The whole Neil Heddings fiasco had me taking a trip down a dark side alley of memory lane, regarding the many experiences I've had with skaters who have ended up in prison. Well, perhaps there really aren't that many - on the order of four or five - but one is too many for my taste. Arguably, the worst of these episodes was involving Mark Rogowski, a.k.a. Gator, a.k.a. Gator Mark Anthony.
Here I will retell my creepy encounter, and transport you back to the tumultuous days of skateboarding in the early 1990s.
Around the time that my tale begins - on or around the year 1991 - skateboarding was enduring a transition involving just about every aspect of the sport. It can be argued that the biggest and most important portion of this transition was the cultural and physical evolution the sport underwent, moving from a largely vert-oriented existence to a participant base comprised almost entirely of "street skaters." The change happened rapidly enough that it caught many vert-only professionals off guard, and put them in the awkward and often financially unstable position of being quickly branded a "dinosaur," seeing their board sales plumett and being forced to reinvent themselves post-haste in order to continue making a living. God knows most skaters weren't considering their life after skateboarding at the time, so often the task was a stressful one. Gator was smack dab in the middle of this conundrum, and while he would go on to claim that "early exposure to porn" had warped him and motivated his inexcusable act, well, that's bullshit. I would have to submit that his motivation was fueled largely by resentment, desperation and childish entitlement.
Resentment largely of people like me, a street skater changing the dynamic of what made a pro skater successful. Desperation in relation to how he would continue living his $20,000-a-month fantasy and entitlement relative to the same. Plenty of other vert pros had managed to make the transition one way or the other, just as freestylers had before them and street skaters had done during the time of the transition. The difference between Rogowski and the rest of these guys was, in my opinion, one of personality, not circumstance.
So on to the story...
At the time I had been riding for The New Deal for maybe a year or so. I was finally enjoying some monetary rewards for my hard work and perseverance. Nothing like what Rogowski had enjoyed mind you, but more than enough for me. To give you some perspective, and an idea of how excessive loyalty can be to your detriment, my first board royalty check from Dogtown in 1990 was $72.00. My method of getting by was doing well in contests and having my sponsors match my winnings. Needless to say, I was stoked to be riding for The New Deal, on a team with friends and contemporaries for whom I had great respect, enjoyed skating with and with whom I was proud to be associated. The two vert pros we had on the team at the time were two great ones, Neil Hendrix and Andrew Morrison. Immediately before Andy Howell, Rick Ibaseta and I were to leave for European tour, there were rumblings around the company that there was an effort to get a new vert skater on the team. I think most of us knew little about who, why, when or how, but certainly we were open to the idea. Everyone knew the economic realities of pros that were strictly vert skaters at the time, but skill is something that is undeniable, and there is a mutual respect that I believe all pro skaters have for each other, one that always warrants consideration unless you're a total hack. Most of us felt that we didn't need another team rider, let alone another vert skater. The two we had were more than good enough and proved so consistently. Regardless, the talk continued and as the first skateboard company with some semblance of a democratic decision making process we were ready to make the consideration.
A week or so later we were all in Southern California preparing to depart on our various tours. It was then that we were informed that the vert skater in question was Gator. Most of us on the street end of things thought "Gator? Why?" We had assembled what we thought was a pretty elite team by non-elitist means. Everyone was currently skating their best, in the mags on a consistent basis and contributing to making The New Deal the premiere company of the time. Gator was dead wood, at least in my mind. A guy who's career had run its course and who's time was over. I think most of us were of the mind that he wouldn't fit culturally, didn't represent any kind of real bnefit to the company and, in fact, would do nothing but raise a big question mark regarding why we would even bother. On the vert side of the program, my take was that the vert skaters on the team, along with some of the former pros who were now running the company in various respects, were considering this out of respect for Gator, past accomplishmens and to me what was a wrong-headed idea that somehow he retained some measure of clout. In the industry, perhaps that was true. In the real, still changing landscape of legitimacy, this was not the case.
