wacky tacky Icons: Pat McGee "The Blonde Skateboarding Goddess"

Nearly two decades ago, my grandfather* became something of a media darling.  At more than 70 years old, and after fourteen attempts, he was the most "age-advanced" man ever to pass the California State Bar Exam.  Much lauded by his family and his community, he became the oldest, newest practitioner of law in our Golden State.  As if our adulation wasn't enough, he was extremely gratified by the coverage he received on the Today Show, on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, and within the venerable pages of People Magazine.  Somehow, he even parlayed his story into a winning appearance on Wheel of Fortune!  Never one to shy away from the spotlight, Grandpa was able to really stretch his proverbial "fifteen minutes of fame."

Over the years, Andy Warhol's words, "In the future, everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes," have adopted a rather negative connotation.  Beyond Warhol's jaded view of our celebrity-driven culture, the contemporary subtextual implication is that any and all seekers-of-fame are inherently unworthy of our attention.  As fame is famously fleeting, it is my opinion that those who come by it honestly, deserve their fifteen golden minutes - or more - in the sun.  1965, in fact, was a particularly golden year for one sunny little honey from San Diego.

Pat McGee "The Blonde Skateboarding Goddess" on the iconic, May 14, 1965 cover of LIFE Magazine
(Source)

Like a real-life Gidget, Pat McGee, was one of the original 1950s-era surfer girls braving the waves amidst a sea of boys.  As surf culture evolved to include "the craze and the menace of skateboards," McGee was immediately onboard as an early adopter.  She was not only the first female skater to be sponsored (Hobie), but also the first national women's skateboarding champion.

I wonder if McGee felt like a groundbreaker or if she was just having fun.
Any way you slice it, she did both...with killer hair!!!
(Source)

McGee demonstrates her skill on a board manufactured by the Vita-Pakt Citrus 

Company of Covina, CA - no shoes required.  It appears that the patch on her 

sweater, worn for the Life Magazine story, features the Vita-Pakt logo as well.

(Source)

Described in 1965 by Life as "the most exhilarating and dangerous joyriding device this side of the hotrod," the skateboard now seems like such an innocuous, if still exhilarating, part of American life.  However, there was a time, as evidenced by a 1965 episode of What's My Line?, when the concept of a professional skateboarder was an entirely foreign one.

Pat McGee "Demonstrates Skateboards" on What's My Line? (May 16, 1965)

I get a particular kick out of it when eloquence personified, Arlene Francis, zeroed in on McGee's "line" by asking, "Is this this new board, skating board?"  Having grown up in the epicenter of skateboarding, it is hard to imagine a time when skateboards were such a novelty that the most sophisticated and worldly panel in show business would ask such sophomoric questions.  Never advancing beyond the kneel-on-the-nose technique myself, I am certainly the exception to Southern California's mandatory skateboarding rule.  Perhaps instead of watching both of my brothers skate, I should have studied with Mike Douglas under the tutelage of Ms. McGee. 

Pat McGee on The Mike Douglas Show (1965)

Groundbreaking not only in terms of bringing a dynamic female presence into male-dominated sports, McGee was also a forerunner in sponsorships and endorsements.  She easily translated her innate athleticism and all-American appeal into commercial success!

A television commercial for Bell Telephone Corp. (1965)

A real fixture in the Southern California beach life, McGee was a natural as a player in the films reflecting the teenage scene.  Although she has but one credit on her IMDb page (It's A Bikini World), we just happened to be watching another production by TransAmerican Films (American International's "frenemy" in films about California culture) and caught a glimpse of who we think to be an uncredited McGee getting groovy in a wild fringe dress.

Lil' Pat McGee (?) wiggling to "The Wigglers" in Beach Ball (1965)

After the raising a daughter and exploring life's many opportunities, McGee (now going by Patti McGee) rediscovered her love for skateboarding.  A skateboarding proponent both personally and professionally, McGee is universally recognized as one of the sport's most influential pioneers. In 2010, McGee was recognized as such when she was the first female ever inducted into the Skateboarding Hall of Fame.  We're just sorry that it took so long to induct her into the wacky tacky hall of fame.  Although, the honor is equal, I'm sure.

Pat McGee could not be any cooler, or more worthy of Hall of Fame status,
as the cover girl on the fourth issue of Skateboarder Magazine (1965).

(Source)

As I've grown from boy to man (and my head has consequently gotten further from the ground), I've become increasingly fearful of falling, further minimizing my chances of becoming a skateboarder, professional or otherwise.  Nevertheless, I can easily recognize the contributions to American culture and the advancement of women in sports made by Patti McGee.

If the options are "skate or die," I'm afraid for my future!!!
You can call me Fatty McGee.

(This ripping video was directed, produced, and edited by my
awesome brother who encourages and enables my crackpot behavior) 

So, do you skate?  Man or woman, amateur or professional, if you're a skater you owe quite a debt of gratitude to the "Original Betty."


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny



*About halfway through penning this post, I was informed that my grandfather had passed away at 92 years of age on January 1.  Born in 1922, I am sure he had little notion of ever seeing the year 2015, which he did, if only for a few hours.  Certainly grief is natural, but it is difficult to be too bereft when considering the decided richness of his extremely full life.  His army service (he retired as a Lieutenant Colonel) and civilian careers took him from Dust Bowl-era Oklahoma to Panama, Hawaii, Brazil, and across the United States.  He was the father to eight children, grandfather to more than thirty grandchildren, and great-grandfather to plenty more.  The deal he made with my uncle for them both to see law school through to its natural conclusion resulted in two attorneys in the family (a career for my uncle, a point of pride for my grandfather).  What inspires me most about his life is the 70-year marriage he shared with my grandmother!  SEVENTY YEARS!!!  While he and I shared little in terms of passions or points of view, I admired his joy for life, his love for my grandmother, and his penchant for storytelling.  I give him a lot of credit for eventually settling his family in the part of the country that allowed my parents to find each other.  Because of him, ground zero for surf/skate/kustom culture (intrinsic to the wacky tacky way of life) is the place that I call home.  To him, I dedicate this post about chasing California dreams.  Happy Trails, Grandpa, 'til we meet again!

