award. In fact, it’s considered cheesy at the time, but over the years it will become a cult classic. (If you see the movie, I’m the skater with a green streak in his hair who flies over a car. I even have one line—one word actually, “Wimps!”—that I say to my crew’s rivals during a break-dancing scene.)
The film is about a conflict between a street gang called the Daggers and another crew called the Ramp Locals. I’m a Dagger.
David Hackett reads for the role as the lead Dagger, but he butts heads with one of the “suits” and doesn’t get the part. He would have been good as the bad guy, Hook, but that part is landed by an established actor who’s about to become a close friend of mine, Robert Rusler. The film also stars Josh Brolin and Sherilyn Fenn, but the producer rejects Sherilyn’s boyfriend, a young actor who’s been hanging around named Johnny Depp. Also on the set is Catherine Hardwicke. This is Catherine’s first job in the movies, and she works as the production designer. You might know her name from her later work as the director of movies such as Lords of Dogtown and Twilight.
Don’t see Thrashin’ for the plot, but if you’ve ever been into skating or punk rock, you’ve gotta check it out. Thrashin’ features the best skaters in the world, including TA, Tony Hawk, Jesse Martinez, Alan Losi, Cab, Lester Kasai, Tony Magnusson, Mike McGill, Billy Ruff, Steve Olson, Kevin Staab, Dave Duncan, and Eddie Reategui. D. David Morin plays the announcer, a role he regularly plays at skateboarding contests. Also see Thrashin’ for the punk music: the movie features Devo, Fear, the Circle Jerks, the Screaming Sirens, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
In May 2011 there was a cast-and-crew reunion to celebrate Thrashin’s twenty-fifth anniversary, and a lot of the skaters from the movie showed up, including Steve Olson, an amazing skater who was injured performing a stunt for the movie. Producer/writer Alan Sacks was also at the screening, and it was fun to look back with him on that time. Catherine reminded us all how crazy it was, especially on the first day of shooting the race scene in Benedict Canyon. There’s a scene in the movie where legendary skater Jesse Martinez is being hauled away by the paramedics. He’s not acting in that scene. Those are real paramedics and he has a real broken leg. Jesse and nine other world-class skateboarders were rushed to the emergency room on the first day.
Another scene Catherine brought back to mind is one where the Daggers burn the ramp of their rivals, the Ramp Locals. I wasn’t there for that, but I heard that people nearly got torched when the ramp was set ablaze. If you see the movie, watch TA running for his life in that scene. According to Alva, “There were so many fumes coming off that ramp that as soon as a match was lit, it just went up in flames. They’re lucky the DP [director of photography] was ready and got it on film. They’re even luckier that nobody got hurt.”
Thrashin’ is so much fun because the entire skate world is involved. Rusler remembers things this way:
I’VE ALREADY DONE A FEW MOVIES, LIKE WEIRD SCIENCE AND NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 2. AFTER BEING TOLD I HAVE THE PART IN THRASHIN’, I WALK OUTSIDE AND CHRISTIAN AND STEVE OLSON AND THESE OTHER HOT SKATERS, MONDO AND MUNSKE, ARE THERE TO AUDITION. BACK INSIDE, TONY ALVA IS HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH THE PRODUCER, ALAN SACKS. THEY’RE DISCUSSING USING CHRISTIAN: SACKS IS APPREHENSIVE TO HIRE HIM CUZ HE ISN’T EIGHTEEN YET. I MET CHRISTIAN WHEN WE WERE KIDS AT MARINA SKATEPARK, BUT I DON’T REALLY KNOW HIM WELL YET. TA HAS BEEN HIRED AS A CONSULTANT AND ALSO AS ONE OF THE ACTORS FOR THE FILM. I TELL ALAN AND THE FILM’S DIRECTOR, DAVID WINTERS, “YOU’VE GOTTA HIRE THIS KID,” SINCE CHRISTIAN IS ALREADY THE MAN. I TELL THEM HE NEEDS TO BE MORE THAN A STUNT DOUBLE, BUT ONE OF OUR GANG, THE DAGGERS. ONCE THEY MEET WITH CHRISTIAN THEY REALIZE I’M RIGHT AND THEY HIRE HIM ON THE SPOT.
