Ticket to Ride
One of my earliest memories of Kennywood isn’t of a particular ride or of a particular scary-eyed kangaroo or of a particular cheese-smothered food or of a particular high-stepping, jazz-handed song-and-dance routine put on by a super-smiley team of high school students sweating to death in sticky taffeta.
Rather, my earliest memory of Kennywood is the drive to the park each summer. It seemed to take forever (20 eternal minutes), and we would make the drive feel faster by counting how many yellow arrows emblazoned with the Kennywood logo and nailed to light posts we could find on our way there. When I was a child, the excitement of spotting those arrows on the way to this legendary amusement park can only be compared to the excitement of an adult woman finding a trail of diamonds leading to a pot of gold being held by a paid-up-for-life personal maid.
You know. The ticket books.
I realize some of you out there are looking at me all, “Whuzzah?” as if I just started talking about El DeBarge, but I’m seriously telling you that there was a time when you purchased books of tickets instead of one ride-all-day pass. Each ride required various numbers of tickets in order to gain admission—perhaps one ticket for the train, two tickets for Noah’s Ark and maybe three or four to embark on the super-cool Laser Loop.
The Laser Loop was a state-of-the-art roller coaster that went super fast on a level track then went around a big loop and then returned you backward through the loop. That’s all it did. What a rush!
I recall my mother and father sitting on a bench in Kiddie Land holding the ticket books while chatting with my grandmother then handing out tickets to the five of us for each ride we were planning to enjoy. Gradually we grew into the big-kid rides, and our father would grab a few tickets to ride along and make certain we weren’t ejected from our seats during the double dip in the Jack Rabbit.
(I’m told it’s impossible, but tell that to my flying, flailing, terrified, 7-year-old body. It sure didn’t FEEL impossible.)
And if we woke up and it was raining? “Wailing” doesn’t even begin to describe the reaction. “Gnashing of the teeth” does a better job. Rending of the garments. Donning of sackcloth and ashes.
Recently my childhood memories of Kennywood came crashing up against my new adulthood experiences. There was a big chunk of years between high school and the second birthday of my first child when I didn’t go to Kennywood. So it had been frozen in my mind as a place of ticket books, personalized sailor hats and long jean shorts with baggy T-shirts and sneakers—that was the girls’ standard attire—and how could I forget the old man who rode the merry-go-round all day while standing on the very edge and leaning backward, his hands in his pockets.
As an adult spending the day at Kennywood, I was first struck by how very, very old it makes me feel. I mean, kids, I can practically see your butt in those shorts that say “Juicy” on the backside, and are 4-inch wedge platform sandals really the appropriate footwear for those shifty floor boards in Noah’s Ark? You’ll put your eye out!
And when did teenagers get so un-awkward?! If life were fair, teenagers would still have the “awkward” years, but it appears that via evolution, the human race has eliminated that phase from our genetic makeup so that instead of baby, toddler, child, pre-teen, awkward teen and swan, humans now go baby, toddler, pre-teen, STUNNING SUPERMODEL.
The ticket books have gone the way of the Laser Loop, replaced with fairly expensive ride-all-day passes and the scream-ripper-outter Phantom’s Revenge, respectively. The rides are scarier, the lines a bit longer, the food a bit pricier and the security a bit stricter.
That said, I take comfort in the constants that have survived: The merry-go-round minus the old man, the train, Kenny’s scary eyes, Kiddie Land, Potato Patch fries topped with cheese hot enough to melt down gold, laughter, families, friends, lasting memories—and above all else—the horrified look on my kid’s face the first time he hit that double dip in the Jack Rabbit and popped up in the air like a piece of ejected toast.
I should have taken a picture.
This article appears in the July 2010 issue of Pittsburgh Magazine
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Reader Comments:
The ticket books !!! My dad was an officer in the Steelworker's Union, which held a humungous picnic at Kennywood every year, so he was entitled to a couple FREE ticket books. Gold, I tell you, they were like GOLD. Many happy days were spent at Kennywood. How about the Fish Pond? Only a quarter to hook a fish and win a prize -- think that's still there. although I doubt it's a quarter !
~Anna
I grew up in West Mifflin, and many a spring day after high school my gal pals and I would go to Kennywood and just walk around. We'd visit friends who were working as "sweeperettes" and try to pick up boys. Best of all, it was FREE to just walk around! Today I simply cannot get over the price of admission! Long gone are the days of tickets OR ride all day passes. What do the grandma & grandpas do who just sit in front of Kiddyland on the benches - pay $36 to sit?! Sad, sad, sad.
Amen, sister! I, too, could not sleep the night before a joyous trip to Kennywood. In spite of all the changes, Kennywood is still one of the coolest things about Pittsburgh, and I am proud to say that I still go at least once per summer and have for the past 25+ years.
Thanks for the great story. I too wish I had taken a picture of my daughter on the Jack Rabbit. Kennywood was the only place where my parents would let us go by ourselves. Get on the school bus for the school picnic and meet them at the Merry-go-round at 6:00. It was Heaven. I treasure the time I went with my grandmother and she would tell us her memories of Kennywood. I agree with you 100%. Kids put some clothes on you don't look as good as you think you do.
Do you remember school picnic ticket day - when you would line up to buy said ticket books and there was a limit on the number you could purchase? I also worked there during my college years. It was a blast. Unfortunately, since the families that owned it (and actually were there every day running it) sold it and the sister parks to a large foreign corporation it isn't the same. The price just keeps getting higher, the lines longer and the service poorer. We were at Idlewild this weekend and there were at least a half dozen rides that were "down for maintenance." I didn't see a single sweeperette and all the middle management folks (the folks who really kept things running smoothly and trained the young kids who work there each summer) have been let go (including an acquaintance of mine who had worked at Kennywood for like 30 years). What were once wonderful family run local attractions have gone the way of corporate greed. I don't know, maybe if the prices get high enough and the product gets bad enough people will just stop going ....
All five years of elementary school, the kids from Har-Mer had a field trip to Kennywood to celebrate the end of the year. Pure joy! We always felt sorry for kids whose schools chose more "educational" field trips. :) Thanks, Ginny.
You just so awesomely & accurately described many of my most cherished childhood memories!It saddens me that things have changed so much and that my children's Kennywood memories tell an entirely different tale. My own stunning teenager, whose knowledge of the awkward teenage stage solely from my finding my old yearbooks, rolls his eyes faster than the Thunderbolt when I get nostalgic and talk about life in the 1980's - when the world was such a simpler place. Rock on Ginny!
When I was in school the most stressful day of the year was Kennywood ticket day. Going to school I was afraid of losing the money. Coming home I was afraid of losing the tickets.
Kennywood is still my favorite amusement park out of any one I've ever been to. There's just something about it that makes it special. Maybe it's because it's the park I grew up going to. Maybe it's because I have so many special memories there. I'm not sure...I just know I hope the new owners don't change it. It's great how it is.
Make a New Memory - - I know we did. My fiance proposed to me at Kennywood last summer. It was perfect.
Ah the ticket books ... and the hard lesson learned by visitors and park personnel about what happens to said books when combined with water ... no not from a sudden summer downpour, but from the newly opened Log Jammer in the late 70s.
Suddenly your prized book of tickets was goo. But you made due, though it was not much of a pleasure for the Thunderbold ticket taker to be handed a blob of wet red shreds that somewhat conformed to the "This ride 4 TICKETS" requirement.