In the November 2003 issue of Big Brother Skateboarding Magazine, editor, Dave Carnie, took a strong stance when he penned his article titled “Modular Skateparks are Evil.” Considering that magazines such as Big Brother depend on advertising from all sorts of companies, this was a move that was sure to alienate an entire range of potential advertisers. That’s how important this topic is to Mr. Carnie, which also reflects how important it is to skateboarders across the country.

Dave Carnie gave the Austin Public Skatepark Action Committee permission to reprint his article on our website. Here it is in its entirety. One note of caution: The author, Dave Carnie, is very impassioned when writing about modular skateparks. Frequently this passion results in his use of expletives. They are included here to maintain the integrity of his writing and are not intended to offend visitors to the APSAC website.

Modular Skateparks are Evil

by Dave Carnie

I first heard about Skate Wave from Heidi Lemmon, the director of SPAUSA. Heidi has been trying to get a skatepark built in Watts and South Central for a few years now with little luck. Recently the city did finally decide to build a park. Instead of consulting with Heidi, however, and learning the needs of the skateboard community, they ignored her valuable knowledge of the area and contracted Skate Wave to build the park.

“It’s crap,” Heidi said. “It cost $100,000 to build, and it’s just two quarter-pipes, a mini-ramp and a couple of rails.”

Heidi is prone to exaggeration, but still, I was astounded. So I checked out the Skate Wave website, as she suggested, and I could tell just by looking at the pictures of Skate Wave’s “modular skate park” products that they’re complete bullshit. Basically they make a couple different plastic obstacles (a quarter pipe, a pyramid, a spine, a mini-ramp and some rails) that, when snapped together and arranged on a playground, constitute a “skatepark.” I use the term loosely because the park they built in Watts, which I recently visited, looked a lot like the shit I used to dork around on in my driveway when we weren’t skating “for real.” And mine sure as fuck didn’t cost no fuckin’ hundred grand.

So it’s shit, right? Whatever. Fuck those dudes. Watts got ripped off. The problem, however, is that a lot of cities are actually buying their crap. They are first and foremost a playground company, called Landscape Structures, out of Minnesota, whose sales are reported at near $100 million. They are not skateboarders. But because of their experience with safety regulations and dealing with city governments and rec departments, they’ve positioned themselves to con cities all over the U.S. into putting in Skate Wave parks. Besides having years of experience negotiating playground contracts with cities, they have also developed a relationship with Tony Hawk. The “Tony Hawk Foundation” logo is displayed on every page of their website. “What the fuck is Tony doing endorsing this crap?” I wondered. The Hawk Foundation was created to help ensure that there weren’t anymore crappy parks built. It didn’t add up. So I wrote Tony and his brother Steve a “What the fuck?” email. They both responded immediately.

“You have to understand,” Steve said, “that our motives are entirely philanthropic.” He explained that Skate Wave donates some of their products to the THF. The THF in turn gives the donated ramps, pyramids, and rails to cities that can’t afford to build a proper park and don’t have a population to support one and thus aren’t eligible for the grant money the THF gives out. They’re mostly rural cities with little money in ‘bumfuck Idaho,’ as Tony said.

“You don’t understand how many grant applications we get,” Tony said. “These places are in the middle of nowhere, and the Skate Wave stuff is better than nothing.”

He was right. I was probably grossly underestimating the amount of pressure he’s under to decide which cities get the small amount of funding the THF can provide.

“But,” Heidi protested, “It’s not better than nothing. It’s worse than nothing. These kids are stuck with that shit now.”

Cities don’t want to allocate funds to anything, least of all a skateboard park. But if a city does regard skateboarding as big enough of a nuisance on their streets, and they do kick down some cash to provide a pen to containt he problem, you better believe that they’r eonly going to build one. And if the city chooses to give the building contract to Skate Wave, the skaters in that city are fucked. Which is what happened in Watts. They’re left with a very expensive and yet boring and unchallenging “park.” In the mind of the city officials, they’ve fulfilled their obligation of providing a place for skateboarders to ride. And because they now hav e aplace to ride, there’s no reason they should be on the streets, and thus “no skating” laws can be enforced. A Skate Wave park is actually worse than having no park.

“Have you skated the Skate Wave stuff?” Steve Hawk asked.

“No, I haven’t,” I admitted, “but I can tell that they’re complete shit. I can see photos of their ramps on their website.”

