Steven Hager, the writer behind the initial script for the iconic Beat Street Movie, shares a compelling journey of how his vision for a gritty, truthful portrayal of early hip hop origins transformed into the 1984 cinematic release, Beat Street. In this exclusive interview, Hager, who is also the author of “Hip Hop: The Illustrated History Of Rap Music, Break Dancing and Graffiti” and a former Editor In Chief of High Times magazine, unveils the behind-the-scenes narrative of his script, “The Perfect Beat,” and its evolution into a movie that, while celebrated, significantly deviated from his original intent.
Hager’s foray into the world of hip hop began in 1978, upon arriving in New York City. Captivated by the burgeoning culture of graffiti art adorning subway trains and the infectious energy of kids with ghetto blasters, he sensed a significant cultural movement brewing. A pivotal moment came at the “New York New Wave” art exhibition around 1980, where he saw a subway car by Futura 2000 titled “Break.” This artwork, coupled with Kurtis Blow’s hit song “The Breaks,” sparked a realization in Hager about the interconnectedness of graffiti, music, and dance, compelling him to delve deeper into this emerging phenomenon.
Working as a reporter for the Daily News, Hager had the opportunity to explore the city’s art scene. His early work included a story on Futura 2000, which led him to the Soul Artists meetings and eventually to Fab 5 Freddy at the Mudd Club. Freddy played a crucial role in connecting Hager with Afrika Bambaataa, a figurehead in the nascent hip hop movement. “Freddy introduced me to Afrika Bambaataa, in fact he gave me his phone number first and I called him,” Hager recalls, marking the beginning of extensive interviews with Bam and the start of his deep dive into hip hop culture.
However, the path to bringing the authentic hip hop story to the big screen was fraught with creative differences and industry pressures. Hager’s initial attempt to get his script, “The Perfect Beat,” produced involved approaching Jane Fonda’s production company. His hope was to find a politically conscious entity that would champion a genuine depiction of hip hop’s roots. Unfortunately, Fonda’s company passed on the script. Adding insult to injury, an executive attempted to acquire rights to his work for a mere $500, a move Hager wisely resisted.
Undeterred, Hager sought out Harry Belafonte, hoping for a more receptive ear. Belafonte, a celebrated actor and activist, did express interest, but his vision for the beat street movie differed drastically from Hager’s. While Belafonte aimed to create a positive and uplifting film, Hager envisioned a raw and realistic portrayal of life in the South Bronx, acknowledging the “dark side” and “violent and nasty aspects.” Despite purchasing Hager’s script, Belafonte ultimately discarded the original storyline, opting for a more sanitized narrative that Hager felt “signifying nothing.” Although Hager received “story credit,” he asserts that the final movie bore little resemblance to his original script, lamenting that “there’s nothing in the story of Beat Street that resembles my story at all.”
Steven Hager
Hager draws a stark contrast between his intended film and the final product, stating, “My film was closer to Boyz in the Hood than the dream world they came up with.” He acknowledges, with the perspective of age and fatherhood, understanding Belafonte’s desire to present positive role models for young black audiences. However, he maintains that the sanitized portrayal missed the opportunity to authentically depict the complexities of the era and the genuine origins of hip hop culture.
Delving into the socio-cultural context of early hip hop, Hager emphasizes its genesis as a youth-driven movement seeking an alternative to gang violence. “The real story on the current hip hop industry is how they took something created by teenagers, most of whom were looking for a tribal alternative to the gang scene, and turned it into one of the most pro-violent genres in media,” he observes. He points out that while gang members didn’t initiate hip hop, they infiltrated and influenced it once it gained commercial traction.
Hager critiques the contemporary music industry’s inclination towards commercially viable but often less meaningful content. He argues that today, a song like “The Message,” with its socially conscious lyrics, might struggle to get released, while music glorifying violence and objectifying women is readily embraced.
In his book chapter on hip hop, Hager delves deeper into the authentic history of breakdancing, correcting common misconceptions. He highlights the pioneering contributions of figures like The Nigger Twins (1975) and The Zulu Kings (1976), predating the often-cited 1983 breakthrough. He further credits Hispanic crews like The Rockwell Association (1977), The Disco Kids (1978), and the Rock Steady Crew (1980) for their pivotal innovations in breakdancing.
Addressing the often-romanticized image of early breakdancing, Hager acknowledges the competitive and sometimes confrontational nature of the scene. While break dance crews were known to engage in fights, these altercations typically occurred outside of the organized events, distinguishing them from gang rumbles. He points to early media portrayals, particularly in the Village Voice, as contributing to urban myths, often fueled by the exaggerated accounts of young kids eager to impress reporters.
