All language subtitles for 30 for 30 S04E43 Empire Skate 720p ESPN WEB-DL AAC2 0 H 264-SUMMiT

Empire Skate tells the story of a group
of kids who ushered in a new era of

skate culture in New York City in the
90s. A lot of these kids came from

rough neighborhoods, broken homes, tough
situations, yet they found family in

each other. And their meet -up spot,
their clubhouse, was their local skate

called Supreme.

Skate shops were hard to come by. They'd
pop up and then they'd close, which is

the nature of any small...

skate shop that's struggling to get by.

And it's not until 1994 when Supreme
opens that these kids finally have a

that is going to stick around and is
going to do it in a way that's so

and so fresh and so incredibly New York.

The energy and the attitude and
everything that was happening at Supreme

undeniable that it couldn't be stopped.

The inspiration for this film came from
my experience skateboarding, falling in

love with the sport, the culture, the
camaraderie. My local skate shop is

me and my friends hung out and shared
ideas and learned about the culture.

And because of those reasons, this story
really hit home for me.

were to go around one of these streets
you frame things whether you know it or

not like a psychiatrist might call it a
kind of selective attention or

unattention this is going on that's
going on but you are looking this way

a sense you're not even seeing something
you just have a general view there are

many many beautiful things happening
there are many ugly things happening

Do you really have an idea of the
thousands of things going on?

You have to understand New York in the
90s because it was all of it. The music,

the culture, the attitude, the game
boarders, the clubs over

capacity, 200 people outside.

You had rappers battling each other.

Everybody was fresh and full of ideas.

Hip -hop just blew up. Nas, Biggie, Wu
-Tang.

It was the culture and the lifestyle,
and we were a part of that.

We were just like the fly guys on
skateboards.

New York City was our playground.

What we were doing, what we were saying,
we had hard in the 90s.

We changed skateboarding. We changed the
slang of it.

There were no skate parks. There were no
vert ramps. New York was like raw,

gritty, real street skating.

Power, pop, the aggression.

People used to call them from like Cali
and shit, and they couldn't even hang

out with us. They used to be like, these
motherfuckers are crazy.

There were just this chaos of the
streets, taking it in places at speeds

downstairs that I would never consider.

And that brought a freshness.

And there needed to be a fresh skate
shop in New York, because it wasn't

that. You can't think of skateboarding
in New York City without thinking about

Supreme.

That's just how it is.

It'd be a skate shop, yeah.

But we'd have the finest and the flyest
shit.

It's going to be a really high concept.
The skateboards are going to be the art.

That was our clubhouse.

It was like our home base.

You know, nobody really knew what
Supreme was.

People would be like, what's Supreme?

What's Supreme? And we'd be like, oh,
the skate shop on Lafayette.

It was bold.

It was big.

And it was ambiguous.

The way it switched.

The clientele changed and the rest of
the world caught on.

These are clothes that are about
culture, often counterculture.

We had guys spend $10 ,000 on clothes
and they gave us 30%. That's when I

started to realize, like, there's big
money in this shit.

Bye.

Bye. Bye.

We didn't just say, hey, there's
something special happening here.

We were creating.

Day by day, night by night.

There was no Supreme without us.

The only way to truly understand Supreme
is

to understand the kids who lived it.

The ones who called it home.

If you won the raffle last night, just
stay against this wall and we'll start

letting you in.

Make sure you're on that list. Don't
waste my fucking time.

We hustle for this. So we've been
camping out. We have people camping out

Tuesday.

A lot of limited items in there. Stuff
is running out fast.

When I walked in, I said, give me
everything you guys got. It's a pucker

It's really crazy. They gave a certain
amount of people raffle tickets.

So those are people that get to go
inside the store first, they get to shop

first, they can buy everything, and the
rest of the 150 people waiting around

the block can get nothing.

Supreme's just a phenomenon.

Fucking world famous.

You hear rumblings and you hear rumors
about, you know, daily totals and amount

of product and every Thursday drops and
what's up.

It's incredible.

There's a lot of value in the brand. You
buy the shirt, you can resell it.

This is all hype.

Everything is hype.

Hype, hype, hype.

The hype is kind of like, I just think
most people don't know what they're

buying into.

Do rappers even know what the origin of
Supreme is?

Do athletes?

You know what I'm saying? I think it's
important for people to know the origin

of that.

To kind of like know like everything
that was or is supreme is a byproduct of

kids from New York City adopting
skateboarding as a culture.

Which we were anomalies to begin with.

Growing up in New York in the 80s,
touching a skateboard was like unheard

We were weirdos back then.

My brother and sister were like so
against me too with it. They're just

oh, you're trying to be this white boy.
Like, I don't understand.

But the minute I touched the board, it
was set in stone.

I'm going to get the green.

This is my life.

Who is Mike Hernandez to Mike Hernandez?

That's interesting.

to self -judge. The story actually,
relative to skateboarding, starts in

school. And all I thought was eat,
sleep, skate.

Constantly looking at a gap, a railing,
a ledge. You know what I'm saying? A

city skater or a street skater.

And then subsequently, Jeff Pang became
my rabbit of inspiration.

Very talented skateboarder.

Man, we've heard so much about you, you
don't even know.

Like, all very good.

Okay. That's comforting.

I got a dollar for that shit. What? You
got a dollar, son. You're gonna make it

this time.

Jefferson Pang.

I call him my ninja.

100 % skateboarder, but one of the
toughest people I know. Like, do not

Pang.

Peter Vesey, he was a fucking swag
master extraordinaire.

very vibrant, very outgoing.

I grew up in the Bronx when I was
younger. I grew up in the South Bronx

was younger.

Once you live in the Bronx, you have
this thing.

It's a special thing.

It's like you're from the Bronx.

And when I was a kid, my guidance
counselor was like, what do you want to

life? And I was like, I want to become a
professional skateboarder.

She laughed right in my face.

I looked at her and I said one word. I
said, watch.

Have a good day. Have a good day. Have a
good day. Have a good

day.

Every fucking trick there was.

Shut up and do it.

That's when I met Stephen Cowles.

Stephen was super good. He could skate
anything, vert, pool, street.

When I first started skateboarding, it's
because of my older brother.

Let me tell you a quick story. There was
a kid skateboarding down the block, and

my older brother was with me.

I stopped the little kid, and I asked
him, hey, can I see you skateboard?

So I rode on it.

It was a feeling I cannot describe.

This is my love. This is what I love
doing.

So when it was time for me to give the
kid back his skateboard, my brother was

like, oh, no, you can just go home, kid.
You can just go home.

