2.28.2007
2.25.2007
meander avenue
While having a cigarette, I watched a cat walking around the inside of a fenced enclosure about a hundred yards or so to the east of my worksite. There are many stray cats around here and I assume that is what he is—he must have walked in through the gate while the business was still open. I’m not sure what kind of business it is—it’s called the Macomb Group and consists of a warehouse and a large fenced area with stacks of metal pipe. The cats usually hunt the wild rabbits that live in the field behind my office. I saw a red-tailed hawk take something down in the field the other day and feed for a good half-hour.
My office sits directly south of the train tracks on the former site of the Oldsmobile plant where they built the legendary R.E.O. Speedwagon. The only reminders of the plant are a pile of concrete in the middle of the field and a couple of rusted stand pipes jutting out of the broken ground. I’m not sure what these are attached to—are there some kind of tanks underground, holding decades-old sludge? There is a trail that goes from our parking lot through the field to the driveway of the Macomb Group, which is used by the residents of Baker Street. The street lies to the south and east of us, and is one of the worst neighborhoods in the city.
Police cars block off the entire neighborhood at least once a month in the summer—officers looking for a suspect or drug raids going on in different locations. The neighborhood is populated with low-income housing and has been troublesome for the city officials for a number of years. The only gas station in the area shut down its doors for a final time this summer, after numerous armed robberies. Prostitution is also rampant in this district as well.
Directly across the railroad track from my office is the old train depot, one of only two such structures in the city. This particular one was boarded up after the local kids smashed all the windows out. It had a short stint as a nightclub and was a restaurant for a number of years before that. Beyond that are a number of businesses—a meat processor, a bar, a biker-bar, another bar, a vacant bar, a uniform shop, a discount furniture store, a vacant lot, a beauty shop, several empty parking lots, another bar, a couple of vacant buildings, a second-hand store, two apartment buildings and a seedy motel. A highway lies just north of that and the central business district begins on the block just north of the highway.
To the south of us is another office building and a couple of warehouses, a church, a used car lot, a vacant lot, a vacant building, a pool hall, another second-hand store, numerous houses, a bar and two party stores. There is quite a bit of foot traffic throughout the neighborhood, but most of it centers on the party stores. The street is a wide avenue—two lanes northbound, two southbound and a median turn lane. At one time, this entire neighborhood was a bustling and thriving commercial hub. The avenue runs north for another mile and a half, directly into the downtown business district. If you hang a leftt and go a block west when the street ends, you will hit the state capitol.
The vacant bar and the one in the depot closed due largely to violence after the bars emptied out. There were a number of shootings, two of them fatal, so the liquor licenses were pulled by the city. The party stores have two-inch thick bulletproof Plexiglas, but have been robbed numerous times. If you go to one the stores, you have to weave your way around the panhandlers and the working girls. I usually try to ask them for a cigarette before they hit me up with a request—it signals you as a “have-not” and they move on the next person.
There is a street that bisects the avenue to the north—if you take a left on that and head west, it takes you to a GM plant. This is a secondary entrance/exit to the plant, which is primarily used by parts suppliers. Some of their employees use this route, but I see very few stopping in the neighborhood. The plant was built about five years ago and they build the new Cadillacs there-SRX’s and CRX’s and whatever other acronyms there are. Ironically, the “suicidal robot” commercial, which aired during this year’s Super Bowl, was filmed at the plant.
The seedy motel on the cusp of the business district is currently battling the city to keep its doors open. Drugs and prostitution are certainly issues there, but there have also been a number of murders there as well. The fact that they rent rooms out by the hour is a concern, but the hotel has had a bad history that it can’t seem to shake. Police gunned down a knife-wielding man right in front of the hotel about a decade ago. Investigators found close to sixty rounds on the ground and the medical examiner found another thirty-two lodged in the gentleman in question. I don’t remember what drugs were found in his system, but he had to have been on something for that many bullets to hit him before hitting the ground. Meth? Crack? All of the above?
A neighborhood in disrepair is nothing new to me—growing up in Detroit, I saw firsthand how once beautiful mansions along the boulevard have become drug-infested hovels. You can still see and still imagine the grand yesteryears, hidden behind crumbling weathered facades. Blocks upon blocks of boarded-up business and vacant lots remind me of photos of London after the Blitzkrieg. The 1967 Riots wiped out whole neighborhoods that have never been replaced. White flight to the suburbs kicked into high gear and the suburban population is now larger than the city’s.
The infectious optimism of the Motown Records years gave away to the gloom and doom of Iggy and the Stooges. When I think of Detroit I think of distortion, Iggy’s caterwauling and deep brooding bass lines. I think of genius destroyed by madness and addiction. But nothing stays the same, not even the dystopic ruminations of a musical genius. Iggy Pop is all cleaned up now and gentrification has begun in parts of the city long ago abandoned by its gentler souls. Iggy Pop now sings love songs and songs of redemption. In recent years, Detroit has built brand new football and baseball stadiums. Lofts and apartments are going up right next to the river that separates Motown from Canada. A new optimism had been born.
Lofts are springing up all over my city as well, one of the abandoned buildings up the street is being converted into a multi-unit as I sit here typing away on my keyboard. We have seen the gentrification of a former red-light district on the north side. The street is now home to a publishing company, several avant garde art spaces, bookstores, a public relations firm, a progressive disco, and a row of townhouses.
I once lived in a shelter for battered women and children, a block away from Detroit’s Fox Theatre. At that time the place was closed and all but abandoned, awaiting the wrecking ball. Since then, though, it has been fabulously restored and is the centerpiece of the city’s new cultural center which is called, “Foxtown”. That area now includes the two new stadiums and the building I once lived in was razed to make way for Detroit’s second renaissance. I can only hope that this one will have more of an impact than the first (which was minimally effective) and can serve as a blueprint for cities like mine.
My office sits directly south of the train tracks on the former site of the Oldsmobile plant where they built the legendary R.E.O. Speedwagon. The only reminders of the plant are a pile of concrete in the middle of the field and a couple of rusted stand pipes jutting out of the broken ground. I’m not sure what these are attached to—are there some kind of tanks underground, holding decades-old sludge? There is a trail that goes from our parking lot through the field to the driveway of the Macomb Group, which is used by the residents of Baker Street. The street lies to the south and east of us, and is one of the worst neighborhoods in the city.
Police cars block off the entire neighborhood at least once a month in the summer—officers looking for a suspect or drug raids going on in different locations. The neighborhood is populated with low-income housing and has been troublesome for the city officials for a number of years. The only gas station in the area shut down its doors for a final time this summer, after numerous armed robberies. Prostitution is also rampant in this district as well.
Directly across the railroad track from my office is the old train depot, one of only two such structures in the city. This particular one was boarded up after the local kids smashed all the windows out. It had a short stint as a nightclub and was a restaurant for a number of years before that. Beyond that are a number of businesses—a meat processor, a bar, a biker-bar, another bar, a vacant bar, a uniform shop, a discount furniture store, a vacant lot, a beauty shop, several empty parking lots, another bar, a couple of vacant buildings, a second-hand store, two apartment buildings and a seedy motel. A highway lies just north of that and the central business district begins on the block just north of the highway.
To the south of us is another office building and a couple of warehouses, a church, a used car lot, a vacant lot, a vacant building, a pool hall, another second-hand store, numerous houses, a bar and two party stores. There is quite a bit of foot traffic throughout the neighborhood, but most of it centers on the party stores. The street is a wide avenue—two lanes northbound, two southbound and a median turn lane. At one time, this entire neighborhood was a bustling and thriving commercial hub. The avenue runs north for another mile and a half, directly into the downtown business district. If you hang a leftt and go a block west when the street ends, you will hit the state capitol.
The vacant bar and the one in the depot closed due largely to violence after the bars emptied out. There were a number of shootings, two of them fatal, so the liquor licenses were pulled by the city. The party stores have two-inch thick bulletproof Plexiglas, but have been robbed numerous times. If you go to one the stores, you have to weave your way around the panhandlers and the working girls. I usually try to ask them for a cigarette before they hit me up with a request—it signals you as a “have-not” and they move on the next person.
There is a street that bisects the avenue to the north—if you take a left on that and head west, it takes you to a GM plant. This is a secondary entrance/exit to the plant, which is primarily used by parts suppliers. Some of their employees use this route, but I see very few stopping in the neighborhood. The plant was built about five years ago and they build the new Cadillacs there-SRX’s and CRX’s and whatever other acronyms there are. Ironically, the “suicidal robot” commercial, which aired during this year’s Super Bowl, was filmed at the plant.
The seedy motel on the cusp of the business district is currently battling the city to keep its doors open. Drugs and prostitution are certainly issues there, but there have also been a number of murders there as well. The fact that they rent rooms out by the hour is a concern, but the hotel has had a bad history that it can’t seem to shake. Police gunned down a knife-wielding man right in front of the hotel about a decade ago. Investigators found close to sixty rounds on the ground and the medical examiner found another thirty-two lodged in the gentleman in question. I don’t remember what drugs were found in his system, but he had to have been on something for that many bullets to hit him before hitting the ground. Meth? Crack? All of the above?
A neighborhood in disrepair is nothing new to me—growing up in Detroit, I saw firsthand how once beautiful mansions along the boulevard have become drug-infested hovels. You can still see and still imagine the grand yesteryears, hidden behind crumbling weathered facades. Blocks upon blocks of boarded-up business and vacant lots remind me of photos of London after the Blitzkrieg. The 1967 Riots wiped out whole neighborhoods that have never been replaced. White flight to the suburbs kicked into high gear and the suburban population is now larger than the city’s.
The infectious optimism of the Motown Records years gave away to the gloom and doom of Iggy and the Stooges. When I think of Detroit I think of distortion, Iggy’s caterwauling and deep brooding bass lines. I think of genius destroyed by madness and addiction. But nothing stays the same, not even the dystopic ruminations of a musical genius. Iggy Pop is all cleaned up now and gentrification has begun in parts of the city long ago abandoned by its gentler souls. Iggy Pop now sings love songs and songs of redemption. In recent years, Detroit has built brand new football and baseball stadiums. Lofts and apartments are going up right next to the river that separates Motown from Canada. A new optimism had been born.
Lofts are springing up all over my city as well, one of the abandoned buildings up the street is being converted into a multi-unit as I sit here typing away on my keyboard. We have seen the gentrification of a former red-light district on the north side. The street is now home to a publishing company, several avant garde art spaces, bookstores, a public relations firm, a progressive disco, and a row of townhouses.
I once lived in a shelter for battered women and children, a block away from Detroit’s Fox Theatre. At that time the place was closed and all but abandoned, awaiting the wrecking ball. Since then, though, it has been fabulously restored and is the centerpiece of the city’s new cultural center which is called, “Foxtown”. That area now includes the two new stadiums and the building I once lived in was razed to make way for Detroit’s second renaissance. I can only hope that this one will have more of an impact than the first (which was minimally effective) and can serve as a blueprint for cities like mine.
2.24.2007
love of the game
Stumbled across the Army online,
While surfing the web wasting time,
A flicker turned into a flame,
And my life has never been the same.
Started off with a simple comment,
In hindsight probably heaven-sent,
Quickly turned into an obsession,
Taking on ever greater momentum.
An old man like me on a skateboard,
Seems strange but my spirit has soared,
Its good to know others feel the same,
Even though my wife thinks I’m insane.
The Old Man Army is a brotherhood,
Us old-schoolers just wanna feel good,
Skateboarding keeps us young at heart,
Should have kept going from the start.
So many of us walked away,
Gave it up back in the day,
For school, work, families too,
Doing whatever we had to do.
