Fruit Bowl.

David Hackett -'Fruit Bowl' side stairs.

Dana Moltin- Fruit Bowl. Garden Grove Ca. March 1977

One day, Tony Alva & I were driving in Orange County. We were going someplace I no longer remember, but it was probably skateboard related. We were sitting at a redlight on Brookhurst & he calmly points to his right and states, “That’s where the ‘Fruit Bowl’ was.”

I was quickly rendered inept as I followed his gaze. No longer watching the lights & traffic, I peered around as he pointed to some condos in the nearby distance. TA continued, ” My dad once lived over in those condos. They were built on the site of the ‘Fruit Bowl’…”. A car horn brought me back from his reverie & I stabbed the gas pedal to get through the green light that had changed. Traffic was moving.

I asked TA how the pool received its name, ‘Fruit Bowl’. “It was at a rundown mental hospital”, he grinned. Recently, I spoke with David Hackett about his first time visiting the pool and he told me that he caught a ride there,  as he was too young to drive. He was really stoned that visit, but remembered that there were at least 50 people there.

” It was a heavy scene. Waldo Autry was king there. He ruled the place. He did ‘forever figure -8’ carves & frontside & backside carves over the stairs that were on both sides of the pool.” David Hackett said that TA & Jay came to the ‘Fruit Bowl’. Both rode really well, pulling edgers & Jay tried hand plants on the wooden tombstone extension.

“If you didn’t have pool skills & couldn’t rip, you sat in the shallow end & watched. It was a gnarly scene there.” David told me to talk with Steve Olson as he had ridden there early on. I phoned Steve Olson & he added a bit of history as well. “I was one of the first people to drain the ‘Fruit Bowl’. Guys that I knew, rode their bikes in it. One guy named ‘Willy’ & some others. It was insane! The pool was not a bust & lasted like 6 months until it became a party spot & the police finally shut it down.”

Steve Olson remembered it being amazing. He added that the concrete parks started opening up around that time, like the ‘Concrete Wave’ in Anaheim. The ‘Fruit Bowl’ was definitely an early proving ground for Orange County skateboarders. I saw images from the pool in the magazines & remember that there was always a crowd around the shallow end. Watching. Waiting. Wishing. Thanks to Jim Goodrich & David Hackett for the images. Skate-Ozzie

Addendum- Salba told me this afternoon that the ‘Fruit Bowl’ was were he first became sponsored. He had ridden it a few times after coming from riding the famed ‘L-pool’ in the Badlands. He stated that the sessions were very heavy there. “I have to say that the ‘Fruit Bowl’ was definitely an early proving ground for pool riders.”

Slay, rend & chew.

gouged....

tiny teeth, nip & bite.

'beauty is only skin deep'

The ‘Combi 2’ at Vans in Orange California is receiving a ‘skinning’. The sharp tools of the concrete crew tear into her hide. She lay there wounded, her plaster bleeding out of her. She will receive a new skin, tiles & coping. I have a vivid imagination so, seeing her all chewed up, I am reminded of a visit to San Francisco in 2003. We wandered far that first day. The air was cool. It was always cold in San Francisco.

We came across the hillsides & found ourselves on a rocky ledge along the water.  We could glimpse Alcatraz Island squatting malignantly on the boulders, dead center in the bay. It brooded there like a bad dream. A small sailboat & several larger barges would pass across our field of vision, yet Alcatraz held our attention.

The island sat there in the cold morning sun and although it appeared harmless to the casual observer, I could feel its latent power & portent of doom. It was pregnant with antiquity & the burden of broken men, along with all of the life it had sucked out of mankind. The water around the island was flat & dark blue, yet underneath this placid disguise was a furious and unforgiving death trap.

Dark sinister shapes cruised hungrily; always and evermore. The sharks here –in the chilly water –came & stayed. There was  no ‘turnover’. Seals were plentiful & Great Whites were found in abundance.Twenty foot eating machines with rows & rows of white  chiseled teeth that cut & tore gobbets of meat…shrieking & slippery. The largest sharks on earth have been found here.

Sinister & gloomy, they twist their muscular bodies, hurtling up out of the inky blackness. Absolute mind-bending horror. Remorseless, with ancient eyeballs, black with the promise of pain & a rich bath of your own hot blood. A smashing blow, driving the air out of you. An obscene strange thought flashes through your mind as you are driven at great speed through the frothy water, with the unending pressure on your pelvis & chest. Where!? What?! Your mouth fills with water & blood. Salty. Salty. “Oh Gods! Oh sweet Jesus!”

You begin to be sawed in half. Shrieking, you glimpse a row of teeth that never seem to end. The pain burns across your mind and pieces of you fall, spinning softly & slowly down into the dark places. The crabs scuttle out of their sleepy, shadow-filled niches, nibbling at your toes & shredded calf muscles. You should see what you look like!

The water above is calm. Softly, one can hear the ringing of the cable car bells, as tourists climb back up the arching spine of Powell street & into Chinatown. Alcatraz crouches over the water, a brooding picture of menace. It remains a scourge to mankind, with its iron bars rusting, locks sealed tight & the soft lapping, as the bay licks the ancient stones that line the foundations of the prison walls. Thanks to MRZ for the images. Go skate-Ozzie

The darkness.

Eddie Reategui- Arizona -1984- ‘A blur out of the darkness’

People were driving & clamoring by me today, in a frenzy of speed, texting & the unending quest for more….right now! People want it now! Dinner, news, booze, sex, information,….now! The lines have become blurred between what is good for us & what is detrimental. People live their lives in a haze of frantic movement. They rarely notice birds, trees & flowers. Sometimes, they don’t even see the people they are speaking with.

Its a tragedy. I feel that they are living in the dark and they don’t even know it. Society– in Orange County– seems like a miasma of the unhappy, desperately treading water in the ‘beach cities’ pool of elitist complacency, and they call this ‘living’?! It seems like everyone has to keep up with all the others around them. To my eyes, its a race of stupidity.  Some days, I am speechless. Scott & I worked for this woman that we started landscaping service for. We began several months ago. She was fussy…we could tell.

On meeting her, we were quickly informed of her supremacy over us & our ‘place’ in her grand scheme of things. Standing in the driveway beside her $75,000 Mercedes Benz,  we were told that, “I’m the ‘number one’ real estate agent in Orange County, two years in a row.”  Scott & I just blinked and stared at her. When that bit of bravado didn’t elicit the proper awe,  she pushed her hair from her eyes.

She looked at me like I was an insect.   Next, she pointed her perfect fingers at us, fidgeted in her silk  Dolce & Gabana blouse & stated majestically, ” I have a Masters in Business Administration.” First of all, we were there to garden! Come on lady! We certainly didn’t care if she flew for NASA…although I am sure Scott & I would’ve found that fact, a bit cooler than her being an idiot home salesman with an ego-maniacal bag of issues.

This lady was a freak. Her husband seemed mellow enough, but I could tell that he had been brow-beaten & finally surrendered his manhood. His spine had– long ago– been dissolved by financial subservience  & her acid tongue. He looked like a whipped dog. He was -mostly-dour & downtrodden. Poor wretch. Scott & I completed our work every week . We really tried to placate this woman. We hustled & always tried to do extra things for her & keep her happy. After all, she had been through three other landscapers in the recent past.

She was more brilliant & insightful than God…in her own eyes. This one was self-deluded. Today, we arrived & she came scurrying out. I groaned inwardly at the look on her face. She was holding a ream of paper in her hands & looked as stern as a taskmaster. I started cutting the grass. Scott walked around with her for about twenty minutes as I tended to the lawn. I caught glimpses of them & her mouth never stopped its incessant chatter &  diatribe. The scowl on Scotts face became darker.

I walked out & emptied the mower bag & shortly after, heard Scott call for me. He said “Get in! We are done!” We drove away, leaving her standing there holding her stupid lists. He told me that she had insulted him over and over until he finally had enough. “We have tons of people that love our work & treat us wonderfully. I won’t work for people like that.” We ‘high-fived’ and drove into the afternoon sun, leaving her standing there…in her own darkness. Thanks to Jim Goodrich for the image. Skate…and be nice to your gardeners & everyone else! -Ozzie

Alone with everybody.

Escondido reservoir-1977

Withdrawn. Isolative. When I was young, I remained torn between wanting to ‘fit in’ & damning the ‘accepted’ to the seven hills in Hell. Insecurity was a constant shadow & everything & everyone was scary. Few things were certain. However, one thing that always remained constant, in my chaotic teenage nightmare, was my skateboard.

