Miami Dolphins wide receiver Tyreek Hill catches a pass in the first half against the New York Jets at Hard Rock Stadium in Miami Gardens, Florida, on Monday, September 29, 2025. Hill suffered a serious knee injury during the game.
PHOTO BY AL DIAZ
adiaz@miamiherald.com
The NFL will be reviewing parts of Tyreek Hill’s deposition in his divorce case as the league probes the star wide receiver for alleged domestic violence during his marriage, including accusations that he tried to punch his wife’s stomach while she was pregnant.
In court on Wednesday afternoon, attorneys for Hill and his wife, Keeta Vaccaro, told Miami-Dade Circuit Court Judge Spencer Multack that they had reached an agreement on providing Hill’s deposition transcript to league officials. The attorneys said the deposition will be handed to the NFL with some portions redacted.
In August, Multack issued an order to shield evidence in the case from being made public. The deposition may not be released publicly, and its use would be “limited strictly” to the NFL investigation, according to court documents.
A month later, Vaccaro, 29, filed an amended divorce petition, alleging eight incidents, including that Hill shoved her to the floor, ripped her hair out and tried to punch her stomach while she was pregnant. The couple was married for a year-and-half at the time of the divorce filing in April 2025. They had their daughter in November 2024.
The trial for the divorce — and domestic-violence claims — is expected to start in June, Multack noted in an order filed in January.
Vaccaro went to court in December asking for Hill’s deposition to be released to the NFL before her scheduled interview with league officials. The NFL is investigating Hill, 31, for possibly violating the league’s personal conduct policy, according to court records.
Miami Dolphins wide receiver Tyreek Hill (10) talks with his wife, Keeta Vaccaro, before the start of his NFL game against the New York Jets at MetLife Stadium on Sunday, Jan. 5, 2025, in East Rutherford, N.J. MATIAS J. OCNER mocner@miamiherald.com
The December filing marks the first time details about the NFL investigation have been publicly discussed. The NFL generally does not disclose which players are being investigated. From the document, it appears Vaccaro is cooperating with the probe.
The couple’s contentious divorce proceedings have painted an unflattering picture of Hill, who has faced previous allegations of violence toward women dating back to his days at Oklahoma State University.
In recent weeks, the judge admonished Vaccaro for purchasing a $196,000 Bentley as she asked the NFL star for almost $40,000 a month in temporary support and more than $325,000 in child support, according to Us Weekly.
Hill is recovering from a major knee injury, and a suspension would also likely affect his market value if the Dolphins release him.
Hill, who sustained a season-ending knee injury in Week 4 against the Jets, made $27.7 million this season. He’s due to make $29.9 million next season, but none of that money is guaranteed and the Dolphins aren’t expected to retain him on that contract.
Grethel covers courts and the criminal justice system for the Miami Herald. She graduated from the University of Florida (Go Gators!), speaks Spanish and Arabic and loves animals, traveling, basketball and good storytelling. Grethel also attends law school part time.
SCOTIA — The last time Mary Bullwinkel and her beloved little town were in the national media spotlight was not a happy period. Bullwinkel was the spokesperson for the logging giant Pacific Lumber in the late 1990s, when reporters flooded into this often forgotten corner of Humboldt County to cover the timber wars and visit a young woman who had staged a dramatic environmental protest in an old growth redwood tree.
Julia “Butterfly” Hill — whose ethereal, barefoot portraits high in the redwood canopy became a symbol of the Redwood Summer — spent two years living in a thousand-year-old tree, named Luna, to keep it from being felled. Down on the ground, it was Bullwinkel’s duty to speak not for the trees but for the timber workers, many of them living in the Pacific Lumber town of Scotia, whose livelihoods were at stake. It was a role that brought her death threats and negative publicity.
Julia “Butterfly” Hill stands in a centuries-old redwood tree nicknamed “Luna” in April 1998. Hill would spend a little more than two years in the tree, protesting logging in the old-growth forest.
