Before he was famous, a teenage J. Cole was a skating rink mascot in Fayetteville

Editor's note: This story, originally published in The Fayetteville Observer on Aug. 16, 2001, was written as part of the Observer's summer series "On the Job." In this installment, Round-A-Bout Skating Center employee Jermaine Cole, now Grammy Award-winning hip-hop artist J. Cole, talks about his experience as the Roller Roo mascot. Cole was 16 at the time this story was published.

When you're Fayetteville's premier party animal, you expect to put up with a few small problems.

Like not being able to see your feet or having children pull your hair out — or knowing that at any given moment your world can come crashing down with a thud on the hardwood.

But at least when that happens there's a lot of high-quality cotton and Styrofoam to break the fall.

Roller Roo has a spot in the hearts of kids under the age of 12. He (and yes Roller Roo is a he) also has a permanent spot in the auxiliary bathroom of the Round-A-Bout Skating Center in Eutaw Shopping Center.

Most of the time he hangs around there with Party Panda and a threadbare turtle who looks suspiciously like a Ninja Turtle who's seen better days.

Roller Roo, for the skating naive, is the official mascot of the Roller Skating Association. He's seven feet of Styrofoam, fabric and flannel. And this time of year, Roller Roo is hot — real hot. Just ask the folks who keep him rolling.

"You haven't been hot until you've gone through four birthday parties in the summer, dancing and skating and sweating in here," said Jermaine Cole. Tall and slender, Cole is an employee at Round-A-Bout and the perfect sort of physical specimen to become Roller Roo.

"It's a cool thing if you like kids, but it can get pretty warm," added Chad Pulliam, another occasional Roller Roo. "Of course, if you don't like kids, you're in the wrong business around here."

Roo's job is two-fold. On weekends he helps teach novice skaters some of the basics — how to get started, how to keep their balance, what to do when they start to fall.

His main job, though, is to play with children. He's a combination buddy/gentle giant/punching bag. He offers a hand and a hug to kids who've slipped, and can help young skaters get over their shyness. When Roo is on the floor, he towers over the young skaters, Shaquille O'Neal at a jockey convention.

"Roo's a great guy for the kids," Pulliam said. "They all want to come up and give him a hug. You've got to be careful when they start coming around him. It gets hard to see."

That's because Roo can only see through his mouth, a wire mesh that's painted black. When it comes to peripheral vision, Roo might as well be Mr. Magoo. He's constantly spinning, skating backward and whirling on the slick wood —not just to show off but trying to make sure little skaters aren't in his path.

"When the lights are low and the disco ball is flashing, it can be tough," Cole added.

Surprisingly, there's no special training for Roo wannabes. You need to be able to skate and have a good sense of humor. It helps to be able to put up with children tugging on your tail, too. But mainly you just have to be able to balance as you roll around on slick wood with a huge piece of plastic padding on top of your head.

Cole's been Roo for more than a year, Pulliam a while longer. Many times, the transformation depends on work schedules. This weekend, it's Cole's turn.

He trots to the back of the skate center, pulls out a key and unlocks the deadbolt that keeps Roo from his public.

Roo lives in a bathroom, jumbled in the corner with two friends. One, Party Panda, is a worn wad of fur. The other, Franklin the turtle, looks an awful lot like Donatello, the Ninja Turtle.

Both come out when someone makes a special request. But right now, it's Roo's time to shine.

Pulliam drops by to help the transformation as Cole unfolds Roo's ample costume. It's dense yellow fabric and fake fur, perfect for snowmobiling. It's not the sort of thing you'd consider wearing around Fayetteville in mid-August.

A series of zippers help seal Cole in. Care has to be taken in spots where the costume pieces meet. "If we don't put the costume on right, ol' Roo starts looking like high-wader pants," Cole said with a laugh.

Last to come on is the head. It's lightweight, but there's no air flow. ''It gets real hot, real fast," Pulliam said.

Roo is showing some signs of age. His head, once festooned with plastic straw hairs, is down to three straggly strings. Overzealous children have plucked the rest. His T-shirt, to be generous, needs a good cleaning.

But he's still a crowd favorite. And a few minutes later, when the beginning skaters are ushered to the sides of the rink, Jermaine Cole is nowhere to be found.

But Roo is ready to roll.

During Roo's five years at the two Round-A-Bout rinks in Fayetteville, several people have donned the bright yellow molded head and checkered red flannel shirt (size 2XL, extra tall). While he's flexible enough for several sizes, Cole and Pulliam are probably at the extremes on both ends.

Roo doesn't talk, but he can hear little children calling for him. For a few songs, he cruises around the rink, swapping low-fives and hugs with kids.

"Sometimes, Roo will chase some of the 12-year-olds for a hug, kids who don't think it's cool to be seen with Roo," he said.

About 10 minutes later, Roo slips back to his room. Cole quickly deadbolts the door behind him.

"Sometimes kids try to open the door after Roo comes in," he said "You don't want to spoil the illusion."

A couple of zips and a little tugging and Cole is ready to help children fit their rental skates again. Roo has to content himself with his pals in the back room again.

"I don't know that I'd put it on my resume," Pulliam said. "But it's pretty cool to be Roller Roo."

Except when it's hot.

This article originally appeared on The Fayetteville Observer: Here's what J. Cole did in Fayetteville, NC, before he was famous