360 AIR OFF JUMP RAMP. EARLY RELEASE. © IVAN HOSOI.
“As I said before, I don’t want to be tied down to one house any more than I do to one girl. So, instead of buying a home, I rent a classic estate that once belonged to legendary film comic W. C. Fields. It’s nestled in the trees of Echo Park, right off Sunset Boulevard. First order of business, of course, is to have a state-of-the-art ramp built in the backyard. I have thirty-five-foot posts cemented into the ground to hold the ramp. As the last step, I have the crew hang camouflage on the backside of the ramp, because skaters would jump the fence and be all over it if they knew it was there. Days at that house are a blur of shooting pool with friends and skating hard. My friends and I live a wild, joyful existence. Not much is out of bounds on that property.”
But I’ve reined myself in, and I’m living a pretty clean life by my standards. I’ve even begun training a little: Eddie and I ride mountain bikes each morning through Elysian Park. All of L.A. is visible from the Hollywood Hills before the city wakes up and the town is blanketed in smog. We skate the rest of the day, then party all night. It’s a pretty rare evening that any of us skaters stay home. When we do, it’s usually because the party is at my house. My life is like that Sade song: “Every day is Christmas, and every night is New Year’s Eve.”
W. C. Fields must have had great taste, because the place is awesome. It has an octagonal breakfast room overlooking the property, which features a rad, gin-bottle-shaped pool with a lush garden surrounding it; the pool drops off down behind some adjacent bungalows occupied by my neighbors. Cactus the size of Dodge vans border the property. Sunset Boulevard is on one side and Echo Park on the other. If people happen to glance up from Sunset Boulevard toward my house, they see nothing but trees and camouflage. But if they keep looking, they might spot one of the world’s top skaters flying through the air. The sight of a skateboarder at altitude isn’t a common one for nonskaters, especially away from a skatepark, and people must think they’re seein’ a space alien invading L.A. Hey, that’s kind of true, in a way.
My bedroom has a typical-size closet, but there isn’t enough room for all my clothes. I convert the master bedroom into a walk-in closet: problem solved. I have two racks and two poles set up in there, top and bottom from wall to wall. There are four shelves with nothing but T-shirts on them. The floor is about three feet deep in clothes I’ve worn only once. I never do laundry cuz I rarely wear the same thing twice. My staple for the clubs is one of the many vests I buy from a Hollywood boutique store called Aardvark. I don’t wear a shirt under it, but complete the outfit with jeans and cowboy boots. If I’m skating, I wear something from Jimmy’z, always customized in my own style. If it’s boys’ night out on the town, we hit the club, shift to an after-hours party, and then eat at Canter’s or Damiano’s on Fairfax. Then it’s off to Hollywood Billiards until like five in the morning.
A large part of the pleasure for me in making money and living on the estate is being able to share with friends. The guys and I have been hanging out together for years. The only difference is that now we can do it in more style.
Robert Rusler, who is one of the regulars at my new place, recalls that time:
CHRISTIAN WAS MAKING MORE THAN ANY SKATEBOARDER HAD EVER MADE, LIKE $20,000 TO $30,000 A MONTH. I WAS DOING ALL RIGHT AS AN ACTOR ALSO, STARRING IN A SHOW CALLED THE OUTSIDERS AND BRINGING DOWN $28,000 A WEEK, WHICH WAS A LOT OF MONEY IN THE ’80S. THAT HOUSE MUST HAVE COST A LOT TO KEEP, BUT CHRISTIAN NEVER ONCE ASKED ME FOR RENT.