And the kid was like, I have my
skateboard.

He goes, ah, it's my brother's now.

Thank you to that kid.

I feel bad.

When I found a skateboard and I got the
bug, it was it.

Nothing mattered all the way up to high
school.

Nothing.

Parents were like, where are you going
to college? And I was like, I'm not.

He's mad, but like tough.

Street skating was evolving at that
time.

Now in New York, it was, you know, a
bunch of crazy kids, like mostly from

dysfunctional families that came from
all these different boroughs. And

eventually we all just became one unit
and we skated together.

The skateboard was my, like, vessel to
go anywhere I wanted.

You know, being 13 years old and not
having anyone but your friends take you

around skateboarding really, like,
opened up my eyes.

We were skating these uncharted
territories.

We'd go in the direction of wherever
skateboarding took us.

It was like having the ultimate freedom.
If anything, we were like swarm of bees

in Midtown or financial districts
getting whatever we wanted to.

Stairs, a ledge, a flat ground trick.

Man, we would go from uptown all the way
to downtown to skateboarding miles.

It was just like raw skating back then.
The skateboarding scene was underground.

We didn't have a lot of shit out here,
like skate shops.

Like, I mean, there would be one or two
at a time.

We had the whole skate, but that started
going downhill.

And then there was ODs that was opened
up by, like, kids, like, our age.

Then there was also Benji's, which was
fucking insane.

Benji's skate shop was a bedroom in his
apartment.

He would go up, it was on, like, the
18th floor, and he would have whatever

could get his hands on.

He'd have some wheels around. He'd have
some trucks.

And this little kid going to this guy's
house.

This is so wrong on so many levels.

I think anybody who ever went to Benji's
apartment was like, still to this day,

like, that was fucking weird.

Oh, that dude was hilarious.

Oh, there's a...

That's our ceiling of the shop.

We had all these broken boards all over
the shop and everything.

Let's see.

A skate shop was like a workshop.

And Skate NYC, that was so, like, them.

You know, we're going to put these
fucking cracked boards, like, on the

It's a relic of skateboard lore and
tradition and just where we met up.

It's almost like if you build it, they
will come. It's not like we have this

kind of vision, like, oh, we're going to
do this thing, everybody's going to

hang out. It's just like, we're going to
do this thing because we love it.

When I worked at Skate NYC, they were
passionate about creating a space for

kids that skated.

You know, some of the first people that
I ever saw do art shows for the kids.

So way ahead of the curve.

You know, these are things that are
regular occurrences now at skate shops.

You felt welcome. You felt belonged. You
felt like you were somebody.

It was, in my opinion, it was the first
Supreme in that it was a clubhouse, a

safe haven, somewhere to come and be you
with other people that are you.

We'd be there every day, every day.

We were the iconic place to hang out if
you were a high school dropout.

I'm not proud of this, but, like, these
kids were not gone.

Okay, but they were learning about
skateboarding and some of them had hard

lives, man.

I grew up in like a real dysfunctional
household.

I wasn't going to high school, so I
would just go straight to the city.

The meeting place was Skate NYC.

My friend Harold Hunt at the time, he
was the one that introduced me to them.

I remember everything about Harold. He
would just frequently come by the shop

from day one. And with Harold, because
he had such a giant personality, came a

lot of other people, right? Because he
was the most likable person you'd ever

meet. Harold was a character. He had
flair. He was the East Village diplomat.

Harold Hunter made you feel... If you
met him for an hour, he made you feel

your best friend.

Harold Hunter. That was my introduction
to the Lower East Side and

skateboarding. And it was the first time
I saw a real passion, passion about

skateboarding. And I was just so
impressed with him, just how he stood it

did it and dealt with it.

I came from a broken, broken, broken -up
home, you know?

Man, he would crash at my place. So,
like, when you're like that, you know,

you're always living by your wits. So,
like, skateboarding is salvation.

Skating -wise, I feel like there was
just little glimpses of New York in the

80s.

Little... Little snippets. There was a
few Thrasher articles.

Jeremy Henderson had the cover doing a
wall ride.

There was a few little articles that
you'd see.

But you got to remember, like, New York
was not even close on the map on the

skateboarding, like, in the
skateboarding market at all. Like,

the king.

California, that's the playbook for the
tricks, the culture.

Board sales, wheel sales, anything
skateboard related, they were number one

globally. This is who the pros were.

You had Tony Hawk, who was this super
progressive kid.

You had Rodney Mullen, who was the
freestyle innovator.

There was just like a mix of amazing
skaters. It was mesmerizing.

The heyday of the 80s skating, we were
rock stars, literally traveling the

on someone else's dime, doing what we
loved doing, performing everywhere.

For us, California felt a million miles
away.

There was this big gap.

They had skate parks, they had ramps,
they had all, every way you possibly

Perfect weather, the skate scene, the
photographers, the companies, they

have that in New York.

It was, hey, hit this, do what you can.
Skating in the middle of the streets was

just chaos.

Nothing was optimized.

New York fucking city ate a big fucking
apple under a coat of fucking ice.

20 degrees, gloves from the hardware
store, duct tape.

We're trying to make happen what they
already have.

New York is a completely different type
of animal, not to mention the vibe.

I mean, the vibe on the streets of New
York was, I think, quicker and more

dangerous.

You're going to have to get dirty, and
it's rough.

My motivation and who I was inspired to
emulate or hate was the Shutt crew.

Those were early instrumental, kind of
like shaking my brain, like, oh, that's

ill. Like, those are street
skateboarders.

Shutt Skateboards was a homegrown
skateboard company dedicated to street

involving the stars of New York and the
surrounding areas.

What we showed the world was that you
don't have to be from California to make

it. They were the badass dudes, you know
what I mean? They just were different.

The brand was different.

I was like, holy shit, that's not lying
on the U -ramp or the vert ramp and shit

like that. Like, that was something that
I was like, I can relate to that.

This New York -style graffiti I hadn't
seen on a skateboard before.

It's city -inspired.

So the graphic had to do with the life
that we were living. So we had a street

posse, and the street posse was like,
you know, we're wearing hooded

sweatshirts, but we're not really
committing crimes. We just want to

Took that whole California beach life
thing and it just automatically became

harder because we were doing it out of
New York City. So everything was so raw

out of New York and so gritty and dirty
and grimy, you know.

It wasn't neon and hair down, you know,
it was more like you're living in the

streets, like you better learn to
survive.

We're talking about probably like 86, up
to like 89.

And at that point in time, New York City
was a fucking shithole.

Yet another violent incident struck our
subways during tonight's rush hour.

