This weekend, I had a rare chance to catch up on some paper-pushing here at The Solitary Life offices. One of the biggest things that I have to do around here (that definitely doesn't get done often enough) is to keep my "Big Skateshop and Skatepark Database" up-to-date.
This Skate-Stuff Database is actually a very large, 3" thick, three-ring binder. I know it's odd, being a tech-savvy blogger and all, that I would keep a giganto-sized hard-copy collection that would probably just as easily fit into an Excel spreadsheet (if not, easier).
However: When I go on the road, it's not always easy (or convenient) to tote around a bunch of electronic gizmos. But, a few pieces of paper always work just fine for my purposes.
Here it is, my "Big Skate Stuff Database", in all of its three-ring-binder glory. Behind it is my trusty Rand McNally atlas... yes, I still rely on analogue direction finders, too. I'm sorry, but I find the whole "GPS" thing to be kinda dorky. I guess it's the truck-drivers' son in me.
Anyway: All of those blue-highlighted towns? Those are where skateshops either are, or (more often than not these days) where they used to be. And in case you're wondering, the black stars are skateparks.
As I spent the day calling around to skate shops all over Indiana, I quickly noticed a very disturbing trend emerging. And that was the never-ending recordings that I was getting as I called these shops. You know the ones: "We're sorry, but the number you have dialed is either temporarily out of service, or has been permanently disconnected". Followed by a suggestion that I check the number, and/or dial 411 for further information.
That's usually code for, "We're sorry, but this skateshop that you're trying to call has totally kicked the bucket."
According to my database (which I began compiling in 2008, before my summer tour), about 50% of the skateshops in the state of Indiana have vanished. In approximately two years. Now, I knew damn good and well that we had lost some skate shops out there. I can see that plain as day, as I travel back and forth across this vast cornfield of ours.
However: I had no idea of the scale and severity of the problem, until I was confronted with the mass of finally-compiled data yesterday evening.
The skate shops that have dropped out of the scene range from extremely "core" shops that sold skateboards and nothing else, to private skateparks, to small businesses that sold a variety of stuff. That means: It affects the entire spectrum of skateshops, big and small, specialized to diverse.
In memory of all of these used-to-be-there shops, I thought I'd pull a few out of the 'ol Database, and give them a quick spotlight, just for old times' sakes. Many of these I had visited in my travels, while others came and went before I even had a chance to fill the gas tank in the car. Either way, I have a hunch that we could learn some valuable lessons from these used-to-be businesses:
Life Skateboards in Anderson/Muncie. I went to Anderson to find this shop- it was supposed to be right next door to the Anderson Skatepark- but when I got there, it looked as if it'd been recently packed up, and shipped out. It's weird, because it looked to be the best possible location (right next to the local skatepark, after all, is always a good place to be), and the storefront it was in was really nice. I've always wondered what the story was with this one, but so far it's been quite a mystery.
Movietime Video. I always loved this one: A small video-rental chain spread far and wide over northern Indiana's corn belt, that also sold "pricepoint" skateboards. Lots of Speed Demons completes and blanks. Some "more core" dudes that I know thought this whole concept blew, but what else are you gonna do?! These small cornfield towns aren't big enough to support a fully legit "core skateshop"! So, it was either Movietime, or nothing at all.
If I had to make a wager, I'd guess that the reason for demise here wasn't anything skate-related at all... skateboards, after all, were a miniscule part of their overall business... but rather, their downfall is probably easily attributed to a paradigm shift in the movie-rental business: As more of these far-away little towns finally get high-speed cable access (with on-demand, pay-per-view movie services), the need to drive all the way into town (which might be miles away) to rent a movie overnight simply ceased to exist.
These were the saddest for me to see gone, because I knew straightaway that all of those burgeoning little skate scenes... Cicero, Tipton, Elwood, Sheridan, Flora, and Frankfort... probably took a pretty big kick in the nuts, too. What are those kids gonna do now...?
Ahhh, the infamous Board Room in Columbus, Indiana. Probably the "most core" on my list, and the polar opposite end of the spectrum from Movietime Video, The Board Room was as "core" as "core" gets. The problem here was probably two things: The Great Midwest Floods of 2008, which severely affected Columbus (and the rest of low-lying Indiana), as well as the fact that Rob could come off as a serious dick, if you caught him on the wrong day (which was most days, is rumors are to be believed). That's why we stress the fuck out of "customer service" here at The Solitary Life. Because it can easily make- or, break- a business, all by itself.
This is illustrated by The Board Room's "archrival", B2 Bikes and Boards (in nearby Seymour), which is way less "core", but a hell of a lot more "friendly". So as The Board Room died a slow and painful death, B2 actually grew into a new, beautiful location with more floor space. Customer service, people. Never forget it.
Gneiss, on Indianapolis' far west side. I remember this one well: Great guys (but kinda quiet and reserved, which made them seem stand-offish and immediately rude), and a sparse-as-hell storefront with barely anything on the walls. First of all, "standoffish and rude" are bad enough. Secondly: You don't have to have everything under the sun, but your shop should still look full, diverse, and visually engaging. I knew right away that these guys wouldn't last, if for no other reason than for the third thing I picked out: That being on Crawfordsville Road's farthest outreaches put Gneiss too far away from the city to generate significant skater traffic.
Whatever the cause, they were gone a few months later.
Skateshops aren't the only thing disappearing here in Indiana: Even public skateparks are disappearing, and have been for some time now. Cicero's outdoor mini ramp was probably the first that I remember being torn down... the reason being, vandalism. Whiting's concrete skatepark is also rumored to have met the jackhammer-and-blade treatment, but "why" is still unknown. New Castle's skatepark simply fell apart (outdoor wooden skateparks in Indiana are just a bad idea, anyway), while Danville's relatively new prefab-concrete park was supposed to have been "sold and moved to Brazil, Indiana" (again, because of the vandalism/trouble issues)... but then, it disappeared entirely. Brazil doesn't seem to have it, and it definitely isn't in Danville... so, where in the hell is it...?!
180 Skateshop and Coffee Shop in Ellettsville, just outside of Bloomington. Bloomington already has two successful shops (Rise, and Amused... three, if you wanna count the ass-hats at Zumiez), so why they needed a third/fourth is way beyond me. I thought the coffee-shop sideline was smart and fun... but apparently it wasn't smart or fun enough, because they're now toast.
This one gets the "hot potato" award of the decade: The Beech Grove Skate Shop, Indy Skates Beech Grove, The Beech Grove 180 Skateshop, Solace, Felonz... great storefront, great little shop, great history... but not a big enough of a skate scene to keep it going. Beech Grove is an aberration, anyway: It is its own little island town, sitting right in the middle of the Indianapolis Ocean. As such: It's surrounded by skaters everywhere, but easily accessible to none of them. This little shop probably never made a dime in profits, and really only stayed open "for the kids". But when the kids left town, so did the need for this shop to exist.
Even "Indiana Powerhouse" Rise closes a location once in a while. I remember the old Pendleton Pike location from when I first moved here (got robbed, as far as I remember... at gunpoint... twice, if rumors are to be believed...). Likewise: This New Jersey St. location came and went in a flash. The word on the street? Impossible to find. Not that any of the Rises are all that "easy" to find in the first place (to this day, I still know dudes that can't find the Carmel store to save their lives), but still... location, location, and location are still the "Big Three" of successful retailing.
Oh, yeah, almost forgot: I never go into Rise, unless it's the Bloomington store. Why? They treat me like I'm some sort of dildo-headed asshole every time I go in there. But, Socal Mike treats me awesome! That's why I give him my hard-earned cash, instead.
Bad Boyz Toyz is right up there in Zumiezville (aka Chicagoland, which probably got like 500 new Zumiez in the last few years). As a result, what used to be a six-store chain is now down to two stores, plus Krush (their indoor skatepark). BBT was pretty active in their local scene... they were always, always doing a contest, or a jam, or a fundraiser, or something or another... but now that they're slowly fading away, who's gonna pick up that ball and run with it...?
Here's another midwest sad story: Just Ride/Solution/Muncie Skatepark in Muncie. Just Ride was a lavish, gorgeous, jewel of an indoor skatepark built by renowned park-builder Brian Knopp (who also built Muncie's now-defunct outdoor, wooden skatepark at Tuhey Park downtown). Apparently, Brian was tried and convicted for something or another, and thus Just Ride closed briefly before being "restructured" and passed on to Solution Skateshop, who also closed it briefly for "restructuring" as Muncie Skatepark LLC, who has since closed it [again] for who-knows-what-reason(s). Talk about "confusion in the marketplace".
So, what can we infer from all of these skateshop deaths...? Well, the first thing that becomes clear is that, regardless of how sensible [or senseless] it may be, everybody still harbors that dream of owning a skateshop, someday. Which is good, because that means that we'll always have a skateshop, somewhere. Even if it is only temporary at best.
Here's another thing that it tells me: Many people that ultimately start skateshops, are woefully unprepared for the realities of skateshop ownership. Of course, there's still no "Skateshop Ownership 101" available anywhere (although we're trying our damned best to compile one here at The Solitary Life, through these regular reports).
At the end of the day, all of these skateshop "fails" were probably preventable. Some of them could have been easily prevented by taking careful stock of the skate scene, and realizing that a skate shop just wasn't feasible in the first place... while still others might have been saved by more experienced and savvy management.
But, here's the most important thing that I'm learning about skateshops: They don't network. Ever.
Which still sort of confounds me. I mean, where is a better place to learn how to run a successful skate shop, than from a successful skate shop owner? I certainly can't think of any.
Here in Indiana, the two best shops that I've experienced are TOC in Terre Haute, and B2 down in Seymour. Both of these shops are growing. Both of these shops are heavily engaged in their local skate scenes. Both of these shops are run by super-nice people (Matt at B2, and Liz and Jer at TOC). Both of these shops are bucking the trends, and writing their success stories.
More shops should be doing the stuff that B2 and TOC are doing. At the very least, they should be asking Matt, Jer, and Liz how they're doing it. But, they won't. Is it out of shyness? Stubbornness? Ignorance? Elitism? Pride? I don't know.
All I know is, this probably isn't the end of the hemorrhaging.
I'd better keep that binder close at hand for a while, because I have a hunch that I'll be thinning it out for the next few years.
And good luck to those shops that are still standing. You need it.
Bud Stratford
Senior Editor, The Solitary Life.