However, Hager underscores the crucial role of breakdancing and hip hop culture in providing a positive alternative to the intense gang violence prevalent in the South Bronx during that period. He believes that girls played a significant role in pushing for a safer, more creative environment, drawn to the DJs and breakers, signaling a shift in cultural priorities.
Another often-overlooked aspect, according to Hager, is the influence of drugs on the early hip hop scene. He posits that marijuana and LSD played a significant role in the initial creative explosion, later followed by the darker influences of dust and crack cocaine. He suggests that many individuals who navigated this era have compelling stories to tell, acknowledging both the creative spark and the subsequent struggles with harder drugs.
Hager also sheds light on the complex dynamics between the artistic and the street elements within hip hop culture. While DJs, breakers, writers, and MCs were often the “intellectual and artistic elite,” the prevailing “macho code” of the streets often drew them into confrontations. The involvement of mob-related venues and gangs in the club scene further complicated matters, requiring street DJs to align with local gangs for security, often necessitating the presence of guns.
Steven Hager – High Times Magazine Editor
Despite these complexities, Hager emphasizes the fundamentally different ethos between hip hop and gang culture. “But the ultimate hip hop arena was always the party: the block party, house party or club party. And the ultimate gang arena has always been the gauntlet or the rumble,” he differentiates. He sees hip hop rooted in “fun, creativity and style,” while gang culture is driven by “domination through violence,” explaining his disillusionment with much of contemporary “gangster rap.”
Reflecting on his initial encounter with hip hop, Hager recounts his early experiences in New York City in 1978, marveling at the graffiti art and the burgeoning street culture. His investigation truly began around 1980 at the “New York New Wave” exhibition when he recognized the interconnectedness of graffiti, breakdancing, and rap music, prompting his deeper exploration.
When asked about his profession at the time, Hager mentions his role as a reporter for the Daily News, hired as part of a relaunch effort to inject “hipness” into the paper. Although this stint was short-lived, it provided him with opportunities to cover the art scene, including his initial story on Futura 2000. This article opened doors to the Soul Artists meetings and his introduction to Fab 5 Freddy, leading to his pivotal connection with Afrika Bambaataa.
Regarding the timing of the film “Wild Style,” Hager clarifies that it was being filmed concurrently with his research, emphasizing the parallel emergence of these seminal hip hop narratives. He dismisses any notion of fear when interviewing Bambaataa, noting that Bam was then living in Co-op City, a safer environment, and was a meticulous archivist, preserving a wealth of hip hop history.
Hager expresses frustration with the initial lack of interest from major media outlets in hip hop culture. Despite querying numerous magazines, he found no takers for stories on rap, graffiti, and breakdancing, which were deemed “totally off the radar.” His persistence, however, led to a significant article on Bambaataa for the Village Voice, which, after a six-month delay, finally saw publication and later expanded into his book, “Hip Hop: The Illustrated History.”
The term “Hip Hop” itself, Hager reveals, was introduced to him by Bambaataa. “I asked Bam early on ‘what do you call this whole thing’ and he said I call it Hip Hop,” Hager recalls, emphasizing that the term was not yet in print at the time. Despite the groundbreaking nature of his work, the New York Times dismissed hip hop as a “fad,” mirroring the initial skepticism faced by genres like reggae and rock and roll.
Hager expresses surprise and a touch of irony regarding the current high value of his out-of-print book, “Hip Hop: The Illustrated History,” fetching prices over $500 on online marketplaces. He laments the low production quality and lack of promotion by the original publisher, who seemingly “didn’t give jack sh*t about the book.” Despite his dissatisfaction with the physical book, he takes pride in the content and the effort he invested in acquiring the best available photos at the time. He recounts how the Rock Steady Crew, recognizing the book’s value, made Xerox copies to distribute at their gigs, highlighting its underground impact.
The experience of immersing himself in hip hop culture had a profound personal impact on Hager, reconnecting him with his own musical roots in 60s Garage Band Rock. Inspired by the self-determination and cultural agency he witnessed within the hip hop community, he started a band and became deeply involved in music, though not as a rapper, recognizing it wasn’t his background. He describes it as “awesome to see these kids just doin it.”
Acknowledging the innovative sampling techniques of early hip hop DJs, Hager marvels at how they “rewriting the book on everything,” drawing parallels to the originality of Jazz and Be Bop pioneers. He emphasizes the “group mind” and “magic” of the early innovators who propelled hip hop to new heights.
