by Tony Hawk
The big moment came when Brett and I got summoned to have dinner with Tom Cruise, who’d just become head of MGM’s newly resurrected studio United Artists. The meeting was to take place at his house. I had no idea what to expect, but it seemed like a good sign. We drove to an inconspicuous gate off of Sunset Boulevard, then made our way to a guest house/screening room. Tom arrived a little late because he was out flying with his kids. We were joined at dinner by Paula Wagner (his UA partner), his agent, and the agent representing Brett and me.
Tom told us he knew our world because he used to ride his BMX bike down a steep hill and fly off a launch ramp at the bottom. Paula was shocked, and kept saying things like “Oh my gawwwwd, Tom! You’re craaaaazy!”
The weirdest part was that Tom’s sister would come in periodically and hand him a note, which he’d share with us. First note: His wife had just landed in New Orleans. Second note: She was at the hotel. Tom picked up a nearby house phone and proceeded to have the mushiest oh-baby-I-love-you-miss-you-so-much-have-good-dreams goo-goo conversation I’ve ever witnessed. It was one of the most awkward things I’ve ever had to sit through. In the end, though, he redeemed himself in my eyes when it became clear that he’s a good father who genuinely loves his kids. And his kids were extremely courteous and respectful, so I’ll cut the man some slack.
Anyway, the pitch didn’t go well. Tom grilled us about very specific filmmaking details, like what kind of lenses and camera mounts we’d use to capture the action. Most of all, though, he wanted to know about the storyline, which we had always figured would unfold as the shooting progressed. It was, after all, a documentary. But he said he needed a dramatic arc that he could “bring back to my people.”
Here I am, dead, on the set of CSI: Miami. Action!
I didn’t understand. Hadn’t we reached the top? Didn’t the buck stop here? Didn’t he have the power to give the green light? We held strong, trying to give reassuring answers without making false promises. Apparently it wasn’t enough.
We never heard back.
Going Indie
Although I’ve all but given up on doing something with a big studio, I still hope to create something that Hollywood will be interested in. Our current plan is to do it from the bottom up, through our website shredordie.com, which aggregates amateur and semiprofessional action-sports video shorts. We’re now pitching an alt-sports version of the HBO series Funny or Die Presents, which is a spinoff of shredordie.com’s sister website funnyordie.com.
A lot of the best stuff on shredordie.com was produced quickly and cheaply by the nimble crew at 900 Films, and I’m convinced that if we can get the right network execs to just look at the footage, they’ll bite. The best thing about this idea is that we don’t have to wait for a studio to give the green light before we’re allowed to turn on a camera. It’s really satisfying when one of my talented friends comes up with a good idea for a short video, and within days it gets shot, edited, and posted online. No storyboards, no casting calls, no sippy cups, no lunatic moguls.
And no meetings.
11
STINKY DIAPERS IN FIRST CLASS
How to balance travel and family: bring ’em
A few years ago, when my youngest son Keegan was in preschool, the teachers asked the students in his class to describe the kind of work their fathers did. The teachers then wrote the responses on paper and pinned them to the classroom wall. Most of their quotes were cute: “My dad sells money,” and “My dad figures stuff out.”
Here’s what Keegan said about me: “I’ve never seen my dad do work.”
I suppose that shouldn’t have come as a surprise, considering that I make my living doing something that my sons see as fun and that I obviously enjoy. Only occasionally—when a demo ramp sucks, for example, or I have to perform with a tweaked ankle—does skateboarding itself feel like “work.”
I’m acutely aware that I’ve been very, very lucky in my career, and that much of my success has to do with being at the right place at the right time. And in recent years, after traveling to places like Sierra Leone and Cambodia, I’ve grown increasingly grateful that I don’t have to sort trash or sell rags to feed my family. There are 12-year-olds mining diamonds in West Africa for pennies a day; I’ve made millions by riding a skateboard. It’s one of those cosmic absurdities, and I try hard not to lose sight of it.
