One day I was at the "Bored at OC show, and someone yelled real
loud. "Hey, Salba!" So, I turned around, and who was it but one
Brandon Cruz-ex child star, musical genius and avid skateboard
rider. We started shooting the shit, and skating came up as usual.
Brandon informed me that he was baby-sitting Nicholas Cage's house,
ABOVE: GETTIN' PAID IN THREE
DECADES OF SKATEBOARDING,
SALBA MAKES IT LOOK EASY WHEN
HE SAILS TO TAIL ON THE FLATWALL.
RIGHT: AN ICON OF AN ANCIENT
PARANOID CIVILIZATION.
SEQ: ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE
LENS, LANCE MOUNTAIN FASTPLANTS
UP A STORM.
and the pool was drained and killer. He gave me his number and said.
Call soon!" I thought in my head. "What a great angle this could be for
a story: Skateboarding in a Hollywood star's cement pond. Very cool."
Unfortunately, the next morning I went to call him and forgot that the
number was in my pocket, which was in the wash. Duh!
Another Show, Another Day
One year later to the day I talked to Brandon
again. Talk about fate. I saw him at another show, and we
exchanged phone numbers again for prosperity's sake. He
promised to call, and I thought to myself, "Sure, Ill see him
in another year. But. sure as shit, he called on the next
Saturday moming with some useful information. He con-
fessed about another pool in the City of Angels that would
blow minds and happily recounted the skateparks of days
gone by, in comparison to this latest find. "It's as good as
any skatepark pool," he said. I usually try not to listen to
anybody when it comes to pool description, but Mr Cruz is
a seasoned veteran with an extensive knowledge of con-
crete radius calculation. Brandon swore that anything
could go down in this pool, and you know how it is when
you get the pool jones! So, I got directions to his house.
The pool is right down the street," he concurred over the
telephone conversation, and we agreed to meet the follow-
ing weekend. "Saturday will be better for me," I told him.
coping and what looked like a carveable shallow end
complete with makable stairs. This was the raddest pool
since Norwalk, and, in my book, probably rated within
the top 10 pools I've ever ridden in my life. It was par-
adise for sure. Too good to be true. And, better yet, a
backyard ditty with permission meant no cops, no has-
sles, no worries. The owner was too cool and provided
water and toilet paper for the spare bathroom for those
proud owners and financed by their kid's clothing line,
Charlie Rocket; hence, the name
Rocket Bowl. The owner and Dennis told me the house
had a lot of history, but, on that first day, we were crid-
dling so hard that we weren't listening so good. We just
skated like demons possessed for a solid eight hours till
dark. We decided to leave, gathered up our belongings,
and said our thanks, when the owner said, "Come back
next weekend." I couldn't believe it. It was unreal.
A Talk With The Owner
The following weekend came, and we travelled back
to 101 West, exited at Vermont, tumed south to
Beverly, then right towards the Wilshire District. We got
there safely (thank God, because I do a lot of driving!).
and walked into the backyard with a couple of more
people in tow this time.
ROMAN
HOLIDAY
Lazy On A Saturday Afternoon
So, Saturday rolled around, and John Nakama (ACL knee
injury still fresh in his mind) and I attempted to drive
through LA's notorious freeway interchanges to
Brandon's. We found it after driving circles due to
road closures and detours. I honked several
times, and Mr Cruz strolled out of his front
door, limped to his old Caddy, and sig-
naled us to follow him. We cruised down 2nd
Street past Normandy, turned left, and pro-
ceeded north a couple of blocks, and
parked kitty comer to the pool.
Brandon said that an English bloke
lived there with his wife and kid and
that the scene was totally cool.
So, we went waltzing up like we
owned the place, met the
owner, shook hands, and
got down to business.
Let's just say that I couldn't
believe my eyes when I saw
the pool drained, ready, and will-
ing for skateboard abuse! It was a
Paddock (which means it was very old; late for-
ties, early fifties) Roman end with red brick-like
PHOTOS BY LUKE OGDEN
in need! A dream come true. We were very stoked and
surprised with this latest find in the never-ending trea-
sure for elliptical excitement! Hallelujah!
History Lesson #1
We skated all day in utter amazement of how good
the pool was and met some locals named Rich and
Max, who actually found and drained the Rocket Bowl
as it is now known. Rich had known about this beautiful
lass for almost two whole summers and hadn't made a
move due to the fact that the neighborhood was high-
income, and he wasn't into barging like us. I couldn't
believe it. I would've been on it that first week! Oh well!
Rich told me that he finally got up enough balls to ask
the owner to skate for the sole purpose of videoing
some footage, and the owner said, "Sure. Go for it!" So.
Rich and the boys were on it for a solid month before I
found out and, well, you heard the rest already.
The caretaker, Dennis - maintenance man galore-
had been fixing and working on the house since
November '95. The house was a dandy three-story
affair complete with basement, guest house and a stu-
dio off to the side.
"Quite unique for this area," quipped Dennis. It was
built in the thirties and was being remodeled for the
We had to keep the pool
a secret for a while because
you know how pool sharks
operate. I set up shop sweeping.
rinsing the bowl with a high-powered
spray nozzle to rid the place of sand
and dust, and cleaned the pool perime-
ter. We skated for an hour or so when the
owner came out and said, "Hello." His
name was Robin. He noticed that we skated very well
and mentioned how he thought we were a cross
between gymnastics and surfing.
"You guys are truly incredible," he said. I told Robin
that I had been playing pool for some twenty years now.
and how we found pools, the hassles with cops and
neighbors, and just generally how pool skating was
underground. I also told him how unlikely it was to find a
pool this good without being a bust: permission was the
key to success. He said all of his friends thought he was
crazy allowing us to skate; one of us could get hurt and
sue (that's Califomia for ya!). But, he was down with the
program! Robin was way cool-the genuine article. I
mentioned to him that if word got out, though, it would
be a feeding frenzy. But, he didn't seem to mind. So, off
we went skating again all day till dark. We lickety split,
and Robin waved and said, "Come back anytime." So,
of course we did!
Feeding Frenzy
Tuesday came about, and 540, Rueler, Moffett, and I
had the jones hard. So, off we went travelling 80 mph.
on the hot, black, sticky asphalt freeways en route to
our beloved Rocket. Rich and Max were a little bewil-
dered by the amount of people starting to show up, not
only on the weekends specially allotted for us by Robin,
72 THRASHER
73