Leland's Pecker

I’m still pretty discombobulated from my trip to Taiwan. Making as many decisions as you have to in such a short period of time under somewhat stressful circumstances and surroundings will crush you. I have been meaning to grab a handful of slide and negative sheets but kept forgetting. After waking up at 2 or 3 in the morning every night since being home then staring at the ceiling until I give up and head to breakfast and work at 6, I’m lucky I remember to put shoes on. Keep in mind, on Mondays I get to work after lunch, the rest of the week I arrive between 10:30 and 11:30.

Today I remembered to grab some before heading out the door, since I had already been up for three or four hours, I had time to dig into the bottom of one of the bins instead of grabbing whatever lays on top. I snatched these slide containers you see above. So far I have at least perused quickly what each sheet contained and picked ones I thought would have at least some usable stuff, not so with these, pure freestyle.

There is some real random ass shit here, which makes no sense. Normally, each container would have slides from one roll of film. It could have easily been four sequences of the same non-pulled trick, or the same person at one spot. The following visuals are quite the mix, enjoy.


This is part of a snake run at an extinct 70s skatepark in West Virginia. Some of my slides are marked with the month and year they were developed, we’ve got 06/ 2002 on this guy. Around this period of time Mr. Wizmerski, Bob Scerbo and Corey Martinez were heavy traveling compadres, as such, they spent countless amounts of time searching for spots. Wiz did the background research for this one. One of his techniques was pretending he was an old school gnar dog skater on message boards where he befriended several real gnar dogs that had info on countless finds like this one as well as other defunct parks, pipes, ditches, and pools. The location on this place was vague. We got to whatever city it was, found what we thought was the public park it was in and started asking random joggers if they knew about it. More than an hour later, and there it was. Thanks to all the skaters who spent what had to be an insane amount of time unearthing this beauty.

Brown Dickies Bob Scerbo. What the hell ever happened to that guy?


It’s only Rock n Roll, but he likes it, check it here: The Tombstones.

I’ve spent way too much time on Shitluck road trips. It’s just not healthy for anyone involved. Most of them are going to involve at least a little bit of camping at some point. This campground, the Crosseyed Cricket, was in Tennessee or maybe Georgia or somewhere in between Kentucky and Florida. The Enforcer Mike Tag was driving some shit-box VW rabbit, he used to have an affinity for those things for some reason, and it broke down at the Crosseyed Cricket.

We had places to be, the kids had drugs to do in Florida and we bailed on the car deciding it’d be best to swing back through after Florida and take care of it then. Tag didn’t much care because the car wasn’t his anyway. After a week of living life on the move and getting dumber by the minute, none of us could remember what highway or exit the Crosseyed Cricket was located at. It would have been too sensible to write it down. By some stroke of non-shitluck we tracked it down. All these Shitluck trips over the years have really been comprised solely of dumb motherfuckers, it’s a miracle they’ve gone only as shitty as they have and not worse.

The Enforcer again. This was in Atlanta, and Mike was doing a wallride to table at this exact location on the cover of Faction #17 (I think). It was my birthday so I splurged and got a hotel room downtown, and Mike, myself and Leland went out drinking and dancing and acting a fool. Leland made out with a bigger girl in the back of a truck and we thought we were crazy. Later than us that night the kids got back from scurrying around the streets by themselves. “Leland made out with a fat girl, what’d you guys get into?” “I got a blow job while sitting on a computer monitor from a crackhead lady that was living in a tent in an alley.” Sheesh, kids these days.


Jim Beam, a good start to bad things. I’ve mentioned before, John Povah at Etnies was always good to me during the Faction days. He buys a plane ticket for a back east trip, then pays for a hotel room during a contest weekend and the least I can do is some guerilla marketing for him. Binghamton, NY and one of the Bigglestown Bangers.


Leland’s pecker was bound to show up sooner or later, looks like sooner.



Hidden behind that hand is a BMX Icon.


This same dude the next night, in the same room sans naked broads, accidentally tossed my open camera bag across the room. I tried chasing him down the hall with an ironing board prepared to bash him in the head. Luckily someone grabbed it out of my hands. A lot of people would have been pissed at me if I maimed one of the greats.

Oh, Huggie Duggie. This was the weekend that sparked the Boxed Wine Fiasco revolution. Duggie, Chase Dehart and myself took a trip from Philly down to Austin to escape the harsh winter. There are better pictures to explain where the name came from. It might take another couple years to stumble across them, though. I haven’t seen Huggie Duggie in years and have no clue what has become of him. One of the last times I saw him he was in the filthy bathroom of the Ritz in Austin, TX kneeling on the pee soaked floor sniffing cocaine off the blade of a pocketknife. I think he’s gotten his shit together since then.


Isaac Hoefling at one of Sunday’s old spots that is now probably long gone. This was the first time I’d met Isaac and he was pretty green, just a young boy starting on the path to somewheresville. He’s had some wild adventures since.

A young Chase Dehart. You think he’s a bit socially awkward now? Wow, this was his first road trip, and his social skills were at the bare minimum to function outside of his house. He had knocked his front teeth out just before this, as you can see by the false teeth on his leg there, which he had to remove to nibble on cookies. On more than one occasion I caught him sniffing them.


Huggie Duggie and Chase decided to stay down in Austin, after almost three weeks I had to get back to real life. Plane tickets were too outrageous on such short notice, so I got a rental car and drove back by myself. A solo eighteen-hour drive (or 26?) is a good way to clear your head after an Austin adventure and get back to reality.


A lot of people were stunned when they stopped by any of the numerous Faction “offices” in Philadelphia. What the hell were they expecting? This was the number three set-up during the Philly days, as you can see it was a home office, like, as in my bedroom. There's the command center on the right. If you are wondering where your subscription is, it could have been lying in any one of these piles of crap. This was one of the more dialed spots, fucksake.


Creepy Paul Horan. I gave him that nickname the first time I hung out with him, mainly because he has a creepy vibe. A couple years back he went to prison for selling coke to an undercover cop for a period of six months while on his pizza delivery runs. I’ve spoken to him on and off since then and he’s pulled it together, still creepy nevertheless.

Mark Choquette at Whiteboy’s house in Sleepy Hollow, NY. This is one of those head scratchers. What the fuck was I doing at Whiteboy’s and who was I with?


More Ted Striker. The top one was around the corner from the first Faction “office” in the China Town section of Philly. We were shooting some randoms for possible S&M ads. This was kind of a stupid angle because you couldn’t see how high this was. The launcher and metal thingy were both sitting on the side of the road. He never really slid the icepick, so the photos were unusable.

The B&W photo (a color slide that I converted to B&W cause the scan was turdy) session ended up in an S&M ad for the then new Redneck LT. The trick was the same, but the angle was different. This was also right around the corner from “the Chinese Mansion”, more stories on that hellhole when they pop up. Worst. Office. Ever.

This could be my favorite BMX photo I’ve shot. It has that feel like it could be a James Cassimus shot from Action Now. Comparing any photos I’ve shot to anything he’s ever shot is quite degrading to him. Garrett Byrnes on Van Homan’s old driveway mini, CW bars. What in the flying fuck is LinkedIn?