our companies had appropriated its logo. Our in-house legal rep suggested the candy maker might drop the suit if we agreed to include coupons for the candy in our own packaging. That one we didn’t even try.
Legal potshots also came sometimes from the artists themselves. To keep their designs from getting stale, most small skate companies get their artwork from freelancers. We’d pay the artist a one-time fee for the rights to use a piece of art on everything we manufactured or licensed. The contracts were usually just quick one-sheets—a stupid oversight. When my video game started to do well, an artist came after us because his version of my oft-manipulated hawk skull graphic appeared in the game as one of about 300 different boards that players could choose to ride. We had a contract that said we owned the artwork, we had his canceled check, and we had a copy of his invoice marked “paid.” But the guy’s lawyer saw deep pockets, and the whole thing turned into a headache.
That was another lesson: These days, we always use an ironclad release for artists’ works, and we’re diligent about making sure contractors are willing to sign it. If they won’t sign, we use someone else.
Videos also triggered their share of lawsuits, especially when it came to using unlicensed music. Very few skate companies could afford to pay for the rights to their favorite songs, but a lot of them just used them anyway—again under the assumption that they were so far under the radar, with such a small audience, that no one would notice. Of course, today, in the age of the Internet, skating bootleggers are way more likely to get busted—especially if their video sections are good enough to go viral.
With the growth of niche television networks, we get approached a lot from TV producers hoping to air clips from old skate videos. But a lot of our best stuff contains poached songs. We end up back in the editing bay, sometimes replacing a great but unaffordable soundtrack with cheesy free music that sounds like it got lifted from a porn movie.
Unlicensed music isn’t the only problem. After Birdhouse released its groundbreaking video The End in 1998, one of the producers thought it would be cool to add a bonus “egg” clip to the DVD version. Remember those? You had to scroll around the menu for an egg that would lead you to some hidden video—in this case it was footage of an appearance by me on a national network game show, one of the most popular game shows in the world, a game show that had not given us permission to use its footage. I didn’t find out about it until after the DVD shipped to stores.
We had to recall every copy.
3
HEY KID, WANT TO BUY A HOODIE?
Risking our homes to make t-shirts and hats
Mr. Tony Hawk,
Obviously you have hit on something with these pre-teen kids here in Florida. The shorts with the key chain skateboard are as hot as the pony on the Lauren polo shirts. I really appreciate you for being successful in your chosen field of endeavor. Capturing these preppy kids at an early age can only lead to continued financial and personal success.
By the late 1990s, my sisters, brother, and I all had children of our own, ranging in age from 2 to 15. Anytime we got together, and we got together a lot, there was a gaggle of young cousins underfoot. Of course, being neck-deep in the surf-skate culture, we liked to dress our kids up to look like mini-rippers. But it wasn’t easy. Most of the stuff for the under-12 set was of the goofy OshKosh-Gymboree variety, designed to make them look like dress-up dolls instead of little humans.
A few surf companies, like Quiksilver, Rusty, and Billabong, had obligatory youth lines, but none of the core skate companies did. They worried they’d risk alienating their hypercool teenage customers by catering to munchkins whose favorite thing to do with a skateboard was turn it upside-down and spin the wheels. The coolest kids’ clothes we found were made by a little-known