We don’t do this for fortune or fame,
We skate for the love of the game,
Props to the AZ boys for their creation,
For spreading the stoke and elation.
Of this game played on four wheels,
That some attack with such zeal,
All can play everyone’s included,
And the stoke remains deeply rooted.
Many of us skate with our kids,
Sons and daughters doing what we did,
But we’re raising them right,
Skating with them early morning/late at night.
From Australia to Cali to frozen Manitoba,
Indonesia to Hawaii to feeling Minnesota,
OMA’s got U.K. and A.Z. crews too,
Toronto, the Carolinas and Mizzou.
Some dudes in Texas and the northwest--
Washington, Idaho and Oregon no less,
Louisville, Baltimore, France, and Georgia,
British Columbia, Louisiana even Florida.
Too many to name too many to list,
Even if I tried, someone would get missed,
If you’re over thirty and you love to skate,
We will accept you with no debate.
Owned a Ty-stik or plastic banana,
Rode a Makaha and listened to Santana,
Saw the rise and fall of the superparks,
Went underground til Peralta made his mark?
From Black Sabbath to Black Flag,
Reading Skateboarder or Thrasher mag,
Watched the Bones Brigade on VHS,
Argue Hawk/Hosoi, who is the best?
The Army spans many generations,
The stoke lives on without cessation,
Long-time skaters and returnees alike,
Experienced the depths and the heights.
Old school skaters world wide,
Riding to live, living to ride,
Skating parks, ramps, bowls and pools,
Paying with blood, paying our dues.
While surfing the web wasting time,
A flicker turned into a flame,
And my life has never been the same.
Started off with a simple comment,
In hindsight probably heaven-sent,
Quickly turned into an obsession,
Taking on ever greater momentum.
An old man like me on a skateboard,
Seems strange but my spirit has soared,
Its good to know others feel the same,
Even though my wife thinks I’m insane.
The Old Man Army is a brotherhood,
Us old-schoolers just wanna feel good,
Skateboarding keeps us young at heart,
Should have kept going from the start.
So many of us walked away,
Gave it up back in the day,
For school, work, families too,
Doing whatever we had to do.
We don’t do this for fortune or fame,
We skate for the love of the game,
Props to the AZ boys for their creation,
For spreading the stoke and elation.
Of this game played on four wheels,
That some attack with such zeal,
All can play everyone’s included,
And the stoke remains deeply rooted.
Many of us skate with our kids,
Sons and daughters doing what we did,
But we’re raising them right,
Skating with them early morning/late at night.
From Australia to Cali to frozen Manitoba,
Indonesia to Hawaii to feeling Minnesota,
OMA’s got U.K. and A.Z. crews too,
Toronto, the Carolinas and Mizzou.
Some dudes in Texas and the northwest--
Washington, Idaho and Oregon no less,
Louisville, Baltimore, France, and Georgia,
British Columbia, Louisiana even Florida.
Too many to name too many to list,
Even if I tried, someone would get missed,
If you’re over thirty and you love to skate,
We will accept you with no debate.
Owned a Ty-stik or plastic banana,
Rode a Makaha and listened to Santana,
Saw the rise and fall of the superparks,
Went underground til Peralta made his mark?
From Black Sabbath to Black Flag,
Reading Skateboarder or Thrasher mag,
Watched the Bones Brigade on VHS,
Argue Hawk/Hosoi, who is the best?
The Army spans many generations,
The stoke lives on without cessation,
Long-time skaters and returnees alike,
Experienced the depths and the heights.
Old school skaters world wide,
Riding to live, living to ride,
Skating parks, ramps, bowls and pools,
Paying with blood, paying our dues.
2.22.2007
inbetween days
I was driving to work the other day and a Cure song came on the radio. I usually listen to the student station that plays “alternative” music. I’m not a big fan of the more recent stuff that they play, but they do play some golden oldies from the eighties from time to time. I hate to admit it, but I am a bit of a snob when it comes to music. I’ve listened to alternative or underground music for the last twenty-plus years, other then listening to reggae or pow wow music and the occasional rap artist. My son got me into Kanye West recently, but I don’t usually stray too far a field.
To a certain extent, I consider the Velvet Underground and Iggy and the Stooges as the godfathers of the genre, although there are probably other influences I haven’t fully experienced. The Kinks, Graham Parker, Patti Smith, Can, the New York Dolls and many others paved new ground in the seventies musically and philosophically. I listened to some of the first wave of punk bands—the Ramones, Generation X, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Sex Pistols—even some of the post-punk bands—Killing Joke, Joy Division, Public Image Limited.
However, the touchstones of my set were American Hardcore and British Post-New Wave bands. Our musical heroes were groups like Black Flag, the Circle Jerks, Minor Threat and the Dead Kennedys. We also listened to New Order, the Smiths, the Cure, U2, the Cult and similar bands. The latter were usually what our girlfriends and female friends listened to and we grudgingly did as well. My male friends and I usually referred to the Post-New Wave stuff as “girlfriend music”—stuff that your girlfriend listens to.
As time has passed, I like the latter group more and more and whenever I hear this music, it reminds me of people or places from my youth. For whatever reason, this music always reminds me of L. Rice, H. Griffin, M. Boyd, T. Boyer and A. Mosley—ex-girlfriends and near misses from my high school years. Ironically, that music links me to these ghosts of my past. I still listen to the Hardcore—it still serves as a catharsis and holds good memories as well—but the other stuff is painfully bittersweet.
Looking at the names--it’s funny to see how listing the first initial only and the last name takes some of their power away. There are probably dozens if not hundreds of women out there with the same exact names—but listing them this way reduces some of the emotions. Listing them with the full first name and first initial of their last name is a little bit more dangerous--Lisa R., Heather G., Michelle B., Theresa B., Andrea M. Now there are possibly thousands of people with similar names, but listing it this way hits a little closer to the bone. Listing the full first and last names is completely out of the question.
Some of them took me for a wild ride—A. Mosley was a freshman in community college and ended up moving out of her mom’s house while we were dating. It also turned out that our fathers were old buddies from the neighborhood—they both grew up down the street from St. Stanislaus Parish on the outskirts of Poletown in Detroit. A. Mosley didn’t remember her father-he had moved out on them when she was still a child, so she embarked on a journey to find and reacquaint herself with him. M. Boyd broke my heart when she asked a dumb jock to the Homecoming Dance only to be denied. She dated one of my best friends after that—when she came around, I was no longer interested. I was on the football team (despite not being a “jock”), so I kept hearing about it from the other side. Others dealt with quite a bit from me—my parental issues, my neediness, my lack of self-esteem, and my overriding teenage angst. I created more than my fair share of drama for no apparent reason and this doomed most of the relationships from the start.
There were good times, too—cuddling beside a fire, going to concerts, underage drinking, heavy petting, sneaking around town to avoid parents, sneaking out of class to make out, trips with their families, long walks, longer talks on the phone, letters and poems. Oh, and making out. I can’t say enough about that, I can still remember my first kiss . . . which didn’t come until I was fifteen. I was/am a bit of a late bloomer when it comes to most things.
Lisa R. was dropping me off at my house after an afternoon of chatting and hanging out at her house . . . I wanted to kiss her and she leaned toward me—come to think of it, I think I even asked her first if I could kiss her first. No skills. She said yes, of course, and the world starting spinning. I couldn’t stop smiling when I walked into the house so my mom asked me if I was high. I guess I was, in a way.
I remember the first time I saw most of them, or at least the first time I noticed them. Lisa R. hung out with the New Wave crowd, had her hair all teased up to one side and wore a black leather jacket. She was short—maybe 4’11” at the most—and had what I thought was a beautiful face. Her friends Holly and Kim had just transferred back from Chippewa Valley and the former showed up with half her head shaved. Their crowd was into the Cure, INXS, and a slew of British bands. Not really sure what happened to her—think she married some roofer, I used to run into her older brother at M.S.U. while he was in medical school.
I first saw Heather G. in the sixth grade, first day of school. She had gone to elementary school in northern Michigan, just south of the Mackinac Bridge, even though her parents were both alumni of Fitzgerald H.S. Her red curly red hair made her stand out immediately, but she was quiet and didn’t say much to anyone. But what a stunning smile. A sense of fashion—I would learn later that she was a big Duran Duran fan, as well as listening to more obscure music like Love & Rockets, Japan, etc . . . She would flinch to see my use of a split infinitive in the previous sentence—she would end up going to grad school at Yale.
Michelle B. was in my class in the seventh grade—we flirted and talked quite a bit—a brunette with an easy smile and eyes that seemed to light up. She liked Adam and the Ants for some reason and I think I checked them out based on her comments. We were in quite a few classes, ran track together through the years, and remained friends even though she decried my love for the band Husker Du. She stayed close to home, went to Wayne State or something like that, hooked up with the Punk Rock/New Wave crowd in Detroit.
Theresa B. worked at the same McDonald’s I did—our very first jobs—right across from the Abrams Tank Plant in Centerline, just north of 11 Mile. I was working and she came in to check the schedule—she had long dyed bangs, which went down past her chin—the rest of her hair was cut pretty close. She was smiling and laughing . . . it seems they all were. I don’t remember ever falling for a girl who scowled all of the time.
Theresa B. went to a Catholic school—St. Clement’s which was right down from the McD’s—she lived just north of 7 Mile, not too far from my house in Warren. I got a job there because it was roughly half-way between Warren and Sterling Heights—my family would end up moving to the latter two months later. Theresa B. introduced me to the Hardcore scene in Detroit—took me to my first shows at the Greystone Theater. We saw the Butthole Surfers, MDC, and a bunch of no-name bands whist slamming Red White & Blues and fumbling around my clumsiness.
I also met Andrea M. at a McDonald’s, just south of 13 Mile, while hanging out with the Sterling Heights crew I had met while working at Wendy’s over on 15 Mile & Van Dyke. I went to the “other” school—Stevenson, whereas most of my friends went to Sterling Heights High. Andrea M. walked in with a friend of a friend—another girl from Chippewa Valley whose name escapes me. I saw her as I walked in—pretty face, strawberry blonde hair, very petite . . . and that smile . . . we all ended watching “Night of the Living Dead”—the punk rock version, of course. Andrea M. and I started talking and next thing I know we’re frenching on the couch . . .
Somehow I almost ended up getting in a fight some “longhairs” with this dude I just met—Dominic Augstini—a former member of the Sterling Skins. The Sterling Skins were supposedly non-racist skinheads that had been around since the early eighties. 14 Mile was the boundary between Warren and Sterling Heights, and we were on Schoenherr, so just east of us was Fraser—the one time I counted, I think there were kids from twelve different high schools working at my McD’s. The Detroit suburbs are heavily populated and various school districts and cities butt up against one another. The population of the suburbs exceeds that of the city itself nowadays.
I spent my formative years, ages seven to sixteen, a block from 8 Mile and my parents decided to move half-way through my junior year in high school. At first, I wasn’t too happy about the move, but in hindsight, it offered me a different view of life. Our house in Sterling Heights was in a cul-de-sac, which was right next to 16 Mile Rd., just down the way from Freedom Park. I think it helped me to broaden my horizons and it prepared me for college—it was a relatively easy transition for me.
I don’t regret having grown up in the neighborhood that I did, however. If anything, maybe I would have enjoyed getting into skateboarding at an earlier age, but parks had started closing down all over the country by the early eighties. As far as the girls, the women who populated my life . . . I don’t really regret anything that I didn’t do. I wish I hadn’t been so immature, but that’s all a part of growing up. I wish I had been more—I was so afraid of failing or even trying that I never fully engaged myself in anything that I did.