So while I don’t have to “do work,” as Keegan put it, I have tried to develop a work ethic. For example, if I promise to make an appearance or attend a meeting, I do everything in my power to get there on time and stick with the schedule. Nothing pisses off fans (or stresses event organizers) more than when a celebrity arrives late or leaves early.
Most of the actual “work” I do requires me to travel—a lot. I’m on the road 100 to 150 days a year; I’ve been a member of United Airlines’ 1K Club (meaning I’ve flown 100,000 miles per year) for nearly 10 years in a row. I don’t mind being on the road, especially with my skater friends, but I also love being home with my four kids.
I could write a long essay about the intricate dance that’s required to create a nominally stable domestic life when your job requires you to be gone half of the year. Instead, I thought it best to illustrate the concept with excerpts from various journals and blogs I’ve kept in recent years.
April 12–15, 2004
Sport for Good Foundation, Sierra Leone, West Africa
As an official member of the Laureus World Sports Academy, I was asked to visit one of the Sport for Good Foundation (Laureus’s primary charity) projects to see first hand their efforts to offer sports and other activities to needy youth in places like India, Brazil, and China.
The call finally came for me to visit a project in Sierra Leone. I only knew the country from the civil war it fought for years, and the atrocities that were occasionally covered in the news.
In Sierra Leone, Laureus supports a program called Right to Play (RTP), which gives traumatized children a chance to simply be kids again. The program has trained about 400 local volunteers to organize games and leagues with equipment provided by the charity. So far, about 5,000 Sierra Leone teenagers have joined in RTP sporting events. A lot of these kids had been forced into combat, labor camps, and sexual slavery during the country’s dark war-torn years. They’re just now learning to do the things that kids are supposed to do, like playing soccer or volleyball or Frisbee.
It took Lhotse and me 30 hours to get from San Diego to Freetown, Sierra Leone. In my wildest dreams, I never imagined that I would end up in a place like this just from riding a skateboard. Children were everywhere: in the gutted and burned houses, on the streets, in the diamond mines (which we could see from the road), and at the multitude of streetfront retail stands. Most wore torn clothes. Few had shoes.
The first thing I noticed as we pulled up to the RTP site was the abundance of happy faces on all the kids, regardless of age. And they were some of the most well-behaved and engaged kids I have ever seen playing together. They waited for the coaches’ instructions and made the most of whatever game they happened to be playing. It was a far cry from the too-cool-for-school kids that I’m used to seeing on playgrounds back home. I jumped in, joining the limbo line and losing at the soccer dribbling races. One of the best moments came when Lhotse showed some of the kids the video she’d shot of them and they freaked.
At the next site we visited, volleyball was obviously the most popular activity. There was a demolished school nearby where I found just enough intact concrete to skate. As I wove around broken cement and exposed dirt, the locals were perplexed by this “roller boogie,” as they called it. It was kind of like traveling from the future to show what will be possible, and quickly leaving before anyone has a chance to figure it out.
Later that day, at a playground, we met a girl who appeared to be about 12 years old and pregnant. She was knitting a baby pouch for her future newborn.
It was unnerving—not because of the babies-having-babies aspect, but because everyon
e took it as normal. We also saw three- and four-year-olds with babies strapped to their back—toddlers caring for infants. I can’t even get my five-year-old son Spencer to look after his favorite Hot Wheels car, let alone his younger brother.
Back at the hotel, drained, we fell right asleep. When I woke up for dinner, I missed my boys more than ever.
The next morning, all the RTP volunteers gathered in the town’s only real soccer field for a full day of activities involving about 500 kids. Later, we went to the certificate presentation and listened to some long-winded speeches. When it was my turn to talk, I pledged to spread the word about the good work being done there by the Sport for Good and Right to Play projects, and to help raise more funds for their programs. I’d feel like I accomplished something if my visit opened some eyes and more kids got soccer balls in the process. They’re kids, after all, and they just want to play.
