The Corporate Carve: How Private Equity Grinded Skateboarding’s Soul
In the grainy VHS tapes of the late 1980s, skateboarding was a rebellion on wheels. It was the domain of misfits and dreamers, kids who rejected the manicured fields of organized sports for the raw concrete of urban streets. World Industries, founded by Steve Rocco and Rodney Mullen, wasn’t just a brand—it was a manifesto. Its subversive deck designs and anti-establishment ethos gave skateboarding its middle finger to corporate America. The company offered health insurance to its riders, extended credit to struggling skate shops, and built a cultural juggernaut that revived a fading sport. By the mid-1990s, World Industries was skateboarding’s heartbeat, pumping life into a counterculture that thrived on authenticity.But in 1998, the rebellion was sold. Swander Pace Capital, a private equity firm, acquired World Industries in a leveraged buyout, a deal that would set a grim precedent. The brand’s edge was dulled, its marketing watered down, its skaters sidelined. By the early 2000s, World Industries was a shadow of its former self, relegated to selling boards at Walmart, stripped of its cultural clout. Skateboarders, fiercely loyal to authenticity, abandoned the brand in droves. This was no isolated incident. It was the opening act in a decades-long drama where private equity firms—hungry for short-term profits—would infiltrate and gut skateboarding’s soul, turning a vibrant subculture into a commodified husk.Daniel Stone, a skateboarder-turned-writer, chronicled this corporate takeover in a recent exposé. Growing up in the skate scene, Stone was drawn to its defiance, its rejection of mainstream norms. But as he dug deeper, he uncovered a pattern of destruction that extended far beyond the skatepark. “Private equity firms are a different beast,” Stone told Organized Money podcast host David Dayen. “They’re not just corporations setting up product lines. They’re buying up brands that built skateboarding culture and gutting them for shareholder profit.”
The Mechanics of DestructionPrivate equity’s playbook is as ruthless as it is predictable. Firms like Swander Pace, Transom Capital Group, and Oaktree Capital Management swoop into industries with leveraged buyouts, purchasing companies with 70 to 90 percent borrowed money. The twist? The debt is loaded onto the acquired company, not the firm itself. To service this debt, brands are squeezed dry through cost-cutting measures: layoffs, reduced investment, and slashed support for the very communities that sustain them. In skateboarding, this meant firing team riders, closing retail stores, and severing ties with local skate shops—the cultural hubs that nurtured the sport.Take Dwindle Distribution, the distribution arm co-founded by Rocco and Mullen. After its 1998 acquisition by Swander Pace alongside World Industries, Dwindle became a platform for consolidating brands like Enjoi, Almost, and Blind Skateboards. By 2019, Transom Capital Group took over, and the carnage began. Veteran employees like Bill Weiss, who managed Madness and Blind, were fired. Bod Boyle, Dwindle’s president, was given an ultimatum: fire his longtime colleagues or resign. He chose to walk away. Enjoi Skateboards, once a cultural touchstone, collapsed publicly in 2023 when Transom stopped paying its skaters. Louis Barletta, Enjoi’s team manager, described the betrayal: “I was seeing what we were selling, and none of it was coming back to us. That part was draining my soul.”Then there’s Boardriders, Inc., a conglomerate that emerged from the ashes of Quiksilver’s 2016 bankruptcy. Acquired by Oaktree Capital Management, Boardriders swallowed iconic brands like Roxy, DC Shoes, Billabong, and Element. But the private equity model struck again. In 2022, 170 employees were laid off in the name of “reducing complexity across the value chain.” Skaters like Austin Gillette were cut from teams, deemed expendable. By 2023, Authentic Brands Group purchased Boardriders for $1.25 billion, only to offload its operations to Liberated Brands, a licensing manager that prioritized online sales over skate shops. In February 2025, Boardriders collapsed under $226 million in debt, shuttering 140 retail locations and leaving brands like DC and Billabong adrift.