(Andrew Lichtenstein / Sygma via Getty Images)
The timber wars have receded into the mists of history. Old-growth forests were protected. Pacific Lumber went bankrupt. Thousands of timber jobs were lost. But Bullwinkel, now 68, is still in Scotia. And this time, she has a much less fraught mission — although one that is no less difficult: She and another longtime PALCO employee are fighting to save Scotia itself, by selling it off, house by house.
After the 2008 bankruptcy of Pacific Lumber, a New York hedge fund took possession of the town, an asset it did not relish in its portfolio. Bullwinkel and her boss, Steve Deike, came on board to attract would-be homebuyers and remake what many say is the last company town in America into a vibrant new community.
“It’s very gratifying for me to be here today,” Bullwinkel said recently, as she strolled the town’s streets, which look as though they could have been teleported in from the 1920s. “To keep Scotia alive, basically.”
Mary Bullwinkel, residential real estate sales coordinator for Town of Scotia Company, LLC, stands in front of the company’s offices. The LLC owns many of the houses and some of the commercial buildings in Scotia.
Some new residents say they are thrilled.
“It’s beautiful. I call it my little Mayberry. It’s like going back in town,” said Morgan Dodson, 40, who bought the fourth house sold in town in 2018 and lives there with her husband and two children, ages 9 and 6.
But the transformation has proved more complicated — and taken longer — than anyone ever imagined it would. Nearly two decades after PALCO filed for bankrupcty in 2008, just 170 of the 270 houses have been sold, with 7 more on the market.
“No one has ever subdivided a company town before,” Bullwinkel said, noting that many other company towns that dotted the country in the 19th century “just disappeared, as far as I know.”
The first big hurdle was figuring out how to legally prepare the homes for sale: as a company town, Scotia was not made up of hundreds of individual parcels, with individual gas meters and water mains. It was one big property. More recently, the flagging real estate market has made people skittish.
Many in town say the struggle to transform Scotia mirrors a larger struggle in Humboldt County, which has been rocked, first by the faltering of its logging industry and more recently by the collapse of its cannabis economy.
“Scotia is a microcosm of so many things,” said Gage Duran, a Colorado-based architect who bought the century-old hospital and is working to redevelop it into apartments. “It’s a microcosm for what’s happening in Humboldt County. It’s a microcosm for the challenges that California is facing.”
The Humboldt Sawmill Company Power Plant still operates in of Scotia.
The Pacific Lumber Company was founded in 1863 as the Civil War raged. The company, which eventually became the largest employer in Humboldt County, planted itself along the Eel River south of Eureka and set about harvesting the ancient redwood and Douglas fir forests that extended for miles through the ocean mists. By the late 1800s, the company had begun to build homes for its workers near its sawmill. Originally called “Forestville,” company officials changed the town’s name to Scotia in the 1880s.
For more than 100 years, life in Scotia was governed by the company that built it. Workers lived in the town’s redwood cottages and paid rent to their employer. They kept their yards in nice shape, or faced the wrath of their employer. Water and power came from their employer.
But the company took care of its workers and created a community that was the envy of many. The neat redwood cottages were well maintained. The hospital in town provided personal care. Neighbors walked to the market or the community center or down to the baseball diamond. When the town’s children grew up, company officials provided them with college scholarships.
“I desperately wanted to live in Scotia,” recalled Jeannie Fulton, who is now the head of the Humboldt County Farm Bureau. When she and her husband were younger, she said, her husband worked for Pacific Lumber but the couple did not live in the company town.
Fulton recalled that the company had “the best Christmas party ever” each year, and officials handed out a beautiful gift to every single child. “Not cheap little gifts. These were Santa Claus worthy,” Fulton said.
But things began to change in the 1980s, when Pacific Lumber was acquired in a hostile takeover by Texas-based Maxxam Inc. The acquisition led to the departure of the longtime owners, who had been committed to sustainably harvesting timber. It also left the company loaded with debt.
To pay off the debts, the new company began cutting trees at a furious pace, which infuriated environmental activists.
A view of the town of Scotia and timber operations, sometime in the late 1800s or early 1900s.
