There was no plan. Or plan B, for that matter. Just a Mad Dreamer and a mad dream. An idea and no idea how to do it. A trip to New York. A euphoric night at Empire in Brooklyn. A phone call to Buenos Aires. My dad (Flipper) and Denny Cordell found an old bowling alley on the corner of Santa Monica and La Cienega, Kosh sketched a logo on a diner napkin, and my mom packed up five kids, three suitcases and got on a one way from London to L.A. We were starting a skating rink.
Flipper's Roller Boogie Palace 1979-1981 Book, $65.00
From 1979 to 1981, Flipper’s Roller Boogie Palace was the place to be yourself, find yourself and express yourself. For Laurel Canyon cowboys, rolling rockstars, A-listers and coming-of-age kids — all under one Art Deco roof in West Hollywood, rolling in rhythm beneath the biggest mirror ball in the world, on that bright blue floor. It was intoxicating freedom. Frivolous fun. And heart-pounding possibility. A good time, every time, but only for a short time.
In true supernova fashion, Flipper’s burned so bright that it burnt out. I like to think we skated too close to the sun. But if you’ve ever laced up, you know that falling down is just part of it. So this is us getting back up. Giving people a place to be. Giving the world a reason to keep rolling.
My dad believed roller skating could save the world.
So do I.