Steve was unconvinced. Apparently they had assembled a quarter-pipe right in fornt of him in one of their meetings, and they saw no problem with it.
“All right,” I said, “I’ll go skate one of their parks, and I’ll get back to you.”

Landscape Structures has been manufacturing playground equipment since the ’60s. The owner, Steve King, is, as far as I can discern, not a skateboarder. He simply saw how big skateboarding is and decided he wanted a piece of the pie.

“Intent on mining some of the millions being spent on facilities to accommodate the growing horde of youthful skateboarders and inline skaters,”wrote a business journalist in 2001, “Landscape Structures became the first in its industry to offer a modular skate-park system of ramps and rails.”

Their first attempt at “mining the millions” was a complete joke. They built these horrible, purple ramps that just sucked. Actually I don’t even know if you could call them ramps. But then they brought in Mike Taylor, a skater and skatepark designer (he designed Ventura’s Skate Street among others) and had another go at it. This second line shows some improvement, but no amount of arrangement could ever constitute a skatepark, especially in comparison to what’s going on today in skatepark design and construction. Even if their modular system was up to today’s standards, there is no justification for what they’re charging.

Mike Kassak and I drove out to the Watts park around noon. What we found was a small, fenced-in slab of cement sitting in the middle of a large park that also had a swimming pool, basketball courts and large expanses of grass. Judging by the shady characters milling about and the bums sleeping on benches, it was used less for recreation than for drug deals and the like. I stepped into the park, and my jaw dropped. Heidi had said the park cost the city $100,000, but all I saw was an eight-foot-wide quarter-pipe, a small pyramid with a six-inch-high rail atop it, a knee-high 12-foot-wide mini-ramp, two flat bars and a small box. It was a joke. I had never felt less inspired to skate in my life.

There were about six kids skating the park. All were either black or Hispanic. Actually, I think Mike and I were the only white people in the whole park. It was summer, and it was hot. There was a black kid lying in the shade under one of the quarter-pipes, numb from the heat. Those that were skating pushed languidly about the park looking bored and avoiding everything but the flat bars. Though there were a couple nosegrinds, they were clumsy beginners trying to imitate what they saw in videos and magazines.
“So, what’s this park like?” I said to the little fat kid that was standing next to me.

“I don’t know,” he said nervously.

“Well, do you like it or not?”

“Not really,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. The other kids gathered around to see what the fuck the stupid white guy wanted, and I asked all of them what they thought of their park. They were all equally unimpressed, and added, “It’s too small.”

I pushed to the quarer-pipe– oh, in case you don’t know what a “quarter-pipe” is, Skate Wave describes one: “The curved surface directs riders up and above the ramp enabling riders to perform a trick, and then land back onto the ramp and roll away.” The trick I performed was a fakie rock, and after I landed back in the ramp, I rolled over the pyramid and hopped up on the deck of the other quarter-pipe.

The quarter-pipe wasn’t that bad actually. I could see why Steve would think they were all right. They’re about six-feet-high (they come in four-foot sections) and have a good transition. They’re made of plastic and steel and have a very playgroundish feel to them. Or, as they say, it’s made of “exclusive TekTrak surfacing, TenderTuff damage-resistant coating, and Permalene warp-resistant panels.” Whatever the fuck that is. The surface didn’t bother me, but Mike fell on it, and because of the noonday sun, it burned his elbow. Other than that, they really weren’t that bad. They are, however, just quarter-pipes, and there is no quarter-pipe in the world that is worth $5,000, which is how much each of the four-foot-wide sections costs. At least I think. I’ve also been told they cost $10,000. (I’ve been unable to get prices on their shit because no one will talk to me. More on that in a minute.)

The quarter-pipe is where my conciliation ends, though (besides, how fucking difficult is it to build a decent quarter-pipe? It’s not that much of an accomplisment). The rest of the park, the pyramid and the mini-ramp, were simply insulting. That someone would think that I or anyone else would enjoy these things made me so mad. It’s like that scene in the first Foundation video when Swank goes, “Hey, guys, session THAT!” and he points to an old pile of wood. Only Skate Wave is serious. They weren’t even worth looking at. Shit, you can hardly see them. They’re tiny. Especially the mini-ramp. It was about two or three-feet-tall and was so mellow that they must have used 15-foot trannies on it. I’ve skated steeper driveway bumps. Complete garbage that surely must cost somewhere around $20,000.
“The Skate Wave 2.0 all-steel modular skatepark system allows every kid to be a star,” they boast on their website. “And even though all the products are designed with the help of skating professionals, you don’t have to be a pro to enjoy them. [Our materials] raise the standard to create a skatepark of the highest quality, durability, and safety. Basically, Skatewave 2.0 is a professional-grade, professionally approved system that lets kids fell like the pros, even if they’re just average Joes.”