(The Pacific Lumber Company collection)
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2
1.Redwood logs are processed by the Pacific Lumber Company in 1995 in Scotia, CA. This was the largest redwood lumber mill in the world, resulting in clashes with the environmental community for years.(Gilles Mingasson / Getty Images)2.Redwood logs are trucked to the Pacific Lumber Company in 1995 in Scotia, CA. (Gilles Mingasson / Getty Images)
Among them was Hill, who was 23 years old on a fall day in 1997 when she and other activists hiked onto Pacific Lumber land. “I didn’t know much about the forest activist movement or what we were about to do,” Hill later wrote in her book. “I just knew that we were going to sit in this tree and that it had something to do with protecting the forest.”
Once she was cradled in Luna’s limbs, Hill did not come down for more than two years. She became a cause celebre. Movie stars such as Woody Harrelson and musicians including Willie Nelson and Joan Baez came to visit her. With Hill still in the tree, Pacific Lumber agreed to sell 7,400 acres, including the ancient Headwaters Grove, to the government to be preserved.
A truck driver carries a load of lumber down Main Street in Scotia. The historic company town is working to attract new residents and businesses, but progress has been slow.
Deike, who was born in the Scotia hospital and lived in town for years, and Bullwinkel, came on board as employees of a company called The Town of Scotia to begin selling it off.
Deike said he thought it might be a three-year job. That was nearly 20 years ago.
He started in the mailroom at Pacific Lumber as a young man and rose to become one of its most prominent local executives. Now he sounds like an urban planner when he describes the process of transforming a company town.
His speech is peppered with references to “infrastructure improvements” and “subdivision maps” and also to the peculiar challenges created by Pacific Lumber’s building.
“They did whatever they wanted,” he said. “Build this house over the sewer line. There was a manhole cover in a garage. Plus, it wasn’t mapped.”
Steven Deike, president of Town of Scotia Company LLC, and Mary Bullwinkel, the company’s residential real estate sales coordinator, examine a room being converted into apartments at the Scotia Hospital.
The first houses went up for sale in 2017 and more have followed every year since.
Dodson and her family came in 2018. Like some of the new owners, Dodson had some history with Scotia. Although she lived in Sacramento growing up, some of her family worked for Pacific Lumber and lived in Scotia and she had happy memories of visiting the town.
“The first house I saw was perfect,” she said. “Hardwood floors, and made out of redwood so you don’t have to worry about termites.”
She has loved every minute since. “We walk to school. We walk to pay our water bill. We walk to pick up our mail. There’s lots of kids in the neighborhood.”
The transformation, however, has proceeded slowly.
And lately, economic forces have begun to buffet the effort as well, including the slowing real estate market.
Dodson, who also works as a real estate agent, said she thinks some people may be put off by the town’s cheek-by-jowl houses. Also, she added, “we don’t have garages and the water bill is astronomical.”
But she added, “once people get inside them, they see the craftsmanship.”
Duran, the Colorado architect trying to fix up the old hospital, is among those who have run into unexpected hurdles on the road to redevelopment.
A project that was supposed to take a year is now in its third, delayed by everything from a shortage of electrical equipment to a dearth of workers.
“I would guess that a portion of the skilled workforce has left Humboldt County,” Duran said, adding that the collapse of the weed market means that “some people have relocated because they were doing construction but also cannabis.”
He added that he and his family and friends have been “doing a hard thing to try to fix up this building and give it new life, and my hope is that other people will make their own investments into the community.”
A year ago, an unlikely visitor returned: Hill herself. She came back to speak at a fundraiser for Sanctuary Forest, a nonprofit land conservation group that is now the steward of Luna. The event was held at the 100-year-old Scotia Lodge — which once housed visiting timber executives but now offers boutique hotel rooms and craft cocktails.
Many of the new residents had never heard of Hill or known of her connection to the area. Tamara Nichols, 67, who discovered Scotia in late 2023 after moving from Paso Robles, said she knew little of the town’s history.
But she loves being so close to the old-growth redwoods and the Eel River, which she swims in. She also loves how intentional so many in town are about building community.
What’s more, she added: “All those trees, there’s just a feel to them.”
The landslides that have forced authorities to shut off power and gas to hundreds of homes in Rancho Palos Verdes over the last two months highlight the risk of living on land susceptible to shifting and eroding with little warning.