July 1–7, 2004
Adio Tour, England
I was skeptical about going on a week-long core tour (meaning that it would be mostly street), but my son Riley was out of school for the summer and it was time to get back into skatepark mode. We did a total of three demos over the course of six days, but most of our time was spent driving between stops. Overall, it was a good trip.
Riley Hawk and Shaun Stulz.
Riley and his friend Shaun Stulz were the highlights of each demo, getting just as tech as some of the pros and inspiring the younger skaters in attendance. Here are some of the highlights (and lowlights):
Riley’s video camera being stolen from him by some thug kids while he was passing a bus stop in London. I was across the street when it happened. They now possess an NTSC camera that they can’t charge and can’t play on their televisions. Good luck, guys.
The genuine appreciation of the crowds in England. I have never heard such applause for basic tricks.
If an organizer told us that a place was 20 minutes away, it was an hour. If they said it was an hour away, then it was three. This means that we were consistently late for autograph sessions or demos, and we regularly checked into hotels between 2:00 and 4:00 A.M.
Chappelle’s Show (Season 1) on DVD made the drives much easier.
Autograph sessions that seemed more important to the crowds than live skating (and lasted longer than any of the demos).
Sightseeing in London. “Look, kids, Big Ben! The House of Parliament!” That was the extent of our excursions.
Spending July 4 in the land that we celebrate getting away from. For some reason, we weren’t invited to any cookouts or fireworks displays.
Being back on a real skate tour after a long hiatus and getting to enjoy it through the eyes of my son.
August 27–29, 2004
MTV Video Music Awards, Miami, Florida
Amid the hip-hop decadence and VIP parties, I recall the following:
Presenting the best new artist award with Ashlee Simpson, during which the stage was “transformed” into a skatepark and I joined in a live demo.
Walking by all of the A-list celebs in the front row (including Puffy and Jay-Z), and realizing that I was still wearing my helmet. Whassup, cuz? I’m chillin’.
While we sat in the audience during the televised ceremony, a production assistant came over and told me that I would be presenting the award for Best Video Game Soundtrack in the next segment. I said that there must be some mistake, that our game was nominated for that award and I’d yet to see a script for the presentation. She went away flustered and I sat there wondering what to do. She came back soon after and corrected herself: I was going to win that award in the next segment. Suddenly I found myself on stage with Good Charlotte and D12 making an acceptance speech with Bam Margera, for a music award. And you may ask yourself: “Well, how did I get here?”
October 2, 2004
Andre Agassi’s Grand Slam for Children, Las Vegas, Nevada
My friend Robert invited me to be his guest at Andre Agassi’s annual charity event, heralded as one of the most consistently successful live fundraisers. I thought it would be good to check it out, lend my support, and possibly learn a few things that could help with our first THF fundraiser (happening the very next day). All of the raised money goes toward Andre’s charity: a school for underprivileged children located in the outskirts of Vegas. I believe they have raised over $50 million so far, so the school is thriving. There are plans to expand it into a college and take the idea to other cities as well.
The main draw for the Agassi event is live entertainment, and this year was no exception. Robin Williams, Faith Hill, John Mayer, and Ray Romano were all scheduled to appear, making the $20,000-per-table cost seem like an extravagant ticket price as opposed to a straight donation. The auction items were of the same caliber: private tennis lessons with Andre and Steffi Graf; a trip on a private jet to meet the First Lady for lunch; and other one-of-a-kind offers.
Andre asked me to get up and offer an auction item of my choice, so I went on stage and came up with a private demo for five to be held at our new office (on the BBHJ ramp), with catering by McDonald’s. A bidding began between two high-roller philanthropists, so I ended up offering two such demos—which raised the total to six figures. I never imagined that a few McTwists and some Happy Meals would be worth that much.