A Cancer on CultureSkateboarding is just one casualty in private equity’s relentless march across industries. From healthcare to retail to media, the same pattern repeats: acquire, load with debt, cut costs, extract profits, and abandon the wreckage. Hospitals, burdened by private equity debt, have slashed staff and closed wings, endangering patients. Retail chains like Sears and Toys “R” Us have been driven into bankruptcy, their stores shuttered and employees laid off. Even niche industries—think craft breweries or local newspapers—aren’t too small for private equity’s grasp. As Eileen Appelbaum, co-author of Private Equity at Work, told Stone, “There’s no industry too niche or too small for private equity to come in and squeeze it dry.”The damage isn’t just financial; it’s cultural. Skateboarding’s ethos—individuality, creativity, community—clashes with the private equity mindset, which prioritizes shareholder value over all else. When brands like World Industries or Enjoi are stripped of their skater-driven identity, they lose the trust of a community that values authenticity above all. Local skate shops, once the lifeblood of the culture, are being crushed by private equity-backed retailers like Zumiez, acquired by Brentwood Associates in 2002. With 700 mall-based stores, Zumiez undercuts independent shops by leveraging economies of scale, selling mass-produced gear at lower prices while investing nothing in the community events or sponsorships that sustain skateboarding’s spirit.The result is a homogenized, soulless version of skateboarding. Full-length skate videos, once a rite of passage where riders showcased their artistry, have been replaced by fleeting Instagram clips. Brands trade on past glory, re-releasing iconic shoes like Fallen Footwear’s Trooper to cash in on nostalgia without reinvesting in the culture. “It’s like an old man in a suit putting on a backwards hat and saying, ‘Hey, what’s up, kids?’” Stone quipped. The skaters, often struggling financially, are lured by big checks from corporate giants like Nike, which dominate by outspending skater-owned brands.
The Broader PlaguePrivate equity’s grip extends far beyond skateboarding, revealing a systemic flaw in American capitalism. The industry manages over $7 trillion in assets, wielding influence across sectors that touch every aspect of life. In healthcare, firms like KKR have acquired hospitals, leading to reduced care quality and higher costs. In housing, private equity landlords have driven up rents and neglected maintenance, exacerbating affordability crises. Even pet care has been targeted, with firms consolidating veterinary clinics and hiking prices for routine services. A 2021 study by the Center for Economic and Policy Research found that private equity-owned companies are more likely to default on debt and lay off workers than their non-private equity counterparts, with no significant gains in efficiency or innovation.The mechanics are simple but devastating. Leveraged buyouts saddle companies with debt they can’t sustain, forcing cuts that erode quality and trust. When the inevitable collapse comes, private equity firms often walk away with profits, leaving workers, communities, and cultures to pick up the pieces. In skateboarding, this means the loss of brands that defined a generation. In healthcare, it means lives at risk. In retail, it means empty storefronts and lost jobs. The common thread is a focus on short-term gains over long-term viability, a mindset that treats businesses—and the people they serve—as disposable.
A Rebellion on WheelsYet, in skateboarding, there’s a flicker of hope. Skater-owned brands like Weekend Skateboards, Sovereign Skateboards, and Last Resort Shoes are emerging as alternatives to corporate dominance. These companies, born from the community, prioritize authenticity and reinvestment in the culture. They’re small, scrappy, and fiercely independent, echoing the ethos of World Industries in its early days. “It’s a rebellion against this,” Stone said, pointing to the rise of skater-driven brands as a response to private equity’s destruction.But the fight is uphill. The low barrier to entry that allows new brands to emerge also makes skateboarding vulnerable to corporate co-optation. And while skaters can vote with their dollars, supporting local shops and independent brands, the broader problem of private equity requires systemic change. Policy responses—such as taxing carried interest at higher rates, regulating leveraged buyouts, or enforcing antitrust measures to prevent market consolidation—could curb the industry’s excesses. Yet, as Stone noted, “It has to come from the bottom up. We need to vote with our dollars what we support.”Skateboarding’s struggle is a microcosm of a larger battle. Private equity’s relentless pursuit of profit threatens not just niche subcultures but the fabric of society itself. From hospitals to skate shops, the consequences of unchecked financialization are clear: communities fractured, legacies erased, and trust betrayed. But if skateboarding’s history teaches anything, it’s that rebellion can thrive in the face of adversity. The kids at Venice Beach, grinding rails and carving bowls, aren’t just skating—they’re carrying a torch. Whether it’s enough to outmaneuver the suits remains to be seen, but one thing is certain: the fight for skateboarding’s soul is far from over.
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