Homelessness, drugs, crime. People are
afraid to look out at night.

Crack epidemic was hitting hard.

People fucking robbing people, shooting
people.

I was in foster care, taken from my
parents because they were addicts.

I had to learn to survive.

That neighborhood I grew up in was
either you either made it or you became

product of the environment.

You know, like most of the people I grew
up with, they're in prison or dead

right now.

You know, we call them at -risk kids.

Kids who are kind of AWOL.

Their parents and their teachers don't
really know where they are.

And they're in a pretty rough spot.

What was great about our crew, our
skateboard crew, is that we looked out

each other. We always looked out. I had
a skateboard and a whole community that

would support me out on the street that
was always going to have my back.

So, again, it's really dark and scary,
but, like, there's all this really

interesting stuff happening at the same
time.

And all these amazing subcultures
intertwined.

I hung on Lower East Side, and over
there, Lower East Side in the late 80s

totally different. It's not like his
now.

It was like that was the ultimate.

Raw New York City melting pot of
everything from like skateboarding to

to punk rock to artists. Everything was
there.

The East Village art scene is going off.

You got fashion. You got music.

And we were putting all those influences
into our skate shop.

There was this real embedded culture.

And all these kids were like finding out
like how to dress, where to go, what is

cool.

dreaming and plotting a future for
themselves.

You know someone back in the day that
had a skate shop that was doing

it for the love of skateboarding?

There wasn't enough skateboarders to
support the business to actually survive

a skate shop.

There was no way. We weren't making any
money.

whatsoever.

But we were contributing so much more
than that, which we were well aware of.

But, you know, landlords still need to
get paid and shit, right?

So I shut it down.

Skate and YC went out of business.

Soho Skates went out of business.

Benji's was a wrap. O .D.'s was a wrap.

We had no, zero skate shops.

Nothing. Right when I started
skateboarding, if you look back in like

80s, that's when it died.

And it went completely underground.

You know?

Skateboarding does that.

Skateboarding died every other decade.

And that's been our history.

It happened quickly.

We lost our team, and we're no longer
manufacturing shut skateboards out of

York City.

I would say the lowest point of skate
popularity was around 91.

Skating was no longer in fashion, but
the industry was largely centered on the

West Coast, so it was never going to die
in California. It was always going to

survive here.

In New York, it was so impossibly hard
to keep it going.

I never considered quitting
skateboarding.

New York did it for life.

That's all I wanted to do. I wanted to
go pro.

I wanted to live the lifestyle.

This is my dream.

Fall, get up. Fall, get up. Fall, get
up. And get up.

This is part of the glory of what
skate's built on. So much of it is

in... a kind of abject failure.

Skateboarders are just like, we're not
cockroaches, man. There's no way you're

going to get rid of us that easily.

And then what happened, I think, what
was so important and I think shapes the

world today of skateboarding more than
almost anything else is what was going

on the East Coast, especially coming out
of New York City.

Skateboarding culturally was in a
transition.

Bird skating was pretty much on its way
out, and it being a Cali deal, and

street style skateboarding was
transitioning in.

In the early 90s, skating was so small,
and street skating was where everybody

kind of came together, steering the ship
toward the future of skateboarding.

It's going to flow, you know what I'm
saying?

It's going to go with the flow.

And in all fairness, What is
skateboarding? Because skateboarding

of its heart, it's riding down the
street.

So in New York, it went underground, but
at the same time, they're actually

reseating and revitalizing
skateboarding.

We all were kind of progressing at the
same time, and I was really picking that

shit up real fast, all the technical
free skating stuff.

Cats were honing their craft and like we
started to simulate what trick

selection was and like what the fucking
swag was and shit like that.

So what came out of that rebirth sort
of, you know, I see it as a rebirth.

And if there was ever a kickoff to a
culture or time in New York City with

skateboarding, it was in 1993.

93, it's like bubbles start to occur.

Started meeting this new generation
that's starting to come up, guys who I

started to meet through skating.

Shocking how good they were.

We were like the up -and -comers. Us
being that crew that was going to set up

the new New York, you saw this one
thread evolving in the scene where

like, oh, this is New York style.

You know, you knew it by seeing it.

This was some New York shit.

So this is 93, skateboarding started to
grow, and my mind is going crazy because

I'm thinking somebody's going to come in
and eat our lunch.

And Rodney Smith came to me one day, and
he was like, I'm going to do another

skateboard company. It's going to be
called Zoo York, and that's it. The dam

breaking.

We're cracking this shit open, and it's
going to be New York first.

I just was like, I live in New York, and
it's a zoo.

Okay, Rodney, Eli.

It's a go.

Fernandez.

So Eli and I got started. We went and
pooled our money together, got this

warehouse in the dirty -ass meat market,
and it was great. It was glorious.

It's not going to be a skate shop,
though. We're going to sell clothing and

skateboards to the rest of the world. So
as I am good at drawing graphics,

Rodney is good at finding skateboard
talent.

Most of the importance of having a
skateboarding company falls on the

that you have representing your company.

And my whole concept was to bring
individuals that represented the skate

that was going on at the time.

You know, we brought on Ryan Hickey. No
one's ever heard of this guy before, but

he's freaking phenomenal on the
skateboard.

New York kind of crept up on us. They
were introducing a lot of guys that you

hadn't heard of.

But it was clear that there was a rise
in the East Coast. There's something

exciting happening there. And it all
started coming together like that.

The Zoo York crew was like these misfits
of the time. Maybe at times

intimidating because we were out of our
minds.

You got the whole package. This wasn't
just like some kid dating. This was like

some kid skating with his friends,
telling a story, doing his trick.

New York City was the backdrop.

And the skate industry. Never seen
anything like that. Like a crew of

from New York being New Yorkers.

All

that

stuff started to come out.

Oh, my God.

On our side, I think we were so used to
what we'd been doing, we were all

turning to, hey, what are these guys
doing?

All these dudes had a unique style, a
unique look, a totally different

aesthetic.

And then pulling it together at this
iconic place called the Brooklyn Banks,

where all of a sudden it was like, oh,
this is what hardcore street skating can

be.

Brooklyn Banks are a public

plaza on the Manhattan side of the
Brooklyn Bridge. It was everything a

spot needed to be the best skate spot.

Put the boys in the better line. You're
always talking about the boys in the

better line. Put Ali over the wall with
cars, running down the ramp. It was

crazy.

Put the boys in the better line.

You're always talking about the boys in
the better line.

The boys in the better line.

I was a young one.

That zoo crew, those were the top pros
during that time. So I was under their

wing.

Taught me the bad, the good, the ugly.