It has taken me most of the twenty years since then to really become comfortable in my own skin. I do not miss the person that I was and often think that I could have been more or done more with my life, but hindsight is overrated. I am basically a good person and I certainly was back then as well—I didn’t use or abuse anyone along the way. Well, not until college at least. But that’s another story altogether . . . and another soundtrack as well.
To a certain extent, I consider the Velvet Underground and Iggy and the Stooges as the godfathers of the genre, although there are probably other influences I haven’t fully experienced. The Kinks, Graham Parker, Patti Smith, Can, the New York Dolls and many others paved new ground in the seventies musically and philosophically. I listened to some of the first wave of punk bands—the Ramones, Generation X, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Sex Pistols—even some of the post-punk bands—Killing Joke, Joy Division, Public Image Limited.
However, the touchstones of my set were American Hardcore and British Post-New Wave bands. Our musical heroes were groups like Black Flag, the Circle Jerks, Minor Threat and the Dead Kennedys. We also listened to New Order, the Smiths, the Cure, U2, the Cult and similar bands. The latter were usually what our girlfriends and female friends listened to and we grudgingly did as well. My male friends and I usually referred to the Post-New Wave stuff as “girlfriend music”—stuff that your girlfriend listens to.
As time has passed, I like the latter group more and more and whenever I hear this music, it reminds me of people or places from my youth. For whatever reason, this music always reminds me of L. Rice, H. Griffin, M. Boyd, T. Boyer and A. Mosley—ex-girlfriends and near misses from my high school years. Ironically, that music links me to these ghosts of my past. I still listen to the Hardcore—it still serves as a catharsis and holds good memories as well—but the other stuff is painfully bittersweet.
Looking at the names--it’s funny to see how listing the first initial only and the last name takes some of their power away. There are probably dozens if not hundreds of women out there with the same exact names—but listing them this way reduces some of the emotions. Listing them with the full first name and first initial of their last name is a little bit more dangerous--Lisa R., Heather G., Michelle B., Theresa B., Andrea M. Now there are possibly thousands of people with similar names, but listing it this way hits a little closer to the bone. Listing the full first and last names is completely out of the question.
Some of them took me for a wild ride—A. Mosley was a freshman in community college and ended up moving out of her mom’s house while we were dating. It also turned out that our fathers were old buddies from the neighborhood—they both grew up down the street from St. Stanislaus Parish on the outskirts of Poletown in Detroit. A. Mosley didn’t remember her father-he had moved out on them when she was still a child, so she embarked on a journey to find and reacquaint herself with him. M. Boyd broke my heart when she asked a dumb jock to the Homecoming Dance only to be denied. She dated one of my best friends after that—when she came around, I was no longer interested. I was on the football team (despite not being a “jock”), so I kept hearing about it from the other side. Others dealt with quite a bit from me—my parental issues, my neediness, my lack of self-esteem, and my overriding teenage angst. I created more than my fair share of drama for no apparent reason and this doomed most of the relationships from the start.
There were good times, too—cuddling beside a fire, going to concerts, underage drinking, heavy petting, sneaking around town to avoid parents, sneaking out of class to make out, trips with their families, long walks, longer talks on the phone, letters and poems. Oh, and making out. I can’t say enough about that, I can still remember my first kiss . . . which didn’t come until I was fifteen. I was/am a bit of a late bloomer when it comes to most things.
Lisa R. was dropping me off at my house after an afternoon of chatting and hanging out at her house . . . I wanted to kiss her and she leaned toward me—come to think of it, I think I even asked her first if I could kiss her first. No skills. She said yes, of course, and the world starting spinning. I couldn’t stop smiling when I walked into the house so my mom asked me if I was high. I guess I was, in a way.
I remember the first time I saw most of them, or at least the first time I noticed them. Lisa R. hung out with the New Wave crowd, had her hair all teased up to one side and wore a black leather jacket. She was short—maybe 4’11” at the most—and had what I thought was a beautiful face. Her friends Holly and Kim had just transferred back from Chippewa Valley and the former showed up with half her head shaved. Their crowd was into the Cure, INXS, and a slew of British bands. Not really sure what happened to her—think she married some roofer, I used to run into her older brother at M.S.U. while he was in medical school.
I first saw Heather G. in the sixth grade, first day of school. She had gone to elementary school in northern Michigan, just south of the Mackinac Bridge, even though her parents were both alumni of Fitzgerald H.S. Her red curly red hair made her stand out immediately, but she was quiet and didn’t say much to anyone. But what a stunning smile. A sense of fashion—I would learn later that she was a big Duran Duran fan, as well as listening to more obscure music like Love & Rockets, Japan, etc . . . She would flinch to see my use of a split infinitive in the previous sentence—she would end up going to grad school at Yale.
Michelle B. was in my class in the seventh grade—we flirted and talked quite a bit—a brunette with an easy smile and eyes that seemed to light up. She liked Adam and the Ants for some reason and I think I checked them out based on her comments. We were in quite a few classes, ran track together through the years, and remained friends even though she decried my love for the band Husker Du. She stayed close to home, went to Wayne State or something like that, hooked up with the Punk Rock/New Wave crowd in Detroit.
Theresa B. worked at the same McDonald’s I did—our very first jobs—right across from the Abrams Tank Plant in Centerline, just north of 11 Mile. I was working and she came in to check the schedule—she had long dyed bangs, which went down past her chin—the rest of her hair was cut pretty close. She was smiling and laughing . . . it seems they all were. I don’t remember ever falling for a girl who scowled all of the time.
Theresa B. went to a Catholic school—St. Clement’s which was right down from the McD’s—she lived just north of 7 Mile, not too far from my house in Warren. I got a job there because it was roughly half-way between Warren and Sterling Heights—my family would end up moving to the latter two months later. Theresa B. introduced me to the Hardcore scene in Detroit—took me to my first shows at the Greystone Theater. We saw the Butthole Surfers, MDC, and a bunch of no-name bands whist slamming Red White & Blues and fumbling around my clumsiness.
I also met Andrea M. at a McDonald’s, just south of 13 Mile, while hanging out with the Sterling Heights crew I had met while working at Wendy’s over on 15 Mile & Van Dyke. I went to the “other” school—Stevenson, whereas most of my friends went to Sterling Heights High. Andrea M. walked in with a friend of a friend—another girl from Chippewa Valley whose name escapes me. I saw her as I walked in—pretty face, strawberry blonde hair, very petite . . . and that smile . . . we all ended watching “Night of the Living Dead”—the punk rock version, of course. Andrea M. and I started talking and next thing I know we’re frenching on the couch . . .
Somehow I almost ended up getting in a fight some “longhairs” with this dude I just met—Dominic Augstini—a former member of the Sterling Skins. The Sterling Skins were supposedly non-racist skinheads that had been around since the early eighties. 14 Mile was the boundary between Warren and Sterling Heights, and we were on Schoenherr, so just east of us was Fraser—the one time I counted, I think there were kids from twelve different high schools working at my McD’s. The Detroit suburbs are heavily populated and various school districts and cities butt up against one another. The population of the suburbs exceeds that of the city itself nowadays.
I spent my formative years, ages seven to sixteen, a block from 8 Mile and my parents decided to move half-way through my junior year in high school. At first, I wasn’t too happy about the move, but in hindsight, it offered me a different view of life. Our house in Sterling Heights was in a cul-de-sac, which was right next to 16 Mile Rd., just down the way from Freedom Park. I think it helped me to broaden my horizons and it prepared me for college—it was a relatively easy transition for me.
I don’t regret having grown up in the neighborhood that I did, however. If anything, maybe I would have enjoyed getting into skateboarding at an earlier age, but parks had started closing down all over the country by the early eighties. As far as the girls, the women who populated my life . . . I don’t really regret anything that I didn’t do. I wish I hadn’t been so immature, but that’s all a part of growing up. I wish I had been more—I was so afraid of failing or even trying that I never fully engaged myself in anything that I did.
It has taken me most of the twenty years since then to really become comfortable in my own skin. I do not miss the person that I was and often think that I could have been more or done more with my life, but hindsight is overrated. I am basically a good person and I certainly was back then as well—I didn’t use or abuse anyone along the way. Well, not until college at least. But that’s another story altogether . . . and another soundtrack as well.
2.21.2007
nimoosh
The Anishinabe (Ojibwe/Odawa/Potawotami) say that the Creator placed dogs on the earth specifically to be the companions of men/women . . . of all the winged creatures and four-leggeds placed in this world, we will always be closest to dogs for that reason . . .
I was never a big pet person--take em or leave em, but:
when we were living on my wife's reserve in Canada (Wikwemikong), we inherited a german shepard/labrador mix named Waub. Like all dogs on the rez, he came and went when he wanted-- no leash, etc . . .
my wife was pregnant with our daughter and she gets a crazy craving for some chocolate and a Coke--insists I go to town to get one. It's 10 km to town (6.2 miles for the metrically-challenged)-- we lived off on the family farm, in the middle of nowhere, nearest neighbors are about half a mile down the road, so I start riding this mountain bike someone left propped against the barn.
the dog comes trotting out of the woods as i start down the road-- wants to go with me-- i yell at him and throw rocks at him to make him go home-- he refuses so I just start pedaling, ignoring the stupid mutt.
all along the path, every time I come to a driveway, all these mangy unleashed Rez dogs come tearing after me-- Waub takes on all the dogs, keeping them away from me-- he does this the whole 10km to town and the whole 10km back. Damn dog saved my butt.
some idiot ran him over after we moved back to the states and broke his back--one of the neighbors shot him dead on the road "to put him out of his misery." lucky i wasn't still living there, might've done the same to the neighbor . . .
that dog was something else-- whenever my son would go wandering off, looking for wild strawberries, he would always tag along with him and he was extra careful around him (Z-man was only 2 1/2 at the time). He'd knock me on my butt, just for fun, though . . . I even drove that dog to the vet's in the middle of a snow storm because he got in a fight with a porcupine and lost . . . anytime the temps went below zero, we'd let him sleep inside (unheard of--the rest of the family gave me grief about that).
Some animals are just special as hell, transcending the status of mere pet, and they become part of your family . . .
I was never a big pet person--take em or leave em, but:
when we were living on my wife's reserve in Canada (Wikwemikong), we inherited a german shepard/labrador mix named Waub. Like all dogs on the rez, he came and went when he wanted-- no leash, etc . . .
my wife was pregnant with our daughter and she gets a crazy craving for some chocolate and a Coke--insists I go to town to get one. It's 10 km to town (6.2 miles for the metrically-challenged)-- we lived off on the family farm, in the middle of nowhere, nearest neighbors are about half a mile down the road, so I start riding this mountain bike someone left propped against the barn.
the dog comes trotting out of the woods as i start down the road-- wants to go with me-- i yell at him and throw rocks at him to make him go home-- he refuses so I just start pedaling, ignoring the stupid mutt.
all along the path, every time I come to a driveway, all these mangy unleashed Rez dogs come tearing after me-- Waub takes on all the dogs, keeping them away from me-- he does this the whole 10km to town and the whole 10km back. Damn dog saved my butt.
some idiot ran him over after we moved back to the states and broke his back--one of the neighbors shot him dead on the road "to put him out of his misery." lucky i wasn't still living there, might've done the same to the neighbor . . .
that dog was something else-- whenever my son would go wandering off, looking for wild strawberries, he would always tag along with him and he was extra careful around him (Z-man was only 2 1/2 at the time). He'd knock me on my butt, just for fun, though . . . I even drove that dog to the vet's in the middle of a snow storm because he got in a fight with a porcupine and lost . . . anytime the temps went below zero, we'd let him sleep inside (unheard of--the rest of the family gave me grief about that).