We had an amazing time at the W. C. Fields house—all of us—and I was totally relaxed living and skating there. Rusler remembers one particular morning when I went out skating alone:
I HAD JUST WOKEN UP AND I LOOK OUT MY WINDOW TO SEE CHRISTIAN WEARING NOTHING BUT A TOWEL. HE’S STROLLING IN THE BACKYARD, SMOKING A J, AND HE KIND OF MOSEYS ON OVER TO THE RAMP. HE GETS ONTO THE RAMP AND STARTS DOING FAKIES WHILE HE’S SMOKIN’ THIS J. HE JUST KEEPS GOING AND GOING, SLOWLY AT FIRST, LOOKING UP AT THE BIRDS AND THE SUN. AFTER A WHILE HE’S RIDING HIGHER AND HIGHER, AND ALL OF A SUDDEN HE DOES A SMITH GRIND. NOW HE’S DOING 50-50S. THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN HE’S DOING TAIL TAPS AND THEN—BOOM!—HE LANDS A FRONTSIDE AIR, BACKSIDE AIR, FRONTSIDE AIR. ALL WITH A JOINT IN HIS HAND AND NOTHING BUT A TOWEL ON!
SOON HE’S BUSTIN’ OUT LIKE SIX- OR SEVEN-FOOT AIRS, ONE RIGHT AFTER ANOTHER. HE PULLS HIS LAST AIR AND WINDS IT ALL BACK DOWN, IN REVERSE OF WHAT HE HAD BEEN DOING. NOW HE’S GRINDING, THEN SLIDING, BACK TO FAKIES, SLOWER AND SLOWER, UNTIL HE’S STOPPED AND STEPS OFF THE BOARD. BY THE TIME HE DOES THAT, THE JOINT IS DOWN TO A ROACH.
I HAD SEEN ONE OF THE MOST INCREDIBLE EXHIBITIONS OF SKATEBOARDING EVER, AND CHRISTIAN DIDN’T EVEN KNOW ANYBODY WAS WATCHING. IT WAS LIKE HE HAD REACHED SOME SORT OF MAGICAL PEAK, AND I REMEMBER LOOKING AT HIM AND THINKING, MAN, YOU’VE GOT IT—SKATEBOARDING, STYLE, CONFIDENCE, PRESENCE.
“SACTO” STREET CONTEST. SACRAMENTO, CA. © IVANHOSOI.
BREAKING MY OWN RULES
I don’t remember when Louanna first came around, but she stood out, even among all the hot girls at Venice Beach. Louanna Rawls is the daughter of famed soul singer Lou Rawls, and because of her I break my rule about not having one single girlfriend. She’s nineteen and I’m twenty when we become a couple. My memory is that we met in the club scene, but she says it was on the Venice boardwalk. Either way, she becomes my first full-time girlfriend. We notice each other right away, but she’s not just another girl to me; and pretty soon it’s just the two of us, going out seven days a week, three clubs a night.
It’s a high-wire act since I’m in this boys’ club, and our deal is to rage together, go out and pick up chicks. Because of that long-standing connection, some of my friends, including Rusler, don’t get along with Louanna at first. Rusler remembers:
THE FIRST TIME LOUANNA AND I MET WAS AT CLUB LINGO, WHERE NOTHING BUT GIRLS HUNG OUT. CHRISTIAN NEVER REALLY HAD A MAJOR GIRLFRIEND BEFORE THAT, AND NOW WE HEAR HE’S GOT THIS NEW CHICK, AND WE CAN’T WAIT TO CHECK HER OUT. I MEET THIS HOT-LOOKING GIRL AT THE CLUB, AND I’VE GOT HER SIZED UP AS A CROSS BETWEEN A VALLEY GIRL AND THE PRINCESS OF MONACO. FOR SOME REASON WE AREN’T GETTING ALONG VERY WELL, THOUGH, AND ARE KIND OF TRADING INSULTS, WHICH IS SOMETHING I ALWAYS ENJOY DOING WITH HOT GIRLS. JUST THEN CHRISTIAN APPEARS AND PUTS HIS ARM AROUND HER. THAT’S WHEN I REALIZE THAT THIS IS THE NEW GIRLFRIEND I’VE BEEN HEARING ABOUT. OOPS! SHE LOOKS AT ME AND THEN BACK AT CHRISTIAN AND SAYS, “DO YOU KNOW HIM?” CHRISTIAN’S LIKE, “YEAH, THAT’S RUSTY DOG.” NO MATTER HOW WE BATTLED, LOUANNA AND I REALLY DID LOVE EACH OTHER, BUT THAT WAS A ROUGH RELATIONSHIP AT FIRST. NEITHER OF US WAS GOING ANYWHERE.
While some of my friends don’t understand Louanna’s attitude, that’s part of what intrigues me about her. She has her own opinions, challenges me, and always speaks her mind. We have a lot in common—an interest in fashion and loving to dance and go out. People love us each separately, but they love us even more when we’re together.
We’re continuing my rock-star sort of existence—a life filled with excess. Most of the people I know from the party scene need “bait” to lure somebody in. They need the best clothes, the best cars, the best pickup lines, along with lines of cocaine or XTC for insurance—but Louanna and I have each other.
At first Louanna and I are on-again, off-again as a couple. I mean, what could I expect since I told her that I wanted an open relationship? Of course someone like her isn’t going to stand for that situation long, and she breaks up with me. With me out of the picture, it’s just a matter of time before someone else moves in. That someone proves to be none other than actor Eddie Murphy. I think it’s my friend Scott Oster who tells me that Eddie has sent Louanna a bouquet of flowers the size of a Volkswagen. On top of that, he gave her a $20,000 Rolex. Louanna still has some of her things at my house, and when she comes to get them, I say, “Okay, what’s it gonna be?”
She chooses to get back with me, and after that we’re solid for quite a while; she even moves in with me full-time. Havin
g Louanna at my side gives me a sense of structure that I’ve never had before. I don’t spend all my time trying to hustle girls any longer, and I’m faithful, at least for a while. We work days: I skate and she does modeling or acts in various music videos, where she always seems to get the lead, as she does in a classic video with Howlin’ Wolf and Bonnie Raitt. When she returns home, it’s time to hit the town.
ME AND LOUANNA. © LOUANNA RAWLS.
Here’s Louanna’s take on our relationship:
WE WERE CHILDREN, BUT THERE WERE THINGS I DIDN’T LIKE SEEING. I MEAN, CHRISTIAN WAS SO FLIRTY, AND EVERY GIRL LOVED HIM. PLUS, EVERY TIME WE WENT OUT THERE WOULD BE LIKE TEN PEOPLE WITH US, AND HE WOULD PAY FOR EVERYTHING—BREAKFAST, LUNCH, AND DINNER. THIS WASN’T MCDONALD’S, BUT PLACES LIKE PACIFIC DINING CAR, WHERE A SALAD IS FIFTEEN BUCKS AND AN ENTRÉE IS LIKE THIRTY. HE WAS ALSO SPENDING ABOUT SEVENTY-FIVE BUCKS A DAY ON WEED FOR HIM AND HIS FRIENDS. THEN OF COURSE THERE WERE THOSE TRIPS TO HAWAII WITH THE ENTIRE CREW. HE’S ALWAYS BEEN SUCH A GENEROUS, GIVING PERSON, AND HE ALWAYS PAID FOR EVERYTHING. I THINK I WAS THE ONLY ONE TRYING TO CONVINCE HIM TO SAVE SOME OF HIS MONEY.
I WASN’T ATTRACTED TO HIM BECAUSE HE WAS A FAMOUS SKATEBOARDER. IN FACT, I DIDN’T KNOW THAT ABOUT HIM WHEN I WAS FIRST ATTRACTED TO HIM. I HAD SKATEBOARDED WHEN I WAS ABOUT SEVEN, BUT BY THE TIME WE WERE GOING OUT, I THOUGHT SKATEBOARDING WAS A JUVENILE THING. BACK THEN IT WASN’T WHAT IT IS NOW, AND I THOUGHT HE HAD SO MANY MORE TALENTS THAN JUST SKATEBOARDING. I DIDN’T LIKE THE CONTESTS, THE GROUPIES, AND EVERYTHING THAT CAME ALONG WITH THAT, EVEN THOUGH I WAS KIND OF USED TO ALL THAT BECAUSE OF MY FATHER.
We’re always on the move, flying or driving wherever we feel like going. One of our journeys takes Louanna and me to Vegas along with actor David Arquette, Amanda Anka, and some other friends. We’re sitting with Amanda when her dad, the famed singer Paul Anka, visits our table and sings his big hit “Put Your Head on My Shoulder,” along with other songs that made him famous. His driver takes us all to play baccarat at one of Anka’s favorite hotels. We head back to our room at the Riviera, where we enjoy our two-story penthouse suite. We’re up at least twenty stories, but I still decide to open a window and tiptoe out onto the ledge. With the window open there’s something to hold on to, so I turn and tell someone in the room to close the window behind me. I’m standing there looking down, and I feel what everybody says you feel in that situation—that you’re being pulled over the edge. Once I experienced that feeling, I say, “Okay, you can open the window now.”
LAS VEGAS WITH (LEFT TO RIGHT) PETER BILL, RODNEY HARVEY, DAVID ARQUETTE, RICHMOND ARQUETTE, ME, LOUANNA RAWLS, AMANDA ANKA, AND ROBERT RUSLER. HOSOI FAMILY COLLECTION.
Waiting in line at the clubs must be a drag. We wouldn’t know; we don’t wait for anything. Actors and various local celebrities wait in the VIP line, and others queue along the sidewalk or cluster around, hoping they can get inside at all. Whenever we arrive, the velvet ropes are magically lifted and we float right in, every time. The doormen approach us and say, “Hey, come on in.” Both Louanna and I are famous in our own right, and everybody knows us everywhere we go.
Sometimes we hit crazy underground clubs downtown like Water the Bush, where only the owners, the bouncers, and the bartenders recognize us and know what we’re about. These places are filled with nothing but gangsters and other hard-core types lining the walls, staring us down, checking us out, and sizing us up as we enter. There’s a feeling of danger that we find attractive somehow. I park just outside, at the red no-parking curb, far less worried about the ticket I’ll get than about having my car jacked. I’m confident, despite the neighborhood and clientele, because I’m strapped with my nine-millimeter Walther PPK. It’s a James Bond–type gun—small, but powerful enough to stop whatever it hits. It’s a nice friend to have along, just in case. Here we are—a little guy with three months’ salary on his wrists and fingers, and a hot-looking girl who’s wearing hardly anything at all. Oh, and she can have an attitude! Carrying a weapon offers the illusion that I’m invincible, which I basically feel I am anyway.
Friends say I’m skating better than ever, and that’s probably because I’m not doing hard drugs like I once did. I’m considered a nondrinker these days: at the clubs I nurse my usual two or three Coronas and slam a shot of Cuervo Gold tequila. That’s it. Well, that and chain-smoking weed, with a little XTC here and there, but not every night. Louanna and I have fun while we last, just living that Hollywood dream, until like most dreamers in that town, we break up, break down, and wake up alone again. But we hang in there for three and a half years, which might be some kind of a record for anybody raging in the Hollywood party scene.
AT HOME IN HAWAII
I feel like I have two homelands, one in L.A. and the other in Hawaii. In Hawaii I’m not just another haole tourist, but I’m treated like royalty, or at least a respected local. David Nuuhiwa Sr. is considered a Hawaiian kahuna. One of the top martial artists in the world, he’s respected by everyone. Whenever I see “Uncle” David, which is usually at the tradeshows, he always goes out of his way to talk to me and my father and to catch up on what’s going on in our life (and catch us up on his). My parents are from the Islands and I’m part Hawaiian myself, so I’m family.
Once my contracts are in place and money’s rolling in, I fly to Oahu as often as I can, which is maybe three or four times a year, paying for as many as ten of my friends to travel with me. Once there, I rent my usual—you guessed it, a white Lincoln Town Car—before we all head out. Our adventure always starts the same, but we never know how it will end up.
SANDY BEACH, OAHU. SCOTT AND MARK OBLOW, JOHN MANILDI, ME, AND GRANT FAKUDA. © CESARIO “BLOCK” MONTANO.
GRANT FAKUDA’S RAMP IN KANEOHE, HAWAII. © IVAN HOSOI.
