After the band finished their set, Jeff took the time to award the
riders with prizes and the Pros with money. THRASHER Mag
donated an extra $25.00 apiece to the top four Pros. Who were,
by the way, Tex Gibson, fourth; Steve Caballero, third; Mike
McGill, second; and beating out the best of all of the Pros was
local boy Jeff Phillips. Now that everyone knew Jeff had lots of
money, they were going to try and make him spend it celebrating.
SCREECHING CRESCENDOS
Approximately 7:00 pm: The 'Big Boys' begin performing to an
overzealous crowd of rough 'n' rowdy Skatexans. A thrash circle
is formed and the whirlpool began. Through rousing choruses
consisting of most of the audience, the noise raged. Appearing
atop Lance's shoulders was Caballero, pumping his fists high
into the chilly early night air. The boys were spinning madly.
THE NIGHT TRAIN
Approximately 9:45 pm: Newtron's truck is loaded up and a
majority of the people head towards a party at a big house. A
massive caravan of cars ensues, complete with people hanging
out of the windows, yelling, screaming, pulling down pants and
showing their butts, drinking beers, making wrong turns. People
driving who shouldn't even have car keys.
THE PARTY
Approximately 10:30 pm: It's a real nice house. Must be owned
by an oil person. Someone began throwing lawn furniture into the
pool and started laughing as it sank to the bottom and yelling.
...carve you bastard!" I found a rubber knife and began stabbing
people. More beers arrived compliments of the 'Big Boys,' and
fun was had by all.
THE SHEETROCKER
Approximately 10:45 pm: One party member climbed the
hallway walls by straddling and shimmying up. He almost made
it to the top until, "Poof, Poof," a hand and foot went through the
wall. He was so close. He jumped down and almost landed on
top of Lance and Caballero, who were looking up with astonished
facial expressions. The 'Sheetrocker' runs into the night.
Another means of entertainment was sought.
CHASING GEESE
Approximately 11:15 pm: Newtron, in a great attempt at
keeping ahead of the party, heads out to the Ranch, the place
where the party was the night before. Nobody else shows up.
Lance and Cab are left behind. I instigate a trek for food, ala
Burger King, and end up freezing in the back of a pickup truck on
some cold Texas backroad. "May ah take yo' ord-our.
puhleeze?...and thank ya-hoo!" and then get to ride back, in the
bed again. I told those guys I was on vacation. This isn't right.
Approximately 11:53 pm: Since a potentially good evening is
schmutzed, a half hour is spent getting back to a liquor store, a
sixpack of Mickey's Big Mouth is bought.
Approximately 12:39 am: Lance and Caballero stumble into
Newtron's apartment fully crazed and yelling about a giant
parking lot session, 'figure-eight' style.
Approximately 1:11 am: I find myself in a figure eight parking
garage on the sixth floor. On vacation and on the sixth floor of a
figure eight parking lot? And it's a religious parking lot for the
First Baptist church, and it's 1:11 am in the morning. This lasts
an hour and a half. I decide to take a few runs, my knee hurts,
but the Mickeys says it's O.K. to skate. Men in expensive suits
and holding walky talkies appear. People are chased, but not
caught. It's a charmed life.
Approximately 4:10 am: Somebody kicks me and says,
"Shu-u-u-t Up-p." The liars..
SUNDAY MORNING (DAYLIGHT)
Approximately 11:45 am: Everyone is up. Dana Buck and
friend Lyndsey have gone back to Mississippi, leaving behind a
cap and a legacy. It's overcast. We pile into Newtron's truck and
go sight-seeing in Dallas.
Approximately 12:20 pm: At the Dallas blue fiberglass ramp,
Blender, McGill, Hawk, Phillips and Kasai were going at a little
rad session. A white 280Z pulled up on the street alongside the
ramp. In it, a bitchin' platinum blonde whose daddy owned half
of Dallas. It was sick, she was too beautiful, but she probably
smacked lots of gum.
DWNTWN DALLAS
Approximately 1:15 pm: On the road again for a half hour in the
Newtron mobile heading for downtown Dallas. Lance and Steve
defile city property, a 10 ft high statue of Texas and a sculptured
bronze man. The police cars circle us like sharks, but no contact
was made.
DALLAS CULTURE
Approximately 1:38 pm: Jeff Newtron drives to a 'wino-style'
embankment. The ensuing fifteen minute session includes
lip-lappers while Lance sweeps off Steve's wheels (sweeper?),
empty wine bottle bashing on the lip, cardboard box rock 'n
rolling and cyclone fence riding (frontside and backside and
making it). Just a plain dork session.
