Nothing
Up My Sleeve
Jon
Gallagher
A
Magical World Called Kiddieland
Back
in the turbulent 1960’s, we could go out into our backyard on summer nights,
look to the northwest, and be reassured that things in Galesburg were
okay. Sweeping the northwest horizon
was a beam of light, powerful enough to be seen from more than ten miles away.
It
was the searchlight used by Kiddieland.
Kiddieland
was a small amusement park located on North Henderson Street in Galesburg,
approximately where the Asian Buffet stands today. The park operated from the late 1950s until 1972. Countless numbers of kids from Knox
County rode the rides, ate the cotton candy, and had the time of their life in
the family friendly park.
My
parents always told me that Kiddieland was the result of a travelling carnival
that went out of business shortly after arriving in Galesburg. I believed that as a kid, but then
again, I also believed that when you heard a song on the radio, the singer was
actually AT the station singing live (it’s amazing the kinds of things that get
put into your head when you’ve got a brother and sister who are at least ten
years your senior).
As
it turns out, that story (the one about Kiddieland) is probably true.
In
1961, Saylor Conard took over ownership of the amusement park. Although records are somewhat sketchy,
it appears that a Robert Green had ownership of the park before 1961. He had acquired it because the
travelling carnival went bankrupt while passing through Galesburg.
The
park itself seemed huge, but then again, I was a little kid. I remember the entire park was
surrounded by a silver train that boarded kids on the north side of the
park. For a dime (all rides
were ten cents), you could circle the park once, taking in all the rides that
you were about to ride, or for those on their way out of Kiddieland,
remembering where you’d been.
The
entire park was covered in pea gravel which served several purposes. First, it made it extremely difficult
to get any traction at all, so running was difficult, but not impossible. Stopping, however, was a bit of a
problem and usually ended up with a head over heels crash. This resulted in the intelligent kids
being very orderly and polite. I,
on the other hand, probably still have fragments of pea gravel imbedded in my
knees.
The
Northwest corner of the park was home to the Merry Go Round. Pairs of horses bobbed up and down as
they galloped around their own circular track as a calliope tooted out its
repertoire of circus songs. Just
for the record, there was never a gold ring to grab, at least none in my
recollection.
A
bit to the east was a collection of rides for little tykes. There was a boat ride which featured
little miniature jon boats floating in a shallow pool, making revolutions
around a centralized pole. There
was a race track of sorts which was non-electric. And it seems that there was a ride that let kids either
“drive” a car or motorcycle around a very small track, much the same as the
Merry-Go-Round.
The
boat ride wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world. In fact, it wasn’t the most exciting
thing in the park. Come to think
of it, it probably didn’t even place in the top 100 most exciting things in the
park which would have included burned out light bulbs.
The
pool in which the boats floated was just a few inches deep, but what made it
interesting, at least to a kid like me, was the fact that the water was
colored. It wasn’t just one color;
there were four or more sections of color which was accomplished with colored
spotlights under the water.
I
remember once, I wondered if green
water felt any different than regular clear water. When the old lady who ran the ride put us in the boats each
time, she warned us to keep our hands inside the boat. She must have been a mind reader in her
spare time because she knew I was going to stick my hand over the side of the
boat and into the water. I was
determined to find out what green water felt like.
I
watched her closely, waiting for her to look away while I was in the vicinity
of the green water. She never
did. I finally decided that I’d
find out what red water felt like
because she did glance away whenever I’d enter that portion of the pool. As soon as I stuck my hand in the
water, she yelled and pointed a boney finger in my direction. My hand shot back in the boat like a
slingshot and I fretted that the old woman would tell my parents that I’d
violated her rules and would be forever banned from Kiddieland.
The
red water seemed a little cooler than clear water, in case you’re wondering,
but other than that, it felt the same.
The
racetrack was one of my favorites.
It featured little wooden platforms just big enough to sit on with a
piece of wood that then stuck up a foot and a half between your outstretched
legs. On this piece of wood was
what made the whole contraption move:
a hand crank. You had to
rotate your arms much like riding a bicycle in order to get the little wooden
cart to move. The faster you
“pedaled,” the faster you’d go.
The
thing was, the guy running the ride would always let the person in front of you
get a good head start. My goal was
always to catch the person in front of me and crash into their rear end.
It
never happened.
The
guy was just too good at knowing how much of a head start the person in front
needed.
