I’m guessing the shoe explosion detonated somewhere in the mid sixties. At least that’s when I saw the blast. By then there was enough variety that there was a hierarchy for your arches. Converse high tops were better than U.S. Keds. Even the Beatles had changed the idea of hard shoes by wearing soft boots. These became the rage and now it was important not only to have the hip shoe, but it must be bought at the right place to be truly correct. Hardy Shoes smoked all the other places. Model 1899 was the regular brown or black suede side zip seven-inch boot and was priced at an ungodly $7.99. Occasionally someone might venture beyond and buy the model 2199 with moccasin lacing for a severe $12.99. Hardy’s had moccasins, go-go boots, high and low boots with or without leather fringe. They were fashion kings of the feet. God pity the poor soul who’s parents bought them the Montgomery Wards or Sears’ imitations of these icons. You might as well die.
School sports required special footwear. But now it was more than just a piece of the uniform, it was a functional shoe that must offer optimum performance for it’s designated purpose. Not just clodhoppers with cleats. Puma made the lightweight running shoe, but most kids still used inexpensive Keds. Parents reasoned that they were going to outgrow them before they wore out, so why spend the money? The reason you spend the money is that win or loose you’re going to spend most of your time sitting on the bench waiting to compete and you want to look like a winner, not some dork with practical parents.
Scott Drake was the guy who really introduced me to the idea of shoes. He had different pairs for different things. For example, hiking boots. I had never heard of such a thing and it was hard to rationalize that such a thing existed. I understood swim fins were different from biker boots, but this was too highly specialized. Then I saw shoes for rock climbing. Bruce Beckman could walk right up the side of the chimney with these things. It was remarkable.
As a kid I had to wear some sort of corrective shoe. I don’t know why, too young to care, but even in those naive days I knew they were different than other shoes and therefore pretty rank. Later when I learned about dance shoes I was surprised to see the same rank company, Capezio, had made them. I was once denied admittance to a theater because I had rags on my feet instead of normal attire. The girl took me around the corner to Pick-and-Save and got the cheapest shoe there so we could see the Rainbow Bridge. We made it on time.
I liked the Beatle boots and when they were no longer available I went to cowboy boots. I still wear the pair I got in 1984. It was just before the Olympics, Jacke Crump and I walked from Union Station to USC one day on a photo expedition. That’s how I broke ‘em in. They’ve been re-soled and re-heeled and polished by Candelaria at the shoeshine stand several times. I still get comments on them at parties.
Even though I acknowledge footwear, it still doesn’t register with me. We went to see Crosby, Still, Nash and Young a couple years ago. We had okay seats and early in the performance Deb leans into me and says, “Look at their shoes.” I’m thinking "we got some quasi-legendary singers up here trying to deliver some sort of message and she’s looking at their shoes". Crosby had deck shoes, Stills had chukka boots and Young had some sort of L.L. Bean work boot thing. Nash had brown loafers with tassels. Suddenly her obscure observation held water. Their footgear seemed to be a reflection of their station in life these days. Shoes had got to the point where even I can get a read on someone’s personality by checking out what’s on their feet.
One night at open mic we are watching the usual cast of characters pour their guts out to questionable musical accompaniment when a new guy lumbers on to the stage. He’s an old guy, like Merle Haggard or thereabouts, and he does a pretty good job. His fingers are nervous and quiver against the fret board, but the sound comes out secure. He’s got the requisite gravel in his voice and seems appreciative of the audience who is dialed in to his delivery. He leaves the stage to sincere applause and Deb makes a comment about him being a street guy, probably going to an abandoned car for a home and hasn’t had a hot meal since Cincinnati. I tell her “that’s just his persona, he’s playing the part just like all these other wannabes”. “No” she insists, “did you see his shoes?” I didn’t but I got her point.