We had a lot of issues with security
guards.

I was a big antagonist. Fucking tried to
get inside security guards' heads while

they were skateboarding so they could
get their shot.

We were just like right there in this
little like moment of change.

There's more skaters now.

It's growing day by day.

New York is having magnitude and being
recognized, and other pro skaters are

coming to New York City to, like, hang
out and skate.

Thank you so much.

There was always so much East Coast
talk, like, this is California, but...

There's a whole thing, a land of streets
and buildings and bricks and cold

weather. And when you went to spots in
New York, 9 times out of 10, no one had

even done a trick here yet.

Is there a skate renaissance going on in
New York?

But there's no skate shop.

There's no skate shop.

My name is Frank Crittenden, junior from
the Bronx.

My nickname is Chappy.

Grew up, raised, 163rd Stebbins Avenue.

At the time, growing up, in my hood with
a skateboard, it was like, what the

fuck, Cap? What the fuck does this do?
Like, you want to be a white boy? What

the fuck? And that's how it was, you
know? But I skated every day and moved

to the village.

Started working at Union, one of the
hottest boutiques at that time.

Marianne and James Jebbia, they owned
this shop.

James Jebbia comes from England, and he
arrives to New York in the early 1980s.

The Union store, when it opened, was
selling sort of very, very, very early

streetwear stuff.

It was one of the first streetwear
boutiques.

People from all over the world came to
visit Union.

We had the fly shit, honestly. Union had
the fly shit at the time.

This was quality goods from, you know,
designers that were sort of, I guess,

potent.

I was courting the store to sell my
stuff, and James refused it. He was

well, you're selling to, you know, those
guys up the block, so I'm not going to

be in that same radius. I was like,
well, I'll stop selling to them. I'm

selling your stuff.

So James Jebbia, after the success of
the Union store, expands and they open

a Stuckey store.

Stussy was one of the first streetwear
skate cultural brands.

John Stussy, it's his artwork, it's his
design.

It's like surf skatey, but it's like
Rasta.

It was a real lifestyle brand.

The messaging was amazing, the graphics,
just like the statements.

It was always so tongue -in -cheek.

They did some things that were very
unorthodox.

and almost seemed opposed to growing, to
becoming more mass, to becoming

more appealing to a larger group of
people.

Like it could right now be in a lot more
stores, but then, you know, you guys

wouldn't be here wanting to talk about
it and all my homeboys wouldn't want to

wear it because everybody else did.

A lot of people collect them, you know,
like if, say like, you know, like these,

you know, there's 10 colors and people
buy every single color.

So with Stussy, even Union, James Jebbia
is bringing this energy of streetwear

and the sensibility to New York and
creates this foundation that can sort of

build up.

The time, you know, I'm at Union and I'm
skating and James is like, oh, what do

you think about opening a skateboard
shop?

And I'm like, well, yeah.

But he's like, let's make it a boutique
skate shop.

It'd be a skate shop, yeah. But we have
the finest and the flyest shit.

So, looking for locations.

We're trying to figure out names.

And this one name just kept popping up.

Supreme.

Supreme.

Supreme.

It's a very...

Strong and powerful.

The name of the business as Supreme, you
know, let's do the best possible, most

uncompromising version of this thing.

It was bold, it was big, and it was
ambiguous.

A name that somebody could relate
themselves to, you know what I mean, and

of like big themselves up for Supreme.

The location, downtown Lafayette Street.

When we went to Lafayette, I was like, I
like the space.

People could skate. Pretty much an empty
street.

It was a hair salon.

It's a furniture store.

It's a pop shop.

People were like, what? Skateboard shop?
Where? What? Lafayette? What? Who?

What?

Who would even open a skate shop in New
York? Every skate shop in New York's

failed. But Supreme.

was definitely not your normal skate
shop.

Like, for me, I still, to this day, I
think about how, like, my first

introduction to Supreme was.

I remember, like, going from Queens,
skating downtown.

I'd never been there before, Lafayette.

So I'm, like, looking around. I can't
see. I don't see anything.

I'm skating the wrong way. I ask the
lady. She's like, no, it's the other

I see this, like, store.

It looks kind of, like, nice and clean.

Brown paper over the windows.

And it says Supreme on it.

I walked in, and I was just like, whoa.

This is like a state -of -the -art,
modern skateboard shop.

Sick.

The concept was neat, clean, very
manicured.

Is this a gallery?

Are the skateboards the pieces of art?

Because in your mind at this time, when
you think of a skate shop, you think of

graffiti tags and skateboard bolts
screwed to the wall, a catastrophe.

And then they went and opened Supreme.

It looked like an empty space, but it
really wasn't because it was so neat in

there. You know, nobody's ever thrown
something like that before.

I feel like I was the first person when
they unlocked the door, I was there and

holy crap, like, this is mind -blowing.

It was a legitimate skate shop.

It was kind of like skating while she
was junior high.

But here's high school.

I went there to get wheels and hang out
and do skate shop shit.

Supreme was selling Zoo York, so you
didn't have to come to the warehouse if

didn't want to. And everyone was skating
Zoo York boards.

There was pride that like, oh, we have a
skateboard company. It's doing good.

Now we got the skate shop.

Supreme became that main hub.

You know what I'm saying? That's where
we came to chill, organize, decide where

we're going to go fucking skate.

Yeah,

kid.

We would meet there and go skate
throughout the day.

We'd always wind up back there, you
know, use the bathroom, clean up.

Everyone would be there.

If you can't find anybody, nobody has
cell phones there. You would go to

Supreme.

We used to always play, like, really
loud music.

Super loud, like the windows were clean.

Plus, like, you know, you had a
bathroom.

Like, you had a little changing room in
the back, you know. You had free

clothes. You're like, this place is
great.

We would go there and hang out all day,
skate in the front, and get taken care

of.

You knew every skater. You know, every
skater. You met either at that shop or

maybe another spot, but for the most
part, everybody came through there. You

knew everybody.

Supreme was family.

Everyone they hired and anyone that was
a part of it was a part of us.

Yeah, Chappie had asked me from the
beginning to work there.

Well, my friends are part of this, then
I'm going to be with it too.

When I worked at Supreme with Al and
these guys, it was cool. Everyone had

other's back.

We could trust each other.

And at that time, Lafayette was fucking
dead.

There was nothing happening.

Nothing.

We're talking about Supreme 1994.

There was no reputation.

We were making no money then, man, you
know.

So it gave us a lot of time to entertain
ourselves with storefront and the

streets that come along with it.