As soon as we get off the plane we drive straight to the Rainbow Drive Inn in Honolulu, order and scarf down plate lunches, and drive to the Local Motion Surf Shop, where they loan me anything I want. I have surf racks and a stack of surfboards to use while we’re in town. My friends all rip at surfing, but I can’t surf for nothin’. But I’m not in Hawaii to ride waves. I’m here to hang out, party all night in Waikiki, and skate these sick ditches—underground places with names like Wallos, Off the Walls, Pipeline Bowls, Uluwatus, A’ala Park, and Stoker Hill. These drainage ditches are perfect for skating—and they’re illegal, which only adds to the fun.
As many times as I trespass in order to skate, I never get a ticket for skateboarding. But I do get chased by cops fairly often. I say chased, but I never bother running. Everyone else hits it right away, cuz they all have criminal histories or bench warrants. The cops come up to me and I welcome them and say, “How you guys doin’?” as I position myself to continue skating. When they ask why I don’t run with everyone else, I say, “Why, I’m just skateboarding. What’s the big deal?” I tell them I’m a pro skateboarder, and they say something like, “Let’s see what you got.” Once I’m done skating, they say, “Okay, great—now get out of here.”
Hawaii is basically just an extension of home, especially because I bring the party with me. Block has really been around, but when I first met him he had never been on a plane before. Block surfed and skated and basically had my philosophy of doing what you want, when you want. We were really close and eventually traveled a lot together. He remembers the first time I took him to Hawaii.
WE’RE DOING A DEMO, AND CHRISTIAN ASKS ME WHERE THE HOT CHICKS ARE. I TELL HIM THAT THERE ARE SOME IN THE BLEACHERS BUT THAT THE HOTTEST ONE IS THE HAWAIIAN TROPIC GIRL WHO IS A MODEL FOR THE COMPANY. HE GOES, “OH, I’VE GOT THAT.” HE SKATES AROUND HER, WHICH IS HOW HE FLIRTS WITH ALL THE GIRLS. IN NO TIME SHE AGREES TO GO OUT WITH HIM. SHE’S BEEN GOING OUT WITH SOME MODEL GUY, AND HE SAYS, “OH, THIS SKATER COMES TO TOWN AND NOW YOU’RE HANGIN’ OUT WITH HIM?” SHE’S LIKE SIX FEET TALL ALREADY, AND THEN SHE WEARS THESE FOUR-INCH HEELS. CHRISTIAN LOOKS LIKE A MIDGET NEXT TO HER. HE HAS THIS LEATHER BOMBER JACKET ON, DRIVING AROUND IN THAT LINCOLN TOWN CAR, JUST RUBBING IT INTO EV
ERYONE’S FACES.
I never have any trouble in Hawaii, but things can get rough there, even for someone who grew up on the streets of L.A. There was an event at the University of Hawaii that Ice-T came out for. This big fight breaks out, and Ice looks at me and says, “Later, Hosoi. I’m out—these Hawaiians won’t quit fighting.” They just keep fighting: it’s brawl after brawl after brawl. I love watching a good fight or two, so I stick around till the cops finally break things up.
Aaron Murray, my skateboard buddy from childhood days, usually travels with us, but he’s often on the injured list after doing one radical thing or another. The first time he lost a finger he was in a junior high woodshop class and routed the tip of his middle finger off. We thought that was pretty gnarly. This time he rips his little finger off, reinjuring the same hand. He’s wearing a pinky ring that catches between the coping and the ramp. The finger just plain rips off below the first joint. That’s how he gets the nickname Fingers.
One of my Rocket Wheel team riders, Scott Oster, is just fifteen years old when I take him to Hawaii for his first time. I’m only three years older than he is, but I’m “responsible” for him and the nine other skaters that accompany me. I visit Scott’s dad before our departure and tell him all the wonderful things we’re going to do in Hawaii, emphasizing what good care I’m going to take of his son. Scott is an amazingly talented skater, and I tell his father that his son has a big future in skateboarding. In the end Scott is allowed to miss school and travel with me.
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