By Gregory Clark, Illustrated by James Frise, September 9, 1933.
“I see,” said Jimmie Frise, “that roller skating has ousted dancing at the amusement parks.”
“Ousted it, eh?” said I.
“It’s cooler than dancing, in the summer,” said Jimmie. “You just glide around and get a lovely breeze. Whereas dancing is kind of stuffy for hot weather. Do you dance?”
“No, Jimmie,” I said. “I have never learned to dance. When I was young I was always terrified that if I got up and took hold of a girl I would suddenly hug her. I’m like that. Sudden, you know. And nowadays, when it is quite all right to hug them, I’m too old.”
“Don’t you barn dance?” asked Jimmie.
“I’ve tried barn dancing,” I admitted, “but I always get paired with one of those great big healthy country girls, and instead of me whirling her off her feet, she whirls me off my feet. And you don’t know how sensitive we little people are about our feet being off the ground. Why, the only reason I work so hard and make money is to have a motor car. I’ve got to have a motor car, because my pride suffers so in a street car. Don’t tell anybody, but when I am sitting in a street car, my feet hang six inches off the ground. It’s terribly humiliating.”
“Well, sir,” said Jimmie. “I’d have thought you would be a very nice dancer.”
“No,” I said sadly. “I’m too emotional.”
“But you could roller skate,” said Jim. “I suggest we go down some evening and try a whirl at roller skating. You wouldn’t dare hug a girl on roller skates. It’s too risky. And you could pick a nice little wisp of a city girl.”
“That’s the trouble,” I said. “I have no taste for these wispy little city girls. The kind of girls I like are great big healthy country girls. I’d like to roller skate with a lovely big country girl. She could whirl me around all she likes on roller skates.”
“Let’s go down some night,” said Jimmie.
“How about our wives?” I suggested. “Would they mind?”
“Certainly not,” said Jim. “They know we do these things as part of our professional duty. Finding out what the other half of the world is doing, and recording it.”
“Well, in that case,” I said.
So that hot night, we drove down to the beach and walked over to the roller-skating casino1.
Slow, wavey music was lilting out of the big round casino, and as we paid our way in, we saw a wonderful throng of young people, swinging gracefully and smoothly about the big circular hardwood floor.
“That looks cool2,” said Jim.
We were shown into a booth where a man handed us out roller skates. We sat down on the bench and fastened them on. Now, the roller skates I remember must have been a cheaper kind. They did not have such a greased lightning action as these new model ones. They must have ball bearings and a lot of grease on them.
“Oops,” said Jimmie, standing up and taking short, careful steps. He quivered all over, but not from excitement. Just from keeping his balance.
I got up and, without even trying, I rolled easily over to Jimmie. As we took each other’s arm, we sat down heavily. A young gentleman assisted us up to our feet.
“May I help you?” he asked. Such a nice boy.
“If you don’t mind,” I said. “Just help us over to that railing.”
We stood still and he shoved us over to the railing, where we took a good hold.
“My goodness,” said Jimmie, “how they have speeded up these roller skates.”
“They are awful quick on the get-away,” I said. “Free wheeling, sort of.”
We clung to the railing and watched the solid mass of skaters whirling by in long, lazy strides, to the music.
“Perhaps,” I suggested, “we might come down some morning, when there is nobody here, and do a little practising.”
“Never take your hand from the plow,” said Jim, “once you have set to it.”
“Well, you start,” said I. “I’ll wait and see how you do it.”
“We’ll go hand in hand,” said Jim.
A little unsteadily, we edged along the railing and got near the entrance to the floor. The nearer we got to the surging, sweeping throng, the more terrifying it became.
“Jimmie.” I exclaimed, “we should never get out there. It’s ridiculous.”
“Once we are in the whirl, we will just be pushed along,” said he. “Come on.”
Holding hands, we stepped on to the floor and let her roll. We rolled about ten feet with all the skaters weaving gracefully wide of us. Then a couple bunted Jimmie slightly, as he took one of those staggery steps you take on roller skates, which whirled him about facing me. We clutched. Fell. And about twenty people piled on top of us, like a rugby scrimmage.
The same kind young man who picked us up before came and unscrambled us. He was some sort of an attendant.
“If you gentlemen can’t skate—” he said.
“Oh, we can skate,” said Jimmie, clinging to a pillar in the centre of the floor. “It just takes a few minutes for it to come back to us.”
Staggering and Stumbling
Hand in hand, we staggered and stumbled into the swing again, and got around once very nicely, without anybody being upset, even us, before the music stopped.
“Let’s practise now for a minute while everybody is off the floor,” said Jimmie. So we went around once again, hand in hand, with everybody very interested in us. They were laughing at Jimmie, his long legs looked so funny taking such little short steps. I just stood still, and Jim slid me along with him. Occasionally, my right foot would start to go another direction, but with a little effort, I could get it steered back in the right direction before it was too late.
The music started, and the floor filled up with the jam, and we went around five times before the band stopped again. We did much better. I took several steps all on my own, and except for once, when my right, or outer leg, got too far away for me to pull it back, everything went fine. It was Jim who saved me. He steered me for the side lines, and just as I was about to sit down with my right leg pointing to Niagara Falls, Ont., and my left toward Orillia, I came slam up against the railing.
Just behind the railing, a very large girl, whom I at once recognized as a lovely big country girl, was resting on her elbows. And as I came zooming in, all spread wide, she reached forward and caught me by the collar and held me steady until I got my balance.
