Knoebels, Part Four

(Years ago, I had a blog that got no attention.  This is me reusing content)

The best newer ride at Knoebels is the Flying Turns.  It’s a roller coaster with out a set track.  Instead, it’s a series of louges, with a cart based on a bobsled that flies free.  Think more of a coaster that runs like a tube water slide.  The lines have signs from the ride that inspires it, from the 20s.  It cites a “World War Flying Ace” who sang the praises of the original ride.

It’s an amazing ride, thrilling, exhilarating, like flying.

Knoeebles also has a ridiculous number of hurdy gurdys and carusol music makers around the park. You know, the ones which play Sousa marches with the figurines in front. Sadly, the makers were never allowed to see a woman before carving one, so they substituted the face of their uncle Ned.

Also, they hadn’t seen one unclothed, so they just winged that one.

And, in the one last awesome thing category, see if you can remember this water fountain:
There were literally dozens of these around when I was a kid in the eighties. I remember zebras, tigers, bears and Mr. Lion here. It makes me so happy to see he’s still around. Not that I’d stick my head in there to drink if I was paid, that’s just nasty and some kid probably slobbered all over the faucet, but still, it’s good it exists.

Knoebels, Part Three

The rides are, of course, the main draw, and they have some amazing pieces there (even if you’re not attracted to them in that way). The absolute hands down star is the Phoenix. Phoenix originally was in San Antonio and named the Rocket, but was moved to Knoebels in 1985. It’s essentially been there the entire time I’ve been old enough to be aware of the existance of rollercoasters, it was the first coaster I rode on, and it is still hands down my favorite and the best coaster I’ve ridden. I say that as a coaster aficiando and someone who actually had a summer job as a teen running a coaster. Phoenix has the perfect equation of a tunnel and a nice long series of lift you out of your seat bumps. I’m not the only one who thinks so either, the ride has an entire trophy case at the bottom of awards it’s won.

The other coaster is Twister, another rescued coaster. It’s okay, I went on it opening weekend and have a soft spot for no other reason. The track is a little shakey and the turns are tiring after a while, frankly.

While I’m making it painfully obvious the history I have with this place, I’ll point out that the Hand Cars were the best part about being a child and I nearly wept when I outgrew them. Doesn’t matter that the ride is older than my mother.

Keeping with the preservation of history deal, the place has a two carusols. The one is a large, historical deal, with weird paintings of absurb scenarios from the turn of the century. (The one above has a woman spanking a man. Another has a woman playing baseball. Scandalous. Several of the other feature characature drunks.) The fun part about the carosul is that they actually have brass rings for you to catch, which I’ve never seen anywhere else.

Don’t you love it? That’s the Sky Slide, and it’s just that, a giant slide where you walk up the center and slide down around and around the outside. It’s so wonderfully simple, retro, and fun. Half the people coming down are parents with babies and toddlers all laughing, and the lines for this one get surpringly long.

One of the things you have to understand about Knoebels is that they don’t charge admission. You either buy an unlimited pass for the rides or tickets to ride them, and pay for food, but you can come and go out of the park as you please. They even provide huge pavilions for you to bring your own food and picnic, provided you clean up your area. So, if you’re just bringing your kids and not riding, it’s a huge savings. Plus, thanks to the picnicing, they keep their food prices lower than you’d pay at, say Busch Gardens. It’s still overpriced, but not highway robbery.

Knoebels, Part One

Every summer, I face a problem. On one hand, I love a good coaster. On the other hand, coasters tend to live in slick amusement parks with overly planned layouts and screaming lines. Which is why I go to Knoebels. Even though there’s only two coasters, I’d rather ride them dozens of times than wait hours at the other places.

The reason Knoebels is awesome is one reason alone. The place holds, above all else, to a sense of history. It officially started in 1926, although people visited to picnic and use the swimming hole there previously. More importantly, the place feels every year since. They haven’t really found the need to revamp everything into a streamlined modern affair. Instead, you feel like you’re walking through a series of stages of building into what it is now. The place feels established. It’s an aesthetic that the big amusement parks would love to have, but would fail miserably on.

That isn’t to say that the place is run down. In fact, it’s meticulously well maintained. Everything, from the rides to the buildings is fresh and clean, and even the oldest rides are solid and safe. The whole place celebrates it’s age, and with it, it’s own kitsch. In fact, they seek it out, hosting three museums, including one to about it’s own history and constantly finding old rides to bring in to the park, restore and preserve a sense of what amusement parks were. A good example is the Looper, their newest ride to date. It was built in the 50s and was a common ride of the day, but this one had fallen into disrepair and disuse. Knoebels bought it, restored perfectly it using the advice of the original engineer, and it’s the only one of its type operational in the United States. This isn’t the sort of place where rides go to die, it’s where they go to be treasured and preserved.

