Words and photos by Jacob Folsom-Fraster
I moved to Worcester, MA from Arlington in 2013. I grew up taking the train to Eggs daily, and though I missed my community and those perfect ledges on Nashua Street, Worcester’s downtown and sprawling hills proved bountiful in the search for unique crust. There was also Worcide, the mythical DIY under the bridge that left your average ledge guy lost after a few rock to fakies. After skating with Mike, an older guy from Worcester, I learned about the many other DIYs that had come and gone, and through music, learned about Worcester’s deep DIY history beyond skateboarding.
It became clear that we could get away with building a ledge, a perfect ledge with run up and landing and no cracks that you can skate both ways. So my homie Andrew started lurking Google Earth, and found a slab of concrete over in a lot next to the liquor store. There was one long, smooth strip, so we started salvaging cinder blocks wherever we could, got some angle iron, and went for it. At first the trees and bushes were so tall that they hid anyone inside from the world. There was a path through the trees lined with campsites and makeshift huts. Shadow welcomed us into the spot and told us about the Beaver Brook Brotherhood, the 20 or 30 people who usually stayed down there. We started building some ledges and manny pads in the fall of 2017.
In July 2018, Worcide was demolished with no notice from the city. Must be a coincidence that now there’s a minor league baseball stadium there. People started finding our ledge spot and calling it all sorts of things: Beaver Brook ‘cause that’s the park it’s next to, Pizza Park ‘cause it’s behind a pizza place, and Sharkside because of a plastic jersey barrier with a shark drawn on it. Soon a small but consistent crew of people was skating there regularly. I realized what I missed about back home (besides perfect ledges) was the plaza scene. To know you’re gonna see someone when you go to the spot is a special thing.
When Covid hit, the spot blew up. So many people had work off or had picked up skating again. I met Sam one day around then, never saw him before, but saw him every day after that; that kinda thing happened all the time. With a larger group of locals, we decided to make an Instagram (@beaverbrookdiy) and use it to organize and grow the spot. More people started coming to builds, dropping off materials, and skating down there every day. Eventually we were having skate jams and contests, we hosted some hardcore and hip-hop shows, a clothing pop-up, Earth Day cleanups, Kian’s 13th birthday party. The spot took on a life of its own.
Each year, landscapers come down, clear out all the bushes and trees, and displace the people who live there. They didn’t really mess with our builds, but in November 2021, four years since the first ledge, it was happening. The day we always knew would come had arrived. There was a small bulldozer breaking up the spot, but Katy and Chip got him to stop so we could salvage materials and have one last session. He gave us till 7am the next morning. Homies were leaving work saying they had emergencies, soon everyone was there skating their hearts out, cases of beer kept showing up, Guy’s Nana bought everyone pizza, and we saved whatever angle iron and granite we could. It hit me then, seeing so many people so devastated, that we built something bigger than we ever imagined. We never thought we would get four years. Quinny, who also spent some time building down at Worcide, put it best: “What, y’all never lost a DIY before?”
Some of us skated at sunrise and watched the destruction. We talked with people who visited throughout the day to pay their respects and remember old times. We sat with some of the guys who lived there and talked about how fucked up it all is. The community we built mourned. But by the tail end of winter a couple new pallet huts were up and active again, so we made a new ledge with intact blocks from all the broken builds.
Maybe we’ll get another few weeks, or maybe we’ll get a few more years. Either way, I’m glad we’ve had this time with Sharkside, before our shiny new city skatepark opens and brings skaters into town from all around New England. The city is gentrifying at a scary pace, so I’m thankful we’re able to carry on Worcester’s DIY legacy post-Worcide, and cultivate a place where a whole generation of skaters can experience the beauty of directly engaging in an unauthorized, autonomous, and spontaneous activation of “public” space. Whatever comes next for our city, I know my beavers are gonna keep holding it down!