Approximately 2:08 pm: Newtron has landed us at the spot
where Kennedy was shot. Day after tomorrow marks the 20th
anniversary of his assassination. Steve and Lance weren't even
alive then; I still remember. I was three. Heavy scrutinizing of
historic plaques. Lance says that he read in the 'Enquirer' that
Kennedy was alive in a private sanitarium as a vegetable and is
being kept alive by doctors. Newtron says that people still look
for stuff on the street. Lance, in the middle of the street, proceeds
to scrape away with the tail of his board while Steve points in
horror. Caballero and Mountain also point in astonishment at the
Book Depository' when learning that that's where Oswald
allegedly shot Kennedy from. We laugh at people taking stupid
tourist's family photos with the 'book depository in the back-
ground. Lance and Caballero do curb grinds right in front of
where Kennedy was shot.
RECOIL
Approximately 5:57 pm: Back at Newtron's apartment, it's time
to rest. If only for awhile. More pictures are drawn. T.V. is
watched. It is decided to flash my Vivitar strobe into Newtron's
eyes while he's asleep. Next move, flash Newtron's bird. The
camera is attached and pictures are taken of the bird, much to
its dismay. Steve and Lance continue drawing pictures on the
(From previous page) Over fifty snapshots
compose this Texas collage with stunning
evidence in favor of the point that the events
described in this article are indeed factual.
Photos surrounding the collage include
Caballero wino bank grinding, Gerald Burris
painfully trying to recover from a big slam,
www.ron laid back to impress the blonde in
the '2', and Lance and Steve scrutinize the
piaque on the Texas book depository, the
building from which Lee Harvey Oswald
allegedry assassinated President Kennedy.
backs of gig flyers. I pass out on the couch. Lance and Steve do
something mischievous involving Newtron's bird, tortilla chips, a
sleeping me, my camera and my flash. Serious giggling wakes
me up and I see a bird on my shoulder looking to peck out my
eyes, I loose cool, bird nearly looses beak and Lance and Steve
are hiding in the kitchen closet, laughing their asses off. (Note: I
still can't figure those two out. I know for sure they aren't queer.)
DINNER AND BLAB
Approximately 9:47 pm: Newtron and I attempt dinner and the
following conversation ensues:
"How did you come about making your first skateboard, Jeff?"
The first board, I had a Sims stratoglass somethin' or other,
some kind of garbage board. It got stolen like the second day. I
had it maybe a week. But I didn't want to spend that much money
on a board, so I started whittling them out of, uh, pine or
somethin' and, I just kept progressing from there. Where's that
fried cheese?"
"When did Zorlac become a company?"
"You mean when the government got involved?" Jeff said.
"Right after the peak, no, right as the peak was peaking."
Then you continued through the slump?"
"I knew it was coming back. People thought I was crazy."
"Is it back?" I had to ask.
"In my opinion it never left. The people who were skatin' the
parks, even ones that are my age. They laughed at me...now I'm
laughing at them."
"Cause you weren't crazy after all."
"I knew I wasn't; I'm an alien. No really...I'm not really an
alien."
"What about Texas skate history? What do you know about it?
Ya know, hot guys who've come and gone through your period
of existence-the people who've disappeared?"
"Well, a history of Dallas skaters-Brian Abel, Al Coker, David
Dearth. Gosh I can't remember all of their names."
"About how many guys?"
"Oh, there were tons, but once the novelty wore off, most of
them bailed out. Now they play horseshoes or something, I don't
know. But you know what? There were certain companies that
took and took and took from the sport, and they never put
anything back into it. Here in Texas as well as in other places. I
don't have to mention any names, because they know who they
are, and if they want to take me to court. fine, I don't care. I didn't
say any names. My gut aches now when I think about certain
people.
Back to the skaters, though. The level of skating here in the
early years, was up with that of California. There were some
freestyle kids here who won National championships. In
Northern Texas it was Stuart Singer and Brian Abell. In South
Texas near Houston, that was when John Gibson was still in
diapers, uh, I don't remember their names anymore, seems so
long ago. This was probably around '78 or so. '79 is when the hot
guys down there quit.
Del
(Opposite page) Caballero performs sequential parallels.
Mmmmm and Newtron's bird, "Pee-Wee
(This page) Lance attacks the multiple death box's. (Center)
Tommy Hamel. Scott Moser: "Why are you taking my picture?
What's this for?" Monster man Cabone, Craig Johnson draws
Intense glances from educated eyes.
26
Continued on page 51.
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