G&S

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G&S *

San Diego, California

Founded 1959

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5 skateboards in collection

Overview

Founded by Larry Gordon and Floyd Smith in Pacific Beach, San Diego, in 1959, Gordon & Smith began as a surfboard company and became involved with skateboarding during the sport’s first major wave in the 1960s. By 1964, G&S was experimenting with flexible skateboard construction using a wood core laminated between fiberglass layers—an approach that grew directly from the company’s experience building surfboards.

When skateboarding resurged in the 1970s, G&S returned with its Fibreflex decks, whose laminated construction was designed to flex and rebound under the rider. The company carried that surf-rooted approach into a substantial skateboard direction and, by the 1980s, had developed a distinctive team and graphic identity through riders including Neil Blender, Billy Ruff and Chris Miller. Blender’s hand-drawn graphics were especially influential, bringing the personality and artwork of the skater directly onto the deck.

I always associated G&S with surfing and surfwear as much as skateboarding. The round G&S logos were everywhere as stickers, and the simple logo showed up on shirts and clothing. Certain skateboard graphics really stood out, though. Billy Ruff’s Puppet Master-style graphic was hard to miss, and Neil Blender’s Coffee Break seemed to be everywhere. I think a friend of mine in the trailer park had one.
My first and only G&S deck was a Bill Tocco that I bought new in 1988. I remember it being hot pink, with this strange combination of a cartoon guy, a reaching hand and an octopus. It was just different, and I loved the shape. The concave had these soft, spoon-like areas that seemed to cradle your feet at the tail and around the front truck bolts. It made for secure foot placement on the board. I always had to stand on decks at the skate shop before making the final decision on a new deck.
I was really into doing grip-tape art at the time, and on the Tocco I recreated the octopus from the bottom graphic across the top in grip tape. Unfortunately, the deck broke fairly quickly. Skateboards were expensive and not something I could simply replace whenever I wanted, so one bad experience could affect what company I was willing to take a chance on next. Looking back, it was probably just bad luck, but I never bought another G&S to ride.
G&S came back into my world in a different way through Footage. I watched that video over and over. Compared with polished Powell videos, it felt loose and lo-fi—even more casual than Santa Cruz’s Speed Freaks. The skating felt attainable. As a decent midwestern skater you could still imagine following along.
At the same time, Footage was beginning to show where street skating was headed. Rob Dyrdek, Duane Pitre, Willy Santos and others were pushing things forward, but skateboarding hadn’t yet become so technical that it seemed impossible to keep up. The music and rougher presentation were part of it too. It felt less like a production and more like somebody had captured skateboarding as it was happening.
G&S never occupied as much space in my head as Santa Cruz, Alva or Powell, but pieces of it were always there: Blender, Coffee Break, Billy Ruff, the logos and stickers, my Tocco, and especially Footage. Looking back, that video feels like a document of a moment when one version of skateboarding was ending and another was beginning.