James was a perfectionist. Like, this
could be neater and tighter, and just

try to turn this way to display a bit.
It looks better.

Everything was neatly tucked, like the T
-shirts.

Don't you unfold those T -shirts.

I could still fold a shirt in my sleep
just because how many fucking shirts I

folded. That's really your only job. The
rest of it is all like, come on, you

have the best job in the world.

Yeah, it's retail.

But it's not.

These guys would come to work drunk.

I'd be like, go upstairs and sleep.

I don't think I was bloodshot. I think I
had blood coming out of my eyes.

We'll take breaks. Like, who's going to
sleep first?

I'm crying blood.

And I'm speaking in Psalms. And he's
like, oh, my God, what's wrong with you?

I'm like, you were there last night.
What's wrong? What do you mean?

I can't stand the rain.

He's like, just go to sleep. Just go to
sleep. Go in the back and go to bed.

I don't know if James knew what was
really happening at the store.

Beer bottles and people screaming and
yelling and cursing.

And they're running a business on the
other side of the door.

What is incredible about Supreme,

even from the earliest days, is how
menacingly New York it was.

You went into the store.

You might not be able to find anyone who
could help you.

We were frustrated that you were even
here.

If you've never skated, if you don't
have a scab on your knee from falling,

please don't come in here.

This is for insiders and it's for people
who get it.

Because it was like, this is our store.
You know, this is our shop.

It wasn't like you could be, you know,
someone in from Long Island or

Connecticut, Westchester, Jersey. You're
like, oh, this is nice. What do you do

here? Those kids would be really abusive
to you.

They were not polite.

This is our rules.

Like the store back then was our rules.
We don't like it. Fuck you. We don't

care. We don't need your money here.

Shutting people down just for being
annoying.

You know, like, no, you can't buy
anything.

No, leave, buy.

Someone would probably get sued now if
you fucking try to do that. Oh, you

tell me.

Don't take the fucking shirt off the
shelf.

I was an asshole.

I was an asshole.

James, he knew there was an attitude in
the shop and he liked it.

We wanted this, like, fucking
dysfunctional, crazy kids from the

That whole attitude we all had is kind
of what made Supreme what it was.

What's up, James?

You know, James is a very private
person.

I knew the employees, I knew them.

But who was the mysterious person that
was enamored with skateboarding culture

at that point in time in New York City?

I mean, I think that's, like, the
million -dollar question.

Is James Jebbia right?

He probably doesn't like any of us
talking about him.

It's funny with James because you don't
want to say anything to piss him off.

That's the thing I'm holding back.

Are you crazy, man?

He's just like, literally, he is like
the Wizard of Oz, right?

James Jebbia is a very mysterious
figure. And of course, that approach,

especially in fashion, is always going
to make you more tantalizing.

He likes his thing to be his thing on
his time.

The evil genius.

Now, James is fucking a great dude.
Super humble, smart.

And even before Union, he worked at this
very cool downtown boutique called

Parachute. So he obviously had some kind
of elitist retail experience.

One of the more creative minds who are
understanding that there's something

happening. Sort of seeing that there was
a community out there ready to put

their blood, tears, whatever you want to
call it, on the streets. But can you

now give them, like, merch that follows
their attitude?

To create a skate shop was an early
exercise in branding.

So you created a set of T -shirts,
things that went on boards.

James had that vision. You know, he saw,
basically, from his deals with Stussy,

he saw what he needed around him, what
he needed to use.

He knew who needed to wear these T
-shirts.

He knew the garments and the garment. I
mean, I never seen James ride a

skateboard. He never skateboarded with
us. He wanted us to wear his shit.

He's like, these kids are cool.

I want to make clothing for these cool
kids, and I want them to wear it.

I know that for a fact.

James was very smart to fill out the
culture around skating.

Sensing who the kids were, who were the
ones to put up, the ones to represent.

When we were all skating at Astro, and I
was told this about me, that James

Jebby used to sit in the diner across
the street and watch me skate.

He liked the way I dressed and all this
shit, and that's kind of like where they

went with trying to bring the brand.

People's

attitudes,

people are already attracted to, you
know what I mean?

But James does his research as well, and
he would see these skaters and go, oh,

yeah, so what about this guy, and what
about that guy?

A lot of us in New York, we already had
that in us, war things that other people

wouldn't wear when they were skating,
you know?

Don't get it twisted, like, we didn't
grow up like skaters, not me.

We used to dress in, like, baggy clothes
like kids from the hood.

So James Jebbia is looking at how these
skateboarders are wearing their clothes

and finding that really compelling. You
can see that so clearly in the kinds of

young men who are on the Supreme
skateboarding team.

The

original

Supreme team, like the inaugural team,
was Ryan Hickey, Justin Pierce,

Mike Hernandez.

Giovanni Estevez, Jones, Keefe, and
myself.

That's the original squad right there.

That was my routine, Clay.

Back.

And they're a group of soulful kids who
aren't going to win X Games. You know,

they're not going to medal at this
stupid event.

But they got style, personality.

They did an ad with us, shot in the
basement of Supreme.

We're like, you know, two little lambs,
and we're drinking.

And it was like an homage to, at the
time, the Calvin Klein ads. There were

these black and white ads. It was very
similar to that.

There is an authenticity to it, and it
doesn't feel like anything's being,

pofered. It's more like...

How can we actually bring the streets
into the mainstream?

And at the same time, they're trying to
get their message across.

The final nail in the coffin, the key,
the thing that made this all work was

into this world sort of stumbled Harmony
Corrine and Larry Clark.

Harmony got a film script bought from
him.

So now he's telling all his friends that
he's been writing about observing for

the past year or two. So now kids, this
movie, and Hollywood and other things

are coming into play.

You know, it's called Shop Up, and
they're like, yo, we're making a movie,

Justin Pierce. We're making a movie in
Harold. Yeah, we're making a movie

Kids.

Justin, I knew from the beginning he
wanted to be an actor. I knew that. He

in the drama club in fucking high
school.

What you want to do now?

We didn't really know the whole
storyline of the movie, but they made

in the park and they brought all of us
in it.

It was like a regular day at Washington
Square Park where a lot of friends were

hanging out, but they were filming us.

Casper, our friend Justin Pierce, you
know, one of the original Supreme guys,

was skateboarding and bumped into
someone by accident, and then the guy

really mad, and everyone taxed the guy.

Showing it how it was, really, you know,
there was no acting, no real makeup.

They were all being themselves, pretty
much.

Kids was based on the things that we
used to do when we were younger, and as

young kid, you know, you're just living
wild, you're living just reckless.

I was supposed to play myself.

