‘Die Hard’ star brings Hollywood ‘street cred’ to UNLV
Wsaid this: “What have we here, gentlemen? The police have themselves an RV.” And this: “Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, EXCEPT … the four (um, jerks) coming in the rear in standard two-by-two cover formation.” And this: “Oh my God, the quarterback IS toast!”
You know him. You love him. You can’t think of “Die Hard” without him.
“I was at an affair with Bruce (Willis) and I said, ‘You know, I’m still alive!’” says UNLV associate professor Clarence Gilyard, aka, Theo, the wisecracking computer-ace baddie in that classic 1988 franchise-launcher. “That will come around, because things do in Hollywood. Something will happen with that. I would do (another) ‘Die Hard’ again.”
Still a very busy Hollywood presence, Gilyard (whose latest film, “Christmas on the Coast,” is scheduled for a holiday season release) has taught film and theater acting to UNLV students (and directed Nevada Conservatory Theatre productions) for 12 years. Bolstered by a full-bodied resume including yet another iconic movie (“Top Gun”) and two hit TV series (“Matlock” and “Walker, Texas Ranger”), the 61-yearold actor packs serious “street cred” in the classroom.
Review-journal: So you improvised some of your “Die Hard” lines?
Gilyard: I was an anomaly in both of those films back to back, “Top Gun” and “Die Hard,” in that there was a shift toward having young leading men have impacts
VOICES
$16,000. An outrageous figure to some? Sure. But Lopez says it’s a steal.
“I could sell this for 30 grand, but it can take me seven months,” he says confidently. “Whereas, I can sell this for 16 grand and it’ll probably last 20 minutes.”
Jonathan Ruiz brought Lopez the shoes after accepting them on consignment from someone on Instagram, who was representing another seller. If Urban Necessities succeeds in the quick sale its owner predicts, Ruiz will receive more than $13,000, a portion of which will go to his consigner, who will presumably take his own cut before passing their agreed-upon price to his own seller.
It’s no secret that there’s big money in sneakers. And between the kids who wait in line in the cold to buy a limited-edition release, and the wealthy fashionistas willing to pay hundreds or even thousands of dollars for a rare pair of shoes, there are plenty of middlemen. All levels were represented at Sneaker Con.
Lopez and other big retailers dominated the main space of the convention hall, with formal booths and large inventories. At the west end of the hall, past a small stage and a basketball net hosting free-throw and one-on-one competitions, was the other end of the supply chain — the trading pit. Devoid of booths or any other formal attractions, individual sellers simply spread out their limited selections on the floor in makeshift rows or piles, hoping to catch the eye of a motivated buyer.
This is where Zach Smith prefers to shop. Smith traveled from Dallas to pick up bargains he can resell at a profit. He came with a $40,000 bankroll and was on track to spend about $35,000 of it. He planned to sell everything for a profit, either through Offerup online, to a high-end retailer or through a consignment shop.
“These guys don’t know what these shoes are worth,” he said of the sellers in the pit, clutching a pair of cement patterned Air Jordan 4 Retros. “These I bought for $160, I could probably sell them for $250.”
Some in the pit were simply satisfied with any profit they could make.
Las Vegas resident Max Heinz, for example, was selling shoes he recently purchased in the pit of a Los Angeles show. Getting top value wasn’t his biggest concern.
“I try to find steals in the trading pit, and I’ll flip the shoe,” he explains. “I’ll even take a $10 profit. I’ll take a $1 profit, as long as I’m making money.”
That philosophy has helped the trader make about $3,000 a year for the past three years. It’s not a fortune. But then again, it’s also not bad for a 15-year-old. And it’s been enough to inspire several of his friends to join him on his convention visits, and flip their own inventory.
Will they become sneaker moguls? Who knows. Lopez was once homeless, selling sneakers out of the trunk of a car. After starting Urban Necessities three years ago with a $40 investment, it’s on pace to do $25 million in business this year.
“The resale side of (sneaker culture) is bigger than the retail side,” he says. “And it’s still on the way up.”
Contact Al
Mancini at amancini@ reviewjournal.com.
Follow @Almancinivegas on Twitter.