Goodtimes Skateboards: The Untold Story of Misfits Who Stayed Vert-True, From the Midwest to the West Coast and Europe

A Midwest-born skateboarding crew and company that never fully bowed to the tech-heavy street skating trends of the '90s—and kept vert’s heart beating when most turned their backs.

Let’s take it back to where our battle for vert started, and a teenage quest to build a skateboard company began.The steady hum of urethane wheels pumping up the arch, metal trucks grinding pipe, and loud tail smacks on the lip—all staples of the vert soundtrack. In the early ‘90s, deep in the Mississippi River Valley, those sounds filled the air of a pole barn warehouse ramp in Winona, Minnesota. But it wasn’t just about the tricks—it was about good times with friends. Riders, lurkers, misfits—everyone sharing the deck, pushing each other to go bigger, laugh louder, and send it harder. With masonite dust in the air, open cases of Mickey’s Big Mouths, and herb lingering in the corners, it wasn’t just a skate session; it was a community keeping the vert scene alive.

That’s where Goodtimes Skateboards was born.

Founded in 1991 by a group of Midwest vert heads tired of waiting for industry scraps to make their way inland, Goodtimes wasn’t launched with business plans or a goal to cash in—it was born out of necessity and grit.
"Packages from sponsors were always late, if they came at all," says Gregg Witt, the founder of Goodtimes. "The West Coast brands didn’t see Midwest skaters who didn’t relocate as commercially viable—too far from the photographers, filmers, events, and brands. We were second-class skateboard citizens. So, with the encouragement from my friends Chris Larson, Donny Diederich, and Al Partanen, I said screw it—let’s build our own!"

But skating in the Midwest—and across Europe—was a different world from the sun-drenched coasts. No surf-lifestyle adjacency, no cultural buffer softening the blow of being a skater. You weren’t just a rebel—you were an outcast. Sidewalks were cracked, winters were long, and the seasons were short. You had to fight for every spot, every session. To believe in yourself as a vert skater in places like the Midwest or Northern Europe took a different kind of guts. It wasn’t just skating—it was defiance. It bred a deeper kind of commitment.

Oh, and if you wanted to ride vert? You needed more than talent—you needed an inside track. A pole barn. A barn ramp. Some beat-up warehouse where somebody knew somebody who had a vert ramp tucked away behind loading docks and leaky roofs. That was the deal. That’s what made the Goodtimes vert ramp in Winona special. It wasn’t just the ramp—it was access. An underground community haven.

Iykyk. The Midwest had vert riders and ATVs—all heavy hitters. Al Partanen, Sam Hitz, Dave Leroux, Justin Lynch, Nate Sheggeby, Darren Navarette, Ian Levine, Ryan Fabry, John Muldoon, Mark Muller, Danny Mayer, Steve Berra, Donny Diederich, Travis Burke, Clancy (from Des Moines Central Skate Complex), Kevin Swan, Glen Stallings, Chris Casey, Chris Larson, Brian Whelage, and Gregg Witt himself were all part of the early fire crew.

But the Goodtimes story isn’t just about vert skating in the Midwest. Donny Diederich connected Witt to Scottish vert legend Graeme Stanners, a former Foundation pro and tour manager with deep skateboarding industry roots.
"Stanners became our mentor," Witt recalls. "He understood how to navigate the business and lifestyle of skateboarding."

And navigate they did. With a crew of diverse talent, Goodtimes held its ground even as the industry shifted hard toward street skating. As the vert scene shrank and companies abandoned transition skating, Goodtimes only signed street skaters who were down to session a vert ramp—this was non-negotiable. There was a rule: if you wanted to get in the tour van, you had to at least be able to drop in on a vert ramp and try—or your next stop was the bus station or airport.

Goodtimes picked up Adam McNatt right after his 101 run. Jordan Richter came in from New Deal. Joe Pino and Reese Forbes joined soon after. This blend—gritty Midwest skaters, underrated West Coast vert talent, and respected street pros—sparked something rare. It wasn’t just a team—it was a culture clash for the times that somehow harmonized.

Goodtimes believed vert would still progress, still influence, and still matter. And it did. By the mid to late '90s, as vert clawed its way back into relevance, the same companies that once laughed began headhunting the Goodtimes team.

"We had plenty of brands trying to poach our vert riders," Witt admits, a knowing smirk in his voice. "They saw the tide turning, thinking they could cash in on what we were doing. But those riders weren’t just team names—they were family. We’d already survived the vert drought together, and there was no way we were letting anyone mess with that."

And the Winona vert warehouse—the unofficial Goodtimes HQ—became more than just a training ground and product testing lab; it became a pilgrimage spot for riders dedicated enough to make their way to the Goodtimes ramp in the Mississippi River Valley. Legends like Ben Schroeder, Tony Hawk, Rune Glifberg, Christian Brox, Adil Dyani, Thomas Madsen, Stephane Andre, Jorge Keller, Shane Barrios, Danny Webster, Curt Anderson, and more didn’t just show up—they made the journey. Winona had become a legit destination, a must-hit stop on the pro skateboarding map for serious vert riders.

"It’s wild now," Witt says. "There are more vert ramps in Southern California today than there were in the entire country at some points in the 90’s. But at the time? It was Winona, Tampa, Dallas, Boulder, a couple of East Coast spots, a few I’m missing, and sometimes one or two in Northern California—that was it."

The original Goodtimes company run spanned from 1991 to 1999 before Witt paused to pursue new ventures in skate footwear. But the stories, the legacy—none of it ever really went away. The essence of Goodtimes wasn’t about being loud in the moment—it was about crafting something enduring, something authentic that lives on even as the years roll by.

Now, in 2025, Goodtimes is on a mission—not just to reimagine the brand, but as an archive, a cultural bridge, and a platform for new stories to be told. The crew has digitized, remixed, and remade a treasure trove of footage, photos, and behind-the-scenes stories and never-before-seen products from the vault.

But this revival isn’t about looking back—it’s about carrying forward the spirit that made Goodtimes matter in the first place, keeping the fire lit as a category-defying, skateboarding-centric, character-driven accessories and streetwear brand seeking to contribute to the next generation of skateboarders, artists, and culture makers.

Words by Gregg Witt and Donny Diederich

Full story featured in Vertical Zine, April 2025