“Whoa, boy!” she said, cheerfully.
As we proceeded on our way, Jimmie whispered:
“Now, there’s the girl for you. Two hundred pounds, if she’s an ounce. I bet she can skate like a truck.”
“She said ‘whoa boy’ to me,” I said.
“Well, that’s a sort of introduction,” said Jimmie, who was perspiring a little. “The next round, you had better get her to take you around.”
“Am I a burden to you?” I demanded. “Do you think I am doing nothing but hold on to you?”
“Oh, it’s all right,” said Jim. “Only I think that big girl could whirl you around better and, anyway, it would look nicer than seeing two grizzled old birds like us holding hands round and round.”
“Very well,” I said. “I’ll manage by myself.”
When the band ended, Jim went over and spoke to two girls who sing in the choir, and one of them said she would be very glad indeed to skate with Mr. Frise.
Between bands, you go out back of the railing, and I slithered and staggered around the curve until I came to where the big girl was still leaning splendidly on the railing. She happened to see me approaching and she turned around and smiled at me.
“Well, well,” she said. “And how’s it going?”
“Suddenly, thank you,” I said, taking hold of the railing. “I don’t seem to get the hang of this business.”
“It isn’t a hang,” she said. “It’s a glide. Look: you can’t fall if you tried.”
And she took a quick whirl on her skates and the whole two hundred pounds of her spun around gracefully.
“Marvellous,” I said. “Are you from the country?”
“Yes, why do you ask?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I like country people,” I said. “They are sort of secure and safe.”
“Where’s your tall friend?” she asked.
“Oh, he’s found a couple of girls from the choir who will help him around,” I said.
“Well, in that case,” said the big girl, “maybe I might have the pleasure of steering you around this next band.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” I cried. “Would you really?”
“Certainly,” said the big girl, so strong, so secure.
Long, Sweeping Curves
The band started almost at once, and the big girl, whose name I never got, unfortunately, because I would like her relations in the country to know about this, took me by the elbow and slid me along the railing and out on to the floor. Before I knew where I was, I was moving around that big circle in long, sweeping curves, the other people, the walls, the pillars, were all a blur, it was like flying, floating, diving. I saw skaters ahead, and, just as I held my breath for the crash, we swooped sideways past them. Boy, was I whirling! And all in step with the music, too.”
“There’s your gentleman friend,” said a voice somewhere above me.
But all I saw of Jimmie was a grayish blur.
We swooped in toward the middle. We swept out toward the edge. I could feel the skates heating under my feet.
“How are you coming?” asked the voice on high.
“Great,” I said.
“All right, we’ll put a little pep into it, then,” said the big girl, as she took a firmer grip of my arm.
Jimmie said afterwards that it was the most wonderful spectacle he ever saw. The band forgot to quit. Two by two, the other skaters got out of the way and fled to the sides or else got right out of the casino.
“You were not only standing straight out,” said Jimmie, when I recovered consciousness. “Some of the time, your feet were actually pointing up about fifteen degrees.”
All I recall was a sensation like being on the dip the dips3. Which, of course, I never went on but the once, some years ago. I could hear the big girl breathing. She had me by the wrist, and sometimes by the elbow. All was a blur. We went around and around, the music getting faster and faster. I shut my eyes.
“Wheeeeee!” cried the big girl. “Atta boy!”
“Pardon me,” I said, with my eyes shut.
“You’re the kind of partner I like,” panted the big girl, off there in the blur and hum. “Whooop!”
That was one of the times I must have been sticking up in the air. I heard cheers, yells, and thunderous applause, but I did not bow. I just kept my eyes shut, and took a hold of the big girl’s sleeve with my other hand.
“Are you engaged for the next band?” panted the big girl. “May I have you for the next band?”
I pretended to be asleep.
I could tell by the sound that all the skaters were off the floor, but the band kept tooting away and the applause mounted.
Suddenly there was an awful crash. What happened was that Jimmie, feeling responsible for me, and thinking I was being made a fool of in public, simply slid out on to the floor and tripped the big girl deliberately. Jimmie, on his hands and knees, slid me along the floor to the exit, and when I came to I was in the little lobby, with my skates off.
“Where is she?” I asked Jimmie.
“Waiting inside for you,” said Jim.
“Oh, please!” I begged.
“It’s all right,” said Jim. “I said I’d bring you back as soon as we brought you to, but we’re sneaking out this back door right now.”
We sneaked. There was a big crowd outside, waiting to see the next performance through the lattice work. But Jim led me through safely, and we got to the car without any embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” said Jim.
“I’ll never live it down,” I said. “I am ruined!”
“Nobody could recognize you,” said Jimmie. “Not even me. You were just a blur.
“Small men,” I said, “should never at tempt dancing, skating or any other of the paired social activities. They should be the strong, silent type that is contemptuous of trifling things like dancing.”
“And anyway,” said Jim, “small men should stick to small girls.”
“You can’t control your taste,” I submitted.
“Yes, but you don’t have to let your taste break your neck,” retorted Jimmie.
So we decided not to take up roller skating.
Editor’s Notes:
- In this case, “casino” goes by the definition of “a building or room used for social amusements”. ↩︎
- In another change of slang, Jimmie just means it looks like a way of keeping cool. “Cool” as slang wasn’t used until later in the 1930s by jazz musicians and it took longer after that for use in the general public. ↩︎
- “Dip the Dips” was the name of several early roller coasters. Apparently there was one at Hanlan’s Point in Toronto starting in 1908. ↩︎
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