Crude Conversations crudemag

In this one, Cody talks to Buddy Bailey. In the late 1990s, Buddy became the face of his dad’s furniture business, Bailey’s Furniture. He was 7 years old when he appeared in his first commercial — the crew filming it realized that the furniture itself didn’t have much character, so they suggested that Buddy get in front of the camera. He was a natural — his charisma and affability came easy. He’d chat about furniture and deals, and he’d even spin a basketball on his finger while he did it. 
As the years went on, he became a local child celebrity. He continued being in Bailey’s Furniture commercials, and he was becoming a rising basketball star. When he was 15 or 16 years old, he remembers the Anchorage Daily News came out with a list of the most recognizable faces in Alaska and Buddy was number two, right behind U.S. Senator Ted Stevens.
He says the lessons he learned from working at Bailey’s Furniture helped him on the basketball court. In basketball, like in retail, you’re dealing with personalities and egos, but you’re not always worried about money. So, basketball was easy. All he had to do was focus on scoring points and winning. This mentality, as well as his skill on the court, brought him all the way to playing college ball.
Today, he no longer works at Bailey’s Furniture, he quit in 2013 to pursue a career in finance and then in 2020 he founded a virtual lease-to-own business. He no longer plays ball semi-professionally either, but he does play recreationally. He says he’s probably a better shooter than he ever was and a better overall basketball player. He plays one-on-one almost every day at his local gym. He also coaches both of his kids’ basketball teams, teaching them that it’s not always about winning, it’s about learning life lessons and values — accountability, work ethic, the ability to fight for what you believe in, and how all of that will eventually filter over to your family.

In this one, Cody and co-host Aurora Ford talk to Josie Hayano. Aurora is a former journalist and works at Covenant House Alaska; Josie is a member of the United States Advisory Council on Human Trafficking, a presidentially appointed position. She was the first Alaska Native person to be on the board. Every member of the board is a human trafficking survivor and advises and makes recommendations on federal anti-trafficking policies. Josie’s perspective and contribution to that conversation is Alaskan. She’s often thinking about rural communities and the human trafficking issues they face — she says that most of the trafficking she’s seen there has an element of substance use coercion, mental health coercion and/or forced drug trafficking. And because of the remoteness of these communities, it could take three days and a float plane and a boat ride to respond to a crime.
 

In 2022, Josie, Charlene Apok of Data for Indigenous Justice, Prevention Now and Ride My Road started a yearly gathering called “The Alaska Data Summit: Translating Data into Action Against Trafficking Exploitation and Missing and Murdered Indigenous Relatives.” One of the missions of the summit is to decolonize data so that, in the future, Native communities can reclaim and own their own data. It’s about taking back information so that it can be used for healing. Josie says that it’s about “making the data tell our stories” and “making it be representative of who we are.” Because data is a universal language, it doesn’t matter what field you work in, we all can understand numbers and their prevalence. So, by creating a universal data system throughout Alaska, information can be shared within the community, paving a path for a deeper understanding and better solutions to human trafficking.

For years, Shyanne Beatty has wanted to move back home to Eagle, Alaska. It’s where everything started for her — her love for culture, language, art and music. Today, she sits on her property in Eagle, along the Yukon River, and she imagines herself as a young girl, running down the river banks with about 20 sled dogs or trapping marten out at 40 Mile or walking to school, singing to herself to ward off any curious wildlife. Reflecting on this, she realized that music has been foundational for so much in her life, it’s carried her and it’s protected her. Radio too. She remembers one Thanksgiving out at 40 Mile, she and her dad were listening to “Trapline Chatter” and they heard her grandparents wishing them a Happy Thanksgiving. The reach of radio had made its impression on her. So, when she left Eagle, that passion for radio and love for culture, language, art and music manifested itself in “Earthsongs,” the radio show she hosted on KNBA in Anchorage. It highlighted indigenous artists, musicians, and it was the first nationally-syndicated show out of the state of Alaska.
Shyanne is in the process of revitalizing her Native language, Han Hwechin Athabascan. There are only four people left who can speak the language, and she says the process of learning it has been difficult because people have been resistant to teaching her. This is because land, subsistence rights, language, culture and even children were taken away from her people. So, the insistence on guarding these things is understandable. To learn the language, Shyanne resorted to a more academic setting, mainly through classes.
Lately, for about six hours a week, she’s been working with her aunt to continue learning and documenting the language. Usually they get together and cook, chatting with each other in Han Hwechin the whole time. And for all this, she wanted to be back in Eagle, on her traditional lands; to have that sense of place and belonging. Because learning and documenting her culture and lifeways is one thing, but it’s also about creating a reservoir of culture that future generations can learn from.