Benjamin Roll
August 19. 1922 - January 1, 2015

Collecting: June Weddings & Rape Whistles

A few weeks ago we had the good fortune to go hang out with our friends Lauren (Wearing History blog/Wearing History Patterns) and her husband.  She took us to some of the "secret spot" thrift stores in her neck of the woods and, while digging through the potential loot, I found an album chock full of wedding photos dating from the late 1910's through the 1950's - a serious score at only $5!  I love old photographs.  I always wonder what combination of tragedy and/or oversight leads to entire family albums being discarded and sold at tag sales, flea markets and thrift stores.  It is a boon for me because I love finding old photos - especially the kind that feature great clothes, funny faces, poignant events and ANYTHING western!  I actually came by this personal peculiarity honestly as, one day when I was very young, my mom (an inveterate trash digger) found and subsequently hung above the piano an oval frame of gleaming tiger maple and convex glass from behind which an 1890's era photograph of the creepiest-looking, twin girls stared - and continue to stare - at me no matter where I was in the room.  I am such a fan of buying up the unknown, pictorial history of other people's families that at some point I think I will forget which black and white faces hanging on the walls are actual relatives and which faces are strangers.  Here are some of the best wedding photos from my latest album.

Clearly the happiest day of their lives.

I LOVE this photo.  He looks so happy to have won her.

One with the boys...

...and one with the girls

Alone...

Together

I am a fan of a simple wedding and an extravagant marriage.  I think a huge wedding can be great but I am much more drawn to intimate nuptials and the photos of sweethearts who got married in spite of the odds.  I'll take a courthouse wedding over an extravaganza any day.

Love

To me, this is probably the most romantic photo in the bunch.

My love for old photos isn't exclusive to photos of strangers; our family home has always been filled with photo documentation of our own family history.  Every chance I get, I convince my mom to give me the photos of my ancestors that I find particularly charming and meaningful.  Since the theme of the photos is "weddings," I decided to share the wedding photo of my paternal grandparents.  They were sweethearts from a very early age and despite having personalities, theories and behaviors of the most polar-opposite variety, they were married for over 45 years.  This is a photo for which one day I know I will have to fight my brothers and sisters.

Bob & Leona
Wedding Day 1949

I give my grandpa a lot of credit for inspiring my love of swap meets and hamburgers and everything old-timey.  He loved to collect.  He loved to read.  He loved to tinker.  He loved growing tomatoes.  He was tireless in his affection for my brothers, sisters, cousins and myself.  He is the kindest person I have ever met and he continues to inspire me more than 15 years after his passing.  Yes, my grandpa was amazing.

My grandma?  Well, my grandma was crazy.  Her name was Leona.  Tell me, have you ever met anyone named Leona that wasn't crazy?  My grandma was so deliciously a product of her generation that I miss her every day.  I think she was, quite unwittingly, the queen of wacky tacky.  Her house was always immaculate; it was truly a "place for everything and everything in its place," type of home - including every rubber band and every glass jar that she had ever gotten her hands on.  A great many years had passed, but to Leona, the Great Depression was still in full swing.  I don't think she threw out a morsel of food in her entire existence.  Every leftover made its way into a soup, a meatloaf or one of her famous jell-os.  Her dinner table groaned under the bounty of food that was just enough to feed my family - who on any given day could eat any army under the table.  My favorite stories to share about "Mima Lee" (the affectionate moniker we bestowed upon her only after she died) include pot holders, vacuum cleaner bags, answering machines and rape whistles.

My grandma lived in the desert and living in the desert is hot.  She complained to my uncle enough times about the blistering temperature of the steering wheel in her Buick that he finally bought her a steering wheel cover.  Apparently that gesture was far too little and far too late.  My grandmother, mistress of innovation, had already solved her problem and decided that pot mitts, being sufficient to protect her hands from the scalding heat of roasting pans, were the perfect solution.  She could be found driving around Sun City, CA wearing seasonally-appropriate pot mitts.  Yep, they changed with the seasons.

My grandma, in an effort to outsmart the 99cents Store and their outrageous mark-ups, only shopped at her local 98cent + Store.  Feeling that the check she gave each of us for Christmas was too impersonal, she always loaded up gift bags with the very best trinkets and treasures to be had for 98cents +.  One year she showed up at our house and put all of our presents under the tree.  However, something was decidedly different that year; the gift bags had a dull-grey finish, a cardboard adapter and printed instructions.  Did you know that at the 98cent + Store holiday-themed gift bags are $0.98 each but vacuum cleaner bags are 3 for $0.98.  You do the math.

My grandma could not figure out her answering machine.  She hounded us for months to come out to her house so we could record the outgoing message.  During a visit to her house, we sat down and finally recorded her outgoing message and she was grateful.  She was grateful until her sister, a real downer, called her and, unable to reach my grandma, heard the following,  "Hello, you have reached Leona's House of Ecstasy.  If you are a gentleman caller, please leave your vital statistics and she will gladly return your call."  After that, we started receiving threatening messages on our answering machine.  Where was her sense of humor?

My grandma had extra toothbrushes in almost every drawer in her house.  She decorated her Christmas Tree with porcelain dolls.  She employed the blender in almost every meal that she prepared.  She hid her coin collection in the air ducts.  Oh yeah, she loved us.  I know because she gave each of us a new rape whistle every year.


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny