The Ghost of Andy Kessler

I need to acknowledge the influence and life's work of a dedicated skater named Andy Kessler.

Andy was a tough character who seemingly lived a life that was equally tough, but like so many "true New Yorkers" Andy pulled through and achieved things bordering on the transcendent. His advocacy on behalf of New York skateboarders was unrelenting, and we can thank him for making some of our favorite public skateparks a reality.

A young woman named Gianca, riding at the 108th Street skatepark circa 1998

I was never close to Andy, but he has had a big impact on the quality of my life. When I moved back to New York City in 1996 I found shelter from the intense world of my early teaching career by riding the trains up to 108th Street in Manhattan to ride the park that Andy helped create:

A fleeting glimpse of me riding the mini at 108th Street, also in 1998

Andy was simultaneously surly and generous in a way that's hard for people who haven't grown up in New York City to appreciate. But if you skated he was always welcoming, offering advice and support. I remember meeting him at his apartment to buy a couple of his Wounded Knee decks (a deck that I am still riding); he was warm and encouraging, and told me about his latest projects advocating for skateparks in Greenport, Long Island and Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

Tragically, Andy died last month after suffering a severe allergic reaction to a wasp sting. His death has been reported by New York Magazine, Skateboarder, Thrasher, the New York Times, Newsday, and a host of other sources (1, 2, 3).

The stereo system at an Owl's head pool jam bears a memorial to Andy

Whenever I have lived in New York City, I have used skateparks to escape from the misery of the city's landscape. It's pretty clear to me that these places to escape would not have been there without Andy's work.

Andy's stenciled silhouette decorates Millenium Skatepark in Owl's Head Park

Thanks, Andy. I am sorry that you had to leave the session so early.