ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: FRIDAY, October 7, 1994                   TAG: 9410080005
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: DAN SHAUGHNESSY THE BOSTON GLOBE
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Long


SHE'S A PRIVATE PERSON, A PUBLIC STAR

All she ever wanted to do was skate.

Things happened. She grew up to be talented, beautiful and better at skating than almost everybody else. Then she got attacked, and we found out her Olympic teammate was part of the attack. Nancy Kerrigan became more famous than she wanted to be and wealthier than she ever imagined. And then it seemed like we never heard from her again, except for an occasional mention in a gossip column.

(Saturday night at the Roanoke Civic Center, she stars in The Greatest Show on Ice, along with Richard Dwyer, Scott Hamilton, Paul Wylie, Brian Orser, Gordeeyva and Grinkov, Jenny Nero and Todd Sands, Rosalynn Sumners, Michael Weiss, Brasseur and Eisler, and Roca and Sur.)

It's been 10 months since the storm. O.J. Simpson has filled the tabloid void left by Tonya and Nancy. Tonya has moved on to movies, pro wrestling and Penthouse. Nancy, who fully believes that Tonya Harding was behind the whole scheme, is selling everything from toothpaste to Cinderella, still looking over her shoulder, worrying that somebody might be preparing to bash her with a tire iron, a club or perhaps a word processor.

Does Kerrigan think her image has sagged?

"To some people," she says. "Not most. I've gotten since January like 27,000 letters, and there's a handful that are negative.''

She hasn't been doing interviews. She says, "I really don't like having my name in the paper."

Why?

"Now, a lot of times, because the scandal is over, the Olympics are over, the only time it's just there for gossip. Most gossip is not true. Like I was watching TV late one night. On a Jenny Jones program, they had people on the stage who had problems in their marriage. Some were saying it was because of the Bobbitts case, or Michael Jackson, or Tonya and Nancy. And I thought, 'How did I get pulled into this?'

"I don't understand. People find fault when you don't want to be in the press. Well, you want to live, too. It's hard to understand if you've never been

around it or seen what it can do to you."

Twenty-four years old, daughter of working-class parents from Stoneham, Mass., Nancy Kerrigan today is a busy, wealthy young woman. Hers is a world of ice shows, practices, television specials, public appearances and commercials. She knows that her personality is in conflict with her career. She is a private person in a very public profession.

Young people who train in an individual sport sometimes forfeit their childhood in the name of greatness. Gymnasts, tennis players and skaters train endlessly at the expense of everything else. When/if they make the big time, they're suddenly asked to be sophisticated, articulate, mature, street-smart and comfortable with their celebrity status. Some, like Chris Evert, Mary Lou Retton

and Kristi Yamaguchi, make the transition easily. Others struggle.

Kerrigan has no regrets about the hours she put into her skating, but says, "I definitely missed out on some things. Family things I still had a lot to do with, but in high school I didn't get to go to football games and dances.

I just didn't fit in. I didn't feel comfortable. I was sort of like an outsider. If you are in school sports, it's different than when you are in individual sports. No one really knows or understands what you are doing. It's hard to fit in.

"Partly it was my fault because I was really very shy so I wouldn't talk to anyone because I was afraid they wouldn't like me, or they'd think I was a weirdo. I was so different.

"My first year in college Emmanuel I took a speech class. It was a lot of fun and I think it helped me a lot. The teacher helped me with my voice. I had a

very strong Boston accent and people didn't always understand what I was saying. It made things difficult.

"I really can't be shy now because people come up and talk to me all the time. I'd like to be able to go to the store. I'm much more friendly than I used

to be because I realize I have to be."

Why does she have to be more friendly?

Here are 11 good reasons: Campbell's Soup, Seiko, Reebok, Disney, Mattel, Ray-Ban, Revlon, Topps, Arctic Cat, Rembrandt, Northwest Airlines.

Kerrigan is under contract with all of these companies. She has not faded away from Corporate America. People magazine said she was raking in $11 million. She laughs at the figure and says she showed the magazine to her agent and asked where all that cash is.

She says she's too busy to get involved in any kind of a relationship. This winter she'll be featured in two competitions, a tour with Aaron Neville, a

Disney television special, in which she will play a wicked stepsister, a workout video and a children's book.

Ripping the guy with the white gloves (M. Mouse) and winning the silver instead of the gold may have cost her some work, but it's hard to imagine how

she could be doing more than she's already doing. She's even cut a demo tape. Nancy the crooner.

She's still looking over her shoulder. She startles easily when people rush up to her from behind. She doesn't like crowded airports.

And, sometimes, people say nasty things.

"Every once in a while someone will say something not so nice," Kerrigan says. "There was this one guy who said, 'You are only famous because you got

beat up.' I felt like saying, 'Well, no, I was known before that.' But I know that now even nonskating fans know who I am.

"A lot of people think I work for all these companies because of the attack, but a lot of the contracts were already in the works."

Skating has paid off bigtime for " shy" Nancy Kerrigan.

The Greatest Show on Ice: Saturday, 7:30 p.m., Roanoke Civic Center. Remaining tickets, $20-$30. Available through TicketMaster, charge by phone (343-8100) or through box office (981-1201).



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