October 3, 2004
Stand Up for Skateparks Fundraiser, Studio City, California
Today we held our first fundraiser for the Tony Hawk Foundation at the Pinz Bowling Alley in Studio City. We wanted to make sure that there was plenty for kids to do, but also a constant schedule of live entertainment. Having David Spade commit to doing a small routine was the catalyst for getting us going in full gear. Not long after we set the date, Blink-182 joined the roster, and things snowballed from there. The setting was Pinz Bowling Alley in Studio City, with skating and playthings in the parking lot and comedy and music inside. And if someone managed to get bored, they could always bowl.
Benecio del Toro and me.
Besides the multitude of kids’ activities (and food) outside, our plan was to have a skate and BMX demo, a live auction, comedy, and, finally, music. Todd Glass opened for Spade, and Tom Green introduced me when I got up to explain our foundation’s mission and to summarize the auction items. Our auction items were unique: a private surf lesson with Kelly Slater; a private skate demo with yours truly; a Hawaiian vacation in a private villa; and a guitar autographed by Blink. The last item was donated by Bobby Kotick (CEO of Activision), who bought it at another fundraiser, and was kind enough to re-gift it. Mat Hoffman donated the bike he had just ridden in our outdoor demo.
Spencer with Pamela Anderson.
The auction went relatively well, but it was hard for me to get excited about items going for $2,000 to $5,000 after seeing the extravagance of the Agassi event. In the end, we raised nearly $500,000, so I have no complaints. Pamela Anderson bought Mat Hoffman’s bike for $6,000, after which Mat suggested that she put brakes on it. She also paid $5,000 for a date with Spade. David said he looked forward to taking her to Sizzler. Ryan Sheckler bought the Blink guitar for $4,000.
The only sad face I saw the whole day was my son Spencer, after he ran out of quarters in the arcade—a tragedy quickly remedied by his aunt and grandma.
April 22–24, 2005
Black Pearl Skatepark Grand Opening, Grand Cayman, Cayman Islands
My invitation to the opening of the world’s biggest skatepark had been postponed many times due to construction delays and hurricane damage. We were invited to visit the 60,000-square-foot park more as a vacation than an obligation (translation: free travel, no pay). I invited an eclectic skate crew: me, Riley, Shaun Stulz, Steve Nesser, Mike Vallely, Kevin Staab, Alex Chalmers, and our respective wives, fiancées, and girlfriends.
The first thing we noticed was that Hurricane Ivan had hit this remote island like a big, bad bomb. Trees were uprooted, boats were still lying where they’d been pushed ashore, and the majority of dwellings were in the process of being rebuilt. For
tunately, most of our hotel was open and the beach water out front was bluer than I had ever seen anywhere.
Our first outing was a luxury boat tour. We went snorkeling on the outer reef and then on to one of Cayman’s landmark tourist spots, Stingray City. Hordes of stingrays flock and swim in, out, and around the legs of screeching landlubbers, who feed them nuggets of sliced squid. The only rules: don’t pet their backs and don’t step on them, which become increasingly difficult to follow once the rays start swarming. It’s almost overwhelming to have so many potentially dangerous animals boldly brushing up against your body. Even Riley got off the boat and mingled with the locals for a while, until one glided across his legs and he quickly jumped on my back.
The next day, we checked out the skatepark, which is monstrous in every way. It appears to go on forever, and every visible wall looks to be at least 10 feet high. The place offers an amazing mass of transitions, but it would be better explored over a week instead of one day.
Demo day: It was crowded, but not nearly the thousands we’d been warned about. It was hard doing a demo in such an expansive park. I’d love to go back and explore all of it without the pressure of a crowd watching.
After the demo, we headed back to our hotel for stereotypical Cayman activities: lying on the beach, riding Jet Skis, and ordering drinks. We even caught a glimpse of Iggy Pop doing the same thing by the pool, smashing every misconception I had about this place. It’s not lawyers and Mafiosos hiding money and living in excess. It’s more about families, pro skaters, and rockers getting away for some sun and relaxation.