While her husband helped flight attendants restrain an unruly passenger on a flight from Minneapolis to Boston in 2007, Kathleen Hayden remained engrossed in a book about managing finances.

The longtime ice skating coach and businesswoman was known for her practical demeanor, and she was far more interested in reading “The Richest Man in Babylon’’ than in watching her husband, Robert, a retired Boston police commander, wrestle a passenger who lay in the aisle thrashing and scaring others onboard.

“I knew how that situation would end. I didn’t know how the book would end,’’ Mrs. Hayden deadpanned in an interview with Globe columnist Kevin Cullen after the flight.

A Dorchester native, Mrs. Hayden was just as unflappable as a mentor and coach to thousands of students who learned to skate at the Winterland Skating School she launched 40 years ago. Budding figure skaters and future hockey players honed their skills at the Rockland rink where Mrs. Hayden became a national leader in the ice skating industry.

Mrs. Hayden, who was inducted into the Bay State Games Hall of Fame in 2013 during ceremonies at Fenway Park for her role running Olympic-style amateur skating competitions for 25 years, died of cancer Feb. 16 in her Hingham home. She was 75.

The Ice Skating Institute, an international trade association, named her Woman of the Year in 2004, an honor also bestowed on Olympic champion skaters Sonja Henie and Dorothy Hamill.

“In our business, there are strong-willed people with diverse agendas, and Katy managed to pull them all together and unify them. She did it with a wonderful mix of charm and toughness,’’ said Peter Martell, the institute’s executive director.

“Nobody ever saw Katy flustered,’’ said Winterland Skating director Mary Sullivan, who took over last spring when Mrs. Hayden retired.

In July, Mrs. Hayden was experiencing lower back pain when she was diagnosed with advanced cancer. “She looked at me and said, ‘Mary, I have no regrets. I lived a great life,’ ’’ Sullivan recalled.

Mrs. Hayden’s mantra in coaching and in life was “keep it simple’’ and don’t complain. She had little patience for tantrums or self-pity, and reminded students that their parents were paying hard-earned money for their lessons. Her proteges soon adopted what was known as “the Winterland way.’’

“It’s the Winterland way: You’re strong. You pick yourself up. You move on,’’ Sullivan said.

“She was always positive,’’ said Jessica Ford, who took her first skating lessons in Mrs. Hayden’s program while a preschooler and now teaches skating at the school. “She made sure you were having fun, but that you were working hard, too.’’

Growing up in Dorchester, Mrs. Hayden taught herself to skate gliding on the ice at Dorchester Park, where firefighters flooded the ground in winter for skating.

She was 14 when her future husband first saw her skating in the park. He recalled that she was wearing a green sweater and black pants, and that she leapt into the air and landed a jump. “No one did that at Dorchester Park with all the sand and pebbles,’’ he said. “I looked at her, and I guess you could say I fell in love.’’

Robert ran home, borrowed a cousin’s skates, and began shadowing her on the ice. The skates didn’t fit well and he didn’t know how to skate. She caught on and confronted him.

He recounted that he answered honestly — perhaps too honestly: “My name is Bob Hayden and I just want to get to know you. I want to be your boyfriend.’’

Her quick reply: “Listen, Bob Hayden, I’m going to tell you two things — get away from me, and find yourself a good psychiatrist.’’

He was chastened, but undaunted. “I might say it broke my heart, but it didn’t stop me from being there every day,’’ Bob said. “I was way out of my league with Katy, way over my head.’’

They were married 50 years.

He credited her with encouraging him to take promotional exams when he was a Boston police officer for almost 30 years.

He climbed the ranks and was commander of Area A, which includes Government Center, East Boston, Charlestown, Beacon Hill, and parts of the Back Bay, and later was police chief in Brockton.

“She saw something in me I didn’t know I had,’’ he said.

He was diagnosed with advanced cancer four years ago, and despaired when he learned that Mrs. Hayden was ill. She told him: “You didn’t think I was going to let you sneak out the back door, did you?’’

“She was always there for me and it was a great honor to be there for her,’’ said her husband, who stayed by her side through many nights at hospitals.

After she died he stumbled, grief stricken, into a Quincy tattoo parlor and had a few lines of the couple’s favorite song inked onto his left arm. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,’’ his tattoo says, under a drawing of the sun. On his right arm, tattoo artists are creating Katy’s image as a young woman. His wife would not approve, he conceded.

Kathleen Desmond, who was always known as Katy, was one of 10 children born to Irish immigrants.

In 1958, her father was 53 when he was found drowned, with bruise marks on his face and $500 in his pockets, in the Muddy River in Brookline, the Globe reported. He had been a local business agent for the Hod Carriers Building Laborers Union. Foul play was suspected, but the mystery was never solved.

Katy graduated from St. Gregory High School in Dorchester. Her father’s death derailed her dreams of attending college, according to her family, so she helped care for her siblings and took courses at Boston Clerical School.

“She grew up in the city and that was always in her,’’ said her son Robert Jr. of Duxbury, who taught skating skills for ice hockey at the Winterland program for 13 years. “She was no pushover and she was a natural born leader.’’

A service has been held for Mrs. Hayden, who in addition to her husband and son leaves two daughters, Eileen Murphy of Hanover and Kathy Smith of Duxbury; another son, Kevin of Canton; two brothers, Daniel Desmond of Weymouth, and Denis Desmond of Boston; four sisters, Mary McGrail of Mansfield, Eileen Desmond of Dorchester, Anne Quinn of Weymouth, and Margaret Clifford of San Antonio; and nine grandchildren.

Ice skating and family were the heart of Mrs. Hayden’s life, said her son Robert, who marveled at how his own children enjoyed spending all their free time with her.

“When they had a day off from school, they wanted to be with grandma,’’ he said.

Mrs. Hayden’s son Kevin recalled how she encouraged him throughout life. The Haydens were foster parents and adopted him as an infant, he said.

“She was so modest in her achievements. She was humble and earnest,’’ he said. “She was always so focused on helping others grow.’’

J.M. Lawrence can be reached at jmlawrence@mac.com.