Some animals are just special as hell, transcending the status of mere pet, and they become part of your family . . .
Danforth Interview
Photos by DAVO
Growing up in Detroit in the eighties, if you skated, you knew about Bill Danforth. Maybe you or one of your boys was lucky enough to skate with him--Danforth was all about the skating and sharing that stoke. His shaved head and aggressive skating helped him stand out from the crowd and my friends and I idolized the man.
When one of my friends asked me to help him pick out a board--it was Danforth’s because that was the coolest ride around at the time. I sported one of his t-shirts with an image of him doing a wallride and ended up shaving my head soon after— more out of teenage rebellion, but shoot—if it was good enough for Danforth . . . the biggest thing was this: here was a guy from Detroit SKATING and making a name for himself. He gave a lot of us hope—that we could transcend where we came from and follow our dreams.
Bill Danforth, the “American Nomad,” has been shredding his way around the world for the last twenty years. A Detroit native, his first pro deck came out in 1986 and he was a member of Alva’s infamous leather-clad skate team in the late eighties. He recently started his own company with Jay Kelly, fellow skater and tattoo aficionado-- American Nomad--and has Bill Tocco and Fred Smith III (“the Loud One”) on as team riders.
He took part in Thrasher’s “King of the Road” in 2005, does skate clinics for local Michigan skateshops, and is still constantly on the road.
His list of sponsors (former and current) is a who’s who of the skateboarding industry—Vans, Madrid, Alva, Tracker, etc . . .
He’s lived the dream, skating just about everywhere and with just about everyone. At forty-one, Bill is still ripping and representing. He is taking part in the All Nations Skate Jam in Albuquerque on April 29th and did a cover/interview for Concrete Wave last year.
Some of the younger skaters have taken to calling him “Old Man Danforth,” so let’s give him the OLD MAN ARMY treatment . . .
Tell us about the "King of the Road" experience. Personally relevant question: What did you think of the Louisville, KY park?
Sidenote: Keep ripping! I got a bit of footy of you when you were in Louisville. And even though my friends give me hell for it, I still love the "Daffy" 2 board trick - you were the first person I ever saw do that...
-Concretin Louisville, KY
Louisville is great--and King of the Road is one of the best experiences I had on the road.
More places need to build parks like Louisville’s—some cities decide to do a little park, which is fine for awhile, but the crowds and skaters will go to the big huge parks like Louisville.
Something pretty funny happened there when we were shooting K.O.T.R.—Jake Phelps was arrested for hitting a kid in the chest with a bottle rocket, but all charges were dropped when the kid realized who he was. Jake had to send him a bunch of autographed Bob Burnquist stuff after the fact, but . . . it’s a nice example of skaters doing what they have to do . . . and skateboarding saving his butt . . . because he pretty much paid his way out of jail with skate stuff.
first I have to say that nomad does the best frontside rock'n'roll I've witnessed for real and gnarly laybacks...
how long did you live in your car ? was it by choice ?
what's with skulls ?
you were one of the first people I've met with a lot of tatoos, hence skull tatoos, did you experienced hate from being tatooed ? what do you think of the present day where everybody and their sisters are inked ?
how was it being a member of the alva team ? from what I witnessed in Le Grand Bornand, they were a rowdy and funny bunch.... you were with BBC then...
one last word: you rule !
-El Gato Negro Bordeaux, France
I went pro in 1985--after a year of college down in Dayton, Ohio. I pretty much lived out of my car or slept on couches, in pantries, whatever I had to, to be a pro and to go skate all these different places. I had entered some contests out in California in 1984, including one at Delmar. I placed in the top three, so Madrid called me and said, "If you want to go pro, now's the time to do it."
I never cared to live out in California, though. I hated California and I didn't want to be tied down. What fun is it skating in the same exact place day-in and day-out? I wanted to skate a new place everyday, so I was pretty much on the road until just recently. I bought a house in the 1992, but just recently really kind of stuck to the Midwest. Last summer was cool because I was doing stuff mainly in Michigan and the Midwest so I was close to home.
The skulls imagery is kind of what skateboarding is all about for me. Skateboarding is blood and guts and so is tattooing. The skulls also set you apart from the day-glow crowd. The day-glow crowd is all sunny and flowery, which is the opposite of what I’m about.
I experienced some hate and distrust at first with the tattoos. Back in the mid-eighties tattooing was still an underground thing, not as common. People would just assume that I was an ex-con or a criminal because of the tattoos. Nowadays anyone and everyone has a tattoo and the ones I can’t stand are the tiny ones that are kind of out of view so mom and dad can't see them. The ones where someone decided to do because they were all drunk and now they regret it. I’ve worked in tattoo shops and even owned a couple of shops- but now I just ink up my friends or anyone that might want a skate-inspired tattoo.
I hated seeing people walk in who didn't have a clue-- and they get inked but it doesn't really mean anything to them at all. Just a bunch of frat-boys hopped up on testosterone and beer.
Skating for Alva was the greatest. Those were the best years of my life. HARDCORE. A bunch of really good friends, it wasn’t a team. It was a brotherhood. We came in as a team and when we left we left as a team, not like some other skate teams that were there to compete with everyone. We weren't competing against one another. Some people claimed that we weren't A-list skaters. To us, though, we were the A-list. We shredded, we partied and we got laid.
What is your favouite breakfast cereal?
Hovercraft or steam-ferry?
-Gazza Llama-llamaland, UK
I don’t eat breakfast and definitely steam-ferry.
Are you still pushing mongo?
How often do you shave your head?
Do you remember skating Dean Lane skate park, Bristol UK on tour in the 80's? And do you wanna come back?
Why does Wayne keep getting dogshit on his griptape?
-BDP Willllshirrre
I still shave my head. I let it grow out a little in the winters, though. I’ve got some grey fuzz going on along with my beard right now. It’s kind of a “winter skin” which you need up here in Michigan, but I'm shaved about 99% of the time. I started shaving my head back in the early eighties because that was me, that’s who I am. There were a lot of guys growing their hair out and everything, but I never did that. It was part of being punk rock to me.
If shaving my head and listening to Black Flag was trendy, then I guess I was trendy.
It doesn't matter how you push it--I guess I push mongo—when you’re riding in bowls and ramps, there’s not a lot of pushing involved.
I guess that means Wayne pushes shit-foot too
What set-up are you riding now?
Favourite cheese?
-Alec Woking, Surrey, England
I’m riding one of my American Nomad decks which is 9 ¾” by 33” with Tracker Six-Tracks, Ninja bearings, Spitfire Classic 60's, IronHorse grip tape…
Provolone is my favorite cheese.
Has skateboarding today got away from the "FUN" factor with all of the big business bullshit associated with it?
What were some of your old stomping grounds for skating back in the day?
Favorite pool ever? If you could resurrect one pool from the grave, which one would it be?
Would you send us a picture of you skating so we can use it for our next magazine issue? The magazine is free and we basically just show-case old farts still ripping to this day.
-OldManMike Tempe, AZ
It has driven the older guys into a tighter-knit group. 95% of the people that my company (American Nomad Skateboards) sells to know me personally. In the past, there were just a handful of companies, but now there are more companies than there are pro riders. I've been burned a few times, so you really have to be careful who you sell to and who you talk to. I had a guy make me some promises recently--he'd fly me overseas and all this great stuff and he knew all about who I was, but he thought I skated for Blockhead or somebody. He didn't know anything about me and everything fell through, so we're selling to people we know to protect ourselves.
The industry has been whored out the way it is now. Any kid could call up any shop and have their own board just like that. You're almost not really a pro unless you have your own signature shoe these days. A lot of companies are flooding the market, selling cheap boards to outlet places--that took a lot out of skateboarding and contradicts everything that we sweat for and worked for in the early days.
There are cheap products on the market that someone pushed out there just to make a buck. We should have quality American-made products and that's what we try to do at American Nomad. It's 100% skateboarding and it's not for everyone, it's for the hardcore skaters. The shoe industry is a racket and it runs skateboarding-- it should be the other way around.
These days you can get a pair of skate shoes at the mall. When I was in high school, no one had ever seen a pair of Vans before, they all thought it was some kind of specialty shoe, like I had some kind of condition or something. We had to go out and seek our music, our clothes, our shoes, but now it’s all available at the mall.
I started my own company and it’s geared toward the over-thirty crowd, primarily.
One of my favorite old stomping grounds was Endless Summer Skatepark, in Roseville, MI. I probably spent 360 days out of the year there. Even when we weren’t skating, Bill Tocco and the rest of us would be in the clubhouse, just hanging out. There were other spots after Endless Summer, but for a lot of us, that was the place.
There was a subdivision in Paradise Valley that was bulldozed to make way for the freeway project—“The Concrete Jungle”--one of the yards had this killer egg pool and you could skate from that pool right into the one next door. We’d just hang out and barbeque and skate and no one bothered us—we weren’t busting stuff up or setting fires so the cops were cool with us. This was an abandoned neighborhood because the government claimed it as eminent domain and they moved everyone out.
is Harry Boneless One still around?
-themutt Balmer, Merlin
I’m not sure who Harry is. . . but my good buddy, Gary Scott Davis, who was from Cincinnati, invented the Boneless back in the late 70’s though. We worked together over at Tracker and he’s one of my best friends to this day . . . who the hell is Harry?
I remember seeing a caption of a photo of you in a UK skate magazine in the late 80's that read "Big Booted Bill Banforth boing a Buntside Bifty Bifty" Do you ever still skate in big boots?
-discipleofsketch Bristol, England
I used to skate with boots on quite a bit back then—I had these monkey boots that were super-grippy . . . maybe that’s why my feet hurt everyday now, but it was also about making a name for yourself and getting people stoked on skating.
If people showed up to watch a demo and left saying, “that Danforth guy was skating in boots!” then that was a good thing. It was punk rock.
Define the term "punk rock".
and what does punk mean to you personally.
-jer Raleigh, NC
Punk Rock is my life. Growing up-- we didn't listen to what was on the radio. We didn’t like what was on the radio. We wanted music that was hard to find and it was all about the power, the raw aggression. Punk Rock is blood and guts, man . . . some of the bands that are out today were just little kids when the scene was alive. It was raw and aggressive and on the edge. There were a lot of people doing their own thing here in the Midwest like Negative Approach and the Necros who didn’t have as much exposure as the guys in California but they were just as punk rock, maybe more so.
In the annuls of skate history, what would you like to be known for?
-themutt Balmer, Merlin
I would want to be remembered for the fact that I went to cities and towns that didn't know much about skateboarding and educated the kids and towns about it. I would go back to that town the next summer and a whole scene had started where there was none before. These were little towns in the middle of nowhere that no one else had gone to. I also got to travel to countries I didn't even know existed thanks to skateboarding.
What's the best way to deal with someone giving you shit for riding mongo?
A.) a tire iron to the forehead.
B.) a steal toed boot to the prostate.
C.) a bludgeoning with a roll of quarters dropped in a sock.
D.) a large wooden spoon jabbed in the eye.
-Stalag 5 TX
The whole mongo thing really came up thanks to Big Brother . . . they didn’t have anything better to write about so they created this whole thing about the way some skaters push. They made me the poster-boy for mongo foot. When I first got started it didn’t matter at all how you pushed because we were skating bowls and ramps—there was no pushing involved with that.
Once we started skating street, you’d see someone pushing and only then would you realize, but it doesn’t mean anything at all. If I go down as the “Mongo Pusher” if that’s what people remember me for, so be it--you can stick that on my tombstone. But the controversy is one that was whipped up by some idiots because they were selling a magazine. There were other skaters who pushed mongo--Roskopp, Dressen . . . but I guess there is no such thing as bad press . . .