I am not sure if anyone felt the way I did, but growing up was a terrible experience. The things that interested me, were absolutely horrific & unnatural to my peers & the locals around me. Pennsylvania was a place filled with old people & even older ways.  I loved reading books, punk music & skateboarding. In the world around me, you either hunted & killed animals, worshiped in churches regularly or bashed someones brains in, while playing football. I need not explain the serious discrepancies that I saw evident in all that!

You behaved & listened to authority. I was at odds with everything around me. My blood burned & throbbed in my temples. Football , church & hunting!? I wanted to scream my anguish at the gods & make them recognize me again. Church was for giving your soul ‘peace’. I recall liking church. I loved the quiet stillness, but hated the punishment. The only time I felt content & at peace with the world, was when I was rolling on my skateboard.

I rode alone…mostly. I pretended Tony Alva, Jimmy Plummer, Ray Bones Rodriquez & others were there. I played ‘most one-wheelers’ with Jerry Valdez, riding my half-pipe with its cinder block coping. In my mind, I was at ‘Buddha pool’ in the San Fernando valley. I would leave my house in the morning, and push down the  cracked & buckled, asphalt roads. I would push & push between green, eerily -whispering cornfields, stretching out to either side of me.

About four miles away, was a local 7-11 type market. It had an asphalt bank beside its parking lot with a flat top. I would skate over there & do ‘rollouts’ like Rick Blackhart. I would pull ‘berts’ & slides. I was in heaven because – in my mind- I was no longer in Pennsylvania. There was a ditch-like reservoir down the street that Jim Howell & I called the, ‘Beer bottle basin’. We would sweep & ride it until dusk, then I began the long muscle-straining push homeward.

I would get home after dark; exhausted & happy. I had spent the day skating past couples, kids & families. I came into contact with groups of people at the market & elsewhere. Yet, no matter what I did, I felt alone with everybody. That feeling occurs to this day. Some nights, loneliness can cover me like a stifling blanket. On those nights, I put ‘Seven Summer Stories’, ‘Skateboard Madness’, or “Search for Animal Chin’ on the DVD & bring myself back around. Skateboarding can always ‘talk me down’ from my ledge. I only hope that it always will. Thanks to Jim Goodrich for the image. Skate-Ozzie

Digging the ‘Nude’

Top- Digging crew. Bottom- Reuler & me on jackhammer.

Top- Dave Reul. Bottom- Andy Mac

Abandoned van on road leading to slab & the date of demise.

The Nude Bowl & Andy Mac below.

I know, I know. The images are all messed up. Sorry. I had the most difficult time with a scanner I was using, and ended up with what you are seeing. You can click on each image & see the larger one, so quit griping & mumbling. Back in 2000,  Andy Macdonald  phoned me at Mission Valley skatepark, which I was running at the time. He told me to get to the house, because we were going to help dig out the ‘Nude’ bowl. He added conspiratorially, “Don’t tell a soul!”

We ended up driving out & meeting up with Dave Reul & a large crew that had–already–been digging with earth-moving equipment… for 18 hours! These guys had a huge amount of the dirt & debris removed by the time we arrived. We helped jackhammer the remaining coping off & help reset new blocks in place. We swept & shoveled, then rode a bit. It was rough, pock-marked & gouged.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last. Shortly after this, locals shut it down again. I was out in Joshua Tree a few weeks back. I decided to stop on the way home & see what was up with the ‘Nude’. I parked, hopped a big tall wall, and hiked all the way up there in the wind & rain. It was 6:00 am. There is a huge pile of building debris, dirt & trash on top of the pool. The mound is over six feet higher than coping level. There is a ton of earth & stuff in the pool.

The only area where you can see coping is at the shallow stairs. People have made the pilgrimage & dug it out to tile depth. There are small pieces broken off the tiles & coping, as pilgrims have collected souvenirs. I took a small quarter-sized piece for Salba, Reuler, Sam & myself. As I left, I saw a rainbow nearby. I took it as an omen. The skate gods, along with Jeff Phillips, Fausto, Baby Paul, Rubin Orkin, Andy Kessler & others, were pleased with me. R.I.P. guys. I miss the ‘Nude’ bowl. Never forget the skaters & spots that have passed on. Thanks to Scott Ward & Andy Mac for a few of the images. Skate-Ozzie

Black & White.

