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Parents in particular appreciate the new "clean" image projected by the rinks. Roller-derby and other rough-house competitions are generally outlawed, and at many of the large rinks, crews of guards patrol the floor, ousting reckless speedsters and troublemakers. Off-duty policemen or uniformed private guards stationed at the door adamantly refuse admission to anyone with a hint of liquor on his breath, and a strict dress code prohibits ragged jeans, bare midriffs and motorcycle jackets. Says Thomas Brown, manager of the Alexandria Roller Skating Rink in Alexandria, Va.: "With all these lousy X-rated movies you can't let the kids go to, it's no wonder business is so good. Skating is the cheapest, cleanest form of recreation around."
Many other rinks round the country hope to lure young mothers by giving free or cut-rate skating classes to preschoolers. One rink has mounted a wedding on wheels. Some rent out the entire skating floor on uncrowded week nights to local community groups and private clubs for an average cost of $250. One night a busload of priests and nuns from the Chicago diocese arrived to kick up their heels and habits at a suburban rink. They pirouetted jauntily round the floor, and before long had dubbed themselves—what else—the "holy rollers."