What would you do if someone kept putting dogshit on your griptape?
And how would you get it off?
-Wayne
I guess I would get a new board . . .
1) What's your favourite country to travel in and why?
2) Did you ever think of quiting?
3) Where would you like to skate that you haven't yet?
4) How do you feel about punk and skating having spread so far and across so many religous and cultural barriers, even here in Indonesia there is a huge punk as fuck skate scene, complete with it own hardcore bands and skate 'zines and companies.
5) How do you carry your shit around?
6) Wanna buy a bag?
-Jonno Indonesia/Thailand by way of the U.K.
1) Australia—it’s like one big a$$ Texas. The people there are really down to earth and are just REAL. Next would be Japan. I also like skating in Canada—a lot of those guys in Vancouver, Toronto and Montreal are 100% dead-a$$ hardcore skateboarders and I’ve had a blast skating with them every time I’m there.
2) Never. I didn’t start to quit.
3) South America and Brazil, specifically.
4) That’s cool if what they’re doing is real skateboarding and real Punk and the corporate elements aren’t the ones pushing it just to make a buck. Indonesia seemed pretty sketchy when I was there, but that was back in the 80’s. I mostly just relaxed and went surfing at that time.
What have you been up to recently?
-mangadezi between the Lakes
Doing a lot of skate camps and staying busy with American Nomad. Bill Tocco and Fred Smith III (“the Loud One”) are team riders for us right now and we put their boards out . . . they'd love to do interviews if anyone's interested. I think last year was our biggest year as a company and we hope to keep that going. My business partner is Jay Kelly, who is a skateboarder and an internationally known tattoo artist . . .
I’m forty-one years old now, but I plan on skating forever. If there’s any way I can teach or encourage young skaters to skate as a living, that’d be great. I want them to know that you can actually do this--because I'VE DONE IT. If I can get kids stoked on skateboarding, keep them skating, that'd be great. You can travel, meet all kinds of people, and make a living out of it.
As far as the near future, I'll be hosting a bowl contest in Novi on April 7th (Modern Skate-formerly Vans Skatepark), the Skate Jam in Albuquerque at the end of April, then going to Switzerland and going out to Vancouver. But other than that, pretty much sticking close to home, just like last summer, which was really nice.
2.20.2007
culture
TB, age 37, currently resides in East Lansing with my wife, B and three children--Z (14-year-old son), Nan (11-year-old daughter) and Little E (4-year-old son). I was born in Ban Nong Sai, a small rural village a few miles east of Udon Thani, which is a regional hub in northeastern Thailand. My parents met while my father was working for a government contractor out of the Royal Air Force Base in Udon during the Vietnam War. The base was built by the U. S. Air Force and thousands of sorties were flown over North Vietnam from there during the course of the war. My mother is Thai, but like many northeasterners, belongs to the Lao ethnic group. My father is Mohawk from the Tyendinaga Reserve in Ontario.
I lived in Thailand until I was about 5 and a half—moved to Detroit with my parents at that time. Lived in the Detroit area until age 18—came to East Lansing to attend M.S.U. and my parents moved just north of Traverse City, where I spent summer and winter breaks. My wife and I moved to her reservation in Canada after I graduated from M.S.U. and lived there for about two years before returning to Lansing.
My wife is Odawa (Ottawa), Ojibwe and Potawatomi. Her father is mostly Odawa and is from the Wikwemikong Unceded Reserve on Manitoulin Island in Ontario. Her mother is from the Isabella and Athens Reservations in Michigan. Her family has been attending pow wows since she was a little girl and have been involved with the traditional Midewin Medicine Lodge for over thirty years.
My wife’s mother worked in Indian education for thirty years in Michigan and Ontario and her father teaches Anishinaabe (Odawa, Ojibwe and Potawatomi) Language at Algoma University in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario.
Ethnically, I guess I’m more Lao than anything, but I really haven’t had a lot of contact with that part of my heritage. I’ve been around the Indian communities in Detroit, Lansing and Wikemikong—therefore, will approach the questions from that perspective.
*What are some things that you wish people knew about you and other people with the same characteristics as you?
The biggest thing is that we are still around—many people seem to think that Indians vanished. The last U.S. Census showed nearly two million people who claimed to be Native and in Canada, there are another half million as well. The diversity of the Native population isn’t always understood—our cultures and languages can be quite different from one another. Mohawk for example, has no connection with Ojibwe—they are as different from one another as French is to Arabic.
We’re a very diverse subculture—there are traits that we share, or things that we have adopted in common due to the spread of pow wows, but there is great variation from tribe-to-tribe. I’m Indian, but I don’t know all that much about the Lakota (Sioux) and they probably don’t know that much about the Mohawks.
Pow wows only started in the 1950’s—different dances from different regions were incorporated and the big drum-style singing was used. It has evolved over the last fifty years and is constantly changing, but it emphasizes the things that we have in common.
*What are some important things that happened in the history of your people or your ethnicity?
Contact with Europeans was a big one—that pretty much changed everything for most tribes. Pre-contact info is scant, but most tribes still have their own creation stories.
My tribe, the Mohawks, quickly allied themselves with the British and fought for them in the French and Indian Wars and the American Revolution. Most of the Six Nations tribes moved to Canada after the Revolution and were given land grants from the British for their service in that war.
When the Iroquois relocated to Canada, they built churches in their new communities and adopted all the trappings of European culture. They went from the traditional Longhouse system of government (elected sachems, hereditary Clan Mothers) to the Tribal Council, which was imposed on most reserves.
The introduction of the reservation system in the U.S. and Canada and treaties between the tribes and federal governments was also an important event. The reservation system really got it start just after the Revolution and continued through the late 1880’s. The Indian Wars of the west, the Trail of Tears (Cherokee were forced to march from the Carolinas/Georgia to Okalahoma, Pontiac’s Rebellion, Tecumseh’s Rebellion; all took place during this time period.
The governments of both the U.S. and Canada tried to assimilate Indians through various efforts—in Canada, they sent the children to boarding schools and in the U.S. they would uproot entire families and move them to an urban center. Chicago, L.A., San Francisco, Cleveland, New York City and the Twin Cities were amongst the cities that developed large Indian populations due to the Reorganization Act.
The Pan-Indian movement began with the spread of pow wows in the fifties and accelerated in the sixties due to the Civil Rights Movement. The American Indian Movement was just one of many Indian organizations which tried to fight for Indian rights in the late 60’s and early 70’s.
In the seventies, Indians were able to practice their Native religion again with the passage of the Freedom of Religion Act in 1978.
The Supreme Court legalized gambling for reservations in 1987(?) and in states that were willing to sign compacts with tribes, casinos began popping up.
*What are some unique foods that are a part of your life that are
different than what one would find in the macroculture?
Most of our foods have been accepted by the dominant culture—corn, squash, wild rice, etc . . . we’ll eat frybread, which is really a post-reservation food. Families would be given lard, flour and sugar and they would make this bread-like thing which they fried. I think Mexicans have a similar dish, but ours is directly derived from commodities given to the tribes by the federal government.
*Does your subculture have any unique ceremonies or rituals?
Natives will have Naming Ceremonies for their children—they are given a “spirit name” which is used only in the lodge or in religious ceremonies. My two older children will be doing their fast soon—up to four days, but it can be less—and then we will hold a feast in their honor for family and friends. It will be their entrance into adulthood—which began with puberty, traditionally.
We have “giveaways” at most of our important functions—let’s say we’re celebrating my son’s birthday—we will give gifts to the people in attendance. Aunts and Uncles, Grandparents, friends who have been important to that child are given gifts.
It harkens back to a time when our people were nomadic—you couldn’t keep accumulating goods, so you would only keep what was necessary and give other items away.
*What is the hardest part about communication with people not in your subculture?
Most Indians speak English as their primary language in the U.S. and Canada. In Wikemikong, most everyone over the age of forty understands or speaks their Native language, whereas in Michigan, there are only a handful of fluent Odawa speakers left.
There are communities which have “immersion” programs in an attempt to save their languages, but these are in the minority.
*Are there any things that you find offensive about how people not in your subculture ask questions about your subculture?
My wife and brother-in-law used to do presentations at schools through the Nokomis Learning Center in Okemos. They would get some strange questions like, “Do you guys still live in teepees?”
Something else is the mascots thing—lots of folks don’t seem to understand why Indians find Indian mascots offensive, since it is “honoring” us. My son goes to Okemos and we’ve argued with the band director and principal on this—some Hollywood-style tom-tom drumming doesn’t honor our culture, it makes a mockery of it.
And if having Indian mascots are alright, why don’t they have Black mascots? Asian Mascots? Would people take offense to a Sambo-type mascot in black face? Why is it okay for people to dress us like Indians, face painted, doing goofy dances?
It objectifies our culture and the culture portrayed isn’t ours at all—it’s a fictional representation. It’s also cultural appropriation—it is OUR culture, so why is someone else making decisions on whether or not it is used and how it is portrayed?
Take the time to explore and learn about the real culture, if you are interested. And finding Indians to say they’re okay with it to justify using mascots doesn’t cut it either—they certainly don’t speak for me. Even if my stance is in the minority, what is right? I don’t think it’s right to do that to anyone. It can be done with taste or respect—so why don’t most NFL and college fans bother? It’s more fun to make it their own and do what they want with it…
*What kinds of stereotypes does your subculture have to deal with?
A big one lately is that ALL Indians get money because of the casinos which are prevalent in the U.S. My family does not get any money from any casinos. Even though my wife is a descendent of Mt. Pleasant tribe, she is not a “member.” Membership is an entirely separate issue from whether or not a person is a descendent.
The tribes in Canada don’t have casinos—in the U.S., the Supreme Court ruled that tribes, as sovereign entities, could sign a compact with the states and operate casinos (1987?). As sovereign entities, however, they get to dictate who is a member and what they do with any casino profits.
The Mt. Pleasant casino is one of the largest in the country and is not a good indicator of how profitable tribes are. The Lakota (Sioux) operate casinos in Minnesota and North and South Dakota—the one outside Minneapolis/St. Paul makes more money than all the other casinos combined because it is located near a large urban area. The Dakota casinos are in sparsely populated areas and make little, if any profit.
A small handful of Indian casinos are making the majority of the profits nationwide and the vast majority of Indians do not get any profits or benefit from casinos.
*What makes a person respected within your subculture>?
War veterans have always been highly respected, as are elders and cultural teachers. Veterans are our warriors and they fight for all of us, regardless of how you feel about the politics of the situation. Elders in many ways are cultural teachers—someone who speaks their Native language fluently and can pass that on. Some might also be able to pass along specific customs or ceremonies which they remember from childhood.
*Who are the heroes of your subculture? Why?
In the Native culture, people who fought for their freedom and their beliefs have always been held in high esteem. Amongst our heroes are Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull, Geronimo, Chief Joseph, Tecumseh, Pontiac, Joseph Brant, Tom Longboat, Jim Thorpe, Billy Mills, Ira Hayes . . .
*What are some major problems your subculture has to face?
The Indian culture has many problems that still need to be addressed—the high school drop-out rate for Natives is still around 75%. Drug and alcohol abuse, sexual abuse, domestic violence, gang activity are all prevalent in Indian communities.
Casinos have helped many tribes to obtain basic services for their members, but communities across the continent will be dealing with the consequences of gambling for many years to come. Hopefully, tribes will be able to diversify their holdings and not rely upon gambling alone, but that remains to be seen.