At any rate, the decision was made that as many of us as possible would make an attempt to skate with the guy and render our personal votes of confidence or no confidence afterwards, per our democratic ideals. On a personal level, my opinion of him was that he was a prima-donna dick. He wasn't someone that I thought about much. My opinion had been formed largely as a result of skating with him at mini-ramp competitions I used to enter to keep myself well rounded and show that I wasn't a one-dimensional "15 Trick Lou" as Felix Arguelles used to put it. There was a general resentment - that I alluded to earlier - on behalf of many vert skaters towards street skaters for the transition that had/was occurring. We were "street faggots" or "pussies" because we didn't focus on the "manly" vert aspect of skating. In general, the feeling was externalized in a good natured way. Most vert heads realized that none of what was happening was our fault, and they dealt with it in an "elder statesman" kind of way that everyone could deal with, regardless of what was said behind closed doors. Gator, on the other hand, seemed to truly dispise us and I had more than one run-in with him that confirmed this. At nearly every one of those mini-ramp contests I mentioned, there were set practice runs where one skater would get the ramp during his practice heat. At every one I can remember, he would inevitably mad dog me - for real, not some disdainful passing look, he would look at me like he wanted to fight - drop in on me during my designated practice run and, from my perspective, seem to try to intimidate me and perhaps even cause me to fall and injure myself. Needless to say, it didn't work. All it did was piss me off. I have to imagine this was because I was one of the few known to be a "street skater" that entered these competitions, and therefore was the perfect person to take the resentment out on. Nobody else did this though, only Gator. Snaking was a fact of skating in contests, but this was intentional. My M.O. however was to just keep my mouth shut. It tells you something, however, that I still remember all of this even now, 15 years later.
In order to have some interaction with the guy, a few of us were to skate with him at a skate jam at a local church in Vista, CA. I was open to the whole thing, because it wasn't of any real consequence. I had heard some weird stories about Gator having become a Born Again Christian. Personally, I find that whole concept creepy and weird. In general, that doesn't matter much, but I would learn later why he had become Born Again and how creepy it actually was. We showed up to the skate jam to find Gator skating, awkawardly so. A fish out of water skating small quarter pipes and parking blocks, holding a bible. Strike one. Religion is a personal thing, but the last thing we needed was some evangelist on the team, creep-ifying our whole deal and inviting some kind of comparison to Winger. I wasn't surprised to find that Gator now wanted to be my good buddy. Desperation has the tendency to make one swallow their pride in the most unflattering ways. At that point, all I wanted was for him to refrain from attempting to evangelize me. It's a good thing I wasn't rape and murder material. In hindsight, he should have just stuck to pitching himself to us as a vert skater worthy of a good sponsor, because he was one of those guys that just looked totally out of place even pushing. That's something most of us don't rreally consider. Vert skaters that never skate street don't push. They look weird doing it, and he did.
Personal interaction with the guy was weird. Again, in hindsight, it makes a lot of sense. That's because at the time that we were skating with him at this church skate jam, he had already beaten, raped, and murdered a young girl and buried her naked body in the desert inside of a surfboard bag. Of course, none of us knew that at the time, but still there was just something macabre and twisted about the guy. Smiling while clutching his bible and doing frontside rock 'n rolls on the little quarterpipe. I left the jam, along with my compatriots, feeling like there was no reason to enter a yes vote regarding his addition to the team. It would turn out to be a wise decision on all of our parts.
Andy, Rick and I then left for Europe. If you don't know already, it's common practice for foreign distributors to handle care and coordination of touring skaters while overseas. We were in the office of one about midway through the trip, I believe in Meunster, Germany. While we were there, a fax came through from the states. We were in another room, separated from the workers by some glass and a door, when we heard a ruckus going on and saw som slapping of heads and the German equivalent of "Holy Shit!" We went to investigate, and passed the fax around, consecutively dropping our jaws while reading its content. it said that Gator Mark Anthony had been arrested for the rape and murder of a young girl, and that he had confessed to the crime and led police to the place where he had buried her body.
Wow.
Needless to say, when it dawned on us that we had recently been considering adding a murdering rapist to our team roster, we were sufficiently creeped out, and my personal feelings had been confirmed.
Every so often there are rumblings about Gator being paroled. Recently there was one pertaining to him potentially being paroled in five years. Whenever there is, it reminds me of this experience, and how glad I was that we had all decided against the proposition of putting him on.
"Kind of a dick" indeed.