Once
when it looked like I might finally catch the kid in front of me, a hand swept
down out of nowhere, grabbed the back of my cart, and held me back just enough
that the kid in front of me escaped.
The guy running the ride just smiled as I gave him the evil eye.
A
little further down was an airplane ride.
You got to sit in your own little airplane and lifted into the air while
you shot at imaginary bad guys with your onboard gun. The gun made an electronic ack-ack-ack sound providing your
were lucky enough to get one that worked.
The
east side of the property had the “big kids’” rides. There were the swings which did exactly that, and the bumper
cars. I wasn’t allowed on either. I was too little. Even after I crossed into double digits
age-wise, I was still deemed “too young” to ride these rides.
The
swings are exactly the same as you’ll find at almost any county fair
today. Even the small carnivals
have a set. You sit in a swing, it
lifts you up a ways, then it rotates and swings you around. Yippee. If you like getting dizzy, enjoy getting thwacked in the
head by large flying insects, or find pleasure in losing your latest meal, then
this ride is for you. I rode them
once as an adult and suddenly had a greater appreciation for my parents’
decision to keep me off of them as a child.
The
bumper cars, on the other hand, looked really cool. But my parents were professional parents. Every time I came up with a reason that
they should allow me to get into one of the bumper cars, they came up with two
reasons why I shouldn’t. I even
tried to explain that it would prepare me for driving around the square in
Galesburg, and even though that elicited quite a bit of thought on their part,
the answer was still a resounding “NO!”
Near
the center of the park was the main attraction – the Ferris Wheel. At the time, I didn’t know, nor would I
have cared, that the inventor of the Ferris Wheel was from Galesburg. All I cared was that the thing was huge
(maybe three or four stories high?) and you could see forever if you were at
the top. It was a glorious ride,
one that sent my stomach spinning and flipping every time our seat rounded the
crest and started back down.
The
Southwest corner had my favorite ride of all. My family always called it “the Tubs,” but most readers will
recognize it as the Tilt-A-Whirl.
I think I could have ridden this thing all night long, and still begged
for more.
I
remember the music from the Merry-go-round, and it seems that speakers were
strategically placed around the park to broadcast circus-like music all
over. The lighting for Kiddieland
looked like something that was thrown together at the last minute. Bare bulbs (were they yellow?) hung low
from electrical lines that were strung between the rides. It seems like the whole park was dimly
lit and loud.
After
the rides, it was time for treats.
I only recall Kiddieland selling two different items: sno-cones and
cotton candy. I’m sure soft drinks
were available as well, but that was something that could be purchased
anywhere. My dimes were reserved
for rides, sno-cones, or cotton candy.
Kiddieland
continued to hold prices at a dime per ride clean up till about 1972. It was then that inflation, rising
insurance rates, and maintenance finally caught up with the family run
business. Saylor Conard announced
the closing of his amusement park.
His gross revenue in the last year of operation (1971) was a whopping
$26,000.
Scores
of Galesburg’s citizens clamored to save the park. Petitions were signed and presented to the Galesburg City
Council to purchase the rides and move them to the Lake Storey area. In those days, the Council was
concerned about getting involved in private business and really didn’t want to
set a precedent.
Fifth
ward alderman at the time, Frank Johnson led the opposition to saving the
park. He asked Saylor Conard at a
city council meeting, “Do you want to save Kiddieland, or do you want to save
Saylor Conard.” I’m not sure you
could make a distinction between the two.
In
the end, despite 2500 signatures to help save the park, the Council decided not
to “commercialize city parks or subsidize private business.” The park closed for a final time on
August 13, 1972. Rides were sold
and dismantled leaving behind a pea gravel lot, perfect for a restaurant that
would become the Golden Bear.
Years
later, the operator of a Tilt-A-Whirl that my kids were riding on confided that
part of the ride had been the one at Kiddieland. He was the one who told me that most of the park had been
sold to independently owned carnivals.
Whenever
I’d tell my kids about Kiddieland, especially after they got older and were
going to places like Adventurland in Des Moines, or Six Flags in Gurnee or St.
Louis, they’d just look at me like I was making up another one of my
stories. There could never have
been a magical place like Kiddieland, especially not on North Henderson Street
in the middle of all those businesses.
But
there was. And it holds a magical
place in not only my heart, but the hearts of thousands of kids in and around
Galesburg who spent part of their youth running through the pea gravel on their
way to creating a memory that would last a lifetime.