Deep-seated landslides can occur weeks or months after heavy rainfall, when water has time to percolate down to weak zones of rock, creating a landslide plane under the weight of the overlying rock and soil, according to the California Geological Survey.
These types of landslides generally occur on moderately steep slopes.
If you are in the market to buy a home, experts say there are a few ways to determine whether you are buying a property with a high risk of landslides.
What causes landslides
Landslides are part of the natural process that erodes mountains and moves sediment to the ocean through river systems. “It’s important to the basic erosion process,” said Jonathan Godt, the landslide hazards program coordinator for the United States Geological Survey.
“Over the human lifespan, we’re just a blink of an eye in geological time, so [landslide] issues or those processes don’t penetrate our consciousness until something like the unfortunate situation in Rancho Palos Verdes happens,” he said.
Homes built decades ago on ancient landslides that were at one time dormant are “fine for periods of time, [but] sometimes there are changes,” Godt said.
Several factors can alter a landslide’s active status, such as rainfall and earthquakes, but the warning signs are hard to see because they are “well beneath our feet and kind of hidden,” he said.
When properties in these areas are for sale, it’s up to buyers to gauge the land movement risk of the property they’re interested in.
If the seller or their agent knows that the property is on a seismic hazard zone that is subject to strong ground shaking, soil liquefaction or landslide, the information must be disclosed, according to the state Department of Real Estate.
But buyers are also responsible for conducting their own research.
Online research into a property’s landslide risk
At least two websites, Realtor.com and Redfin.com, provide information on the property’s natural disaster risk. Near the bottom of the listing there’s a section that breaks down the property’s risk of flooding, fires, heat, wind and air. Unfortunately, landslides and land movement are not factors that are disclosed.
Instead, potential buyers should conduct a Google search of the neighborhood alongside the words “landslide” or “natural disaster.” If there has been previous landslide activity, news articles about those problems probably will surface, said Timothy D. Stark, professor of civil and environmental engineering at the University of Illinois.
For more scientific data, buyers can turn to three landslide maps created by the California Geological Survey. The Reported Landslides Database has reports of landslides from local governments, the National Weather Service and citizen scientists. The Landslide Index allows users to request reports and other documentation of landslides in a specific area. The California Deep Landslide Susceptibility and Landslide Inventory includes a map of the state that marks areas of landslide susceptibility in dark red.
The California Department of Conservation also published a 2023 California Landslide Response report that included a page showing where deep-seated landslide activity might occur after the 2023 storms.
Stark also suggested using Google Earth Pro to look at aerial images over time to look for land movement.
When you look up an address or a neighborhood on Google Earth Pro, it will automatically show you the current image. To view past images, click the View tab and then Historical Imagery or click on a small clock icon above the 3D Viewer. You can then zoom in or out to change the start and end dates.
As you look at the surface of the area you’re researching, Stark said to look for ground surface features such as drops in nearby hillsides or reddish areas (that have exposed or no vegetation) that indicate steep slopes — all potential signs of prior slope movement.
Looking for signs of past or potential landslide activity
Other signs of landslide risks can be spotted with the naked eye when visiting a property you are looking to buy.
When you’re visiting the neighborhood, take a look at the surrounding properties.
If the house is near or around hills, check out the hill or slope itself. A sign of land movement is if the ridge at the top of the hill is flat and then has a steep curve, a drop or cracks, suggesting a previous landslide.
Check the base of the hill; if the ground is heaved up, that’s a sign of movement.
Consider how close the hill or slope is to the property you’re interested in. If there is sudden land movement or a landslide, the higher the nearby hillside, the farther a landslide can travel, Stark said.
Other signs of past land movement in the area might include:
Misaligned fencing, pavement, guard rails, utility poles, trees or walls.
Visible cracks on the ground.
Water and sewer lines that are above ground.
A cracked or buckled roadway.
Offset yellow or white lines on the roadway.
Houses in the neighborhood that are supported by wooden boards or railroad ties.
Houses that have cracks or are leaning.
You can also check whether land is moving by taking a photograph of the offset marked lines on the ground or a crack in the pavement and revisit the same site a week or two later to see if there’s any visible difference, Stark said.
