The Armory

It was 5:45 on a Friday night as we smoked up the North State Street hill in our 1953 Buick. My best friend, Chuck, and I were sitting in the back seat. Mom was driving. We were on our way to the Bellingham Armory for the annual Alderwood Elementary School skate night.

The year was 1965. Chuck and I were in the 5^th grade. Our teacher, Mrs. Martin, a woman who was stern but fair, came to work each day believing she could make a difference in the lives of her 35 students. She would be at the skate night, as well as all the rest of the classes, staff, and parents. Skating at the all- school event would be like travelling through Everett northbound at 3:30 after the Boeing shift change.

“Are you boys going to be skating with any girls tonight?” mom teased.

“Mom!” I growled. “If it happens, it happens.”

Chuck and I had already discussed this possibility.

“Who do you have your eye on, just so I don’t try to steal your girl?” I whispered.

“Danelle Stremler. How about you?” Chuck whispered back.

“Gina Nichols. I think she’s had her eye on me since third grade. Just sayin’.”

Finding a parking spot was difficult because of all the parents bringing cars, but eventually we found a spot off State Street on a side street. Mom decided that instead of returning to pick us up at the end of the event, she would stay and skate too. Hurrying mom along, we walked the four blocks back to the Armory.

The Bellingham Armory was built of local Chuckanut sandstone and dedicated in 1910. It was armament storage and the training facility for National Guard Company M and later Coast Artillery Companies 2 and 9 as well as being an aircraft spotting station after Pearl Harbor. It was decommissioned by the military in 1943. Most photos I have found of Armories across the US have one thing in common: an enormous multi-purpose room with a wooden floor. The decommissioned Armories became event centers for dances, rallies, public markets and in the case of the Bellingham Armory, a roller-skating rink. I believe that Bellingham’s roller-skating rink has been a small part of every resident’s life who lived in the area from 1953 through 1989. A fact which many may have forgotten, Bellingham’s Roller Hockey team, The Bruins, was the National Championship winner in 1970.

Upon entering what appeared to be a fort, we were met by the roar of the crowd, music of the 60s, and the hum of wooden wheels on the assembly hall floor. Jerry Bruland, who was the skating pro at the rink, was busy selling behind the ticket counter. After receiving our tickets, we took them over to Ray Moore who exchanged the ticket for a pair of skates.

“Why do these skates have a spare wheel out on the toes?” I asked him.

“It’s a spare tire, kid. If you have a flat, I’ll change it out for you,” He was mocking, but it made sense.

The rink was a counterclockwise, swirling whirlpool of bodies on roller skates. Jerry’s wife, Marlene sat in a booth overlooking the masses. She had a mic to speak to the crowd and she also spun the 45 records. Remember that this was the era of Beatlemania. When she played “She Loves You”, or “I Saw Her Standing There”, the giddy screams of the girls was deafening. I made a mental note that only the girls should be screaming.

In the first half, all the skaters were getting the feel for their wheels. More than once, I did the double bun two step or banged up my knees. Of course, when a fall like that happened in this mob, it caused a chain reaction of crashing skaters who could not avoid the accident. The whistles would blow, and the crowd control staff would swoop in to assist with the damage. For the most part there was no crying amongst the victims although I did have to run to the restroom to blow my nose.

The special events in the first half included: the limbo competition, and boy’s and girl’s speed skating. In between Marlene called for all skate. And then . . . the lights went down and over the speaker system she announced, “Couples Only. Everyone else off the floor.”

Mom skated up to me. “Do you want to skate with your mother?” she asked.

“Mom! You are embarrassing me.”

Spotlights shone on a disco ball suspended in the center of the rink. Through the mob of skaters, I searched for Gina. I spotted her skating slowly in circles in the center of the human vortex. Fighting my way through the crowd in the dark with only the light flashing from the disco ball, I gathered my courage and reached through the scrum of skaters and grabbed her hand. It was wonderful, although her hand seemed larger than I had expected. I held her tenderly as we drifted across the floor.

“Don’t think that I am going to bump up your arithmetic grade just because you’re skating with me.”

Our eyes met.  Mrs. Martin? That was the longest Couples Only song I have ever heard. We skated for hours in that 3 ½ minutes.

After that, Marlene cleared the floor, and we were given a demonstration of competitive skating. Jerry Bruland, who was a skating professional, came out on the floor and used his power to do some outside split-leg jumps. I wondered just how many times he had split his pants attempting the maneuver.

When he was done, a pretty high school age girl named Sue Higgerson skated to the center of the rink and did a wonderful routine, demonstrating spins and jumps to the applause of the crowd. Sue, now Logghe, still competes at the National level and trains competitive skaters.

When I found Chuck again, he was finishing off a giant cola and before we returned to the floor for the second half, we needed a restroom break.

Now, here is a classic example of elementary school tomfoolery which seemed to make total sense at the time. Chuck stood in front of the urinal trying to stay stable on roller skates. Someone also in the bathroom, who may or may not have been me, grabbed the belt loop on the back of his pants and pulled with all his might sending Chuck rolling backwards across the bathroom. I have been meaning to tell my grandsons about that one, but maybe I won’t.

During the second half of the evening, Marlene allowed us to play shoot the duck, a maneuver where you squat down over your dominant foot and extend the other leg and skate out in front for steering purposes. To compete with someone, you would skate as fast as you can and then drop into the position. The one who can coast the furthest, wins. Chuck beat me every time because of my inability to balance and my proclivity toward showing off the double bun two-step.

Also, during the second half was everyone’s favorite, regardless of your skating skills: The Hokey Pokey. Maybe the kids these days have no idea what this song is, but in the 60s everyone did. Everyone took to the floor and with Marlene supplying the music, we put our right leg in, we put our right leg out. We put our right leg in, and we shook it all about. We did the Hokey Pokey, and we turned ourselves around. And basically, that’s what it’s all about.

With another 15 minutes of All Skate, we were pretty well beat. My rear end was dusty, and my pant knees were torn when suddenly, the lights dimmed. Over the speaker system, Marlene called out, “this is the final skate of the evening: Couples only, couples only. Everyone else please return your skates.”

The spotlights flashed off the disco ball. I looked at Chuck who was already skating toward Danelle. Scanning the darkness of the room, through the crowds on the floor, I spotted her. Gina, the girl I wanted to skate with. I skated in her general direction, battling other couples already holding hands and skating in the counterclockwise circle. Was it a coincidence that for the final song Marlene was playing the Beatles Hit, “I Want To Hold Your Hand?” This was it Marty, go time. My one chance for the year.

With her back turned, I grabbed her hand. Was it puppy love? Did she feel the adrenaline surge I was feeling? I could smell the fragrance of her perfume. It was familiar and wonderful. It was like it was meant to be. We skated with the masses into the darkness.

“I thought you would never skate with me,” she said in a loving voice. A startling voice.

“Mom?” I squeaked.

*Photos supplied by Sue Logghe and Ray Moore*

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