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.

Glen Onoko

(Years ago, I had a blog that didn’t get any attention, which covered things in Pennsylvania.  This is me reusing that content)

Beautiful destination and tourist trap shouldn’t go hand in hand, but sometimes that’s how it goes. As a fan of hiking and nature, you take what you can get.

Glen Onoko is the name of a series of hiking trails located at the Lehigh River Gap, in a state park. All the way up at the top of the mountain, there’s a freezing cold natural spring which feeds a river which spills over full waterfalls, tumbling little gushes and huge wide wading areas. Climbing the mountain, each section of the river is more gorgeous than the last, and the top falls are a full 75 feet high. Through the summer, the area puts up a great show of flowers and foliage, and the river at the bottom is full of people swimming, kayaking and white water rafting. Along the way up, you’ll come to a lot of areas where people wade, picnic and take breaks. There’s also some notable rock formations, like Pulpit Rock, which is a huge standing stone split in two down the middle. Over the years, it’s become a popular place for people to leave their name behind, and buried among the garish, recent graffiti, you can find small chilseled areas with dates back to the turn of the century, along with faux “Indian” carvings.

Of course, the fact that there’s an astounding natural phenomena hiding in the hills wasn’t enough for some people, so in the early twentieth century a railroad tourist promoter dreamed up an “ancient Indian legend” to apply to the place. Love stricken Indian princess, Indian Brave thrown off a cliff, and the weeping girl turned into a waterfall, yaddah yaddah. It’s been so locally repeated that it exists in some history books and has sort of been grandfathered in as a pseudofact.

What is true is that there used to be a fantastic, secluded palace of a hotel at the base of the mountain (think The Shining), named Hotel Wahnetah, which opened in 1886. It was once the vacation resort of the rich and elite looking to escape the city. It featured 56 rooms, tennis courts, manicured stone lined mountain paths, and a dance pavillion. Essentially, you could relax in regal style, but claim you were “roughing it”. Back then, the trail was a much easier climb–it was maintained with bridges spanning the water, making it the climb of the elite. The hotel burned to the ground in 1911, and the tourist industry has only recently started to recover.
What is also true is that the area is positively deadly. The trails sometimes snake upwards at a vicious angle, and a lot of the danger comes from climbers ahead of you who dislodge rocks that come plummeting down the hill picking up deadly speed. Through some areas, you can even find yourself climbing more with your hands and knees through the eroded trail, overused trail. Depending on your path, you walk up narrow areas with sheer drops to one side, and sometimes slick rocks. Invariably, you’ll see some poor person who was expecting a civilized walking trail completely unprepared for the hike. I’ve personally sat at the bottom of the hill and watched people coming in on buses with brand new work out gear on (complete with tiny little leg weights), or alternatively wearing shorts and flip flops. Suffice it to say, they usually give up halfway up the mountain.

Before I seem flippant, let me point out that I was actually up the mountain with a hiking companion who fell off a cliff and had to be carried down the hill by a medical team and evacuated by helicopter. (Yes, I took a picture) I also personally know the families of several people who have lost their lives hiking around there. A misstep is easy to make even for good hikers and can have life long ramifications. Still, I stood with the EMTs as they told stories of unprepared hikers and their grievous injuries even as people walked around us completely unprepared for the hike. I sort of blame the tourist promoters.

All color photos taken by my sister, the Little Photographer who Could.

Dead In Pa: Don Brockett

(I used to have another blog which got no attention.  This is me recycling content.)

I love Mr. Rogers, as I’ve previously waxed on about. Let’s discuss one of the lesser characters… Anyone remember this fellow?
Chef Brockett was a little before my time, but I recall him from reruns (because nothing REALLY changes in the neighborhood). He was one of those characters who bridged the Land of Makebelieve and the real world, running a bakery in the real neighborhood to sell to the makebelieve puppets.

Well, apparently once the IRS got tired of his profits-from-pretend-world money laundering scheme, and considering that Edgar Cooke runs a Hell’s Kitchen, the actor Don Brockett did have to find other work. Let’s see if we can place him in the next clip.

Yup, the friendly chef with a limp went on to become a Romero zombie…. uncredited, of course. Let’s see where else he turns up.

