by G.E.F.

Polar Bear, 1979

Ball bearings were still loose, precisions more than two or three years away. The beach by Bay Street had its own attitude that was just a different kind of hard cool. I was living in the more northern territories (Westwood/Brentwood/Santa Monica), just on the outer edges of Dogtown. It was even referred to as Skatetown if you check the historical documents. Most just traveled there, but I attended the schools we all skated on the weekends. Bellagio for third grade (fresh from the East Coast), Kenter for fourth-sixth, and then Paul Revere in seventh and eighth... all had the most infamous skating banks in the world.

 was first-generation pure skater. I was a part of the surf culture since all the friends I skated with surfed, even though I didn't—maybe because I came from the East Coast, maybe because I didn't have straight, blond hair. But the attitude was there. My older friends recognized it and accepted me (barely) into their shit.

I learned that pretty young. If it's the same, why bother? I learned that pretty early on from the artists of the area, and through the words of the infamous Pittsburgh Pirate Dock Ellis (who admitted he was tripping on acid when he pitched his Hall of Fame no-hitter), who said to me when I was ten and met him at Chavez Ravine, "Believe in yourself, I do."

Pat Nojho, 1979