Mike McGill & Jim Goodrich- Florida 1979

I’ve heard it said that, “The only thing that should be separated by color…is laundry.” The world is too convoluted & diverse to remain the way it is. People are fighting over race, gods & ideologies; frightened of each other because we are different. Its sad. If there are alien beings out there in space, I am sure that they are smart enough to keep their distance. All we seem to do is kill, maim & brutalize each other. Humanity seems parasitical. We destroy everything & each other. Fear–it seems–is the mind-killer.

Everyone is so scared & jealous. “WE are right & YOU are wrong.” There are these ‘cliques’ & those ‘groups’. Technology isn’t really helping either. People text & peer intently at screens;  keeping their faces & attention buried in wires & microprocessors. Humans don’t speak to each other. They seem to be looking –anywhere–for a distraction; a way out of their mundane lives. I am no different. I feel the urge to ‘escape’ on a regular basis. If I didn’t have those urges, I wouldn’t be a ‘recovering’ alcoholic & drug addict.

Its simple. Life is difficult, frenetic & dangerous. It can be very trying. Some of us have pretty poor coping skills. The world can kick the hell out of us at times. However, there are perfect moments periodically, which make life wonderful. These differ from person to person. For some, its the peacefulness of their kids sleeping. For others, its the gratification of a painting, poem or task– well done. For me, its finding, draining & grinding a pool with my friends. These moments may vary, but the results are the same. They give our lives meaning.

Escape & fear are a part of life. But, by channeling those escape urges & fears into something positive, I think we grow as human beings and are the better for it. All humanity is shared. We are not here to–only– operate out the limbic system in our brains. We are not here to –simply–eat, sleep & propagate. There is a higher purpose. Only you can know what that is. It comes, not from hate or control over others. It comes from no god or guru…it only comes from inside of you. We need to stop fearing others because they are different than us. Live better & smarter. Be kind. Thanks to the Floridian that provided the Mike Mcgill/Jim Goodrich image. It may be in ‘black& white’, but its flooded with color in my eyes. Skate-Ozzie

Taking us back.

Shogo Kubo-taking a shot...

Sometimes in life, there is no going back. Did you ever notice that? There are some things that you can never take back. Words we say, things we do, people we lose….you can’t go back. Luckily, we have skateboarding. Some things remain timeless. Like this image of Shogo Kubo. Look closely at the banners in the background. Look at the style. Look at the pool, tiles & coping. Look at the times. Shogo Kubo is timeless. When I see images like this, it takes me back to a better time. A time of no responsibility, no worry, no headaches, no money or girl issues. It was a time of skateboarding & pure fun. Thanks to Jim Goodrich for providing the image at ‘Skatepark Victoria’ in Milpitas, Ca. Skate-Ozzie

Jay Adams

Jay Adams- Hawaii

I think that Jay Adams is awesome. From the earliest images of him at ‘Teardrop’ pool by Glen E. Friedman, one could see that Jay always pushed the boundaries & limitations all around him. Stacy Peralta wrote about Jay & called him an ‘archetype’. I must agree. In ‘Fuck You Heroes’ book, by Friedman, you can see Jay at ‘Adolphs’ pool trying handplants –out the top–in like 1976  or 1977….just amazing. His personal life has been chaotic all along as well. He struggles with his inner dragons. Sometimes, the monster wins…I hope Jay always gains the better sword stroke with that one. Long live Jay Boy Adams. Thank you to Peter King for the image. Skate-Ozzie

Stevie Caballero at the ‘Hagbowl’.

Stevie Cab- Ansels ramp with- a very young -Colin McKay watching.

Cab- blunt at Ansels

Steve Caballero at ‘Hagbowl’ in Pennsylvania. Colin McKay in foreground.

Pennsylvania. In the late 1980’s & into the 1990’s, Jim Howell & I rode -more than- a few ramps. There was an occasional time each year, when we tried to get a few sessions in at the ‘Hagbowl’. The ‘Hagbowl’ was a roman- end backyard pool that overlooked a huge golf course & country club near our homes. Rumor had it found by ‘Doug Mayer’ & ‘Booger Brown’ in the mid 1980s. An old deaf lady owned the house & lived there alone. You need to understand that concrete backyard pools hardly exist in Pennsylvania because of the winter freezing temperatures & all. They are very scarce.