Did you catch him? Right at 5 seconds in as they pan to Lector. Awesome right? He also had a credit in “Bloodsucking Pharohs in Pittsburgh”, which I MUST track down for my own amusement.

So, now I want to construct a scenario where those three items all intertwine into one dialogue. Like– Psychopathic killer has long term hallucinations of being a baker and serving cookies to puppets. After zombie apocalypse, he is one of the head zombies thanks to his pre-death violence…. I don’t know.

Anyway, poor Don passed away in 95, and is buried in Pittsburgh.

Oh, and he was in Flashdance too, but… Pfft

War Between the States: No, not those states.

(Long ago, I had another blog, covering weird things in Pennsylvania.  It got no attention.  This is me recycling content)

For as quiet of a state as Pennsylvania seems, there has been a fair share of bloodshed. Gettysburg is the classic favorite, with tales of brother fighting brother, but today’s history lesson is about a more obscure battle between the ancestors of the United States.

I’m talking, of course, about the Pennamite-Yankee wars, that great series of battles between Connecticut and Pennsylvania…. A quick glance at the map will show they don’t exactly share a border.  As I’m sure there’s only one person nodding her head and understanding, allow me to explain how these two current states came to battle it out.Jump in time all the way to the reign of Charles II, who could use a paragraph of English-history-type background himself. Charlie was an interesting king, as he wasn’t crowned King of England instantly after the execution of his father Charles I (due to the whole issue with Oliver Cromwell at the time). He was instead crowned King of Scots, and summarily had his ass handed to him in battle by the Oliver and his Parliamentarians (which, incidentally, would make a great 50s band name). After some time in exile, England brought him back upon the death of Cromwell, and finally crowned him in 1661. Apparently the English forgave him, as they forged dates on documents so that Charles immediately succeeded his father, clearing up that whole messy incident. As an additional apparent “sorry for the Civil War” moment, the church of England canonized his father Charles I. He still is the only person ever venerated by the Anglican Church. Charles II’s reign was marked by hedonism in the church, and contrarily an attempt to restore the church of England to its former stature, in other words more the actions the throne was used to.

More pertinently, Charles was around during the time that land was first being snatched up in the New World, and he was fond of giving out land grants. Most Pennsylvanians had a side note on him in their grade school books as he was the person who gave, in particular, the grant of land to William Penn in 1681. To refresh your memory, he appealed to the King that persecuted members of his religion , the Quakers, should move en masse to America. He ended up being made the holder of the largest area of land that any person owned in the New World. In a famous egotistical moment, he called this “Penn’s Woods” or Pennsylvania. The area of land encompassed far more than the present day state, and Penn worked hard to bring new settlers to live in his new paradise. (Today, we honor him with a giant statue on top of City Hall of him peeing down onto the state he helped found.)

There was, however, a problem. Part of the same land given to Penn had previously been given to Connecticut in 1662, this grant also by Charles II. Whether re-gifting the same tracts of land was a slight to the Connecticut-ians (Connecticut-oids?) or just a massive clerical error, we’ll never know. But, for years it wasn’t that big of an issue. Both Connecticut and Penn’s Quakers and other settlers made treaties for the overlapping land with the local Native Americans, farmed and seemingly went about their business.
Then, at some point along the way, Connecticut decided that it wanted that land it had been initially promised back, and NOW. Ignoring the fact that even the colonies weren’t even contiguous, they sent settlers to the top of the Susquehanna River, (the Wyoming Valley) in 1754. These settlers then founded the town of Wilkes-Barre not long after. Pennsylvanians were outraged at the squatters, and decided to kick them out in 1769. Militia, most of which had just returned from fighting the French and Indian War, headed up to the area, and a small series of battles began which extended over the next few years. The name for the conflict came from the opposing sides, Pennamite being the nickname for Pennsylvanians and Yankee that for Connecticut-ids. In this “first” war, not much was accomplished. There wasn’t even much bloodshed on either side, with deaths you could count on your fingers.

As America was still under British rule, King George III stepped in to help clear up the mess that his predecessor created. After much thought and consulting the maps, the Wyoming Valley, he decided, was definitely the property of Connecticut. Jubilant, the Connecticut-iads engaged in what was apparently their local pastime – founding towns, this one Westmoreland.

