I took a ride on the Blue Streak…and the ride was filled with all the thrills and magic I could ever imagine.
The full story of this remarkable experience began long ago in the dreams of a curly-headed kid from Millvale, PA. running ahead of his Dad...running to secure their place in the waiting line at Conneaut Lake Park’s famous wooden coaster. As soon as it became their turn to ride, the father and son raced to the last car of the coaster’s “train.” Every experienced coaster rider knew that this seat was the “best” seat on the ride…the seat that promised the most thrills, and the full momentum of the coaster’s awesome power. The two riders were not disappointed.
Later, as that summer’s eve faded softly into twilight, and gradually become enveloped (as all summers must eventually do) by the mists of Time and Memory, the boy snuggled gently into sleep upon the backseat of his parents’ ’57 Chevy BelAir…carrying within him the lullabies of the Blue Streak’s clanking melodies, and the whispering jingles of the Carousel’s Wurlitzer band organ.
The curly-headed kid grew up…physically…but, for some unknown reason, always carried in his heart the essence of those summers of long ago. Those days at the Park never left him; they formed much of the foundation of all his beliefs.
Those experiences taught him of the true nature of our heritage as a Nation, and as a people…of what can be accomplished when we dare to dream, and hold fast to those Dreams, despite the ravages of Time and Fortune. He learned how the eternity of Existence can be seen in the brass ring caught while riding the Park’s Carousel…learned how all the exuberance of Life can be experienced while riding the wooden roller coaster. And most of all, he learned how Hope is as eternal as the smile in a loved one’s eyes.
All this came rushing back, as once again, I “rode” on the Blue Streak.
YEARS LATER
Early one afternoon several years ago, a friend and colleague of mine, and I rescued several sections of discarded Blue Streak lumber from destruction. At the invitation of the, then, Chairman of CLP’s Board of Trustees, we witnessed, at a prior date, the current restoration project at the Park’s historic wooden coaster. Our visit to the Park was for the purpose of deciding what items to borrow for an upcoming exhibit and tribute to Conneaut Lake Park I had planned at a Regional Center.
Observing my interest in the pile of discarded coaster lumber, the chairman, Jack, indicated that if I had a use for any of the wood, that I would be welcome to select whatever I would choose. A DREAM COME TRUE!
As I delivered and installed several sections of ancient track cross-pieces in preparation for the exhibit, I took a few moments to pause and examine the sections more closely. Here’s what they revealed to me…
I saw (in them) the handiwork of the nineteenth-century artisans who crafted the original structure of the beams and rails…the bolts, nails, and grain of the century-old rails told the story of proud and hard-working craftsmen and their pride in their work.
I saw every era of care and maintenance by generations of CLP personnel.
I walked the rails with the men whose responsibility it was to grease and inspect the tracks every morning before the Park opened…heard their laughter…breathed with them the stillness and promise of each new day’s dawn.
I saw the team of Amish men as they made repairs to the existing structure.
I spoke again to the incredible team of craftsmen undertaking the current restoration project.
Heard the squeals of delight uttered by innumerable riders…felt the warmth of their excitement embedded in every board and rail.
Finally, I watched as the last car rolled into the distance of a summer’s eve long ago as that curly-headed kid hunched closer into the protective shoulder of his smiling Dad.
What stories those pieces of wood have to tell!
TODAY
Recently, as my health has improved, Carolyn suggested that it was time for me to begin my Carousel carving once again. As several folks know, I began the carving of a replica of the Carousel Lion which graced the CLP machine until 1987. Due to the health issues which I faced the past 18 months, I was forced to put aside any further carving of this magnificent animal.
However…
Taking Carolyn’s suggestion to heart, I decided that she was correct: the Time to re-begin is NOW.
So, without too much further ado, I sauntered over to my studio-barn and unlocked the door.
OH, WOW!!!!
During my more than a year of absence, the studio became a “dumping ground” for everything in our Life which could not find a “rightful” home. To say that I could barely enter the building would be to put it VERY mildly.
Nevertheless, undaunted by the heap-after-heap of confined “stuff,” I DID enter the studio.
After nearly TWO WEEKS, I had cleared a pathway to the rear of the building.
Yep, my Lion sat waiting for my return…as did a large, forgotten object.
There, at my feet, rested a tremendously huge crosspiece of ancient lumber. Although its surface bore all the effects of the ages, it still maintained its original painted hue…BLUE! It managed once more to speak to me…to transport me across the sands of Time…to remind me of all the attributes which I had prescribed to its heritage…and to testify the TRUTH.
FLASHBACK
Years ago, during the early morning hours after the horrendous blaze which consumed the precious CLP Dreamland Ballroom, I was asked to meet a reporter form the Sharon Herald at the site of the catastrophe. Upon my arrival, I was asked whether I considered this disaster a sign that the Park was on a downward spiral to elimination.
My answer????
“In NO way was this event a sign that the end was forthcoming. Our historic Park has ALWAYS been here…whether as fields, a Native American stopping site, Exposition Park, or CLP. It has undergone numerous changes over the many, many decades. But, despite all those transformations, it has ALWAYS, like the Phoenix of legend, risen in an even MORE magnificent form.”
And, so it is also NOW!
TOMORROW
SO…what about my Lion? What about the crosspiece of Blue Streak lumber in my studio?
Yep, they too shall also rise…bringing with them the tale of Heritage which will NEVER be forgotten or erased.
Consider yourself invited to listen along with myself. . If you listen closely, be prepared to be amazed by all the magic contained in these humble, yet incredibly precious, sections of a wooden coaster. Listen still closer, and you will witness once again all the Dreams of your childhood come to Life.
CONNEAUT DAYS
Who can suppose
What dreams they weave
While ceaselessly
whirling round
In kaleidoscopic splendor?
Do they somehow sense
That theirs’ is but another
fragile ring
Poised on the edge of our
eternal folly?
What splintered tears do they shed
In dread anticipation of that day
When all motion ceases…
all laughter wanes
And all the cycles of their magic…are broken?
When that last sweet sigh of that final summer
Nestles into twilight,
And the last ride ticket has been spent,
They will remain forever…
Consigned to the circles of my Life.
G. Nowack:
June, 1995
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