Coney Island: The Summer of 2000

For some reason Coney Island has always been one of those places which fascinates me to no end. In fact, one of the things which got me interested in both amusement parks and history (my major) are the long talks I had with my grandmother Sandy about her childhood. She grew up in Newark, NJ in the 1920’s & 30’s, so places like Palisades Park, Luna Park, Steeplechase Park and Olympic Park were her old stomping grounds. We spent many an hour poring over Gary Kyriazi’s book, The Great American Amusement Parks, chock full of pictures showing Coney in its heyday.

So, it felt almost natural to be visiting the place with my father, who some forty years ago, got experience all of the New York area parks with his parents. Sadly, the cliffs over Palisades only hear the roar of traffic and the area where the Jet used to fly is now low-income housing. After all this time, Coney Island still stands as the lone New York soldier in the fight against amusement park modernism. I have seen most videos and read most books about Coney, so I knew the grandeur of what was once there. Stepping out of the car on that rain-swept Sunday, I was a bit taken aback. This was the place that was considered “getting away from it all?” This is where millions romped and amusements lined every nook and cranny? This was Coney Island?

I had been prepared that “the Island” was not what it once was, but after living through the postcards of the Detroit Publishing Company and seeing countless acres of lights blazing on the films of Edison, I still suffered a bit of denial as the lights above Nathan’s provided the only hint of life at 10:30 on that gray morning. My dad and I got out, fed the meter and sauntered over to the boardwalk. Much to my surprise, nothing was running yet and almost every stand along the boardwalk was still closed to morning journeymen. The first thing to catch my eye was the hulk of the Thunderbolt, leaves clinging to it so that one was hard-pressed to tell where the ground stopped and the coaster began. I could make out a signature double (I do not whether this doubled up or down) and the now-famous house represented in Annie Hall.


The Thunderbolt is overgrown, a mere six months before being torn down.	The first drop thrill thousands during its lifetime.

I have heard that this was not Miller’s best coaster, but definitely a fun ride which fit the boardwalk perfectly with its amazing air and intense laterals. I would have loved to have tried it, but time has taken that opportunity away from me…and from the looks of things I do not think anyone will be enjoying it anytime soon (I have heard the deep-sunken concrete footers and steel structure make it all but impossible to economically save).

“If Paris is France, then Coney Island, between June and September, is the World.” George C. Tilyou (founder of Steeplechase Park)

The "Eiffel Tower" of Brooklyn, the Parachute Drop from Steeplechase Park. The ride is the only indication of George C. Tilyou's revolutionary park.

We continued to press onward, as the Parachute Jump loomed into place, the airport beacon above signaling to people that here had stood the famous and infamous Steeplechase Park. A minor league baseball field is going up at a rapid pace...it is good to see economic growth at Coney, and if anything can capture the once whimsical spirit of the place it is a baseball diamond. But, something just feels wrong about having a stadium where the Pavilion of Fun was king and generations of Americans flew by on the “undulating steel track” of the Steeplechase ride. It is hard to believe the American amusement park was perfected in these few hundred square feet. After the ruins was a beautiful bath house (I believe) sitting empty alongside the boardwalk. Pictures and frescoes lined the walls, in sharp contrast with the FOR SALE OR LEASE sign, which was squarely attached to the door.

We turned around and headed back towards the main amusement area, which was beginning to show some signs of life. We headed down to Surf Avenue, passing a slide called the Wild Thing, some swings and a big Eli Wheel…all three of which comprised some of the most frightening pieces of amusement park equipment I have seen to date…possibly because these pieces were obviously targeted towards children. I do not know if they were in use or not, but these rides truly bothered me. (Also, on the topic of scary rides, I saw a Round Up sitting unused with an inflatable skeleton in it…no wonder our industry is hurting for a good rep!).

It was back by Nathan’s, past the still-closed merry-go-round and to the king of Coney Island himself, the Cyclone. After riding so many coasters, a new ride does not bother me a whole lot. But, this was no ordinary ride. The Cyclone is one coaster I have heard about even before I was an enthusiast. It has been called the coaster yardstick, supposedly made Charles Lindbergh say that the thrill of the Cyclone beat the thrill of flying and made a man who could not speak utter his first words, “I feel sick.” All things considered, it has a reputation much bigger than its average height and small footprint-so you know there has to be at least something behind it all. The neon above the Cyclone ushered me in, so after they finished testing I got the first ride of the day…in the front seat…by myself.