Sneaker wars

By John Sheridan

Before there was Nike's swoosh, Adidas' three stripes, Puma's black cat, Fila and all the rest, there were stars, Converse All Stars, the sneakers that gave “street cred” to my generation of Philadelphia boys. We called them “Chucks,” after Chuck Taylor, a semi-professional basketball player whose name has adorned the All Stars logo since the 1920s.

Most boys wore high-top Chucks, black or white depending on the season, to support their ankles for schoolyard basketball. And if you were an unknown quantity and weren't wearing Chucks on a Philadelphia basketball court, where basketball is king, you were suspect.

I was 12 years old when I bought my first pair of All Stars in summer 1960. This was a serious financial decision, since at $3.75 they were twice the price of PF Flyers, the plebian sneakers I used to wear.

I've often thought that the rise and fall of Converse would be a proper Harvard Business School case study on how an American company got complacent, as many of them did, and lost its dominant market share to foreign competition. Given All Stars' dominance in the 50s and 60s, I reckon Converse believed that it made the best sneakers, had no competition and didn't need to innovate.

Adidas disabused Converse of that notion. The German company was already known for its track and field shoes and British football boots (“cleats” in America) when, in 1968, it introduced leather sneakers to American basketball players, who quickly ditched their canvas Chucks for Adidas leather.

Nor did the $18 price tag ― Chucks were $5 by then ― deter them. “They're worth it,” one collegiate basketball player told me, adding, “They feel so good on your feet.”

That was the beginning of the sneaker wars, with Converse woefully unprepared to respond to Adidas' challenge, for it took Converse a few years before it made its own leather sneakers. In the meantime, the best it could do was to offer Chucks, which had always been black or white, in a variety of colors. But it was too late.

Here was Converse, an American company that had dominated the sneaker market for decades, being put out of business by a German company's superior product. After all, Converse was still making the same old 1920s sneakers. And the bell was tolling for other American companies, as well.

The legend goes that two German brothers, Adolph “Adi” and Rudolph “Rudi” Dassler, who had started Geda, a sports shoe company, had a serious falling out in 1947, leading to the creation of separate companies, Adidas and Puma, bitter rivals who battled over running shoes and football boots.

The rivalry was scandalous at the Mexico City 1968 Olympic Games, at which Olympians would open their locker to find a pair of Adidas or Puma stuffed with money. (Adidas happens to be a portmanteau word, combining “Adi” and “das” from the surname Dassler.)

Other foreign companies, including Puma, Italy's Fila and Japan's Asics, wanted a piece of America's sneaker market, too, but Adidas dominated until America fought back with Nike, an Oregon-based company, like Converse.

Nike became Adidas' only serious rival for basketball sneakers, with both brands fighting for the biggest market share. This changed when Nike's owner, Phil Knight, came up with a brilliant idea ― perhaps the most brilliant idea in marketing history.

That is to say, to make Michael Jordan of the Chicago Bulls ― arguably the greatest basketball player of all time ― the poster boy for Nike basketball sneakers, even naming a pair after him ― Air Jordan.

Nike's marketing strategy had been to make a financial agreement with an NBA team, whose players would be paid a certain amount of money for wearing its sneakers. But why pay a lot of money to “bench warmers” no one knew? Rather, let's drop all the money on Michael Jordan, went the thinking, the one everyone knew. A true stroke of marketing genius.

With Michael's leaping logo on Air Jordan, Nike began to dominate America's basketball courts, putting Adidas on its back foot. And with each of Michael's six NBA titles, Nike's profits soared, while its “Just Do It” and “There Is No Finish Line” slogans became exercise mantras.

Still, I hazard to say that more American basketball players wore sneakers with Chuck Taylor's name on them than wore Michael's Air Jordan. Keep in mind that everyone wore Chucks in the 50s and 60s.

When I started crisscrossing Europe during summer vacations, beginning in 2000, I was struck by the popularity of Converse All Stars with young Europeans. Even though Europe's fashion designers are known for turning American utilitarian fashion, including military gear, into stylish clothing, I was surprised to see so many young fashionistas wearing Chucks, an American classic which had been ditched by Americans.

When one of my former students returned to my high school to touch base with his old teachers, I noticed that he was wearing a pair of black high-top Chucks. Our conversation quickly turned to his sneakers, with me telling him the story of Converse All Stars.

He then told me that nobody is wearing Adidas or Nike anymore, adding that All Stars are now “it” on Seoul's university campuses and, therefore, lending credence to plus ca change …

There had been rumors of Converse going out of business, causing diehards to stock up on Chucks. But mighty Nike came to its rescue, by buying Converse and rejuvenating the moribund company which continues to make All Stars, an American classic, like Levi's blue jeans or a New York Yankees baseball cap, that's worn around the world.

John Sheridan (sherbo77@yahoo.com) calls himself an "urban flaneur" living in Seoul. The views expressed in the above article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.