But when I was going to pick up the
script, I ended up stopping first and

into a store that sells gear, and I
ended up doing something stupid, and I

up getting locked up, and I couldn't put
it that way.

Sad to say, I was already smoking weed
before that movie.

So it was no pressure, nothing when we
did that. It was just us being us.

I didn't think nothing of it. After we
did this movie, I just thought, cool,

I'll go back to skiing and doing that.

The Movie Kids has become a bona fide
hit, the critically acclaimed new film.

Critics love it, so do audiences.

Ever since this film played earlier this
year at the Sundance and Cannes Film

Festivals, it's been one of the hottest
topics of conversation in the film

industry. Kids was a culture shock movie
of the time. It was showing real life.

I mean, they had real people that really
lived this way.

Sex, drinking, drugs.

It's a deeply shocking and disturbing
film, which feels absolutely authentic.

The new film, Kids, poses shocking
circumstances for today's youth. It's

disturbing. Is it bad for kids?

Is it bad for kids to see?

No, because it's the truth and it's what
a lot of kids are doing.

I saw Kids in the theater when I was in
college.

We thought it was shocking and gnarly.

This was like a loss of innocence in
skateboarding. Like, whew, man, it's

getting raw out there.

Kids,

that was the changing of the guard, the
moment for everybody.

A lot of people would compare Justin to
Matt Dillon.

Justin had that talent and ability.

Harold loved the attention. Harold loved
it. Any chance he got to talk about it,

any chance, any girl that came up, you
seen kids? You seen kids?

Kids just took us to a global platform.

It really did. It put skateboarding on
the map. It put our crew on the map.

After that, people started recognizing
Supreme.

If there was an audition or casting,
everybody, those castings would go to

Supreme. They know where to get the cool
skaters.

You know, we was getting lit.

People were starting to pick up.

They started to see Supreme stickers.

James Giver stickers.

Packs of Supreme box level stickers.

Everywhere I went.

People were looking and seeing him.

You see that red sticker with a white,
you're like, oh shit, what is that?

You see it here, oh shit, I've seen that
before.

It became a set of iconography.

This kind of urban hieroglyphics.

At first people would be like, what's
Supreme?

And we'd be like, oh, a skate shop, a
Lafayette.

And then it was kids pointing at it, oh,
Supreme, Supreme.

Supreme was gaining a lot of popularity.

People wanted to be associated with it,
so they had to be associated with us.

You were like a celebrity if you were a
part of the Supreme crew back then.

It could allow me to go to a club. It
could allow me to walk up in an area

I normally wouldn't be able to go to
because I have these guys around me.

Wait, you're letting skateboarders in in
front of dudes that have thousands of

dollars to spend on bottles for models?

And we're getting into every party.

If you didn't give free drinks to 20 of
us at a club where half of us aren't

even old enough to get into, then you
can't come in the store and you can't be

cool.

Unfortunately, that's the truth.

It was noticeable. If you were in New
York in the mid -90s, you knew, like,

those are the Supreme guys.

All wearing the same sweatshirt with the
box logo.

Box logo. With the box logo.

That's Supreme font.

It's not original.

It came from somewhere else.

What I think is really interesting about
the box logo is that it is itself an

appropriation inspired by the artist
Barbara Kruger.

Same typeface and that style with the
red sort of backing behind it and saying

something provocative and strong.

She's got the kind of rhetorical
fierceness that really fits Supreme,

this language of coercion.

I shop, therefore I am. A comment on our
materialistic society.

If I don't have the cool new sneakers,
if I can't afford those things, am I

cool?

I don't think that another shitty logo
would have the same effect as it did.

People have a real connection to that
box logo. Those were pretty instantly

collectible.

Our clientele back then was 80 %
Japanese.

And they just loved the street culture.
They loved Supreme. They loved

everything that we were doing.

I think there was a perfect storm of
Supreme being

in the right place at the right time
with a Japanese culture, wanting to

on something real.

I remember going to Japan and some
gentleman, right after I got done

skateboarding, literally bought the
shirt right off my back.

$1 ,000 for Supreme box. He was like,
here you go.

Thank you.

Supreme had a thing. It was limited on
what you could buy. Like a box of old t

-shirt, you could buy one.

I don't care how much money. It's just
what it was.

And there's only this many of this and
the limited of that.

So there were certain ways that business
was done at Supreme that needed a

certain kind of salesperson, a certain

kind of tact, if you will, to deal with
customers that were coming in.

These are buyers?

Some of them are buyers, yeah.

They were called buyers.

They wanted to buy Supreme Coals in
bulk, bring them back to Japan and

them.

So we would be straight up.

Oh, you want this?

Yeah, it costs $28, but you want another
one?

This is how it's going to work.

You got to pay cash on top of the
retail.

At the time, the going rate was 30%. We
had guys that would come in and spend

$10 ,000 on clothes, and they'd give us
30%. That's when I started to realize,

like, this is big money and this is
shit.

You take care of us, and we take care of
you.

Go get us three bottles of champagne, a
bottle of alcohol, go shopping.

I mean, we just give them kind of like
ridiculous laundry lists of things for

them to go and get.

I'd have the guy come in the morning,
leave me his credit card. He'd give me

order. I'd pull it. And all through the
day, I'd bring up three t -shirts with

two t -shirts with a couple pairs of
sneakers.

The boss couldn't tell. He would see the
shit getting sold, but not in bulk.

And that was it.

So we just made sure that everyone was
taken care of at the end of the day.

Like, no one left sad. Let's put it that
way. We all walked out very happy.

We're making fucking thousands of
dollars a week each, and we're not

These are the first resellers,
absolutely.

These are the people that are making
money off brands that's growing,

and becoming an iconic brand in the
making.

And this was the price.

It's the price for everything.

Oh, yeah, the back room is very
infamous.

It's VIP only, you know?

Man, it was like T .G. Chong lived back
there.

Basically, it was the Vatican. Like, if
you didn't have access, you couldn't

come back. And there was a very small
amount of people that literally couldn't

go behind the counter and go into the
fucking back.

We treated like Studio 54, like, yeah,
no, no, you, no.

So after, you know, a long day of
skating, we'll go by Supreme.

It's already closed. You knock, you see
if anyone's in there, and roll the dice

for a little bit.

I won $550 back there. I love that.

It was basically like a pre -party
before the party.

A lot of it was basically snapping on
each other, making fun of each other.

You know,

a lot of tough love.

You definitely have to deal with getting
roughed up.

They were quick to tell me, Dill, your
shirt's way too tight. What are you

doing? What are you doing with those
pants? Those shoes are crazy.