I’ve recently noticed, as you may have as well, that in the Western world, a company’s worth is measured not by the quality of their product, but by how much money they make selling their product. You would presume then that a company that makes a lot of money makes a good product. Sometimes that’s true, but really a company’s worth is determined by how good they are at fooling people into buying their crap. Quality means nothing in the free market. Quantity. How many units can we move? Sell, sell, sell. Probably the most obvious example of quantity before quality is in the fast-food industry. Don’t those hamburgers look good in the pictures and on TV? And everyone that’s eating them is so happy and beautiful. Dan, I’m hungry! I gotta go get one! But the reality is, you get a turd wrapped in paper served to you by a grumpy teenager who makes minimum wage. Ever since I was a child that’s been odd to me. That’s accepted as normal. Yet it’s all a big lie. I mean, Nike almost has an argument: If fast-food companies can lie to the public about the food they’re serving, why can’t they lie about their shoes? Take those Olive Garden commercials, for example. Do you actually believe that huge Italian families go to the Olive Garden to eat authentic Italian food prepared by chefs trained in Sicily becuase, hey, they’re family? It’s just a fuckin’ Denny’s with an Italian accent. Their food arrives in trucks, frozen and in bags, and the meals are prepared exactly the same way whether you’re in an Olive Garden in the Bronx or one in LA. Ah, but they’ve fooled a lot of people into buying their crap, haven’t they?

Skate Wave is doing the exact same thing, but unlike a hamburger, it’s hard to dress up a quarter-pipe.
And should it come as any surprise that no one at Skate Wave would talk to me? At one point I was really close to actually talking to someone, I just said, “Hey, my name is Dave Carnie, I’m the editor of Big Brother skateboard magazine, and I’m doing an article on skateparks. Is there anyone I can talk to about your products?” I was transferred to Lyn, their PR lady. I left Lyn a message, but she never called back. Eventually, I got through to her, but she deferred me to Brian, “our skateboard guy.” Brian, however, never called me back, either. Finally, I got a voicemail from Lyn which said, “I wanted to let you know that it’s not going to work out for us to participate in this intervice for this article at this time, but please give a call in the future if you have any other needs for information from Skate Wave. I’ll talk to you later. Thanks. Have a great day.” Not going to work out? What the hell does that mean? They make skateboard ramps, but they won’t talk to a skateboard magazine. And what’s this shit about if you need any information about Skate Wave, give us a call in the future? Okay. The future. So I waited a couple minutes, for the future, and I called her back. She didn’t answer. I’m now way into the future, and I’ve called five times, but they won’t talk to me. Even Mike Taylor, who is supposedly a skater, won’t return my calls. You know why? Because they know they’re peddling complete shit.

“You have to sever your relationship with Skate Wave,” I said to Steve Hawk after all this. “They’re using the Hawk name to sell their shit, and that lends them a huge amount of credibility.”

He disagreed. “The terms of our contract are very specific about how they use the Hawk name, and it’s very limited.”

“I don’t give a shit what the contract says, Steve. No matter how limited it is on paper, the reality is, you guys have a relationship with Skate Wave, and that’s all people are going to see, and they’re going to assume then that you endorse their products.”

Steve saw my point and told me he’d think about it. A couple weeks later when I talked to him again, he said that the Tony Hawk Foundation was going to drop the ramp donation program all together.

“It’s just been too much of a headache,” he said, “and what you and Heidi have been telling us is kind of the final straw. We need to get back to the Foundation’s mission statement and that is to ensure that good parks are built.”