Our subculture has been able to survive largely because of our adaptability to the changes around us. We also have a long history of freedom and autonomy, but as a culture, we need to work together better to survive into the future. Each tribe or band has its own unique history and the political or cultural circumstances of a band is different from its neighbors.
The Isabella Reservation has a very different history from the Sault Ste. Marie tribe and both have different goals and objectives for their communities, despite the fact that they are both member of the Ojibwe tribe. I think that in the long term, tribes will have to put aside their differences and come to agreement about where we are going as a culture.
Tribes in Ontario have made a lot of progress since joining together and working towards common goals.
Unfortunately, I don’t see tribes in the U.S. doing the same—there’s money at stake here, thanks to casinos. I see further erosion of our subculture…
*What are some significant things that your subculture values, other
than money?
History, culture, family, our Native language, our elders, our youth . . .
I lived in Thailand until I was about 5 and a half—moved to Detroit with my parents at that time. Lived in the Detroit area until age 18—came to East Lansing to attend M.S.U. and my parents moved just north of Traverse City, where I spent summer and winter breaks. My wife and I moved to her reservation in Canada after I graduated from M.S.U. and lived there for about two years before returning to Lansing.
My wife is Odawa (Ottawa), Ojibwe and Potawatomi. Her father is mostly Odawa and is from the Wikwemikong Unceded Reserve on Manitoulin Island in Ontario. Her mother is from the Isabella and Athens Reservations in Michigan. Her family has been attending pow wows since she was a little girl and have been involved with the traditional Midewin Medicine Lodge for over thirty years.
My wife’s mother worked in Indian education for thirty years in Michigan and Ontario and her father teaches Anishinaabe (Odawa, Ojibwe and Potawatomi) Language at Algoma University in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario.
Ethnically, I guess I’m more Lao than anything, but I really haven’t had a lot of contact with that part of my heritage. I’ve been around the Indian communities in Detroit, Lansing and Wikemikong—therefore, will approach the questions from that perspective.
*What are some things that you wish people knew about you and other people with the same characteristics as you?
The biggest thing is that we are still around—many people seem to think that Indians vanished. The last U.S. Census showed nearly two million people who claimed to be Native and in Canada, there are another half million as well. The diversity of the Native population isn’t always understood—our cultures and languages can be quite different from one another. Mohawk for example, has no connection with Ojibwe—they are as different from one another as French is to Arabic.
We’re a very diverse subculture—there are traits that we share, or things that we have adopted in common due to the spread of pow wows, but there is great variation from tribe-to-tribe. I’m Indian, but I don’t know all that much about the Lakota (Sioux) and they probably don’t know that much about the Mohawks.
Pow wows only started in the 1950’s—different dances from different regions were incorporated and the big drum-style singing was used. It has evolved over the last fifty years and is constantly changing, but it emphasizes the things that we have in common.
*What are some important things that happened in the history of your people or your ethnicity?
Contact with Europeans was a big one—that pretty much changed everything for most tribes. Pre-contact info is scant, but most tribes still have their own creation stories.
My tribe, the Mohawks, quickly allied themselves with the British and fought for them in the French and Indian Wars and the American Revolution. Most of the Six Nations tribes moved to Canada after the Revolution and were given land grants from the British for their service in that war.
When the Iroquois relocated to Canada, they built churches in their new communities and adopted all the trappings of European culture. They went from the traditional Longhouse system of government (elected sachems, hereditary Clan Mothers) to the Tribal Council, which was imposed on most reserves.
The introduction of the reservation system in the U.S. and Canada and treaties between the tribes and federal governments was also an important event. The reservation system really got it start just after the Revolution and continued through the late 1880’s. The Indian Wars of the west, the Trail of Tears (Cherokee were forced to march from the Carolinas/Georgia to Okalahoma, Pontiac’s Rebellion, Tecumseh’s Rebellion; all took place during this time period.
The governments of both the U.S. and Canada tried to assimilate Indians through various efforts—in Canada, they sent the children to boarding schools and in the U.S. they would uproot entire families and move them to an urban center. Chicago, L.A., San Francisco, Cleveland, New York City and the Twin Cities were amongst the cities that developed large Indian populations due to the Reorganization Act.
The Pan-Indian movement began with the spread of pow wows in the fifties and accelerated in the sixties due to the Civil Rights Movement. The American Indian Movement was just one of many Indian organizations which tried to fight for Indian rights in the late 60’s and early 70’s.
In the seventies, Indians were able to practice their Native religion again with the passage of the Freedom of Religion Act in 1978.
The Supreme Court legalized gambling for reservations in 1987(?) and in states that were willing to sign compacts with tribes, casinos began popping up.
*What are some unique foods that are a part of your life that are
different than what one would find in the macroculture?
Most of our foods have been accepted by the dominant culture—corn, squash, wild rice, etc . . . we’ll eat frybread, which is really a post-reservation food. Families would be given lard, flour and sugar and they would make this bread-like thing which they fried. I think Mexicans have a similar dish, but ours is directly derived from commodities given to the tribes by the federal government.
*Does your subculture have any unique ceremonies or rituals?
Natives will have Naming Ceremonies for their children—they are given a “spirit name” which is used only in the lodge or in religious ceremonies. My two older children will be doing their fast soon—up to four days, but it can be less—and then we will hold a feast in their honor for family and friends. It will be their entrance into adulthood—which began with puberty, traditionally.
We have “giveaways” at most of our important functions—let’s say we’re celebrating my son’s birthday—we will give gifts to the people in attendance. Aunts and Uncles, Grandparents, friends who have been important to that child are given gifts.
It harkens back to a time when our people were nomadic—you couldn’t keep accumulating goods, so you would only keep what was necessary and give other items away.
*What is the hardest part about communication with people not in your subculture?
Most Indians speak English as their primary language in the U.S. and Canada. In Wikemikong, most everyone over the age of forty understands or speaks their Native language, whereas in Michigan, there are only a handful of fluent Odawa speakers left.
There are communities which have “immersion” programs in an attempt to save their languages, but these are in the minority.
*Are there any things that you find offensive about how people not in your subculture ask questions about your subculture?
My wife and brother-in-law used to do presentations at schools through the Nokomis Learning Center in Okemos. They would get some strange questions like, “Do you guys still live in teepees?”
Something else is the mascots thing—lots of folks don’t seem to understand why Indians find Indian mascots offensive, since it is “honoring” us. My son goes to Okemos and we’ve argued with the band director and principal on this—some Hollywood-style tom-tom drumming doesn’t honor our culture, it makes a mockery of it.
And if having Indian mascots are alright, why don’t they have Black mascots? Asian Mascots? Would people take offense to a Sambo-type mascot in black face? Why is it okay for people to dress us like Indians, face painted, doing goofy dances?
It objectifies our culture and the culture portrayed isn’t ours at all—it’s a fictional representation. It’s also cultural appropriation—it is OUR culture, so why is someone else making decisions on whether or not it is used and how it is portrayed?
Take the time to explore and learn about the real culture, if you are interested. And finding Indians to say they’re okay with it to justify using mascots doesn’t cut it either—they certainly don’t speak for me. Even if my stance is in the minority, what is right? I don’t think it’s right to do that to anyone. It can be done with taste or respect—so why don’t most NFL and college fans bother? It’s more fun to make it their own and do what they want with it…
*What kinds of stereotypes does your subculture have to deal with?
A big one lately is that ALL Indians get money because of the casinos which are prevalent in the U.S. My family does not get any money from any casinos. Even though my wife is a descendent of Mt. Pleasant tribe, she is not a “member.” Membership is an entirely separate issue from whether or not a person is a descendent.
The tribes in Canada don’t have casinos—in the U.S., the Supreme Court ruled that tribes, as sovereign entities, could sign a compact with the states and operate casinos (1987?). As sovereign entities, however, they get to dictate who is a member and what they do with any casino profits.
The Mt. Pleasant casino is one of the largest in the country and is not a good indicator of how profitable tribes are. The Lakota (Sioux) operate casinos in Minnesota and North and South Dakota—the one outside Minneapolis/St. Paul makes more money than all the other casinos combined because it is located near a large urban area. The Dakota casinos are in sparsely populated areas and make little, if any profit.
A small handful of Indian casinos are making the majority of the profits nationwide and the vast majority of Indians do not get any profits or benefit from casinos.
*What makes a person respected within your subculture>?
War veterans have always been highly respected, as are elders and cultural teachers. Veterans are our warriors and they fight for all of us, regardless of how you feel about the politics of the situation. Elders in many ways are cultural teachers—someone who speaks their Native language fluently and can pass that on. Some might also be able to pass along specific customs or ceremonies which they remember from childhood.
*Who are the heroes of your subculture? Why?
In the Native culture, people who fought for their freedom and their beliefs have always been held in high esteem. Amongst our heroes are Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull, Geronimo, Chief Joseph, Tecumseh, Pontiac, Joseph Brant, Tom Longboat, Jim Thorpe, Billy Mills, Ira Hayes . . .
*What are some major problems your subculture has to face?
The Indian culture has many problems that still need to be addressed—the high school drop-out rate for Natives is still around 75%. Drug and alcohol abuse, sexual abuse, domestic violence, gang activity are all prevalent in Indian communities.
Casinos have helped many tribes to obtain basic services for their members, but communities across the continent will be dealing with the consequences of gambling for many years to come. Hopefully, tribes will be able to diversify their holdings and not rely upon gambling alone, but that remains to be seen.
Our subculture has been able to survive largely because of our adaptability to the changes around us. We also have a long history of freedom and autonomy, but as a culture, we need to work together better to survive into the future. Each tribe or band has its own unique history and the political or cultural circumstances of a band is different from its neighbors.
The Isabella Reservation has a very different history from the Sault Ste. Marie tribe and both have different goals and objectives for their communities, despite the fact that they are both member of the Ojibwe tribe. I think that in the long term, tribes will have to put aside their differences and come to agreement about where we are going as a culture.
Tribes in Ontario have made a lot of progress since joining together and working towards common goals.
Unfortunately, I don’t see tribes in the U.S. doing the same—there’s money at stake here, thanks to casinos. I see further erosion of our subculture…
*What are some significant things that your subculture values, other
than money?
History, culture, family, our Native language, our elders, our youth . . .
2.19.2007
interview rough draft
Rough, rough draft--it should be up on the Old Man Army website by next weekend, hopefully . . .
Tell us about the "King of the Road" experience. Personally relevant question: What did you think of the Louisville, KY park?
Sidenote: Keep ripping! I got a bit of footy of you when you were in Louisville. And even though my friends give me hell for it, I still love the "Daffy" 2 board trick - you were the first person I ever saw do that...
-Concretin Louisville, KY
Louisville is great--and King of the Road is one of the best experiences I had on the road. More places need to build parks like Louisville’s—some cities decide to do a little park, which is fine for awhile, but the crowds and skaters will go to the big huge parks like Louisville.
Something pretty funny happened there when we were shooting K.O.T.R.—Jake Phelps was arrested for hitting a kid in the chest with a bottle rocket, but all charges were dropped when the kid realized who he was. Jake had to send him a bunch of autographed Bob Burnquist stuff after the fact, but …it’s a nice example of skaters doing what they have to do…and skateboarding saving his butt…because he pretty much paid his way out of jail with skate stuff.
first I have to say that nomad does the best frontside rock'n'roll I've witnessed for real and gnarly laybacks...
how long did you live in your car ? was it by choice ?
what's with skulls ?
you were one of the first people I've met with a lot of tatoos, hence skull tatoos, did you experienced hate from being tatooed ? what do you think of the present day where everybody and their sisters are inked ?
how was it being a member of the alva team ? from what I witnessed in Le Grand Bornand, they were a rowdy and funny bunch.... you were with BBC then...
one last word: you rule !