Mario Chalmers is part of a small group of Alaskans to be drafted to the NBA, including guys like Carlos Boozer and Trajan Langdon. He’s won championships at every level: Two high school championships, one NCAA championship — the one where his 3-pointer put the game into overtime, with his team taking the win — and two NBA championships. He was in the NBA for nine seasons — seven years for the Miami Heat, one for the Memphis Grizzlies and one waived because of an injury. In those nine years, he was part of 99 playoff games. He played alongside guys like LeBron James and Dwyane Wade. He was the starting point guard for the Miami Heat when they won two championships in 2012 and 2013. He says that the only thing he has left to win is an Olympic gold medal.
In 2016, Mario tore his achilles tendon. It was a pivotal moment in his career, one that eventually led to him retiring from the NBA. But before he was comfortable with retiring, he tried making his way back by way of playing in G-League and overseas. Overall, he enjoyed his time playing outside the NBA, but he found himself reflecting on his career more than he was trying to regain it; he found himself being proud of his accomplishments and accepting this new chapter of his life, where he’s a full-time dad. He says it really dawned on him in 2021 when the Miami Heat signed him to a 10-day contract. He says that even though he didn’t get to play, it gave him the closure he was seeking — being able to walk off the court, healthy and on his own terms.

In this one, Cody talks to Anthony Black and Jerry Smyth. They both grew up skateboarding in Anchorage in the ‘90s, before there were really any designated areas for skaters. Besides summer skateparks like the one in the outside Ben Boeke ice rink and the Girdwood skatepark, 40 miles outside of Anchorage, spots were few. So, in the summer they skated places like Abbott Loop Elementary, Hanshew Middle School and the flatbank and box set-up at their buddy Micah Hollinger’s house. In the winter, it was indoor garages, and before 9/11 Elmendorf Air Force Base had an indoor skatepark that was open to the public. And when they were feeling ambitious, they drove to Nikiski, 170 miles outside of Anchorage, to skate a couple ramps and flat-bars at Brandon Chenault’s warehouse. Jerry says it was brutal. He remembers people getting so desperate that they’d break into the University of Alaska Anchorage to skate in the winter months. It was a struggle to be a skater back then because you had to really want it.
 


Skating was an integral part of Anthony and Jerry's lives. It’s what they spent most of their adolescent and teenage years doing and it’s where they met most of their friends — many of them they’re still friends with to this day. And to be part of that crew, you had to have thick skin — they were hard on each other, but underneath all the ruthless jokes, there was always love. If you got a nickname, however cruel, you were usually in; if you got made fun of and you could handle it, you were in. And in the middle of all this — the skating and the hating — they were getting shots for the Boarderline snow and skate videos. It was a ritual that, in the best of cases, ended with a full video part that premiered at places like the Fourth Avenue Theatre. Looking back on those videos now, Anthony says his favorite clip is probably his switch heelflip down the 10-stair at East High School and Jerry says it was the crooked grind he did down the handrail at O’Malley Elementary.

In this one, Cody talks to Dan Egan, better known as IG. In 1986, he started IG Boarding Shop. At the time, he was competing in big wave surfing, but there really wasn’t much money to be made in it. So, he thought, instead of trying to be in the contests and scraping by, maybe he’ll just make surfboards for all surfers he knows. His surf shop soon blossomed into a full retail store and for 25 years IG made and sold his own surfboards, skateboards and snowboards. In total, he hand-shaped about 4,500 surfboards, thousands of skateboards and about 1,500 snowboards.
 


But what he really wanted was to make enough money so that he could go surfing and snowboarding. So, every year he would take weeks and months off work to ride. And as snowboarding got bigger, IG found a new place to explore: Valdez. Those early days of riding Thompson Pass saw heli rides for as low as $15, $20 and $25. It was a common occurrence for anyone riding that area at that time to get a first descent. And they were doing it with no guides. They’d ride mountains all day long — Diamond, Python, Stairway, Hog’s Back, Billy Mitchell — and then party all night. It was a wild time, on and off the mountains.
 


And in the middle of all this, IG, along with my dad, Scott Liska, were pioneering surf spots out of Resurrection Bay. At the time, most everyone they talked to about surfing in Alaska told them that it was impossible, it was just too cold. But they were determined. IG tells the story of the first time they found surfable waves out by Latouche, Elrington and Montague islands. It was IG, my dad and Giles and Sebastian Landry of Turnagain Hardcore and the waves were barreling. My dad checked the fish finder for depth and water temperature. It was a little cold for the wetsuits they had, but they jumped in anyway. The first wave IG caught was a triple barrel. It was only about a foot overhead, but it barreled right over the rocks. Over the next couple of years, they would find about 25 surfing spots.
 


IG says that his outlook on life comes from his relationship to surfing. That the unique thing about surfing is you have to trust your own judgement — to be optimistic — because you’re relying on so many unpredictable things — the weather, the tide, the wind, the swell. Because when you paddle out to the spot, sometimes it’s flat, so you hope and you dream that it starts pumping and a perfect wave is on its way to you, in that specific spot. That’s the hope IG carries with him throughout his life. When he was just a kid with the idea to start a surf shop, when he came to Alaska because he heard Valdez was the North Shore of snowboarding, and then when his shop closed after 25 years of business and he transitioned to the weed industry.