Constructive Loitering: A Look at Skateboarding in the Twin Cities

This story, about the Twin Cities skating culture, was reported using a variety of methods, including direct interviews, phone interviews, history checking and fact checking. I was present and witnessed all of the action sequences described. I followed-up interviews with all the people involved and had each explain to me various aspects of the skating culture (such as, how do your feet move in a “fakie big flip?”). Enjoy.

- J.P.

On a breezy, chilly Saturday morning, Pete Spooner sits in his bedroom editing skateboarding video clips on his computer. In his large, Marcy Homes bedroom hangs a red banner with “chocolate” written in gold cursive, representing a skateboarding company, along with a “Plan B skateboards” poster draped above his bed. Across from his computer rests a framed Pioneer Press article depicting the opening of Expression Skate Shop, which he and three friends started in the summer of 2004. Leaning back in his computer chair, Pete itches his dark stubble and explains the current status of skateboarding.

“Vert is dead,” he says in a broad, matter-of-fact tone that matches his physical features. He’s referring to a skateboarding style that usually takes place on a half-pipe, vert ramp or quarter pipe, allowing the athlete to fly in the air and land back on the ramp. The style is commonly displayed in the X Games, a national extreme sports competition held annually.

“Maybe in some hick town some kid who doesn’t know anything about skating picks up a board and goes to a park with a half-pipe,” Pete says “But otherwise vert is dead. The X Games are not an accurate depiction of skateboarding.”

Skateboarding is a relatively modern phenomenon. Inspired by the idea of surfing the streets, its roots lie in California, first occurring sometime during the 1950s. Since then, a rich and eclectic culture centered around the sport has developed.

Today, skateboarding is dominated by street style, which focuses heavily on flip and grind tricks. The beginnings of street style can be traced back to 1976, when Alan "Ollie" Gelfand invented the "ollie," quite possibly the simplest and most well known aerial skateboarding trick. A skater accomplishes an ollie by kicking the tail of the board down with their back foot, then immediately jumping up while sliding their front foot from the middle of the board to the front of the board. If correctly executed, the skater and the skateboard jump simultaneously. [Readers Note: Gelfand was a vert skater who used the ollie at the top of a ramp to achieve more air. Rodney Mullen, a street style pioneer, was the first to transfer the ollie to flat ground.]

Yet learning how to ollie in skateboarding is a lot like learning how to dribble in basketball – it's merely scratching the surface.

Just like any other culture that surrounds a sport, an interested observer doesn’t have to be a great skater to contribute to skateboarding. Pete, a former skate shop co-owner and current skate tape filmmaker and editor, will tell you this.

At 21, Pete’s been skating for nine years, but admits he’s not good enough to be in a magazine or become sponsored (if a skater is particularly good, a company will sponsor them by providing free boards, equipment and trips to compete in skating tournaments). Pete’s pet project, Expression Skate Shop, was the only skate shop in St. Paul during its initial opening, but lasted for just a few months.

Despite this, he still finds ways to connect himself with the Twin Cities skating culture. Pete is now one of the “dime a dozen” skateboarding filmmakers, yet he’s been modestly successful in the game. “WhoWhat?!”, a 2006 skate tape he co-filmed and co-edited, was well-received in the Twin Cities area.

“We made a slight profit off of [‘WhoWhat?!’],” Pete says.

Skate tapes play a large role in skating society and usually feature clips of five or six skaters doing their best tricks, accompanied by a song of the skater’s choice. The idea is to promote the featured skaters (hopefully getting them sponsored) and help interested spectators learn the video’s featured tricks. Many “WhoWhat?!!?” skaters were unknown in the Twin Cities skating community before the video was released and are now sponsored. Jan Jacobson and David Jaimes are two examples.

But these days Pete is at work on a new skate tape called “Boondoggle,” scheduled for release in 2008, the title referring to:

“Doing nothing – a pointless activity, like, ‘What are we accomplishing?’” Pete says. “The name stands out.”

. . . . .

After a few minutes of continuously editing “Boondoggle” promotion footage, Pete hears a knock on the front door. In steps Tom Rohrer, a 17-year-old from Plymouth. Tom, who sports a brown hoody, shaggy blond hair, a curved nose and a casual voice, is one of the five skaters Pete plans to film today. All are noticeably younger than him, possibly nearing the peak of their athletic skills.

“Age ain’t nothin’ but a number in skating,” Pete says, explaining his willingness to film and skate with people of all ages. “It’s fun for me to film all these younger skaters trying to prove themselves.”

Before they leave to go skate, Pete shows Tom a few of his 30 or so skating clips from a recent Madison trip. On the computer screen, a skater is seen ollieing a staircase while making his board spin and flip in the air.

“Whoa, he just did that with his foot – my God that was so sick!” Tom says.

The clips continue, followed by Tom saying, “That was so sick!” over and over again. After a few minutes more they finally go outside, geared up and prepared to skate at Riverside Plaza, a set of apartments comprised of six buildings – one of them as tall as a skyscraper.

In his car, Tom shuffles through his iPod and puts on “Temptation,” a hallowed, melodic song by the ‘80s new wave group New Order. Before it hits the two-minute mark, Tom quickly switches to British dancehall/rap artist M.I.A’s “Paper Planes,” a slow, mellow hip-hop track backed by a looped riff originally heard in the Clash song “Straight to Hell.”

“This song is sick,” Tom mutters to himself, casually nodding his head and continuing his lingo.

On the way to Riverside Plaza, Tom and Pete stop near Lake Street to pick up CJ Tambornino, a fellow skater. Tom’s car pulls up in front of CJ’s lawn, honking loudly.