If you decide to make an offer for a home and start escrow, a home inspector can help you determine if past land movement has affected the property.
Stark said home inspectors will complete a home assessment and look at the walls, drywall and foundation for any types of cracks that suggest land movement. Inspectors will also look at whether the walls are straight and the floor inside the home is level.
Inspectors can also suggest if a geotechnical engineer is needed to conduct soil samples of the home. These tests can detect the behavior of the ground under varying conditions.
However, homeowners can buy a non-standard policy, called a Difference in Condition policy, that’s often used to cover earthquake damage.
Jerry Becerra, president of Heffernan Barbary Insurance Services, said it’s possible to find a DIC policy covering earthquakes where the definition of earth movement is broad enough to include landslides. But he said such a policy could be pricey.
“Presuming you can find a DIC earthquake policy to cover a building located in an area prone to earth movement, the pricing would reflect the exposure,” Becerra said.
Underwriters rely on maps that show soil conditions, proximity to earthquake faults and other factors to determine rates, he said.
If the area is known to have a lot of earth movement, he said, it’s possible no company would be willing to provide coverage.
“I would not take a guess on actual pricing, but I expect it to be more than 1% of the coverage value and subject to high deductibles,” Becerra said.
An Amazon delivery truck was hanging delicately in the “soft soil” of a hill, threatening to fall on a home below, as firefighters worked to secure the vehicle Monday night, according to the Los Angeles Fire Department.
Around 8 p.m. Monday, amid Southern California’s continuing stormy weather, the truck became “precariously perched” on West Rose Hill Drive, just upslope from Huntington Drive, in the Northeast Los Angeles neighborhood of Montecito Heights, officials said.
Video from KTLA-TV showed the Fire Department working to secure the delivery truck in place so it would not fall on a home below. According to the news outlet, the department planned to tow the truck Tuesday morning.
Video taken from above shows packages still lying in the truck.
It was not immediately clear how the truck became stuck on the hill. No injuries were reported.
Silent Hill: Ascension hasn’t made a big impact on the video game world, but maybe its licensed T-shirts will. Konami recently announced some tie-in merch, which is now available on its website. The store features some generic shirts, a hoodie, and a green beanie, but, most importantly, a light blue T-shirt and mug that say “It’s trauma” surrounded by rainbows and stars in the bubbliest font.
If you’ve ever wanted the most emotionally problematic merch that looks surprisingly great and reflects how you feel on the inside, this is the purchase for you.
When Silent Hill: Ascension was announced, it promised a new take on the series by being an interactive, live, choose-your-own-adventure-inspired experience. It was the tagline “It’s trauma,” though, that made a big impact on me, specifically because it was so bewildering. It was very on the nose for a story that was, as we were told, about trauma. Even worse, it was insulting to both people with trauma and Silent Hill fans who knew the franchise’s history with the topic.
For example, Silent Hill 2 offered a profound commentary on trauma, grief, and guilt, creating a character-driven story that differentiated itself from the first game’s dense lore-based world. These are themes the Silent Hill franchise has been chasing throughout its lifetime, sometimes successfully (Silent Hill: Shattered Memories) and sometimes not (Silent Hill: Downpour).
Silent Hill: Ascension is just the latest to try and capture that magic, and it’s been a huge failure. Critics have slammed the interactive story for failing to understand the core concept of “Silent Hill as trauma,” for stilted dialogue, and for being a general slog to sit through. The completely arbitrary season pass and microtransactions, which featured cosmetics and allowed players to choose characters’ actions, didn’t help with making it feel like a tonally consistent experience. It’s tough to take any piece of media seriously when it releases a purchasable sticker that shouts its theme. You didn’t know this was a game about trauma? Now you do.
A T-shirt or mug isn’t going to make Ascension any better, but the “it’s trauma” sentiment makes for some perfectly ironic merch. Plus, with how the world is right now, you can do much worse than a T-shirt or mug that screams “I have a relationship to trauma.”
The cul-de-sac ends at the top of a hill with a sweeping view of the San Fernando Valley. From there, Hermano Drive slopes downward, curving left and gradually steepening before snaking right at a precipitous trajectory more reminiscent of a black-diamond ski slope than a suburban neighborhood.