-El Gato Negro Bordeaux, France
I went pro in about 1985, after a year of college down in Dayton, Ohio. I pretty much lived out of my car or slept on couches, in pantries, whatever I had to, to be a pro and to go skate all these different places. I had entered some contests out in California and placed in the top three, so Madrid called me and said, "If you want to go pro, now's the time to do it."
I never cared to live out in California, though. I hated California and I didn't want to be tied down. What fun is it skating in the same exact place day-in and day-out? I wanted to skate a new place everyday. I wanted to skate wherever I could, wanted to skate new places all the time, so I was pretty much on the road until just recently. I bought a house in the 1992, but just recently really kind of stuck to the Midwest. Last summer was cool because I was doing stuff mainly in Michigan and the Midwest wo I was close to home.
The skulls imagery is kind of what skateboarding is all about for me. Skateboarding is blood and guts and so is tatooing. The skulls also set you apart from the day-glo crowd. Now they’ve got all these day-glo pink popsicle sticks and stuff.
I experienced some hate and distrust at first with the tattoos. Back in the mid-eighties tattooing was still an underground thing, not as common. People would just assume that I was an ex-con or a criminal because of the tattoos. Nowadays anyone and everyone has a tattoo and the ones I can’t stand are the tiny ones that are kind of out of view so mom and dad can't see them. The ones where someone decided to do because they were all drunk and now they regret it. I’ve worked in tattoo shops and even owned a couple of shops- but now I just ink up my friends or anyone that might want a skate-inspired tattoo.
I hated seeing people walk in who didn't have a clue-- and they get inked but it doesn't really mean anything to them at all. Just a bunch of frat-boys hopped up on testosterone and beer.
Skating for Alva was the greatest. Those were the best years of my life. Hardcore. A bunch of really good friends, it wasn’t a team. It was a brotherhood. We came in as a team and when we left we left as a team, not like some other skate teams that were there to compete with everyone. We weren't competing against one another. Some people claimed that we weren't A-list skaters. To us, though, we were the A-list. We shredded, we partied and we got laid.
What is your favouite breakfast cereal?
Hovercraft or steam-ferry?
-Gazza Llama-llamaland, UK
I don’t eat breakfast and definitely steam-ferry.
Are you still pushing mongo?
How often do you shave your head?
Do you remember skating Dean Lane skate park, Bristol UK on tour in the 80's? And do you wanna come back?
Why does Wayne keep getting dogshit on his griptape?
-BDP Willllshirrre
I still shave my head, in the winters though I let it grow out a little, along with my beard. It’s kind of a “winter skin” which you need up here in Michigan, but I'm shaved about 99% of the time. I started shaving my head back in the early eighties because that was me, that’s who I am. There were a lot of guys growing their hair out and everything, but I never did that. It was part of being punk rock to me.
It doesn't matter how you push it--I guess I push mongo—when you’re riding in bowls and ramps, there’s not a lot of pushing involved.
I guess that means Wayne pushes shit-foot too
What set-up are you riding now?
Favourite cheese?
-Alec Woking, Surrey, England
I’m riding one of my American Nomad decks which is 9 ¾” by 33”with Tracker Six-tracks, Ninja bearings, Spitfire Classic 60's, IronHorse grip tape…
Provolone is my favorite cheese.
Has skateboarding today got away from the "FUN" factor with all of the big business bullshit associated with it?
What were some of your old stomping grounds for skating back in the day?
Favorite pool ever? If you could resurrect one pool from the grave, which one would it be?
Would you send us a picture of you skating so we can use it for our next magazine issue? The magazine is free and we basically just show-case old farts still ripping to this day.
-OldManMike Tempe, AZ
It has driven the older guys into a tighter-knit group. 95% of the people that my company, American Nomad Skateboards sells to know me personally. In the past, there were just a handful of companies, but now there are more companies than there are pro riders. I've been burned a few times, so you really have to be careful who you sell to and who you talk to. I had a guy make me some promises recently--he'd fly me overseas and all this great stuff and he knew all about who I was, but he thought I skated for Blockhead or somebody. He didn't know anything about me and everything fell through, so we're selling to people we know to protect ourselves.
The industry has been whored out the way it is now. Any kid could call up any shop and have their own board just like that. You're almost not really a pro unless you have your own signature shoe. A lot of companies are flooding the market, selling cheap boards to outlet places, that took a lot out of skateboarding and contradicts everything that we sweat for in the early days.
These are cheap products that someone pushed out there just to make a buck. We should have quality American-made products and that's what we try to do at American Nomad. It's 100% skateboarding and it's not for everyone, it's for the hardcore skaters. The shoe industry is a racket and it runs skateboarding-- it should be the other way around.
These days you can get a pair of skate shoes at the mall. When I was in high school, no one had ever seen a pair of Vans before, they all thought it was some kind of speciality shoe, like I had some kind of condition or something. We had to go out and seek our music, our clothes, our shoes, but now it’s all available at the mall.
I started my own company and it’s geared toward the over-thirty crowd, primarily.
One of my favorite old stomping grounds was Endless Summer, in Roseville, MI. I probably spent 360 days out of the year there. Even when we weren’t skating Bill Tocco and the rest of us would be in the clubhouse, just hanging out. The were other spots after Endless Summer, but for a lot of us, that was the place.
There was a subdivision in Paradise Valley that was bulldozed to make way for the freeway project—the concrete jungle--one of the yards had this killer egg pool and you could from that pool right to the one next door. We’d just hang out and barbeque and skate and no one bothered us—we were just hanging out and skating so the cops just left us alone. We weren’t busting stuff up or setting fires so the cops were cool with us. This was an abandoned neighborhood because the government claimed it as eminent domain and they moved everyone out.
is Harry Boneless One still around?
-themutt Balmer, Merlin
I’m not sure who Harry is. . . but my good buddy, Gary Scott Davis, invented the Boneless back in the late 70’s though. We worked together over at Tracker and he’s one of my best friends to this day…
I remember seeing a caption of a photo of you in a UK skate magazine in the late 80's that read "Big Booted Bill Banforth boing a Buntside Bifty Bifty" Do you ever still skate in big boots?
-discipleofsketch Bristol, England
I used to skate quite a bit back then—I had these monkey boots that were super-grippy . . .maybe that’s why my feet hurt everyday now, but it was also about making a name for yourself and getting people stoked on skating. If people showed up to watch a demo and left saying, “that Danforth guy was skating in boots!” then that was a good thing.
Define the term "punk rock".
and what does punk mean to you personally.
-jer Raleigh, NC
Punk Rock is my life. Growing up-- we didn't listen to what was on the radio. We wanted music that was hard to find and it was all about the power, the raw aggression. Punk Rock is blood and guts, man . . . some of the bands that are out today were just little kids when the scene was alive. It was raw and agressive and on the edge. There were a lot of people doing their own thing here in the Midwest like Negative Approach and the Necros who didn’t have as much exposure as the guys in Cali but they were just as punk rock, maybe more so.
In the annuls of skate history, what would you like to be known for?
-themutt Balmer, Merlin
The fact that I went to cities and towns that didn't know much about skateboarding and educating the kids and towns about it. I also got to travel to countries I didn't even know existed thanks to skateboarding.
What's the best way to deal with someone giving you shit for riding mongo?
A.) a tire iron to the forehead.
B.) a steal toed boot to the prostate.
C.) a bludgeoning with a roll of quarters dropped in a sock.
D.) a large wooden spoon jabbed in the eye.
-Stalag 5 TX
The whole mongo thing really came up thanks to Big Brother . . . they didn’t have anything better to write about so they created this whole thing about the way some skaters push. They made me the poster-boy for mongo foot. When I first got started it didn’t matter at all how you pushed because we were skating bowls and ramps—there was no pushing involved with that.
Once we started skating street, you’d see someone pushing and only then would you realize, but it doesn’t mean anything at all. If I go down as the “Mongo Pusher” if that’s what people remember me for, so be it-you can stick that on my tombstone. But the controversy is one that was whipped up by some idiots because they were selling a magazine. There were other skaters who pushed mongo--Roskopp, Dressen . . . but I guess there is no such thing as bad press. . .
What would you do if someone kept putting dogshit on your griptape?
And how would you get it off?
-Wayne
I guess I would get a new board . . .
1) What's your favourite country to travel in and why?
2) Did you ever think of quiting?
3) Where would you like to skate that you haven't yet?
4) How do you feel about punk and skating having spread so far and across so many religous and cultural barriers, even here in Indonesia there is a huge punk as fuck skate scene, complete with it own hardcore bands and skate 'zines and companies.
5) How do you carry your shit around?
6) Wanna buy a bag?
-Jonno Indonesia/Thailand by way of the U.K.
1) Australia—it’s like one big a$$ Texas. The people there are really down to earth and are just REAL. Next would be Japan. I also like skating in Canada—a lot of those guys in Vancouver, Toronto and Montreal are 100% dead-a$$ hardcore skateboarders and I’ve had a blast skating with them every time I’m there.
2) Never. I didn’t start to quit.
3) South America and Brazil, specifically.
4) That’s cool if what they’re doing is real skateboarding and real Punk and the corporate elements aren’t the ones pushing it just to make a buck.
What have you been up to recently?
-Mangadezi Between the Lakes
Doing a lot of skate camps and staying busy with American Nomad. Bill Tocco and Fred Smith III are team riders for us right now and we put their boards out…they'd love to do interviews if anyone's interested. I think last year was our biggest year as a company and we hope to keep that going. My partner is Jay Kelly, who is a skateboarder and an internationally known tattoo artist…
I’m forty-one years old now, but I plan on skating forever. If there’s any way I can teach or encourage young skaters to skate as a living, that’d be great. I want them to know that you can actually do this--because I'VE DONE IT. If I can get kids stoked on skateboarding, keep them skating, that'd be great. You can travel, meet all kinds of people, and make a living out of it.
As far as the near future, I'll be doing skate camps in Novi, the Skate Jam in Albuqurque, going to Switzerland and going out to Vancouver. But pretty much sticking close to home, just like last summer, which was really nice.
Tell us about the "King of the Road" experience. Personally relevant question: What did you think of the Louisville, KY park?
Sidenote: Keep ripping! I got a bit of footy of you when you were in Louisville. And even though my friends give me hell for it, I still love the "Daffy" 2 board trick - you were the first person I ever saw do that...
-Concretin Louisville, KY
Louisville is great--and King of the Road is one of the best experiences I had on the road. More places need to build parks like Louisville’s—some cities decide to do a little park, which is fine for awhile, but the crowds and skaters will go to the big huge parks like Louisville.
Something pretty funny happened there when we were shooting K.O.T.R.—Jake Phelps was arrested for hitting a kid in the chest with a bottle rocket, but all charges were dropped when the kid realized who he was. Jake had to send him a bunch of autographed Bob Burnquist stuff after the fact, but …it’s a nice example of skaters doing what they have to do…and skateboarding saving his butt…because he pretty much paid his way out of jail with skate stuff.
first I have to say that nomad does the best frontside rock'n'roll I've witnessed for real and gnarly laybacks...
how long did you live in your car ? was it by choice ?
what's with skulls ?
you were one of the first people I've met with a lot of tatoos, hence skull tatoos, did you experienced hate from being tatooed ? what do you think of the present day where everybody and their sisters are inked ?
how was it being a member of the alva team ? from what I witnessed in Le Grand Bornand, they were a rowdy and funny bunch.... you were with BBC then...
one last word: you rule !