Hooray. But the damage may already have been done, and the war certainly isn’t over, because, besides Skate Wave, there are at least three other huge playground manufacturers that are positioning themselves to compete for public skatepark contracts. Gametime makes SPOHN Ranch, Playworld makes Huna, and Miracle makes Ozone. The potential partnering of non-skateboarder-owned skatepark companies with entities like Disney (X-Games), Woodward and Rollersports (which is happening as we speak) is, in my eyes, disastrous to skateboarding. We are potentially looking at the skateboarding landscape being dominated by a slew of companies who are making nothing more than small quarter-pipes and “fun” boxes. Their movement, at this time, seems to be to standardize skatepark design. I can’t think of anything more blasphemous than skatepark design. It’s the complete antithesis of what skateboarding is about. To borrow from our surfer ancestors, skateboarders are continually looking for the next wave. But these playground manufacturers don’t understand this. Nor do the city governments they work for. Perhaps they’ll understand this analogy though: Skateparks should be like golf courses. Each one is unique and offers different challenges. Skateparks should not be like tennis cours where everywhere you go, each one is exactly the same.

We’re on the brink of a skateboarding renaissance. It’s the most exciting time in skateboard history when it comes to skatepark design, yet at the same time we’re facing the possibility of taking a giant step backward if these playground manufacturers succeed in seducing cities to let them “build” their park. Quarter-pipes? Come on. I can build a beautiful quarter-pipe out of wood in one afternoon for under $100. And it’ll last years. But really, who cares how long it lasts? No quarter-pipe would hold any skater’s attention for long, and to argue that they do is pure idiocy and is obviously coming from someone that has never set foot on a skateboard.

If your city is in the market for a skatepark, do not buy one from these playground manufacturers. They’re not skaters. Their sole motivation is profit. They sell complete shit that’s small and unchallenging for a lot of money. Doesn’t it make sense if you’re going to put up a skatepark that it should be designed and built by skaters? Look what’s going on in Oregon right now and what Dreamland and Grindline are building. Amazing stuff. Sure, their stuff is going to cost a little more, but you get a work of art. In some cases, their cement parks are less expensive than these modular pieces of shit. A perfect example is the park in Donald. As they wrote on www.skateoregon.com:

“The town of Donald has 750 people and is located south of Portland, and between Newberg and Aumsville. Donald supported their youth 100% and so set aside 2,500 square feet and sought $35,000 for a solid skatepark, an upgrade from the homemade wooden ramps on an asphalt slab. In three weeks and under budget, Dreamland built a micro pipe with a twinkie in the middle and a left-hand kidney pool with three stairs in the shallow-end. The pool was an excellent use of space and a cultural addition to skateboarding in Oregon. The pool was also built in confidence in the abilities of youth. At the time the park was opened, most of the skaters were about 13-years-old and hadn’t ridden much, if any vert. Within two weeks these kids were dropping into the nine-foot deep-end and carving over the stairs. That is amazing and demonstrates the power of youth to grow when encouraged. By the end of the summer, the kids were apt pool skaters and now, a year later, one has professional sponsors.” Unlike those who skate Skate Wave who get to play make-believe pro skateboarder.

I’ve seen the same thing happen at parks throughout the world. You give the kids a good, challenging park, and you’re going to have a healthy and happy skateboard community. You give them complete shit, they’re going to skate like shit, and they’re not going to be happy. Again, if you’re looking to build a skatepark, look at what’s successful. Look at Oregon. They’ve got dozens of success stories. My hat off to them. Support skater-owned park design and construction like Dreamland and Grindline, support Tim Payne, support Spectrum. There’s plenty of skaters out there with years of experience that wil build you a great park. There is absolutely no reason to hire a playground manufacturer who knows nothing about skateboarding or even cares about skateboarding– they wouldn’t even talk to me! All they’re going to do is sell you a load of shit that no one is going to enjoy. Be loud and make sure your city isn’t conned into buying a modular ramp setup.
I’d also like to urge the skaters who ride for Skate Wave to quit. I’m talking to Andy MacDonald, Steve Caballero, Bruce Crisman, Dayne Brummet, Lyn-Z Adams, Rodney Jones, Jordan Richter, Scott Johnston, Jason Adams, and Chet Childress. You’re hurting skateboarding by supporting this company. I know having a kid is expensive, and you gotta take what you can get these days, but come on, these Skate Wave guys are complete bullshit.

And, finally, I’m not going to get into the actual building of a park, my point is only to urge you not to support these playground manufacturers, but I would like to list some refernces you can visit on the internet to get started and to see what’s out there:

www.spausa.org
www.skateoregon.com
www.dreamlandskateparks.com