A Perfect Summer

By Darren Grady 

I have been threatening for many years to write a self reflecting article on my own personal experiences of skateboarding in the late 1970’s. At long last the shackles of self-procrastination have been shaken off and herewith is my account of skateboarding in the North West of England, circa 1977/8. I appreciate that my recollections will be no doubt very similar to many other skateboarders of that time. However, I wanted to put all of this into words and explain as to why some thirty years later, I am still a skateboard fan, albeit an armchair one.

 The summer of 1977 beckoned. I had just left Primary School; Britain was engulfed with Jubilee fever as Her Majesty celebrated 25 years as Queen. Punk rock was the musical direction as the Sex Pistols sneered and raged whilst my football team Liverpool were kings of Europe. However, it was a family holiday to the fishing village of Bude, Cornwall (UK) that I saw something that would change my life forever. Strong words you may think but how many other experiences can one write about many years later that still brings out a wry smile? Well, I guess there are those kinds of experiences but this is not that kind of article.

 What I saw were a group of boys, around my age as they went past me and down a steep hill on what was, at first glance, a pair of roller skates attached to a plank of wood. They were also moving fast, very fast.

 It was love at first sight and that holiday provided a life-changing event as it introduced me to something that will remain with me forever like no hobby, pastime or craze has done since, or ever will. Upon returning from that memorable holiday, I was pestering my parents for a skateboard, some kids in my area had bought them and I wanted in.

 Eventually and after a great deal of pleading and strong assurances that I would be careful, wear protective safety equipment, they relented. They purchased from a catalogue that a neighbour ran, a cheap wooden affair that cost approximately £7 (approx $4) with guess what? Yes, roller skates for wheels.

 Riding the thing was something of a feat as even on the smoothest of terrains it felt like I was riding over gravel, that the wheels would suddenly lock or that the deck had zero grip. Despite these acute design shortfalls, it was my pride and joy and I was hooked, totally and unequivocally hooked.

 My sense of timing has never been one of my virtues as this new found obsession coincided with my commencement at the local Secondary School. My parents were keen for me to hit the ground running, make good grades and gain a firm grasp of the educational curriculum. They, like my teachers would find themselves frustrated.

 As I sat in double French with our teacher, Miss Rennie who I had an almighty crush on – she who a year later, broke the hearts of over four hundred schoolboys when she became Mrs. Powell. Or, in Biology with Mr. Fearnley who had a propensity to repeat everything twice; ‘This is a Bunsen Burner, a Bunsen burner’ my mind was on other matters and whilst both these teachers tried their hardest, I was day dreaming my time away until the bell would sound for the end of another uneventful day.

 Upon arrival home, it would be off with the uniform and into the street attempting (and initially failing) to pull off tricks that I had read about in the skateboard magazines. Tic Tacking, Space Walks and Kick Flips were performed with gusto and like a sponge; I succeeded in what I was failing to do in the classroom. I soaked up and retained the names of riders, tricks, equipment and the terminology that was skateboarding. A couple of plant pots and some garden cane and I was Henry Hester, Bryan Beardsley, Stacey Peralta or Lonnie Tofts.

 The UK was still at least ten years behind the US and Canadian scene therefore their influences were more than apparent, however trying to create say Dog Town in the Northwest of England was always going to be an up hill struggle.

 Anyway, back to my board.  After 5 months, my parents purchased me a new one –Pacer 700 Flexi deck (25”) with ACS 580 trucks, blue Kryptonics (65mm), riser pads, grip tape and even a tail saver. This was indeed something of an upgrade and I bid a fond and sentimental farewell to my first board. The new deck was a significant improvement, it was smoother, it was faster ride and it looked slicker and this merely tipped me further over the edge as an interest turned into quickly, something of an obsession. Writing this now, I make no apologies for the clichés as they rain down in abundance however and in my defence, I was eleven years of age. I was young, naïve and highly impressionable.

 However, back then, skateboarding was not without its fair share of obstacles and we had a variety of enemies, which included for a start, neighbours who objected to the noise and disturbance we caused. They would in turn, contact the Police who were called with regular force due to reciprocal complaints and then to cap it all, an organisation called ROSPA - Royal Organisation of Society of Protection of Accidents called on the authorities wanting to ban skateboarding, as it was potentially fatal. 

 If one were to face such social attitudes now trying to partake in a pastime or sport then one would contact a lawyer and sue for infringement of human rights.