The only time it could be ridden, was late at night after she went to sleep. We would stealth across the golf course, dodge trees & street lights to climb higher up into the neighborhood. We would reach the top cul-de-sac, and pull ourselves over the fence & green hedges. It lay there, in the moonlight. A real backyard concrete pool! The pool hadn’t been filled or used in –what appeared like –decades. The coping was all loose & missing in spots. The tiles clattered into the pool as you rode over them. Vines of ivy, festooned the edges & draped into the deep end. It was heaven.

The pool was tight & gnarly though. Jim & I would ride it as best we could. We would quietly take turns carving across the deep cup, grinding & breathless in the moonlit shadows. We were busted by the police there, March  24, 1988. The police came & we hid under a big fir tree. His spotlight caught us & we came out rather sheepishly. The cop actually seemed amused by our antics. He couldn’t quite understand what we were doing. He asked if I had any knives, guns or weapons. I responded, “Why, do I need any?” He finally let us leave with a terse warning, “Go! Don’t let me see you guys again.” I smirked & thought, “Don’t bet on that, buddy.”

Steve Caballero, Colin McKay & Tommy Guerrero came to do a strip mall demo in the summer of 1990 or 1991. Afterwards, we took them to our spots. ‘Ansels’ ramp, the ‘Hagbowl’ & ‘Busters’ barn ramp. When we saw Stevie Cab skate the ‘Hagbowl’, we were speechless! He pulled slider to fakies in the roman corner & grinded everywhere. It was a lesson in poolriding by a master. Somehow, we took them there that afternoon & its the only time that I recall being there during the day.

We had fun & I wish that I had better images to share with everyone, but these are it. It was a great day & the crew stoked. The ‘Hagbowl’ has since become history. The old lady died, the house sold & refurbished. Its a swimmer now, but its past emptiness lives on in our minds. It was one of our only backyard pools in central Pennsylvania. Jim & I still have a blue tile from the pool. Both have black magic marker writing on them.  ‘Jim & Ozzie mania. March 24, 1988’. Skate-Ozzie

Remember…?

Don Hoffman & Jim Goodrich watch Doug Schneider @ Spring Valley contest 1978.

It was very cold that winter. Pennsylvania was a barren land of gaunt trees, ice & frozen roads. The field’s stretched away to the horizon; rolling & empty. Farms shouldered the hillsides & cattle plodded- aimlessly-in mud & snow, nosing the hard earth for anything green. The earth slept and–like me– dreamt of springtime. I jumped puddles & slush to cross the road and get to the mailbox. My breath hung in the air. The cold bit at my lungs. We lived out on a rural road & it was that time of the month when ‘Skateboarder’ magazine arrived in my dreary corner of the world.

I had a ritual. I would feel my heart pound, as I saw it inside the mailbox. I fingered its glossy edges & peered intently at the cover. I saw the image, the stickers on the board and the riders helmet. I saw the skaters style, the trick, the grab, the pool, its tiles and coping. I looked at everything. I was like a scientist in a white sterile laboratory. Scrutiny was my occupation & ‘Skateboarder’ my lab manual. My ritual was followed monthly. I would run into the house, tripping over my own wet sneakers. Grabbing a quick snack, I would careen down the hallway & take the stairs two-at-a-time in my haste.

I would hibernate behind my big wooden door & open the cover. I read the advertisements. I read the editor comments, letters to the magazine & small print within the staff listings. When I say that I read every word, I mean it. ‘Skateboarder’ was the biblical fountain from which I drank. It was where I went to drink &  quench the thirst in my soul. I care little of the opinion of those out there thinking I am a kook.

Think what you will. I have skated ramps, pools & vert for over 35 years of my life & probably will continue doing so for awhile longer. I know in my heart that there are those out there, just like me. There are those of you out there….that remember. Do you? Thanks to Craig Fineman (R.I.P.) for the image. Skate & remember what it was like to be a kid, before the weed, booze, girls & egos. Remember- skating, rolling & loving your skateboard. -Ozzie