It was a safe haven for us.

We had love there.

We had love at Supreme, love that we
didn't even have in our own homes that a

lot of us, you know.

Unfortunately, a lot of the stories I
hear from my fellow skateboarders

up, you know, they came from, like,
broken homes, right? They had massive

in their homes.

And I was one of those kids.

You know, my mother passed away when I
was six years old. My father was not

around.

I'm the first generation American.

My Albanian grandparents raised us.

Imagine being like 10 years old and your
mother being like, Daddy's coming home,

go upstairs.

You never knew who you were walking into
when you came home. When you open that

fucking door, it could be, you know,
cool, or it could be like you're walking

into like a straight brawl.

You know, not boo -hoo me, but, like, my
folks broke up when I was super young,

and I never saw my parents because they
were always out doing their own thing.

They were like, oh, the kids got it.
They got keys. They're fine.

Holy shit, that's fucking scary.

And thankfully, I found skateboarding,
and skateboarding introduced me to

everybody else.

We fucking had the same exact story.

Mike Hernandez's parents died when he
was a kid. He was being raised by his

grandmother in Section 8 housing in the
Bronx.

Justin didn't ever have to go home.

We could stay out for three nights and
no cops coming for you.

Like, they'd just be like, oh, cool,
they're not bothering me at home.

Harold didn't have a mom or dad.

He had a grandmother who died when he
was 16 years old.

We knew that about Harold, and, you
know, everybody knew I didn't have a

but it's not like we all spoke about it.
We just knew that...

His skating comes from a place that's
real, and my skating comes from a place

that's real.

It was just a release.

You can go skate the whole city all day
and just forget about everything.

This moving, like I'm moving, I'm moving
fast.

I was in control of my skateboard, where
everything around me, like I had no

control. And it just made me happy.

Skateboarding was the second family.

Not saying my mother and my siblings
didn't give me love, but it was just a

different kind of love that you had with
the skaters that grew up with each

other.

This made me love them, and they love
me.

And so, you know, it's beautiful.

But a lot of us from that type of
upbringing have a lot of emotional

that we kind of don't, we hold it in,
but it's still fucking there.

And I think with Justin, it got to a
point where it was like that baggage got

too heavy.

I can't

speak for every individual from our
clique and what they were going through.

I can only speak for me being a
byproduct of what I witnessed growing up

skateboarding and who my parents were.

You know what I mean?

But I know that there was issues at home
with his real father. He didn't know

who his real father was. And his
stepfather, he didn't fuck with him.

You know what I'm saying?

The person you saw in the film, kids,
that was Justin. It's that Justin had a

lot more emotion and...

He was a super deep person, dark, very
dark.

Justin's a whole nother story.

You know, he was making it. He was doing
good. He had everything going in the

right direction.

He moved to L .A., got the part next
Friday.

We fucking were just like over the moon
about that for him.

People in Hollywood or whatever, films,
saw a lot in Justin.

Justin's a passionate dude. He wanted to
try to make it.

Then it's just like...

You get a phone call.

And it just, nothing up

to that point in my life, it was just
like, you know what I mean? Like, this

first time you ever have, like, a loss,
especially a loss, like, as close as

that, it's like, it's just tough. You
know, it's tough for everyone.

As much as I love Justin, I'm mad at
Justin for, you know, taking himself

out because he could have been here
right now.

When that

kid died,

I've never felt that much pain in my
life because, like, I had such a

close bond with him.

Supreme closed that day, and it was a
day of mourning.

Justin was the first of our really good
friends to pass.

You know, and there were too many others
after that.

And they were all devastating.

Harold was devastating for more than his
friends.

Harold was devastating for the world.

Because Harold was bigger than himself.

I mean, how could you deny that
personality?

When I heard Harold had a heart attack,
I broke down like a baby.

And my feelings haven't been that hurt
since my mother died.

So it kind of, you know, it brings me
back to that.

That hurt.

You know,

to me, skateboarders are like, they're
like superheroes to me.

So when someone dies that's a
skateboarder, more so even a

ran with, that's like a shock.

Put me in a place of humility, you know?

Yeah.

Thinking about skateboarding, it's like,
you know, what do we do?

We eat concrete all day, every day, and
that's what we do.

We seem unbreakable.

That mentality of being unbreakable
carries along with life and death. It's

like, there's no way this person's going
to die.

And then shit happens.

I had, like,

screaming in the building. I lived in a
tenement building in Lower East Side.

I went up to the roof. We had access to
the roof.

I looked at the World Trade Center, and
I see this huge gaping hole in it, and

it was just fire and smoke.

And then we all know what happens.

You know, everyone says New Yorkers are
tough, but that was just, that came out

of nowhere. So that was really, it
blind, literally blindsided everyone.

But the skateboard community checked in
with everyone. Like, we would call the

shop up and see how everyone was doing.

Was anyone affected?

We found out that everyone was fine, and
unfortunately all these people, you

know, passed away, firefighters, police.

That was a crazy dose of reality, you
know.

Nothing's promised, and like that, we
could be gone, you know.

The day after, the streets were
completely abandoned. There was nobody

except for emergency vehicles and then
us.

Us trying to make sense of what had just
happened.

We're all cooped up. No one knew what to
do. We needed to release some stress,

block everything out, and just go skate.

It was just a beacon.

You know, you use those buildings to
figure out where you're at in a city.

I was devastated. It was where I cut my
teeth. It was my childhood skate park.

It really was. It's where I learned to
skate.

I could, like, close my eyes and
literally draw a map of the footprint of

World Trade Center.

We used to go there every day.

And I was very fortunate to get the
shot, and, yeah, it's one of my

I didn't go down there for a while.

So much loss.

So much change.

Obviously, there's a horrible trauma
with a lot of denial within New York.

But one of the things New York does well
with is trauma to some degree.

It's good when it's humble.

There was a big shift between the night
before 9 -11 and then what life was like

in New York after that.

After 9 -11, all the people that were
part of the downtown scene sort of

tighter knit. I think everybody started
living in a creative way like it was

going to be their last.

Anything that you thought about, you
experimented with, you wanted to now do

This U kind of doesn't have a
separation.

The photo at Supreme, you've probably
seen it on the back side of the flyer.

me, it was definitely a time of
inspiration by what was happening around

who I was able to be in the same circles
with.

Supreme was part of that because it was
a hub.

Cool kids were hanging out. Skaters were
in front of the store. Loads of people

started coming by, and it gained
momentum.