 Despite all of the shenanigans of ROSPA and company, I was living the dream but was frustrated that my elders continually commented that skateboarding was merely a craze and soon everyone would be asking themselves exactly what the fuss was all about?

 We had a skateboard shop in my local town imaginatively called The Skateboard Shop. It was next door to a pub, The Grey Horse, and my Dad would nip in there for a couple of pints whilst I indulged my passion even further.

 The owner of the shop was a skateboard enthusiast himself and his store was a mix of glass shelves, subtle lighting and elaborate displays that housed Santa Cruz Proflex boards, Kryptonics, OJ’s and Roadrider wheels. Bennett, ACS and Gullwing trucks.

 I was a ‘beggar on a beach of gold’ and despite the fact that this particular shop was invaded daily by kids who would probably not spend any money, he was happy to chat to us about boards, where we skated and who are favourite riders were.

 That was what I loved about skateboarding. The solidarity amongst riders was intense and, remember, this was a bygone age – one of innocence where one was not judged by the style of your clothes, the way you spoke or even the board that you rode – you were part of a huge family and part of something that would intrinsically change your life forever. I know - it changed mine.

 In the UK, the London scene was the happening place and in W10, Meanwhile Gardens had opened. Situated close to Notting Hill, a good 20 years before Julia Roberts & Hugh Grant put it firmly on the Hollywood map, this was the then ‘Mecca’ for skateboarders. The same was true of the Embankment situated on London’s South Bank where skaters would converge, especially on weekends, playing out to magnificent views of the capital.

 To visit both was my goal, but alas, I lived over 250 miles away, some 4 hours by car or train, therefore my memories of Meanwhile and the South Bank were strictly confined to magazines.

 Back in the classroom my studies took an even further back seat and what I lacked in Physics and Chemistry, I became an expert on any skateboarding related question or issue. My fellow pupils would approach me and ask my advice on what wheels they should use for slalom, when to tighten or slacken trucks and what was a good freestyle deck. I was revelling in this and who wouldn’t?

 I was the youngest and smallest in my school year – the fact that I ‘goofy footed’ and was performing power slides, kick flips and daffys enhanced my credibility. It also meant that the school bullies gave me a wide berth. How could they beat up the kid who would advise them on the merits of Green Kryptonics versus Red?

 It also came as no coincidence that around this time, I acquired my first steady girlfriend by the name of Lynne. I may not have been the inspiration behind Avril Levine but skating certainly had its perks and Lynne was one of them.  My parents drove me to the local skate parks where they patiently sat for sometimes up to 4 hours (?) drinking tea and coffee as I went on the Snake Run, half pipe or carved my way around the various bowls.

 It is worth noting that back then, TV coverage in the UK was limited. Therefore I and others had to make do with the monthly magazines and a BBC1 programme called Stopwatch which featured Simon Napper who demonstrated a trick each week.

 One Sunday evening however, BBC 2 showed a one-hour documentary on skateboarding and this particular programme centred on Tony Alva, Stacey Peralta, Jay Adams and a group of kids climbing fences into the empty properties of vacationing homeowners. I was witnessing the legendary Dog Town skaters and my life was changed forever, I had been teetering, but now I had been tipped well and truly over the edge with an all-consuming passion. This passion became an obsession, which in turn became an addiction.

In June or July of 1978, Tony Alva came to one of the local parks with a young UK rider, Mark Baker. Alva put on a demonstration with some free styling, slalom and piping, and then kindly and patiently, signed hundreds of autographs. When we left the park later that night, a small group of us were walking back to the car when we spotted Alva putting his boards into a camper van.

 I will never forget what happened next. My Father shouted ‘Tony! Tony!’ and we quickly gathered and grouped ourselves for a quick impromptu photo session. Tony will have no memory of this whatsoever and alas the photos are long lost but I still remember it some 30 years later.

 Alva made a bunch of kids very happy indeed.

 I cannot begin to describe the pride and joy I felt when I later went to the skate parks later that Summer and word got round that I had met Alva.

 Later as I waited in line for the snake run, other riders whispered to each other ‘See that kid? He’s met Alva!’

 Later that summer, Benjyboards were on a UK tour and along with Mr Benjy, I met John Sablowski, Jeremy Henderson and Marc Sinclair. Again they were kind, patient and approachable and I was about to upgrade to a new board, ironically, a Benjy board. They advised me and asked me how long I had been skating.

 Not only were Sablowski and company a couple of years older than me, they were light years ahead of me in terms of style and coolness – they made it look effortless and best of all? American accents!