At the bottom is busy Reseda Boulevard, with just a stop sign between the corner of Hermano Drive and the dangerous cross-traffic.
But ever since 2016, the Tarzana enclave has had four other signs that can’t be found on any other road in Los Angeles. Made of metal, there are two on the way up and two on the way down, each declaring: “NO SKATEBOARDING ON STREET & SIDEWALK.”
As skateboarding has gone from a maligned subculture to an Olympic sport, the signs along this hillside lane citing Sec. 56.15.2 of the city’s municipal code — “No person shall ride a skateboard on Hermano Drive” — reflect the contentiousness that occasionally flares up over its more dangerous manifestations.
Aaron Barlava in front of his parents’ home on Hermano Drive in Tarzana.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
The ordinance was badly needed, 25-year-old Aaron Barlava, who grew up on Hermano Drive, said while shooting hoops outside his parents’ house one recent afternoon.
“We’d always have groups of kids come up here toward the top of the hill and race down on their skateboards at excessive speeds,” he said. “It’s not for the sake of saying we don’t like skateboarding. … It’s a safety hazard. That is a very steep hill.”
The tucked-away feel of this community of about two dozen homes attracted many of its residents to Hermano Drive. But it also once drew groups of teenagers who saw its topography and knew they had to “bomb” it.
Getting on a board and riding down a hill as fast as possible, known as “bombing a run,” is a dangerous, and sometimes deadly, pursuit. The list of fatal accidents includes two teenagers who died within a few months of each other more than a decade ago in San Pedro, spurring an ordinance that restricted where and how skateboards can be ridden citywide and described bombing hills as “a significant danger.”
But tall hills never stopped beckoning a certain breed of young adrenaline junkies. And about nine years ago, a group of them decided Hermano Drive was a spot worth bombing again and again.
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When L.A. Councilman Bob Blumenfield started getting calls in 2015 from some Hermano Drive homeowners about groups of teens repeatedly slaloming past, he said, he “went over there and was like, ‘Damn, that does look like a fun run.’”
A self-described “skate rat” in his youth, Blumenfield nevertheless introduced the ordinance to bar skateboarding on the asphalt hill, labeling it an “extremely dangerous activity.” The municipal code, he noted, allows for ordinances restricting skateboarding in public places where skaters have exhibited “a willful or wanton disregard for the safety of persons or property.”
Bob Blumenfield at a Sept. 26 Los Angeles City Council meeting.
(Francine Orr / Los Angeles Times)
For months residents drove a little slower on Hermano, worried the combination of limited visibility and high speeds would eventually result in a skater being run over.
“I had to respond to the real safety concerns that community members had, which is this became the spot where kids would skate down — what they call bombing — and then veer off right at the end of the street,” the councilman said recently. “As you turn onto Reseda Boulevard, you don’t know what’s around the corner.”
In the years before the ordinance went into effect in April 2016, there were reports of multiple skateboarding injuries on the cul-de-sac, Blumenfield said, but there have been none since.
Sasoon Petrosian said he hasn’t seen a single skateboarder on the street since he moved into his house along one of the steepest stretches of Hermano Drive eight years ago.
Cars travel along Reseda Boulevard where it intersects with Hermano Drive, background, in Tarzana.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
“I see cars coming up and driving fast back down, and runners come up here and run back down,” the 43-year-old engineering director said while taking a break from dismantling Christmas decorations on his porch. “I have not seen anybody skate here. [The ordinance] definitely has worked.”
But there have been at least 11 citations issued for skateboarding on the street, according to records obtained from the Los Angeles Police Department via public records request. The department did not provide additional information about the citations or how it enforces the law, which provides for a $50 fine for a first offense and $100 for subsequent violations.
While street bombing is no longer as popular as it once was and seems to have been eliminated on Hermano Drive, it’s still a point of contention in some communities.