When discussing influential MCs, Hager points to the legendary clashes between Kool Moe Dee and Melle Mel, particularly at the Disco Fever, as “super hyped up moments.” He recalls witnessing at least “4 or 5 times at the Fever!!!” where these titans of early rap battled for lyrical supremacy.
Clarifying the title of his original screenplay, Hager reiterates it was called “The Perfect Beat,” inspired by the Afrika Bambaataa song. He confirms that the script was loosely based on his extensive research and interviews, weaving together various stories and altering names to create a “slice of life drama” capturing the “grittiness and feel” of early hip hop. He aimed to depict the pivotal transition period where gang affiliations gave way to DJing and rapping as primary identities for many youths.
Addressing the transformative narrative often attributed to Afrika Bambaataa, Hager acknowledges the simplified version of gang members seamlessly transitioning to hip hop. However, he emphasizes the palpable “burn-out” from intense gang violence, creating an environment ripe for a new cultural direction. Herc’s parties offered an alternative space, and a shift in attitudes emerged, prioritizing rap groups over gang affiliations. Hager reiterates Bambaataa’s assertion of female influence, noting women’s weariness with gang violence and their gravitation towards the burgeoning hip hop scene, influencing male participation.
When questioned about rappers claiming “The Perfect Beat” was based on their lives, Hager clarifies that while Kool Moe Dee, Phase 2, Kool Herc, Bam, Futura 2000 & Grandmaster Caz all shared stories that influenced his writing, the screenplay was a composite of these narratives with fictionalized elements. Crucially, he reiterates that none of his original script made it into the final beat street movie.
Comparing his intended movie to “Wild Style,” Hager confirms his vision was indeed grittier, contrasting it with the cleaned-up Hollywood version of “Beat Street.” He expresses bewilderment at the unrealistic depiction of living environments in “Beat Street,” noting the stark contrast to the actual conditions he witnessed in South Bronx apartments during his research. He felt the movie portrayed a world closer to “Harry Belafonte’s world” than the reality of the people he interviewed.
Regarding his involvement in the actual movie production, Hager states that he sold the rights to Harry Belafonte and had limited creative control beyond that. However, he did contribute to auditions, recommending dance crews for the battle scenes, which he rightly identifies as the most authentic and “worthwhile scene” in the movie, particularly praising the Rock Steady Crew and Michael Holman’s New York City Breakers. He also facilitated Arthur Baker’s involvement in the soundtrack. While he provided a list of prominent hip hop acts of the time, including Sugar Hill Records artists like the Furious 5 and Treacherous 3, the final selection was ultimately beyond his control.
Reflecting on the evolution of hip hop, Hager recalls Run-DMC’s arrival as a game-changer. He believes Run-DMC “blew everyone else off the stage” by stripping away the evolving tangents and returning to the original spirit and energy of early hip hop. He cites Run-DMC as likely the last hip hop group he actively followed, marking his transition to new cultural interests as he felt “the best sh*t had already been done.”
Addressing the contemporary lack of support for old school hip hop artists, Hager expresses disappointment at the mockery they sometimes face when attempting to release new material. He firmly believes that artists with “great talent” should continue to create and perform, suggesting an annual “old school tour” to celebrate and support these pioneers.
Hager takes pride in the photographic content of his book, “Hip Hop: The Illustrated History,” noting many “never before seen photos” specifically commissioned for the project. He mentions iconic images like Cold Crush in a phone booth, Furious 5 with Flash holding the camera, Treacherous 3 on a car, and the classic shot of Grandmaster Caz holding his rhyme books. He credits the collaborative effort with photographers who understood the book’s significance and captured crucial moments in early hip hop history.
Discussing his current endeavors, Hager reveals his long-standing role as editor for High Times magazine, a position he assumed shortly after leaving the Daily News. Despite not being a habitual marijuana user initially, he was drawn to High Times for its independent ownership and editorial freedom. This platform allowed him to delve into diverse topics like political assassinations, conspiracy theories, and drug policy reform. He became a vocal advocate for marijuana legalization, emphasizing its medicinal value and advocating for home cultivation.
Regarding High Times’ overt promotion of marijuana cultivation, Hager invokes the First Amendment, asserting their right to campaign for legalization and disseminate information related to cannabis cultivation as part of that advocacy. He clarifies that their focus is on distributing information, not engaging in illegal activities, positioning High Times as a champion for cannabis freedom and self-sufficiency.
In conclusion, Steven Hager’s narrative provides a valuable and often untold perspective on the making of the beat street movie and the broader context of early hip hop history. His experiences highlight the creative compromises inherent in Hollywood productions, the complex socio-cultural forces shaping hip hop’s evolution, and the enduring legacy of this transformative cultural movement.