-El Gato Negro Bordeaux, France
I went pro in about 1985, after a year of college down in Dayton, Ohio. I pretty much lived out of my car or slept on couches, in pantries, whatever I had to, to be a pro and to go skate all these different places. I had entered some contests out in California and placed in the top three, so Madrid called me and said, "If you want to go pro, now's the time to do it."
I never cared to live out in California, though. I hated California and I didn't want to be tied down. What fun is it skating in the same exact place day-in and day-out? I wanted to skate a new place everyday. I wanted to skate wherever I could, wanted to skate new places all the time, so I was pretty much on the road until just recently. I bought a house in the 1992, but just recently really kind of stuck to the Midwest. Last summer was cool because I was doing stuff mainly in Michigan and the Midwest wo I was close to home.
The skulls imagery is kind of what skateboarding is all about for me. Skateboarding is blood and guts and so is tatooing. The skulls also set you apart from the day-glo crowd. Now they’ve got all these day-glo pink popsicle sticks and stuff.
I experienced some hate and distrust at first with the tattoos. Back in the mid-eighties tattooing was still an underground thing, not as common. People would just assume that I was an ex-con or a criminal because of the tattoos. Nowadays anyone and everyone has a tattoo and the ones I can’t stand are the tiny ones that are kind of out of view so mom and dad can't see them. The ones where someone decided to do because they were all drunk and now they regret it. I’ve worked in tattoo shops and even owned a couple of shops- but now I just ink up my friends or anyone that might want a skate-inspired tattoo.
I hated seeing people walk in who didn't have a clue-- and they get inked but it doesn't really mean anything to them at all. Just a bunch of frat-boys hopped up on testosterone and beer.
Skating for Alva was the greatest. Those were the best years of my life. Hardcore. A bunch of really good friends, it wasn’t a team. It was a brotherhood. We came in as a team and when we left we left as a team, not like some other skate teams that were there to compete with everyone. We weren't competing against one another. Some people claimed that we weren't A-list skaters. To us, though, we were the A-list. We shredded, we partied and we got laid.
What is your favouite breakfast cereal?
Hovercraft or steam-ferry?
-Gazza Llama-llamaland, UK
I don’t eat breakfast and definitely steam-ferry.
Are you still pushing mongo?
How often do you shave your head?
Do you remember skating Dean Lane skate park, Bristol UK on tour in the 80's? And do you wanna come back?
Why does Wayne keep getting dogshit on his griptape?
-BDP Willllshirrre
I still shave my head, in the winters though I let it grow out a little, along with my beard. It’s kind of a “winter skin” which you need up here in Michigan, but I'm shaved about 99% of the time. I started shaving my head back in the early eighties because that was me, that’s who I am. There were a lot of guys growing their hair out and everything, but I never did that. It was part of being punk rock to me.
It doesn't matter how you push it--I guess I push mongo—when you’re riding in bowls and ramps, there’s not a lot of pushing involved.
I guess that means Wayne pushes shit-foot too
What set-up are you riding now?
Favourite cheese?
-Alec Woking, Surrey, England
I’m riding one of my American Nomad decks which is 9 ¾” by 33”with Tracker Six-tracks, Ninja bearings, Spitfire Classic 60's, IronHorse grip tape…
Provolone is my favorite cheese.
Has skateboarding today got away from the "FUN" factor with all of the big business bullshit associated with it?
What were some of your old stomping grounds for skating back in the day?
Favorite pool ever? If you could resurrect one pool from the grave, which one would it be?
Would you send us a picture of you skating so we can use it for our next magazine issue? The magazine is free and we basically just show-case old farts still ripping to this day.
-OldManMike Tempe, AZ
It has driven the older guys into a tighter-knit group. 95% of the people that my company, American Nomad Skateboards sells to know me personally. In the past, there were just a handful of companies, but now there are more companies than there are pro riders. I've been burned a few times, so you really have to be careful who you sell to and who you talk to. I had a guy make me some promises recently--he'd fly me overseas and all this great stuff and he knew all about who I was, but he thought I skated for Blockhead or somebody. He didn't know anything about me and everything fell through, so we're selling to people we know to protect ourselves.
The industry has been whored out the way it is now. Any kid could call up any shop and have their own board just like that. You're almost not really a pro unless you have your own signature shoe. A lot of companies are flooding the market, selling cheap boards to outlet places, that took a lot out of skateboarding and contradicts everything that we sweat for in the early days.
These are cheap products that someone pushed out there just to make a buck. We should have quality American-made products and that's what we try to do at American Nomad. It's 100% skateboarding and it's not for everyone, it's for the hardcore skaters. The shoe industry is a racket and it runs skateboarding-- it should be the other way around.
These days you can get a pair of skate shoes at the mall. When I was in high school, no one had ever seen a pair of Vans before, they all thought it was some kind of speciality shoe, like I had some kind of condition or something. We had to go out and seek our music, our clothes, our shoes, but now it’s all available at the mall.
I started my own company and it’s geared toward the over-thirty crowd, primarily.
One of my favorite old stomping grounds was Endless Summer, in Roseville, MI. I probably spent 360 days out of the year there. Even when we weren’t skating Bill Tocco and the rest of us would be in the clubhouse, just hanging out. The were other spots after Endless Summer, but for a lot of us, that was the place.
There was a subdivision in Paradise Valley that was bulldozed to make way for the freeway project—the concrete jungle--one of the yards had this killer egg pool and you could from that pool right to the one next door. We’d just hang out and barbeque and skate and no one bothered us—we were just hanging out and skating so the cops just left us alone. We weren’t busting stuff up or setting fires so the cops were cool with us. This was an abandoned neighborhood because the government claimed it as eminent domain and they moved everyone out.
is Harry Boneless One still around?
-themutt Balmer, Merlin
I’m not sure who Harry is. . . but my good buddy, Gary Scott Davis, invented the Boneless back in the late 70’s though. We worked together over at Tracker and he’s one of my best friends to this day…
I remember seeing a caption of a photo of you in a UK skate magazine in the late 80's that read "Big Booted Bill Banforth boing a Buntside Bifty Bifty" Do you ever still skate in big boots?
-discipleofsketch Bristol, England
I used to skate quite a bit back then—I had these monkey boots that were super-grippy . . .maybe that’s why my feet hurt everyday now, but it was also about making a name for yourself and getting people stoked on skating. If people showed up to watch a demo and left saying, “that Danforth guy was skating in boots!” then that was a good thing.
Define the term "punk rock".
and what does punk mean to you personally.
-jer Raleigh, NC
Punk Rock is my life. Growing up-- we didn't listen to what was on the radio. We wanted music that was hard to find and it was all about the power, the raw aggression. Punk Rock is blood and guts, man . . . some of the bands that are out today were just little kids when the scene was alive. It was raw and agressive and on the edge. There were a lot of people doing their own thing here in the Midwest like Negative Approach and the Necros who didn’t have as much exposure as the guys in Cali but they were just as punk rock, maybe more so.
In the annuls of skate history, what would you like to be known for?
-themutt Balmer, Merlin
The fact that I went to cities and towns that didn't know much about skateboarding and educating the kids and towns about it. I also got to travel to countries I didn't even know existed thanks to skateboarding.
What's the best way to deal with someone giving you shit for riding mongo?
A.) a tire iron to the forehead.
B.) a steal toed boot to the prostate.
C.) a bludgeoning with a roll of quarters dropped in a sock.
D.) a large wooden spoon jabbed in the eye.
-Stalag 5 TX
The whole mongo thing really came up thanks to Big Brother . . . they didn’t have anything better to write about so they created this whole thing about the way some skaters push. They made me the poster-boy for mongo foot. When I first got started it didn’t matter at all how you pushed because we were skating bowls and ramps—there was no pushing involved with that.
Once we started skating street, you’d see someone pushing and only then would you realize, but it doesn’t mean anything at all. If I go down as the “Mongo Pusher” if that’s what people remember me for, so be it-you can stick that on my tombstone. But the controversy is one that was whipped up by some idiots because they were selling a magazine. There were other skaters who pushed mongo--Roskopp, Dressen . . . but I guess there is no such thing as bad press. . .
What would you do if someone kept putting dogshit on your griptape?
And how would you get it off?
-Wayne
I guess I would get a new board . . .
1) What's your favourite country to travel in and why?
2) Did you ever think of quiting?
3) Where would you like to skate that you haven't yet?
4) How do you feel about punk and skating having spread so far and across so many religous and cultural barriers, even here in Indonesia there is a huge punk as fuck skate scene, complete with it own hardcore bands and skate 'zines and companies.
5) How do you carry your shit around?
6) Wanna buy a bag?
-Jonno Indonesia/Thailand by way of the U.K.
1) Australia—it’s like one big a$$ Texas. The people there are really down to earth and are just REAL. Next would be Japan. I also like skating in Canada—a lot of those guys in Vancouver, Toronto and Montreal are 100% dead-a$$ hardcore skateboarders and I’ve had a blast skating with them every time I’m there.
2) Never. I didn’t start to quit.
3) South America and Brazil, specifically.
4) That’s cool if what they’re doing is real skateboarding and real Punk and the corporate elements aren’t the ones pushing it just to make a buck.
What have you been up to recently?
-Mangadezi Between the Lakes
Doing a lot of skate camps and staying busy with American Nomad. Bill Tocco and Fred Smith III are team riders for us right now and we put their boards out…they'd love to do interviews if anyone's interested. I think last year was our biggest year as a company and we hope to keep that going. My partner is Jay Kelly, who is a skateboarder and an internationally known tattoo artist…
I’m forty-one years old now, but I plan on skating forever. If there’s any way I can teach or encourage young skaters to skate as a living, that’d be great. I want them to know that you can actually do this--because I'VE DONE IT. If I can get kids stoked on skateboarding, keep them skating, that'd be great. You can travel, meet all kinds of people, and make a living out of it.
As far as the near future, I'll be doing skate camps in Novi, the Skate Jam in Albuqurque, going to Switzerland and going out to Vancouver. But pretty much sticking close to home, just like last summer, which was really nice.
fragment of intent
So here it is, it came to me in a dream,
That I would write about one day,
A day in my life, just like any other,
But that day would give a glimpse,
Of how we live and think
All of our paradoxes all of my neurosis’s,
The spiritual as well as the material.
The Buddhist and the Medicine Lodge,
All sides of the family tree exposed,
To show what it means to live,
Here and now outside the mainstream.
That I would write about one day,
A day in my life, just like any other,
But that day would give a glimpse,
Of how we live and think
All of our paradoxes all of my neurosis’s,
The spiritual as well as the material.
The Buddhist and the Medicine Lodge,
All sides of the family tree exposed,
To show what it means to live,
Here and now outside the mainstream.
2.15.2007
parents sent me some pix
The pic of the two-story house is my grandmother's old home, the house where I was born in...it looks a lot different now, of course. The house was built on stilts, as was the custom and the area underneath was used to keep our pigs and chickens. The current owners finished the lower level and completely re-did the upper. . . so basically just the shell is the original house.
The other photo is my parent's new home that they are renting--pretty posh compared to what our relations are living in and you can also spot their Toyota whatcamacallit--some kind of van that only sells in the Asian market. I think my father says a brand new three bedroom home with all modern ammenities costs around $35K (USD). The per capita income for Thais is still around $2500. . .
The kids with the race horse are one of my cousin's sons--he seems awfully young to be riding on a horse, doesn't he? Very dangerous . . .
The other pic is just some neighbor kids quequeing up for some ice cream. Thirty-two years ago, I probably walked down the same dirt roads or something pretty similar...
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