The Sunday Memory Drawer - Freedomland

When you’re single digits in the age department and a major amusement park opens up about five miles from your house, it is a big deal. When you’re the parents of a child in single digits and a major amusement park opens up about five miles from your house, you probably want to go back to bed. And I imagine my parents tried that when Freedomland opened for business.

Never heard of it? Well, next time you’re driving near Coop City and you look at all the now-rundown projects there, imagine an amusement park in that spot instead. Because, for four years, that’s what sat on that toxic landfill and swamp. Disneyland of the East. In the Bronx, of all places. Sort of like Six Flags Over a Crack Den. Freedomland was designed to look like a map of the United States and had a very historical slant on the rides and attractions it offered. Allegedly, Walt Disney was the early consultant on this park until he suddenly thought to himself, “What the fuck am I doing near Boston Post Road in the Bronx?” But, whether Mickey’s dad was involved or not, this wide-eyed kid soaked it all in. This would be the closest I would get to Disneyland for decades.

Ideally, when my family unit went to Freedomland, we went with other family members. Or perhaps friends. Anybody really who had kids I could go on a ride with, because Mom and Dad were fairly well-grounded. On the ground. I do remember my mom going on the across-the-park bucket ride, which scared the shit out of me every time the bucket went over one of those connecting posts. You’d get this sudden jolt as if you’d be tumbling down onto a hot dog wagon within seconds. But, that never happened. I do remember my mom sitting high aloft and admiring the view of the nearby New England Thruway, all the while flicking the ashes off her cigarette from an arm extended in mid-air. Ashes that probably did land on somebody’s hot dog.

We probably did Freedomland two times a summer during the four or so years it stayed open. And it was not without mishap for me. I puked up lunch on one of those spinning toy rides. And there was another attraction where they set “the Chicago Fire” every twenty minutes and all the customers had to pump the water out of the antique fire truck. I was a little too young and short to be doing this, and that resulted in me getting conked in the cocoanut by the iron pump lever. The fire went out and so did I. You can see the pump in this video. Note the price to get in. Fifty cents to a dollar.

Elsie the Cow from Borden’s was on regular display at Freedomland and there were plenty of Borden’s ice cream products available for purchase while you waited on line. Of course, by the time you got to Elsie, she was usually taking her hourly bathroom break, which made the chocolate popsicle in your mouth a lot less appetizing.

One part of Freedomland was designed like the Jetsons’ space age house and that’s where they held concerts and shows with some big name talent. That’s actually what propelled my parents there on multiple occasions. I can remember hearing “Moonlight Serenade” from the Glenn Miller Orchestra, “Diana” as sung by Paul Anka, and the Four Seasons. Frank Fontaine, “Crazy Cuggenheim” from the old Jackie Gleason Show, performed there and he shook my hand. When Lawrence Welk showed up there, even my grandparents made a rare OTO appearance at an amusement park. Their reaction to seeing the bubblemaker in person: “He looks better on TV.”

Freedomland was pretty much killed by the opening of the NY World’s Fair. But, indeed, the real culprit was what annoyed my parents every time we went there. Because the park was literally built on a swamp, nobody had bothered to tell the mosquitoes to vacate. Once you were there past 6PM, you were a virtual buffet table for any insect with wings. I remember getting sprayed with Off every time I got off a ride at night. Ultimately, I smelled like an industrial plant on fire. So, as a result, all my Freedomland visits ended the same way. With either my mother or my father uttering those fateful words.

”Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Dinner last night: Grilled steak sandwich at Magnolia.