I was a snot nose kid in 1988 when the windsurf shop around the corner from where I lived with my mom became Zuma Jays. I don’t know why I wandered in there, what I was looking for? It was small and a pretty typical surf shop compared to what ZJ Boarding House would become over its 37 years. What was atypical were the two guys who owned it; Mikke Pierson and Todd Roberts.
When I think about it, it’s kind of crazy that these two guys just let this little kid hang out in their shop. Todd moved in around the corner and he knew my mom, so I think a little bit they knew where I was coming from—knew what I was looking for, even if I didn’t know myself. But that’s how it was, that was the vibe, they were just looking out. It was a family.
Before long there were other kids, hanging out, just being kids. Santa Monica and Main Street in particular was very different in those days. The first night they opened the store a homeless man froze to death on a bus stop across the street. Dogtown was still Dogtown with all of the violence and disorder of 70’s and 80’s Santa Monica/Venice. It’s hard to put it in perspective now when you look at how bougie Main Street has become, but for a long time it was just mom and pop shops, the Circle Bar and One Life grocery.
But ZJ’s thrived as the city thrived. As a retail store it was authentic. They were surfers and lived the culture they were selling. Todd, with his excellent since of style, sold what he liked and overtime ZJ’s became a tastemaker in the surf retail community and the brands took notice.
One winter, when no one had ever heard of snowboarding, Todd and Mikke decided to give it a try. They bought five boards and sold none of them. So, they decided to take their employees—all surfers up to Mt Baldy and get them started. The next year they bought 20 boards and sold none of them… But then something happened. Snowboarding caught on and suddenly ZJ’s was one of the biggest snowboard shops in the world and was rated the best snowboard shop in the country. Japanese tourists would come in and clean the place out; literally buy every snowboard in stock. Suddenly, it wasn’t just a little surf shop anymore.
As Mikke put it, “We were in the right place at the right time.” They’re Let’s try it and see attitude made it so not only was the store always evolving, but they were at the forefront of the industry they were selling. They helped create surf wetsuits to fit women’s bodies, helped bring long board skateboards to market with Sector 9 and so many other things we just take for granted now.
As it was evolving and innovating ZJ’s became a spot on the map for famous surfers and later snowboarders and skaters (not to mention lots of rockstars and Hollywood celebrities) to stop in to pay their respects. We’d sit around on slow days watching surf videos and then before you knew it, the guys you were watching in Tahiti or the North Shore, would stroll in and just hang. It was wild.
The layout of the store was always innovating too. Todd would decide they needed to change a corner of the store, and a few days later a whole section would be different. I’ve seen the cash register in at least five locations over the years. Todd says he wanted to give people a reason to come back in, but I think Todd, who was always tinkering was trying to make things a little better, a little closer to perfect.
This innovation ironically laid the seeds for the shop’s eventual sale to a surf brand and now closure. The brands liked what Mikke and Todd were doing and so they started working with them to build out areas of the store with brand specific merchandise. So instead of looking in the t-shirt section, you were looking in the Billabong section. The brand sections grew until they gobbled up the store itself. Capitalism must feed if it is to grow, and it must grow…
But that is the irony of it all; Mikke and Todd really never put making money first. They could’ve opened dozens of stores with the brand credibility they’d created. They could be sitting on an empire of retail locations and online platforms, but that wasn’t their thing—that’s what made ZJ’s special, and not just to me.
Over the years they hired roughly 800 employees. Most of them were surfer/skater kids in the early stages of becoming adults. Mikke and Todd were committed to these kids. They wanted their shop to be a family and to launch them into their adult lives. Young adults are not easy to manage. They require boundaries, consistency and a lot compassion. Mikke and Todd were the big brothers and sometimes fathers you wish you’d had. They weren’t messing around, but they loved you.
In the more than 30 years they owned ZJ’s ten of their employees died. Some from drugs, or illness or just the dumb things kids do in search of adrenaline. One was murdered. But so many have gone on to thrive in the world, and for those, ZJ’s will always be a special place. A place where they were part of a family. A place where they were given the space to become men and women.
Mikke told me that helping the employees to find their way was the highlight of his entire life. Todd said it’s probably something he’s most proud of. And as I was speaking with Todd, (it’s been at least 10 years) I started crying. I couldn’t help it. A well of gratitude and love for the space these guys gave me, came up. I couldn’t speak I was so full of emotion. Todd, who was speaking to me from a taxi paused and just said, “take your time, man. It’s ok.”
In a world where young people are raised in the miasma of toxic masculinity, especially in sports, Mikke and Todd showed us kids that you could lead with love. That you could be men who cared and made things better, even if it was through a neighborhood surf shop.
With immense gratitude, we say goodbye to the institution of so many of our youths. Thank you, Mikke and Todd. Thank you, ZJ’s.