After a small delay, a short, energetic 20-year-old with blondish-red hair and freckles comes to the car wearing a black hoody and holding a huge jug of water. A black-and-mild mini-cigar rests in his left ear.

“What’s up, what’s up, what’s up!” CJ says, exchanging handshake gestures with
Pete and Tom. “Man I’m anxious to gap!”

In the car, CJ anxiously fools around with his black-and-mild, separating the cigar’s plastic mouthpiece from its tobacco. Before putting the cigar back together, CJ places the plastic piece in his mouth, rolls down the window and blows small tobacco flakes outside. The minute the car reaches its destination, CJ steps out to light his black-and-mild, puffing deeply and looking refreshed.

Riverside Plaza, once planned to be part of a utopian housing program across the Twin Cities, is a constant skating location for Pete and his subjects. Its faded colored panels and large share of subsidized units give it a sometimes negative image, but the plaza’s endless concrete ledges, ramps and slopes make it an ideal spot for street skating.

Pete, CJ and Tom each pick out boards from the trunk and skate toward a small park inside the Riverside Plaza boundaries. The cloudy sky and windy weather keep the outdoor temperature in the lower 40s, creating an uncomfortably bitter and dark afternoon.

“This is what skateboarding in Minnesota’s like,” Pete says. “Everybody knows they can’t skate when there’s snow, but they’ll still skate in the cold. The skaters in California are spoiled.”

Two more, Dominick Randazzo and Max Byers, both 16, wait for Pete, CJ and Tom atop a large, 10-foot concrete hill that slopes at a 55 degree angle. Everyone’s ready for another round of switching, grinding, backsliding, manualing, bluntsliding, tweaking, piss- pedaling and whatever else that comes with a round of skateboarding.

Without second-guessing themselves, each skater, Pete included, takes turns rolling down the slope. At the slope’s bottom, all of them ride off a curb that’s raised about two feet above the sidewalk. To the skaters, it’s nothing but a simple a warm up.

The activity could be viewed as constructive loitering – simultaneously trespassing and exercising, disobeying minor laws while staying in shape. Through their motions and conversations, CJ, Pete, Tom, Dominick and Max exhibit an exhilaration for and devotion to their favorite hobby.

“My friend today was excited that her soccer season was over,” Tom says to the others. “The whole time I was thinking, ‘Shit! Winter’s coming! Soon I won’t be able to skate anymore!’”

CJ skates while the others rest for a moment. After ollieing near the top of the hill, his board slips from his feet and rolls down the slope, landing near an elderly Asian woman wearing a jean dress and dark blue cloak. She’s unhesitant about picking up the board. After CJ runs down the hill to retrieve his board, the lady throws it up in the air, making it flip and spin. On its fall, the tail end smacks her on the side of the face.

“Holy shit! What the fuck just happened?” Dominick says.

“Whoa! That’s fucking crazy!” Max says.

After giving him his board back, the elderly woman follows CJ around the park, repeatedly yelling “GO!” in a crackly voice. Everyone’s confused.

Although this occurrence is a rarity, confrontations in outdoor skateboarding are common – especially from authority figures like security guards.

“People think about liability, they think we’re fucking crazy,” Pete says.
“They probably saw some kid with a broken arm sue someone on TV. We’re not going to do that.”

The confrontations sometime lead to a rebellious “fuck you” attitude from the skater, but Pete and his crew try not to behave that way.

“Some of the younger kids will get snotty, which gives us a bad name,” Pete says. “You gotta just be civilized.”

Pete starts to film CJ attempt a switch backside flip down a five-stair set. The stairs, which are located in the middle of the Riverside Plaza concrete park, resemble a pyramid-like structure. They have four sides and are shaped like a square, with the top stair providing a good amount of room for CJ. At a bottom stair, Pete is equipped with a camera and a skateboard.

“Ready?” Pete asks. CJ nods and quickly gets momentum before he ollies off one of the top stair corners, flipping the board’s long axis 360 degrees while turning it 180 degrees with his body. “Switch” refers to a non-dominant stance, similar to writing with your left hand (assuming you’re right-handed). Pete starts filming at an opposite corner and skates on his board to follow CJ in action, achieving a dolly filming technique. On the first try, CJ loses control of his board in midair, failing to land the trick. He quickly runs to the top of the staircase, ready to try the same trick again. Pete skates back to his initial position.

“Ready?” Pete asks again, as the process continues. After six tries CJ
successfully lands the trick, but is still eager to repeat it. On the next try, CJ breaks the board while landing, cracking it in the middle.

“FUCK!” he says.

Voices shout from atop a balcony of one of the apartment complexes:

“You suck! My grandmother can kick better than you!”

Pete and CJ seem not to hear the voices and walk over to the others, Pete still with his camera in hand, always ready to shoot.

Atop the concrete slope Dominick is making an effort to land a fakie big flip, which has his body turn 180 degrees while the board spins in a circle and its long axis flips 360 degrees. “Fakie” refers to ollieing with the board’s nose instead of the tail.

Pete stands on a tall ledge at the bottom of the slope, filming Dominick, who doesn’t land his trick and is laughed by another invisible voice from above.

“Ha Ha HA!” CJ laughs back sarcastically. His broken board forces him on the sidelines, where he’s hawking lugies and smoking the same black-and-mild from before, only now it’s much shorter. He cheers on his friends and breaks into a chant:

“Kick! Kick! Skate-boarding’s tight! Kick! Kick! Skate-boarding’s tight!”

Pete’s ignores CJ and continues filming another day’s worth of footage. A cloaked Muslim woman, most likely a Riverside Plaza resident, walks by and briefly pauses, staring at the skaters, and then goes about her business like the rest of the passers-by. Dominick, Max and Tom continue their tricks as Pete’s films them, ignoring everything else.