The fact that they don’t mess with the established areas of the park means that there’s plenty of areas where you feel like you should be standing next to Don Draper from Mad Men as he watches the kiddies and smokes. Above, for instance, is the giant pink birthday cake with candles that sits on top of candy canes and serves as one of the rentable pavillions. Or almost the entire children’s area. The Panther Cars and Bumper Cars are both a dream for anyone looking for the location of a 50s or 60s period scene in a movie. It’s amazing this place hasn’t been found yet.

Course, not changing too much has it’s problems. There’s the Loaf, a building shaped like, well, a loaf of bread. The main drag of the fair now goes behind the building, meaning you walk by a lot of exposed ductwork. (Around front, the giant loaf of bread inexplicably serves frozen yougart, in a connection I don’t quite get).

The other fun part about touring around the place is trying to date things based on the fonts–They range from Art Deco to sixties flowery style to faux eighties dot matrix and everything in between.

An Amusement Park Ride

(Years ago, I had another blog, that documented weird things in Pennsylvania.  It got no attention.  This is me, reusing that content.)

Alright. I’m about to spend my next few posts singing the praises of one of my favorite amusement parks, Knoebels. But, I honestly have to get this out of the way before I do because, frankly, it’s just too weird to skim over or not give its own post. If you’re a little prudish, skip this one.

In Knoebels, there is a (surprisingly difficult to photograph) ride named 1001 Nachts. It’s a “gondola” style ride, with a platform attached to an arm which turns 360 degrees. It’s themed in an Aladdin/AliBaba style, with a genie and harem girls. Meanwhile, elsewhere, there is a woman named Amy, who is a church organist. How do these two things relate? In probably the weirdest way possible.  The following all came out on a television show Amy chose to be on a while ago.

Amy has been having a polygamous relationship with the ride for the past decade. Apparently, she has a condition known as objectum sexuality which is when a person is unable to form a relationship with other human beings, so instead is attracted to items. So, I guess if you go to a bar and have no interest in anyone sitting there, but think the pool table is making eyes at you, you have a name for it now.

Amongst her other, lovers, are spaceship models, the WTC, a railing, and her church organ. The last I find most potentially the source of the most Sunday morning amusement. But the story just keeps getting weirder. Apparently, 1001 Nachts is such a catch that she decided to hold onto it. And so this past year she “married” the ride. She legally changed her name to “Weber” as it’s the name of the maker of the ride, posted a picture of the ride on her ceiling, and sleeps with spare old nuts and bolts from the ride.

“I love him as much as women love their husbands and know we’ll be together forever.” I didn’t know gondola rides are male. And this one is off the market.

Standing at the foot of the ride, the physics of the relationship baffle, although we did try to put some thought into the most sanitary place to sit. The knowledge that it’s the only ride in the part no longer a bachelor makes the whole experience of watching nine year old kids race up the line and pick their seats downright creepy. Even the height sign at the bottom “rub my magic lamp” seems downright weird. Still, we all lined up just for the irony factor, so it isn’t neccessarily bad for business.

Dead in Pa: Heinz

(Years ago, I had a blog about weird things in Pennsylvania that got no attention.  This is me reusing that content)

This sadly, isn’t the ad that inspired one of my favorite pick me up songs, Pink Martini’s, Hang On Little Tomato. That was another Heinz ad. No, really. https://youtu.be/bX2Hg4ldMws

This is a post on condiments.

Searching for “recipes ketchup” brings back 1,110,000 results on google. That’s just the things that people put ketchup IN, not counting what we slather ketchup on (and let’s face it, mayo on French Fries is considered positively unAmerican). The man who brought ketchup to the masses was born 165 years ago today. Named Henry James Heinz, he started out peddling vegetables off of a cart in Sharpsburg. Soon, he had formed a horseradish company. It went bankrupt. I’m not surprised. Horseradish isn’t exactly a crowd pleaser.

He tried again, forming F & J Heinz company. The F and the J were the initials of his brother and cousin. This time, they made and sold all sorts of condiments, with ketchup becoming a best seller. The 57 varieties thing is pretty much nonsense, for the record. Heinz just liked the sound of the phrase.
Today, the Heinz bottle is instantly recognizable, with an almost Warhol-like pop culture appeal with the arched logo in the keystone shaped label. Their headquarters are still in Pittsburgh, and they are the third major employer there. 
Henry James’s grave is in Pittsburgh, a marble masoleum with iron work that has the sort of turn of the century elite overcompensation you’d expect.
Although I’d love to say there is a hidden tomato or relish bottle in the architecture, it’s pretty standard, sadly.