The Human Blur : Ex-Olympic Skater Robertson, Who Starred in Ice Shows, Entertained, Baffled by Spinning Faster Than Fan Blades

Ronnie Robertson looks across the Iceland rink and laughs as he tells how his ice skating career got off to a whirlwind start there nearly 50 years ago.

Back then, a 6-year-old Robertson skated to the edge of the rink, doused himself in the melted ice and then searched for a group of girls to tease.

He skated up to them and started spinning, spraying water like a soggy dog after his first bath, all over the shrieking girls. It was about as much fun as a kid growing up in Long Beach could ask for.

“It was great,” he said, laughing. “It was like turning a hose on them.”

His audience was somewhat reluctant that day, but it marked the birth of a skating showman.

His career has spanned nearly 36 years and included an Olympic silver medal, 15 years of starring in ice shows and several appearances on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” Skating made him a millionaire.

“I would like to be remembered as the best skating entertainer,” said Robertson, now an Irvine resident.

“Not just a skater, but an entertainer, too. It could be a show packed with 2,000 paper boys and I would still give it my all out there.

“I miss it (performing) terribly. My only regret is that I can’t stay 25 years old forever. I’ve found nothing that can match it yet.”

He skated during the Golden Era of ice shows, starting with John Harris’ Ice Capades and later with Holiday on Ice.

Movie stars regularly cheered him during performances at the old Pan-Pacific Auditorium in Culver City. He was the marquee attraction at shows that sold out Madison Square Garden for three consecutive weeks.

“The studios made them shows ,” Robertson said. “People came dressed in furs and tuxes. Now, they’re in Levis and T-shirts.”

Thousands paid to see Robertson skate. But most of all, they came to see him spin.

He could spin faster than a fan blade--420 revolutions per minute to be exact--and Harris nicknamed him “The Human Blur.”

Robertson did more than entertain audiences with that talent. He kept scientists with the U.S. Space Program busy, too.

Scientists couldn’t figure out how Robertson could spin so fast without becoming dizzy or fainting.

In the early days of the space program, scientists tried to understand how astronauts maintained balance when the lack of gravity in space gave no clue to their equilibrium.

When some of the original astronauts were spun in huge centrifuges, they passed out between 320 and 330 revolutions per minute. Most skaters spin 240 revolutions a minute, so why could this guy from Long Beach go so much faster?

Scientists approached Robertson with that question during an Ice Capades show in 1958. They used high-speed cameras to clock his spins, then invited him to the University of Michigan Medical Center to study how he withstood dizziness.

They found no explanation.

Robertson spent three days in Michigan for tests and another week in Oklahoma City for more.

Scientists poured ice water in his ears before he spun. Nothing.

They tried warm water. Still nothing.

He solved math problems while he spun. He spun in darkness and silence. They spun him in a chair, propping his eyes open so he couldn’t blink. Even that had no effect on him.

The scientists gave up. They had no explanation.

Robertson has his theory: “It’s counter balancing. You stay focused, your mind thinking as quick as it can during the spin. After a while, it becomes an automatic reflex.

“Everyone told me it was a natural ability, that I had one of the best centers of gravity they had seen. My weight was distributed just right, my legs were bowed just enough to spin.”

He credits one of his coaches, Gus Lussi, for helping to develop his spinning technique. Edi Scholdan, who trained Robertson from ages 8 to 15, worked on the skater’s jumping and other skills.

In 1979, Robertson retired from skating. Although he still teaches, he doesn’t attempt the spins.

“My gut’s too big,” he said.

Robertson originally retired in 1971 after 15 years on the ice show circuit, but made a comeback in 1974, winning the World Professional championship at 37. His retirement came three years after becoming one of only three skaters to be inducted into the Madison Square Garden Hall of Fame, joining Sonja Henie and Roy Shipstad.

Robertson now teaches two or three times a week at Iceland, training youngsters and occasionally working with some of the top pros and amateurs. He spends a few days each year working with 1988 Olympic champion Brian Boitano.

Robertson branched into new territory Thursday night, making his debut as a judge at the Challenge of Champions at the Forum that included skaters such as Kristi Yamaguchi and Boitano.

“Brian is wonderful to work with because he is such a perfectionist,” Robertson said. “It’s easy to work with someone who cares about his work.”

Robertson had a similar attitude during his amateur and professional careers. He ended a stormy amateur career at the 1956 Olympics, finishing second to bitter rival Hayes Alan Jenkins.

Jenkins was an established skater in the early 1950s while Robertson had just moved up from the novice and junior levels, where he had dominated as a youth.

Robertson regularly won freestyle skating competitions, which counted as 40% of his overall score. Jenkins dominated the school figures, which were worth 60%, and edged Robertson in the overall scoring.

But Robertson caught the eye of Harris, who offered to sponsor Robertson if he promised to sign with Ice Capades once he finished his amateur career.

“He saw potential in me that my parents didn’t,” Robertson said. “All the sponsorship was under the table back then. He brought my parents and me into his office. He would pay for all my skating, all my training, if I would sign.

“We were scared. We said no.”

Robertson figured his second-place finish to Jenkins at the 1956 Olympics would cost him a $1 million in earning potential as a pro. After all, people paid to see gold medalists perform, not the silver medalist, right?

Harris had other ideas, signing Robertson with Ice Capades and eventually billing him as a star.

Robertson was on a mission, out to prove that the fans wanted to see the best freestyle skater, regardless of which Olympic medal he had around his neck. He turned out to be right.

He became the first male skater to earn more than $100,000 a year, and earned more than $1.5 million in his career.

But success had a fee. The professional relationship between Harris and Robertson often turned bitter. Robertson complained about money, dressing quarters and who would get top billing on the marquee. Harris was tight with the money, and once threw Robertson’s parents out of the stands during a show.

Still, Harris got Robertson the personal appearances. He also developed the rotating, 12-foot slab of ice that Robertson spun on during performances in Times Square and “The Ed Sullivan Show.”

“I was smart back then about some things, like how to get more money,” Robertson said, “but I wasn’t smart about trying to avoid the bumpy road. But I eventually mellowed out and got what I wanted.

“One thing was for sure--I never skated better than after I had a fight with Harris.”

Robertson admits that he misses those days. He misses the traveling, the crowds, and most of all, the performing.

He still has his teaching, which is why he drives the 91 freeway to Iceland a few times a week to work with the kids.

The rink holds years of memories for him: his parents, Albert and Christine, bringing him there as a youngster; taking his first lessons; watching his father, a Navy engineer, help Frank Zamboni design the first Zamboni ice machine.

A few months ago, a friend introduced Robertson to a skater as “the legendary Ronnie Robertson.”

Robertson smiles.

“Hey, I might have spun fast, but a legend?” he said. “It was a good feeling though. Maybe as good as winning a gold medal.”