This whole decision just made the Pennsylvanians cranky, and they refused to leave the newly declared Connecticut land. Eventually, Northumberland County attacked some Connecticut settlers in 1775–which didn’t work out very well for them.

It was about this time that both sides of the issue found themselves distracted by the more encompassing American Revolution. The area, in fact found itself in the midst of some of the most vicious fighting, namely the Battle of Wyoming (aka the Wyoming Massacre), which occurred after the British Army surrendered. Angry loyalists, along with Native Americans, took their aggression out on the local Patriots and it erupted in a huge battle in the 1778. The Loyalists won, killing over 300 in battle and massacring and torturing others afterward.

Despite this brush with the horrors of war, after the Revolution ended, the Wyoming Valley remembered that they were Pennamites and Yankees, and began to fight again. By all accounts, the fighting had degraded to bar fights and Matfield/McCoy like battles of small groups attacking and sniping at each other. Finally, to give end to the issue, the Continental Congress stepped in to look at the issue in 1782. As these were people who had just spent the last decade fighting England and King George, it’s probably not surprising that they decided they did not agree with his decision, and decided that the area most definitely was the property of Pennsylvania.

Of course, those from Connecticut are resilient type, and they didn’t take the decision that they had lost a twenty year argument sitting down. When told to leave, they once again took arms and refused. This time, they brought recruits, both from Connecticut itself and Vermont, mostly hardened veterans of the Revolution to fight off anyone who would try to remove them back to their northern homes. Small fights and attacks continued.

Although the issue seemed to be gearing up for a bigger issue, it more or less finally petered itself out over time, finally coming to when the various land titles were looked into individually. Those Yankees left in the area either licked their wounds and retreated to the new founded Constitution State, or shrugged, looked at the bloody history of the last two generations, and quietly took on the mantle of being a Pennsylvania citizen.

The series incident was mostly lost to history due partially to the more important battles of the immediate period. If the area is mentioned in history books at all, it’s usually in reference to the particularly brutal Battle of Wyoming, and the name “Yankee Pennamite War” is honestly something of a misnomer. Still, the descendants of Quakers taking arms against the founders of Hartford for control of Wilkes Barre is bizarre enough that it shouldn’t be forgotten.

A Hint For Crafters

 

I am something of a glue nerd.  I love knowing the chemicals, how to use them and the best for a job.

If you’re NOT a glue nerd, I highly recommend the website This To That as your cheat sheet.  Key in what you want to glue to what, and I will give you a list of adhesives to use.  It’s a little more ad hungry than it used to be, but still a good resource.

 

http://www.thistothat.com

Won’t You Be My NeighRAWR

(Many moons ago, I had another blog, which got zero attention and documented Pennsylvania’s oddities.  This is me, reusing that content.)

One of those quite uniquely Pennsylvanian phenomena which managed to world is Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. Produced in Pennsylvania, (Pittsburgh, in fact), and featuring people who lived in Pennsylvania, and made by Pennsylvanians. (The Land of Make Believe is probably just outside Allegheny county… prove me wrong).

The show was gentle, soothing, and slow paced, keeping kids interest at a totally different pace than most shows in the modern era. It entertained children through generation, with Mr. Rogers at the forefront, as a sympathetic, approachable and kind character.

So, what better way to commemorate him, you ask, than dressing up a giant statue of a carnivorous prehistoric beast in his image?
Standing outside of WQED in Pittsburg, that is in fact a Tyranosaurus Rex Mr. Rogers. He’s cradling Henrietta Pussycat and King Friday XIII, who usually kept to the land of Make Believe and didn’t keep company with the human Mr. Rogers–because he voiced them. That’s probably why the dino version of Rogers is so cranky… or because he can’t reach to consume him with his tiny, useless arms.

The puppets are better realized than the T Rex itself, but seriously look. It’s wearing white soled sneakers for the dinosaur to somehow take off at the beginning of the show. His tie is done in an impeccable Half Windsor.  Weirdest, the trolley is actually going up his back.

I would love for this to be the rebranding of the show for the next generation, quite frankly, but I figure that won’t happen.

To see Fred Roger’s real life, non-man eating genius, check this out