Ex-Champ Keeps Melody Wheels Humming -- Skating Rink Is Gustafson's Life

Skating hours at Melody

-- Public skating sessions are offered at Melody Skating Center at the following times: Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, 1 to 4 p.m.; Saturday and Sunday, 1 to 3:30 p.m. and 2:30 to 5 p.m.; Friday and Saturday, 7 to 10 p.m. and 9 to midnight; and family night skating Sunday and Wednesday evenings, 6:30 to 8:30 p.m.

Admission is $2.25 for the afternoon sessions and $2.50 for evening sessions. To skate in two overlapping sessions, the price is an additional $1.25 during the afternoon and $1.50 in the evening. Skate rental is $1.

For information on other skating programs, call the center at 833-4040. The rink is at 1825 Howard Road in Auburn.

AUBURN

When the tension and rewards of watching his proteges compete are over, John Gustafson returns gladly to the socializing, small-time fun and skinned knees of the average skater at Melody Skating Center.

The nine-time national roller-skating champion rolls out onto the floor of the Auburn skating rink he owns, refereeing a numbers game played much like musical chairs.

Next, he's dimming the lights as couples take to the floor, or wheeling back to the control booth to spin some tunes. ``And let's ALLLLLLSKAAATE,'' Gustafson intones into the microphone.

For the past 17 years, this place has been home to Gustafson, 45, and his wife, Diane - a life far plainer than the sequined costumes and hot lights of the competitive one they knew two decades ago.

Gustafson isn't into glitz. Melody, a big, boxy building, is unusually spare for a public roller rink.

The silver ball in the middle of the ceiling is so small one has to look for it, and it doesn't shower the floor in bobbing colored lights like other such balls.

The walls are nondescript beige, punctuated by a few painted-on musical notes and signs that light up to say what kind of skating session is going on. The plain snack-bar booths are unadorned Formica; the stools where skaters don their wheels are mushrooms of plain brown shag.

Oh - and the place has only five video games.

``We could change our format and provide a more upbeat, maybe a '90s type of place. But I'm not thrilled about doing that,'' Gustafson says.

``People who come here are going to be exposed to my personality. And I'm here to do one thing: Skate.''

Gustafson started rolling at age 5 and never stopped. It ran in the family: His older and younger brothers also were national champions. Later, he met both his former and current wives skating in Portland.

``That kid. The first time he put on roller skates, I could never get 'em off of him,'' says Gustafson's mother, Florence, who helps out part-time at the rink's snack bar - and has never been on roller skates.

Today, Gustafson is active in the U.S. Amateur Confederation of Roller Skating, the policymaking body for the sport, based in Lincoln, Neb. He sits on the speed-skating committee and is in charge of the speed portion of the national competition that starts Aug. 5 in Pensacola, Fla. With the rest of the organization's leaders, Gustafson is trying to push for roller-skating to become an Olympic sport.

Dennis Snead, vice president of the organization, first met Gustafson when he was judging at the nationals and Gustafson was skating in the late '50s and '60s. They've been friends ever since.

``He's done a whole lot for the sport of roller-skating,'' Snead said. ``He's been through all the ropes himself and now he passes it along to his skaters.''

Those skaters are everyone from seniors to tiny tots - children under 6 who toddle onto the floor Tuesdays and Saturdays.

The South King Council of Human Services, a local group of social-service agencies, recently recognized Gustafson's volunteer work with a team of children training for the Special Olympics of Washington, which will include roller-skating as a sport for the first time this year.

Gustafson goes from watching the jumps and spins of champions to observing afternoon skaters like Vanessa Risvold, 10, of Maple Valley, who daintily maneuvers her arms to propel herself around the floor as pop singer Richard Marx blares over the sound system.

The beginners cling to the wall, their lower bodies struggling with the foreign footwear. The daredevils hunker down on their knees and speed along like human bullets. Then there are the genteel couples, brothers and sisters or young girlfriends and boyfriends, who spin each other in lazy circles when the lights dim.

Melinda Hatcher, 7, of Kent skates with her day-care center. She's one of the daredevils.

``When you fall, you fall really, really hard,'' she said. ``It's like you take a hammer and, boom, on both knees.''

In the mornings, Apolo Ohno, 8, of Federal Way, trains for the speed-skating nationals. His small legs belie their power, as does a pixie face that darkens with concentration as he practices.

``You gotta learn about your strategy. Like when you're in third place and getting up to second,'' Apolo said. ``He pushes me. He's a good coach,'' the youngster says of Gustafson.

On Friday and Saturday nights, the atmosphere changes again: The air crackles with pop music, the squeaking of skates and the chatter of young people.

Amy Crawford, 11, Dan Cardiff, 12, and Jarred Legg, 12, get their parents to drive them from their nearby neighborhood to spend weekend nights circling the floor.

Jarred, who sports a blond ducktail and black Indianapolis 500 T-shirt, says the rink is practically the only hangout in town for youngsters too young to drive.

Skater Marshall Zeiler, 14, wishes the city would build a community center where teens could socialize. He and some friends wrote a letter to Auburn Mayor Bob Roegner voicing that sentiment.

Amy has been skating at the rink since she was a year old.

In 10 years, she said, the group will look back at skating and remember innocent times.

``It was a place for us to just be ourselves,'' she said.