Last summer, the San Francisco Police Department arrested 32 adults and cited 81 minors during a clash with participants and spectators at an annual skateboarding event dubbed the “Dolores Hill Bomb.” The unsanctioned event draws hundreds of people to the sheer hills near the city’s Mission Dolores Park — where the most daring of them careen down the public roadways at high speed, resulting in injuries and one death in past years.
The department said in a news release that law enforcement action at last year’s bomb was necessary because the gathering had turned into a “riot” after an altercation broke out between attendees and a police sergeant.
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Skateboarders have long been at odds with police and property owners.
From the vilification they faced in the ‘70s and ‘80s, through the “skateboarding is not a crime” era that continued well into the 2000s, successive generations of boarders were maligned and driven out of many shared public spaces.
But the ascendance of skateboarding from an underground street diversion into a major industry and legitimate sports enterprise coincided with a transformation of its image in suburbs across America.
A 2010 photo of skateboarders “bombing” down Bluebird Canyon in Laguna Beach.
(John W. Adkisson / Los Angeles Times)
The best-selling video game franchise Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater, along with ESPN’s X Games and “Jackass” performer Bam Margera brought new generations of kids to skate culture.
Social media and YouTube made it so anyone with a board and a smartphone could share their latest tricks and falls with the world and interact with millions of other skaters doing the same. Then came the widening embrace during the COVID era of the ‘90s and early aughts skater aesthetic. Today, it’s not rare to see teenagers in the Valley wearing vintage Thrasher or Nirvana T-shirts over torn baggy jeans and Airwalks.
With its anointment as an Olympic sport in 2020, skateboarding completed its transition to widespread acceptance. Many young parents who grew up skating themselves now see it as a wholesome way to get their kids out from behind their computer screens, doing something active with other young people.
Late Friday afternoon, Cory Masson’s was one of about two dozen long, gold-bathed shadows that zipped across the graffitied pavement at Pedlow Skate Park in Encino — less than two miles from Hermano Drive. The 9-year-old disappeared straight down into the empty deep end of a smooth cement pool and popped back out on the other end, sticking the landing.
Born in 1977, Cory’s mom, Brenda Masson, grew up in the ‘90s skating in the Valley and “watching our boyfriends get hit in the head with skateboards by security guards.” She wasn’t familiar with Hermano Drive, but she described the fact that skateboarding was specifically banned there as “the oddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Today, she spends long days at the skate park watching her son and chatting with other parents.
“Cory is on the spectrum and I was looking for something for him to do solo,” she said. “I think the skate population has grown exponentially, and there’s way more girls skating. We’ve seen an extreme positive change in it.”
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Luna Luna, 19, of Reseda, practices a hardflip while skateboarding at Pedlow Skate Park in Encino.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
At the same time, there’s a rebel streak in the sport that refuses to die.
Martin Garcia said he “grew up bombing hills; that’s just something we did.” Asked what he liked about the death-defying runs, the 27-year-old Van Nuys resident’s eyes lit up as he recalled the feeling.
“It’s sick,” he said. “The fact that it’s dangerous as f—, that’s what attracts people. You go down that hill and escape death four times, it’s like, ‘Wow.’ And your homies are impressed.”
Ramon Black, 37, said he still skates Pedlow frequently. He understands the dangers of treacherous roads, but said he and his friends loved bombing another steep hill in the Valley when they were kids.
“I get why they do it. It’s a safety and liability issue,” Black said in between greeting friends as they rolled by. “When you’re young you don’t care about that stuff, but now that I’m older I know better.”
Eduardo Galvan is a lifelong skater who grew up in Venice, one of the sport’s crucibles. The 59-year-old is now “more of a cruiser” who rides his longboard mostly in the South Bay and runs a company in Tarzana that sells a range of products online, including skateboards.
Galvan said he’d never heard of Hermano Drive, but he doesn’t think the government should determine what spots are too dangerous to skate.
“We’re gonna do it regardless. If you’re a true skater it doesn’t matter, you’re gonna skate anyways,” he said. “This is your freedom.”
15th October 1945, Gunner Hector Murdoch arrived home in Tulse Hill, London, greeted by his wife Rosina and son John. He had been away for four and a half years, three and a half of which he was a POW. Rosina had no idea if he was alive or dead. He got home on his birthday.