There's this real affection for New York
that happens. And Supreme, in a way,

became this, I mean, I don't want to say
hometown hero, but almost in a way, you

know, that survivor attitude, that
relationship that skateboarders have to

city. That attitude almost seems to
reflect the attitude that everyone here

at that time.

You know it was going to get popular and
big because it was getting popular and

big. Even way back when, slow and
steady.

Oh, we got a decal.

Decal. But it grew into this huge, you
know, mushroom cloud

explosion.

The explosion of Supreme came with the
Supreme Nike collaboration.

That's where it actually went worldwide.

We did the Supreme dunk with the
elephant print.

That was the shoot.

When the cement dunks came out, I
remember that day pretty clear.

A lot of people online.

And we made so much money over those
next several years, man. It was fucking

nuts because Supreme was blowing up.

We went from like taking breaks, sleep,
do whatever we wanted, to now we

couldn't even leave the store.

So you're seeing this happen, this
global phenomenon is happening on so

different levels, and we see the
beginnings of the sneakerhead, and then

spread to other areas of the fashion
industry.

One of the things that happened with
streetwear was a lot of money rushed in.

Ukraine started to be able to do collabs
with different brands.

You know, what these collaborations do
is they sort of bring two communities

together, which I think doubles up on
like the kind of energy that you can

create. I can't think of anyone who's
done it more prolifically and more

successfully.

The cross -marketing, it was brilliant.

But that was just half of it.

The other half is the way that they roll
it out.

You make it super exclusive.

How much is this? A thousand?

Yo, get the biggest in a black sweater,
get the white shirt and get the deck.

The limited way in which Supreme dropped
its product is something that was

really pioneered by Supreme.

No one else is doing these weekly drops
and like the quantities are very small.

But then that's also what started the
whole retail business because there's

like so many of these pieces in the
world.

And if you want something, then you got
to go and spend three times as much on

it.

I walked in today, I spent like $7 ,000.
Some of the stuff is collector's items,

so I'm going to keep that. A lot of
stuff is for high -end clients that I

I'll probably double or triple that.

I've gotten book bags and sell the book
bag for like $400, like for nothing. And

I get a few of them, you know what I
mean? So $800 in one day, $1 ,000.

Cool, thank you. We got a couple of
bags, a couple of boards, a couple of

logos.

It's a profitable week.

Once people figured out that they could
go and buy something for a certain price

and make any amount of money on it after
that. The clientele changed and became

such a giant retail thing.

That drove people crazy.

For a couple hundred dollars? For a
couple hundred dollars, bro?

We were doing, like, a sneaker drop,
like, on a Monday, and these fucking

would show up in lawn chairs Friday
night, be camping outside. It used to be

funny, because I used to drive by the
shop sometimes at, like, one or two in

morning, coming back, and I used to
fucking stop, be like, what the fuck,

I'd start making fun of them. So they
hated me.

They were fighting their own battle that
we had nothing to do with.

Like, we show up in the morning, we open
the store, whoever the fuck was first.

They might have been last night.

And I don't know how they got there.

And for me, when it got like that,
that's when I was kind of over it.

It was losing its thing, I thought. It's
like, it's underground, it's kind of,

it's becoming mainstream.

To the point where like, all right, I'm
making good money, but now I'm not happy

over here.

And that's why I stopped working at
Supreme.

I left Supreme in 2004.

I couldn't do it no more.

This whole retail mafia game.

It wasn't the same dynamic.

People just moving in different
directions.

But I was inspired by where I've been,
and I wanted to try to make my own mark

and emulate sort of it, but emulate what
I've learned, but do it in my own way.

Over time, I was able to build something
that was mine.

And that was DQM.

I phased out of my skateboarding career
at that point.

And I was considering what I want to do
with the rest of my life professionally.

You know what I mean?

Chose to become a firefighter.

And I took the test with Mike Hernandez.

I became a New York City firefighter in
2004.

And I worked in the Lower East Side in
Ladder 18.

I was skating in that neighborhood, and
now I'm a firefighter in that

neighborhood. It was just this weird,
like, full -circle thing that just kind

happened on its own.

There's a beauty in the simple
trajectory of being a pro skateboarder.

And now you've humbled yourself to a way
where you're like, now I serve my city.

I ran through my city.

Now I serve my city.

Everyone thinks that skateboarding is
this fountain of youth, but bills catch

to you, and all of a sudden, you're
going to have to actually become an

Thankfully, the brand's popularity has
created an opportunity for a lot of

people from the skate culture and from
the era to actually thrive, and me

working for Supreme happened
organically.

Could there ever be another Supreme? I
highly doubt it.

It's amazing what it became.

The menswear designer of the year is
Supreme.

I will sum it up like this.

There's no other brand that I know of
like Supreme that would come from a

store on Lafayette Street to grow this
big.

And they built this huge, in the end,
multi -billion dollar industry.

And they have a lot of power now.

But it had to rise from something.

And to me, that came from a level of
self -expression. The kids were

this whole evolution of style.

And they were skateboarding and they
were hanging out.

That was the glue.

It's just this beautiful thing that's
kind of organic that happened.

And it goes back to just the love we had
for skateboarding. And we show that

love to whatever we touched.

I love skateboarding.

I love the attitude. I love the energy.

I love everything about it. I love
seeing the youth coming up.

It means a lot to me.

So I still carry the torch.

We've left valuable marks on our city
culturally.

Good thing we had each other. Good thing
we had skateboarding.

I met friends that are still my friends.

Skateboarding gave me a family.

Definitely gave me a family, nine and a
half.

It's all about family and being close.

We were different, man, you know, out
here. The cultural, the friendships, the

people that we would become, the streets
made us.

It's very surreal being a firefighter
for the last 19 years, seeing the

the gentrification, skate parks being
everywhere.

It's cool to watch the city embrace it
and support it.

I just marvel at how many kids are
skateboarding.

Seeing skate parks and all this stuff in
New York City makes me feel good for

the younger.

But I'm from the raw, the hardcore -ness
of it, you know, the streets.

Oh, my God.

Ain't no other like us. Ain't no other
people going to do this like we did it.

That's what you call a hard day skating.

Fuck that.

Empire Empire Empire

Empire Empire

Empire Empire Empire Empire

Ah, yeah, Empire City.

Ah, yeah, Empire City. On the move, on
the move, to the toe, it's so gritty.

Empire City.

Empire City.

Empire.

Empire.

Empire.

Empire City.

Empire City on the move, from the moon
to the tower, it's so gritty. Fuck

yeah, the two -way's crackin', no
Whitney.

Yeah, what we want can't stop, it's no
ditty.

Ah, yeah, Empire City.

Hey, ah, Empire City.