http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424052702303492504579118220560115320WASHINGTON?On Wednesday, the day after government workers vacated federal buildings in downtown here, professional skateboarder Darren Harper got on Facebook and broadcast a message to his crew: "One positive thing about the gov't shutdown?spots at gov't buildings are now skateable!"
Where most people see ornate, neo-Classical federal buildings and sweeping stone plazas in this city, skaters see something else: opportunity, in the form of sturdy railings, low stone benches, ramps?ideal "obstacles" for skateboarding stunts. And now, after years of ducking the national park police that patrol these plazas, this week's closure of public buildings and easing of surveillance offered skaters hope of revisiting their favorite spots. It was, said one, "on."
It's not that the skaters aren't sensitive to the capital's pain. Some work for the government, or their families do. But after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, a security crackdown pushed skaters out of the Capitol area and eventually into a skate park created for them outside the federal district. And for decades, a federal ordinance has barred the sport on national park property, including trails.
"D.C. has some of the best spots architecturally for skating but also the tightest security," says Jonathan Mehring , a freelance photographer who lived and skated in the district in the early 2000s. "It's like torture for a skateboarder to be there."
In recent days, that torture has been easing up, with so many plazas empty and with the National Park Service furloughing all but essential personnel. Those left, says a park service spokesman, are focusing on safety and property. Late Thursday afternoon, a half-dozen skaters glided up to Freedom Plaza, a scarred city block of red granite and pale marble on 13th and Pennsylvania, to test the waters.
Nicknamed "Pulaski" by the skaters after the equestrian statue of Revolutionary War hero Casimir Pulaski overlooking it, the Soviet-style square is particularly tempting because the smooth architecture lends itself to skateboard tricks. The plaza is raised above street level, with broad steps and low walls on every side; it has long, low stone barriers, ramps that lead to nowhere and, for the truly acrobatic, oversize saucer-shaped metal planters to launch from.
Greasy black serpentine wheel marks, long linear gouges and hacked-off stone corners attest to decades of use by skaters and BMX bicyclists. They blame each other, and the city's hulking maintenance trucks, for chipping the marble.
If caught by the police, skaters could have their boards impounded and be given a ticket for a $50 fine. Frustrated officers have chased the skaters on motorcycles, ambushed them by arriving en masse from different directions, tackled and handcuffed them.
Some in Thursday's group have been skating here for years. A furloughed researcher with the National Institutes of Health pushed across the square, a lighted cigarette dangling from his lips. Rachel Davis , meanwhile, the only female skater there, pushed across the west side of the plaza. One skater performed a "tail slide" along a slick granite ledge, while another skated alongside, filming. A YouTube search on the terms "Pulaski skateboard DC" turns up more than 1,300 videos.
As the sunset illuminated the Capitol in the distance, more skaters trickled onto the plaza, calling out as Jimmy Pelletier rode up on his motorized bicycle. At 41, Mr. Pelletier has been skating here since the 1980s, and runs a charity, D.C. Wheels, that gives free skateboards and gear to underprivileged kids. Nearly two decades ago, he got a ticket for public skateboarding and refused to pay the fine or report to court. Consequently, "I haven't had a driver's license since 1996," he says. "I'm not gonna let them win."
Professional skateboarder Bobby Worrest was practicing a switch kickflip, rising high into the air, when a National Park Service policeman rode up on his motorcycle and stopped 5 feet away. Most of the others skated for cover among nearby landmarks, disappearing beyond the potted palms of the Willard hotel, slipping between parked cars in front of the National Theatre and making for the hedges at Pershing Park. A few, mesmerized by Mr. Worrest's tricks, didn't have time to run.
The two men sized each other up. Mr. Worrest wore a trucker cap backward, a black T-shirt and baggy black pants. The officer wore a crisp blue uniform and his helmet low across his eyes. Both had heavily tattooed forearms. "You a pro boarder?" the officer asked. "Yeah," Mr. Worrest replied. "Don't ride that thing here, man," the officer said.
Mr. Worrest called it the most chill experience he had ever had with the police. By dusk, there were three dozen skaters on the plaza.
Friday morning, a crew of professional skaters from Canada to California, sponsored by an athletic shoe company, was flipping off the walls and planters, gaining speed across an inscription from Frederick Douglass : "It is our national center. It belongs to us?." A videographer filmed them.
Mr. Harper, the skater who posted his encouragements on Facebook, and who is just back on his board after a foot injury, applauded and greeted them. The traveling professionals all knew him, but "my approach is different," he said. He stands for "the underdogs, that come from nothing." Mr. Harper, 31, grew up in one of D.C.'s toughest neighborhoods and credits skateboarding with keeping him "out of the 'hood." He has won competitions and started his own skateboard and T-shirt lines.
Flashy and athletic, he speaks regularly to D.C. school kids, showing them there is another way to live well besides dealing drugs. "We skate the court buildings a lot, we skate Archives and the Welfare" Mr. Harper says, meaning the National Archives and the Health and Human Services headquarters.
So what would happen, he is asked, if the shutdown causes the police to stop chasing the skateboarders altogether? Mr. Harper smiled broadly, then shook his head. "That thrill is always good," he said.