By Sami I.

My wife Mary died last week and with her she took the only true friend, companion, and lover I have had in my entire life. She died at only 71 years old, two years younger than I am now. She had been sick for about a year or so with what I believed to be stomach cancer. The doctors never actually told me that she had the dreaded ãc-wordä disease but I knew in my gut that it was cancer all along. They operated on her so many times that she began to look sicker than she actually was. The week she died she looked the palest and skinniest I had ever seen her. Her skin, that beautiful skin that first attracted me to her, became almost paper-thin. It was as if I could see right through her and into her veins. Maryâs sickness made me long to go back to the good old days when we first met in a parallel universe at Coney Island. Back then we were both so ignorant to the world and its many horrors. My entire life with Mary seemed like a dream to me, everything was always beyond perfect. We entered this dream world together in 1901 when we met for the first time at Coney Island. Ever since that day we have lived by our own rules and set our own definitions but now she is gone and I am alone in the world with no one to turn to.

I remember my first visit to Coney Island like it was yesterday. It was the year 1901 and I was living in a tiny space on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. I worked as a shoe repairman in a small shop around the corner from my home. My life was simple. I kept to a daily routine because I never had enough money to stray from it. In one year the most I could have made was nine hundred dollars. When I was 16 my parents died in a tragic accident and I had to learn to fend for myself in the ãBig Cityä. I dreamed of one day taking a luxurious vacation, even if it only lasted a day or two, to some faraway place on the other side of the world. But at the turn of the century, when I finally had enough money saved up to take a short day-trip somewhere (not exactly my dream vacation), the rage about Coney Island was at its peak. Just walking the streets of Manhattan I would hear at least once a day some passerby talking about the wonders of the great amusement park and beach at Coney Island. After months of trying to imagine what it must be like at Coney Island I decided to go and see what all the fuss was about for myself.

I asked around about the cheapest way to get to Coney Island. There were tons of ways to get there: excursion boats, ferries, trolleys, subways, horse cars, automobiles, and bikes. Since the Brooklyn Bridge had been completed in 1883 I still had not traveled across it. So naturally I would have preferred to drive across the bridge in order to get to Coney Island. But driving wasnât an option because not only did I not have a car, but I also didnât know anyone else who owned a car. Instead, I traveled to Coney Island the cheapest way I could find, by walking and then a nickel trolley. Since the nickel trolley departed from the Brooklyn side of the Brooklyn Bridge the first segment of my journey consisted of an early Sunday morning walk across the bridge. It was perfect weather for a long brisk walk. It was that time of day in the late spring when the sun is just first beginning to really heat things up. There was a slight breeze as I crossed the bridge but the strengthening sun gave me the feeling of the hopes and promises that lay on the other side. Before I knew it I had crossed the bridge and was now in Brooklyn for the first time in my life. The excitement and anticipation I had for my dayâs journey prevented me from really observing my surroundings. Before I knew it my feet had led me right to the trolley as if they had known where they were heading all along. The half an hour trolley ride was hot and crowded with people anxiously awaiting their arrival to what sounded like the best place in the world. I was incredibly uncomfortable on the trolley but the initial complaints I made were quickly washed from my memory with my initial sighting of Coney Island. The trolley rounded a wide turn in the road and I rotated my head ever so slightly so that now Coney Island lay dead ahead in my view.

As I stepped off the trolley, now only a block away from the famous promenade, The Bowery, I didnât gasp for air or drop my jaw to the ground. I just stood absolutely motionless a few steps away from where the trolley had left me. Although I had not even glimpsed the best of what was to come for me later in the day, my excitement and shock of actually being at the world famous Coney Island got the best of me.

I stood in that one spot for ten minutes just gazing at my surroundings until the hustle and bustle of hundreds of people forced me to join in and walk with the strong current of the stream. I walked with the crowd down a sunny side street in the direction of the water. After what seemed like an eternity I reached the famous Bowery. I had never in my life imagined half of the things I saw that very day on the promenade. Everywhere I turned there was another freak show for some other giant, midget, fat lady, or ape-man. I didnât go into any of these sideshows because I wasnât about to start paying money to be amused by anotherâs misfortunes. But thatâs what I didnât realize as a new comer to Coney Island; a main part of your experience was laughing at the expense of others.

I slowly made my way down the Bowery marveling at each site I saw. Finally, up ahead, I saw Steeplechase Park, one of the main reasons that I had wanted to come to Coney Island. Each and every story I had heard about the park was amazing. No one I had spoken to had come to Steeplechase and had had a bad time. Every visitor to the Park had come back saying how it was the perfect place for the everyday working man to kick back and have some fun for once in his life. I was anxious for the fun day I felt entitled to but I couldnât have imagined in a million years what I was to find inside the gates of the Park. Entering the Park felt like entering a new world where everything was backwards. The second I stepped inside the gates I was bombarded with the smells of beer and hot dogs and the sounds of people laughing every which way I turned. The people around me talked and acted differently than they would have on the streets of Manhattan. Here, strangers made acquaintances of each other and shared in the guilty pleasures the park provided.

