GULLWING
Mute air raid. Cab, nine feet and climbing...
Steadham, Magnusson, Gibson, Johnsons (Craig and rookie Joe),
Losi, Staab, Godoys (Art and Steve), Rogowski, Caballero, Wilkes,
Miller, Groholski and Ruff were being yelled out along with 'yeahs
and 'wooos' by a growing crowd of onlookers. With no complaints.
about the ramp to hold them back the boys were going all out.
Hungry for cash, yes, but mainly craving to get radical and have
fun.
Secure in the knowledge that Saturday's event would showcase
the most dynamic vert skateboarding to date, we repaired back to
our poolside bungalow at the Holiday. Lousy room service was the
rule along with several more lectures on property damage and
liability concerning the pool. For the record the transitions were too
harsh for effective assault and 2 feet of rain in the deep end made
attempts somewhat out of the question anyway, but that was
beside the point. Skaters will be skaters.
NIGHTSKETCHING
The party guage was already registering heavy activity when we
left to explore the downtown area for some chow. Ha, luckily I had
remembered the pamphlet which I consulted for clues. Searching
for the dining section I discovered another point of Houston interest
that we were, regrettably, sure to miss. A historical mansion
containing the outstanding Bayou Bend collection of American
decorative arts of the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, a gift of the
late Texas socialite Irma Hogg. Oily Irma, she must of rolled in her
day, thanks babe.
Skatingly speaking, Houston is a street rat's paradise. Earlier in
the day I had a chance to sample a prime bank spot called the
Blackboard Jungle with Rocco and some Houston surf/skate lokes
(who were blown away that a skate maneuver, the 'Bert' is actually
named after Larry Bertleman, surfer. Gen gap I guess). Jungle is
one of those 'why is this even here?' places, featuring banked
cones and triangles at odds with each other located in a public park
with easy access. We circled through a fairly deserted (for Friday
night) Houston downtown area and witnessed countless banked
and round transitional surfaces as well as curb configurations and
parking garages that boggled the mind. None of which, I might add,
were listed under the City Features heading in my tour guide. We
pulled up to a valet in front of an Italian joint that I had circled, went
in and proceeded to skarf in the midst of a cocktail crowd of
business yup types. At the request of our waitress a somewhat limp
wristed busboy eagerly told us about some trendy nitespots. One
club, called #'s (Numbers, right?) had already been highly recom-
mended by earlier search parties of skate types. We also knew that
Tex Gibson and Todd Prince's band, Bark Hard were playing at a
dive called Cabaret Voltaire which turned out to be close by.
Although we tried our best to miss them, that skate band of skate
bands, No Practice, was taking the stage as we arrived. This gig's
line up consisted of Caballero on lead guitar solos, Steadham
pounding the skins and Gibson standing in on bass while founding
member Lance Mountain served as musical director from various
points within the sizeable crowd. Tex switched over to guitar when
Bark Hard finally took the stage with Todd Prince yelling vocals.
Representatives of the Houston Police force were seen parked
Magnusson majoring
nearby the club, which resembled many of the condemned
buildings in the neighborhood. Evidently they found better things to
do and disappeared without a word. So did we after a ripping set.
Back at the Holiday all was fairly quiet, except for a late night pool
rendezvous in which Mo slipped out to click Neil Blender, Joe
Lopes and a female curio.
A CONTEST SKETCH
A skate thirsty crowd had already gathered 20 deep on either
side of the ramp and was growing steadily as we arrived at the park
on Saturday. Harmony Surf and Škate had a portable retail outlet
set up in a strategic location while Dennis was inside the snack
shack peddling Cokes and Snickers as fast as you could say
'gimme'.
A quick huddle between Fausto, Newton and I revealed that
some minor organizational duties still had to be taken care of.
Mainly gathering five able judges for the 12 amateurs that were
ready for qualifying. With Dennis Martinez proclaimed head judge
we enlisted the services of injured Jeff Phillips and Rob Roskopp,
with promises of cash incentives. Local skater Brett Anderson,
assured us he would stay sober for the duration and we rounded
out the illustrious panel of referees with Tim Piumarta, 'the Martian',
making a rare contest appearance on behalf of team Santa Cruz.
Although the locals only Amateur ruling brought grunts and
groans from many leading up to the contest and was definitely
responsible for the absence of many hot skaters who would have
shown otherwise, it was generally agreed to be a good idea once
Losi full Japan.
the contest got underway. Since the S.U.A.S. was a one day event
this format would definitely insure its completion at a decent hour.
Going into the 6 man am jam were Curtis Hyatt, Ken Fillion, Bob.
Mertz, Troy Chasen, Todd Prince and Tom Koesel after some
volatile qualifying runs. Taking seventh and barely out of the
running was Alan Guimond who skates hard and with a good
attitude.
BLOW BY BLOW
For the call from the booth down at ramp side lets go to yours
truly and pick up the action. "This is the end of the jam, last runs for
each of these guys. Spectators, let's hear it out there. Curtis Hyatt,
he's been rippin' all day. There's that 50/50 grind..one footed
backside air... and look at him walk that handplant on the lip,
hopping straight arm down the coping. Next skater, Ken Fillion...
he's way up there, one foot off, flying backsides, hairial method into
an alley-cop over channel and Ken stalls out to end his run on one
arm. Rob Mertz now... showing aggro lein to tail slam and taps
knee to board on a hand plant. Okay, backside air show, our next
skater, Troy Chasen... there's one.. two..three way high backsides
into a one-footed alley-cop, yeah. Todd Prince, barkin hard last
night, he drops in flying a backside air, look at that arm windmill for
balance, whoa, total commitment on that frontside boneless. He
pops out onto the deck and...jumps back into a bomb drop,
incredible. Our last skater, Tommy Koesel, let's hear it out
there... Tom kicks out one foot on a lein air and... there it is, double
channel plant, a one arm hop across the gap and that'll do it for our