WE’VE BEEN FILMING A WHILE AND IT’S MY BIRTHDAY. ONE OF THE ASSISTANTS COMES TO ME AND SAYS WE HAVE ABOUT TWO AND A HALF HOURS BEFORE I HAVE TO WORK AGAIN. TA SAYS, “COME ON, THE CHILI PEPPERS ARE PLAYING THIS CLUB IN HOLLYWOOD AND YOU’RE COMIN’ WITH US.” I SAY, “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND: I CAN’T JUST LEAVE A SET. IF THEY CALL FOR ME AND I’M NOT HERE, I’LL GET IN A LOT OF TROUBLE.” TA AND THE OTHERS ARE EGGING ME ON, DUTCH-RUBBING ME, TELLING ME TO TAKE IT EASY. UNDER PRESSURE I AGREE TO CRUISE WITH THEM AND WE END UP AT CLUB LINGERIE, WHERE WE SMOKE AND DRINK AND DO MUSHROOMS. I’M HAVING A BLAST, THE TIME OF MY LIFE, WITHOUT A CARE IN THE WORLD. THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST SHOWS I’VE EVER SEEN: THE CHILI PEPPERS ARE JUST RAGING AND SO ARE WE, SLAMMING IN THE PIT.
BY THE TIME WE GET BACK TO THE SET, I’M PEAKING ON ’SHROOMS AND THE ENTIRE STAFF IS LIVID. TURNS OUT THE PRODUCTION CREW WERE GOING TO SURPRISE ME FOR MY BIRTHDAY BY HAVING A STRIPPER JUMP OUT OF A CAKE. I FEEL BAD THEY WENT TO ALL THAT TROUBLE, BUT I DON’T REGRET WHAT I DID THAT DAY. THAT DAY WAS UNFORGETTABLE.
AFTER THE MOVIE WRAPS I CONTINUE HANGING WITH CHRISTIAN. I HAVE MY OWN HOUSE, BUT I LIVE AT HIS PLACE MORE THAN MY OWN. SOME OF THE MOST MAGICAL TIMES OF MY LIFE ARE HANGING WITH OLSON, CHRISTIAN, AARON, BLOCK, AND ALL THOSE GUYS. EVERY NIGHT IT’S ONE OF THE LIVE MUSIC CLUBS LIKE LINGO, THE ROXBURY, FUNKY REGGAE, SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER, POWER TOOLS, SEVENTH GRADE, EGG SALAD, OR SCARLET LETTER. MONDAY IS ALWAYS THIS BLUES BAR CALLED THE KING KING. IT’S NEVER REALLY CROWDED, MAYBE LIKE TWENTY PEOPLE IN THERE. SOMETIMES BRUCE WILLIS WILL STOP IN AND PLAY HARP WITH THE BAND. I REMEMBER ONCE SEEING MICK JAGGER CRUISE IN AND SIT IN WITH THE BAND.
In one scene from Thrashin’, I’m out with my gang chasing the Ramp Locals when I run dead-on into a street-sweeper. I hit that thing so hard that I actually put a dent in it. But I get paid an extra hundred bucks each time I do a stunt like that, so I do like three to five takes and exit with some extra spending cash for the day.
KAHUNA RAMP IN HOUSTON, TEXAS. CIRCA 1986. © GRANT BRITTAIN.
We earn our money and put in long days on the set—from six at night till six in the morning, or from six in the morning till six at night. On set everything is really control
led, as a movie set needs to be. Off set is the fun time. The director, David Winters, had played one of the Jets in the movie version of West Side Story and this is kind of West Side Story on skateboards, without the plot, singing, or memorable acting. Winters will be sittin’ there with all these girls hangin’ out, giving him neck rubs. Between takes, some skater will sneak in there, trying to swoop down on one of his girls. Winters wants me to do a full-on sex scene in Thrashin’. I’m stoked to do it, but at seventeen I’m a year too young to have sex legally on camera. Bummer, cuz I’ve got more experience than anyone in that department.
None of us will ever forget how much fun we had doing Thrashin’. Duncan and Eddie still have a company called Daggers as a tribute to the movie.
OFF-SCREEN DRAMA
I get over the disappointment of not having sex on screen fast by going to the clubs every night of the week and hooking up all the time. The clubs are like home to us, and we do whatever we want there. My friends are there all the time, and I see fellow Dagger and hot skater Johnny Ray Bartel at least once a week. Johnny’s an amazing bass player who plays the King King all the time. A lot of big-time celebrities drop into the King King, and I know all the locals. If somebody famous shows up that we don’t know, we always give them their space, cuz to approach them would be like, “Oh, let me get a photo with you.” In my world you never ask anyone for an autograph or a photo, no matter who they are. They’re more famous than we are, but that doesn’t matter; to our way of thinking, they wish they were us. They’re playing a stage role; we’re not. We’re doing something they can only pretend to do.
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