THE ROCKAWAY I KNEW
By Matthew Bashie

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: A TRIP TO HELL AND BACK

Would you pay a quarter to visit someone's basement? Well, I guess the answer to that is it all depends upon what is IN that basement. Suppose I told you that the basement in question was loaded with boxes of old payroll records, ancient correspondence files, pencils, pens, and stationery, and bundles of old newspapers. Doesn't sound too interesting or especially inviting but people actually DID spend money to take a seven-minute "railway" trip through the storage room of Rockaway's Playland, a full-block amusement park located at Beach 98th Street in the Seaside section of Rockaway, New York.

During the early part of the 1950s, one of my mother's best friends just happened to have a management job at our local amusement park. For over a year, she had been offering to take a small group of my friends and me for an outing at the world-famous concession. Personally speaking, I am not one for amusement parks. I think it is foolish to put yourself in harm's way just to experience a few momentary thrills. I don't mind if people get hurt; I just don't want it to happen to me. I was ten - but I was not the kind of kid who thought that he was going to live forever. In those days, I felt lucky if a toy I received as a holiday gift worked for three days in a row before breaking down and being cast aside like yesterday's newspaper. I had seen many of my pets go to their "great reward" and while I didn't mind taking chances, I limited myself to "forces" that were strictly within some degree of my own personal control. My philosophy had always been: "Don't start something which you cannot stop." And I lived by that belief!

My friends really wanted to go to Rockaway's Playland. So I agreed. We would go!

I invited three of my friends. My best pal (Ralph) and the two sons of the renting agent from the apartment complex (Wavecrest Gardens) where I lived - a fourteen-building group that sat at the water's edge on Beach 20th Street in the Far Rockaway section of Queens. When we first moved into our new apartment, the wife of the renting agent had been my mom's first (and at that time, only) friend in the area and the older son was in my class in elementary school and he and his younger brother were really "nice guys."

So, on a lovely summer morning, Phyllis Geist, the daughter-in-law of the owners of the play land (and the wife of the son/manager) came to pick us up in her brand new baby-blue Pontiac convertible. The ride from the apartment complex took about fifteen minutes but in an open convertible (with the top down) on a wonderful and cheery summer day, the trip could have taken longer as far as I was concerned.

Rockaway's Playland was open all year round in those days - but only on weekends (and holidays) except during the peak-summer months when the amusement park was operating seven days a week. At ten in the morning on a weekday, not all the "rides" were in operation and for the most part, we had to limit our entertainment to those available to us at that early hour. The carousel, a small Ferris wheel, a scooter ride - most of the rides which were open that early were designed to be frequented by "little kids" of about six and under. My friends and I were "l0ish" so sitting in small boats or tiny cars and riding around in a circle for five minutes really didn't appeal to us very much.

In those days, the roller coaster did not open until three or four in the afternoon (on weekdays) so that was not available to us either - and I am not sure I would have ridden on it anyway -1 really don't have the stomach (or the nerve) for that kind of thing. So, what my friends and I did was what children do best: we explored! We walked around the midway and saw the sights, and made "new discoveries" and found a variety of souvenirs such as token coins and half torn tickets.

Some of the more popular attractions such as the The Fun House and The House of Mirrors and a large "booth" labeled "Davy Jones' Locker" were "dark" but unmanned so being unwatched, we "snuck" inside and walked around. I am not going to go into detail here as to what we saw - anyone who has ever visited a place like this pretty well knows what to expect - such as the "crazy" mirrors which make you look distorted and revolving barrels that are practically impossible to walk through. The "Locker" turned out to be a room with a heavily slanted floor and you had to hold on to things to walk around on the inside. This "ride" was not choreographed so once you entered the small room, you were pretty much "on your own" to hold onto things and people - and I have to admit that I really never understood things that amuse the masses! To me, most of this Stuff was a total waste of time but my three companions were really enjoying themselves so I took pleasure in the fact that they were having fun.

At the southern most part of the play land, a large enclosed room had pinball machines, fortune telling machines, and a variety of vending machines which offered everything from gum balls to trading cards. The man running the "room" told us that at one time the place had been more than twice the size - but Rockaway's Playland lost many acres of land when the City of New York condemned part of the property to build a major highway along the ocean front, north of the wooden boardwalk. He also told us that originally, people walking along the boardwalk could have taken ramps to enter directly into the park - but now they would have to cross that major thoroughfare to get inside.

On the way back to the main midway, we happened upon my mom's friend who greeted us for the first time that day and asked if we were having a good time. I "lied" and said "yes"; my friends answered in the affirmative but I think unlike me, they really meant it! The friend was "setting up a special surprise" for us: We were going to have the special treat of "going through" an attraction billed as "Hell And Back."

What "Hell and Back" happened to be was a train ride through a darkened room in which varied and sundry appliances were employed to "frighten us." There were a series of small carts - smaller even than standard golf carts. Two persons per cart - followed by a series of four additional carts - all attached, one behind the other. Normally, for this bit of "extreme excitement" you would be expected to part with a quarter. However, we were so lucky be able to partake for free.

We got into the carts - an employee of the park strapped us in - probably the very first time in my life that I had ever worn a seat belt-because that is exactly what it was. Then, electrically, the small carts began to move forward through heavy (light-proofed) doors. The first inside door had a sign that read: "You must keep your hands and feet inside the cart at all times!" Then we were plunged into total darkness, moving along at a brisk pace. Every few seconds or so, an object directly in front of us would be illuminated for a split second - showing, for example, an mannequin dressed in Arab garb holding a large knife who "swoops down" at us like he is going to "cut us" and then the light goes out and the carts continues to move ahead. In another instance, the light blinks on to show an on-coming locomotive heading right for us - whistle, front beacon light and all - and during this trip, we are expected to scream and yell comments which are then "broadcast" outside the building via loudspeakers for everyone on the midway to hear - to entice them to pay the twenty-five cents to enjoy the experience.

The adventure only lasted for a few minutes and then we reached the "end of the line" which turned out to be the other side of the building structure where the same employee unbuckled our seatbelts and helped us out of the small carts. I could see by the expressions on my friend's faces that they really had had a wonderful time. How I truly wish I could be amused by things like that! However, what DID amuse me is to "find out how everything worked" so when no one was watching - and the ride attendant left the premises, my pals and I went to the rear of the shack and found an access door - which we promptly entered.

We were now back inside the "Hell And Back" ride - but the interior "cleaning lights" were turned on. We saw the myriad of track laid out on the floor, the "dime-store dummies" that had "jumped out at us in the dark" were just that - waxed creatures dressed to scare. In bright light, the entire building was a maze of boxes, filing cabinets, storage compartments, and slabs of wood and plastic obviously in storage waiting to be employed as part of some other amusement at a later date. There were also boxes of (young) children's toys and beach balls, chairs, and leather gym mats as well as so much other paraphernalia that it was impossible to categorize most of what we saw in only a few minutes or so because we did not stay long - but exited as quickly as possible before we were discovered being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Shortly after that unique but "to me" satisfying experience, my mom's friend, now finished with her work for the day, supplied us with sandwiches and soda and drove us home. That was my very first trip to Rockaway 's Playland; it was not my last. Over the next years, I would often return (as a paying customer) and some ten years later, arm and arm with a date, I again took the twenty-five cent tour of the Rockaway's Playland store room.

If you wish to contact me at any time, feel free to do so through this web site.

matt@rockawaymemories.com

I always love hearing from my fans and friends. M. B.