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Skateboarder
On Sunday, September 11th, just in time for the commemoration of
the Battle of Plattsburgh 174 years ago, the Press-Republican announced
our city fathers had banned skateboarding at Macdonough Monument.
Ms. Isabelle Macdonough Verkourt, an ancestor of the good Commodore.
had written to our public servants complaining that her family's shrine
was being defaced by local skateboarders
As a concerned citizen I decided to check into these allegations and
by Elliot Richman
8th, at precisely 7:02 a.m. Eastern Standard Time, the rock would be
worn down a quarter-inch if this rate of destruction were allowed to
continue unabated..
Therefore, I was thankful for the eagle eye of Ms. Verkourt. Like her
noble ancestor, she could probably have spotted a British Man O'War
from ten leagues without the aid of a spyglass.
visited Plattsburgh's Big Mac the day the story broke. At first I didn't Ms Verkourt, who is living in South Carolina, a stone's throw from
see any signs of skateboarder criminality, only the word that Holden
Caulfield erased in Catcher in the Rye and a few love notes from Kelly
to Todd.
Upon further inspection, though, I did see the "edge chips and
marings Ms. Verkourt mentioned. All around the edge of the steps at
the base of the stone monument was a fine white line caused. I presume.
by skateboard trucks.
Luckily my hobby is geological engineering, so I roughly computed
the rate of erosion of the solid stone steps. By the year 2478, on November
70
Clinton County, also wrote to those serving Plattsburgh's interest that
she was "concerned that the stone pictorial panels will suffer."
Having never noticed any art whatsoever in Plattsburgh, I was grateful
to Ms. Verkourt for bringing to my attention a part of our aesthetic
heritage. Around three feet from the base of the monument was a bas
relief of ancient Roman armor and assorted spears, which I presume
the Americans, being short of supplies, had hurled against the British.
Or perhaps the War Department at that time used the same procure-
ment procedures as the Pentagon today.
I certainly understood Ms. Verkourt's concern. No doubt a ten-year-
old boy could easily leap three feet with a skateboard at a ninety degree
angle from a dead start and do a "wallie" against one of these panels
that are no less valuable to Plattsburgh than the Pergamon Altar was
to the ancient Greeks.
Just as dusk was settling around the outstretched wings of the eagle
atop the monument, one of the destroyers of Plattsburgh's heritage
appeared. The miscreant wore a red hat with the word THRASHER
I was killed on the 'Brig Eagle' during the Battle of Plattsburgh. A four-
pounder exploded near me." He pointed to his chest and I saw that
his shirt was not tie-dyed after all but completely blood-stained.
"There was another boy killed, too. First name like mine. Thomas
Gill, he was, but he's still out on Crab Island. Doesn't like to leave his
grave on the anniversary of the day he died. He gets too homesick for
life on September 11th
emblazoned upon it, along with a sticker saying Slime Balls. In his left Indignantly, I asked Tommy Lewis how he felt about skateboarders
hand he carried a Chris Miller skateboard that was so battered and
chipped it could have been a weapon in the Battle of Plattsburgh.
I asked the young man what he
thought of Ms. Verkourt's letter and the
city council's action.
The raw youth paused for a second
and mulled over my question.
"It sucks," he said philosophically.
Then he did an "ollie to grind" onto
the monument's platform, the bottom
of his truck sliding along the edge of
the stone.
Fearfully, I looked about for some of
Plattsburgh's finest. Suppose I was
arrested for being an accomplice to
skateboarding or even worse, con-
spiracy to skateboard? Surely I'd get
more time than Ivan Boesky or perhaps Charles Manson. The kid had
nothing to worry about, he was under 16. "Look." I said. "Didn't you
read that Mayor Rennell is going to build a nice skateboarding rink or
something in a park somewhere or other for you skaters?"
"Yeah, it might get done when I'm a grandfather," said the kid with
an air of cynicism well beyond his years. Then he did an "ollie to tail,"
eroding the monument one billionth of an inch further.
ruining his monument. He sneered, revealing his scurvied gums.
"Hell, it ain't my monument," he said. "My monument is out on Crab
Island with me 48 mates buried in un-
marked graves, under poison-ivy
He pointed a seaweed-coated finger
toward the plaque in front of the
obelisk. "I can't read," the ghost said.
"but one of me mates, Perkins Moore.
told me that sign says, 'MACDONOUGH
MONUMENT. ERECTED TO COM-
MEMORATE THE VICTORY OF
COMMODORE MACDONOUGH. THE
BATTLE OF PLATTSBURGH
The boy's face darkened. "No officer
died in that battle. just ordinary
seaman, a couple boatswains and me
and Tom Gill, both with no rank. Just
called boys, we was. Just boys. Tom Gill
was crushed by a gun carriage. He lay under it two hours before he died."
I wasn't sure if it was lake water or tears on the ghost's face.
"Well, what do you think of skateboarding then?" asked the kid with
the THRASHER hat, in an attempt to change the subject.
"It looks like fun." Tommy Lewis said. For the first time he smiled.
"Me and the other dead Tommy watch you guys all the time."
Just then I thought I saw a police officer coming out of the evening The kid with the red THRASHER hat then handed Tommy Lewis his
mist, but it appeared to be only a little boy with a tie-dyed shirt. Naturally.
I thought he was another defiler of the monument.
As the lad approached, I noticed he wore a somewhat unusual skate-
boarding outfit-a ripped shirt, opened at the chest, with pants like
old-time knickers. Instead of Converse athletic shoes, his feet were bare.
"I won't hurt you," the new boy said. "My name is Tommy Lewis and
& the
skateboard. The boy from the "Brig Eagle" smiled further and executed
a perfect "ollie" before disappearing into the darkness to join the other
dead boy who would have liked nothing better than to skateboard with
the young lads now banned from the Madconough Monument.
Elliot Richman's son, Heath, and his son's good buddies, Joe and Tod, are avid
skateboarders in Plattsburgh, NY, and wherever else they are permitted to skate
GHOS