 My obsession was paying off and whilst my school grades were now in freefall, I did however proudly hold a green badge at one of my local parks. The badges were a reflection of your ability – White was for beginners, Yellow and Blue was Intermediate and Green was advanced. The final colour was Red (Super Advanced!) but try as I may I could not quite achieve the red badge. Still, as a 12 year old this was still an achievement and one that I for one, was proud of and still have in my possession today.

 We had a skate posse as well. We were only four in number comprising of two brothers and another friend and myself. The two brothers were older than me and the leader ‘J’ was a moody soul with his second in command being his younger brother ‘D’ who was slightly less moody.

 They were arrogant, confident and would often speak with fake American accents. In hindsight they sounded ridiculous but I was impressionable and the four of us would go to the variety of skate parks on a slick rota – driven there by our parents.

 This arrangement worked well for a number of months until one day I was coming out of my house and saw the posse being driven off to one of the parks. I had been betrayed, the posse had been fragmented, well sort of, as I had been squeezed out of the loop and after that, we never skated as a group again.

 I went to the parks with schools friends who didn’t put on fake accents and who were not prone to suffering from mood swings like J was.

 In the run up to Christmas 1978, I returned home from another uneventful day at school and my monthly subscription to Skateboard! Europe’s hottest Skateboard magazine had arrived and with it, a bombshell. The cover, and I can still remember it now, had Sablowski, Henderson, Sinclair and Napper holding a coffin with the headline – ‘Skateboarding – RIP’.

 I crumbled. This could not be true Skateboarding had come into my life and had consumed me but now it was gone? I mentioned earlier about my sense of timing and again this could not have been worse. That night was parents evening at my School and an opportunity for my parents to meet Miss Rennie, Mr Fearnley and all of the other teachers whose classes I daydreamed in.

 My teachers were complimentary about me, said that I was not disruptive but I was prone to distraction and being something of a daydreamer. To their eternal credit, my mother and father did not give me a hard time when they arrived home that night – they had seen the front cover of the magazine and they knew I was crushed. 

Even if it was the season of goodwill abundance it could not obstruct their only child in his education and thereon, studying became the norm.

 I often look back and ask myself what would have happened had skateboarding not lost its popularity? In hindsight, it was only a temporary ‘blip’ here in the UK, and whilst it went out of fashion, it was indeed only temporarily. 

Certainly in the North West of England, we were not blessed with warm sunny Californian weather, and urethane wheels did not grip well in the wet. Also, if the authorities had not been brainwashed by the likes of ROSPA, they may have constructed more parks, particularly indoor ones as opposed to closing them down in droves. 

Also, had I been a little older and not prone to having a new hobby every week then maybe I would have shown more maturity and loyalty towards skateboarding. Who knows?

 It’s ironic that years later I moved down to London and work in the capital; Meanwhile Gardens is still going and is a mere 30 minutes by tube. I really should go down there one weekend – not to skate I hasten to add, my balance is not what it was - I have a dodgy back and my risk-taking days are behind me! I work close to the South Bank and I am pleased to report that the kids are still skating there some thirty years later. Still doing the same tricks, the passion is still there, the sound of urethane on concrete and that noise that only skateboards make still makes me tingle.

 During the writing of this article, I did a substantial amount of research and located some original skateboard books and magazines from 1976. I viewed hundreds of websites, watched Dog Town & Z Boyz repeatedly. I even made contact with the nephew of Ben Howard (Mr Benjy) whom I met all those years ago and am pleased to report that he is alive and well residing in Australia.

 His nephew, now a DJ, mentioned long days on Tooley Street, London Bridge, doing his bit for the cause.

 I still watch skateboarding on the satellite channels and please, don’t get me wrong, what the new skaters are doing is superb - the bar is continually raised as new tricks are invented.
 
However, at heart, I am a traditionalist and when I think of skateboarding I think of the 1970’s and of Tony Alva, a group of streetwise kids climbing fences, draining kidney shaped swimming pools and riding them as the unsuspecting owners were on vacation. I think of skateboarding whilst keeping and eye (and an ear) open for the arrival of the local Police and even ROSPA as they attempted to ban this beautiful sport.

 That’s where my memories are.

 Well, there it is and like a weight lifted from shoulders, I can proudly say that my work here is done – my account and memories of two glorious years is now complete.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I had writing it, and when I go down to Meanwhile Gardens I promise to send the photos.

Darren Grady

April 2007