After I had walked through the gates of the Park I quickly sought out the first ride I was to ever go on at Coney Island. And there it was, directly on my right, a ride called the ãDew Dropä, which consisted of just one long spiraling slide. I questioned the ãDew Dropä at first because I wanted my first ride at Coney Island to be something special and memorable and I wasnât sure that the ãDew Dropä was the ideal ride I was looking for. After a few minutes of contemplation I said to hell with it and began ascending the long staircase to the top of the slide. Luckily there wasnât a long line so I didnât have time to really think about what I was about to do before I did it. I sat down at the top of the slide shaded from the increasingly strong sun by the tiny roof above me. I didnât think, I just pushed off and down I went, descending and circling at the same time. To my surprise I screamed the whole way down. Can you imagine a young man of usually such strict composure screaming and laughing like a child as he slid down a silly slide? In this present day in time it would seem absurd for a grown man to get as much amusement and pleasure out of such a childish ride as I did. I realized as soon as I landed safely on the ground surrounded by a few people smiling and laughing at me that the ãDew Dropä was the perfect first ride for me because it embodied one essential ideal I came to see in Coney Island: ordinary people getting pleasure out of ordinary things. Of course Coney Island also had its share of outrageous amusements that the craziest people in the world never could have imagined. But the parts of Coney Island that provided me with the most pleasure where the simple things, the everyday aspects of life that had been painted with this dream-like feeling that came about just by being there. Well anyway, I walked away from the ãDew Dropä practically begging for more. Coney Island had gotten me, it had lured me in and it now had me trapped.

The next ride I went on was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was called the ãSteeplechase Raceä and it consisted of six tracks each with a life size wooden horse on it. After waiting on line for a few minutes I got to experience what it felt like to be a jockey in a horse race. As I mounted my wooden horse I felt this huge surge of power, like I was in an important race that the entire world was watching. The five people on the horses next to mine were laughing and having the time of their lives while I sat crouched low-down on my horse quietly whispering to it, begging it to go faster. To my great disapproval the race finished with all six horses tying for first.

Although I walked away from the ãSteeplechase Raceä disappointed by my loss I became re-energized when I saw the gaming booths up ahead from where I stood sulking. After passing through row upon row of gaming booths I came to one that caught my eye. I walked up to the small wooden booth and paid a ten-cent fee in order to get three balls to throw at a few pieces of fake Chinaware propped up a few feet from where I stood. I thought that this game would help me to release a lot of the aggression I had built up from my experience with the ãSteeplechase Raceä. A sign hung on the booth that read, ãIf you canât break up your own house, break up ours!ä I threw the balls as hard as I could at the fake Chinaware and with every piece of it that I shattered I successfully got rid of some of the anger I felt inside. Relieved, I turned to walk away from the booth in order to find what other wonders the park held for me.

I aimlessly wandered through the park not knowing where to turn next. Every fork in the road seemed to hold hundreds of different possibilities. And then I saw it, a ride called ãA Trip To The Moonä. I understood from the advertisements around the ride that it was meant to be a simulation of what it felt like to travel to the moon. Space was such a foreign concept to me that I couldnât refuse an opportunity to experience it, even though it would be an artificial experience. Even though I was running out of spending money I paid a ten-cent fee (it seemed a small price for a visit to the moon) and entered a spaceship in the middle of a large building. Once the spaceship was full the ride began. I looked out one of the porthole windows and the moving images outside and the rocking motion of the ship made it feel as if I was actually traveling through space. Suddenly the movement stopped and I exited the spaceship onto what was supposedly the moon. On the moon there were midgets and giants alike in moon-men costumes, the Man in the Moon on his throne, and dancing moon maidens who gave each of the space travelers a piece of green cheese as a souvenir from the moon. Then just like that I was back outside in the hot daytime sunshine of Steeplechase Park.

As I stood at the exit of ãA Trip To The Moonä I overheard a family talking about how they were going to visit this great big heated pool. I did not have the proper swimming attire with me but I figured I might as well go and check out the pool anyway. Itâs a good thing I went to see the pool because I remember thinking it was one of the craziest things I had ever seen. There were so many people crammed into such a large pool that the pool actually looked very small. There were fountains of water squirting up out of everywhere. I went to the waters edge and dipped my hand in to surprisingly find that the water was incredibly hot for an outdoor pool. (I had never felt a heated pool before.) Everyone in the pool looked like they were having so much fun that I vowed to bring the proper swimming attire next time I visited Coney Island.

Since I had seen the pool I figured it was only appropriate that I go and see the ocean. It would have been absolutely absurd if I had traveled to Coney Island without stepping foot in the cool Atlantic Ocean. So I walked out past the Bath House at Steeplechase Park and stepped foot onto the coarse pale sand. I will never forget my first view of the ocean from that spot on the beach of Steeplechase Park on that very day in June of 1901. Even with the thousands of people crammed onto the beach it still looked beautiful. Every one, yes every one of those thousands of people was either laughing or smiling. I felt the happiest I had felt in my life up until that day. I made my way through the crowds of people until I came to the waters edge where I turned my back so as not to look at the ocean but to look back at the beach and the amusement park I left behind me. At that moment, surrounded by every different type of person that existed in the world, I felt like I was part of a greater community for the first time in my life. My life as a young man in lower Manhattan was a solitary life and this communal feeling was a new thing for me. For the first time I felt like I made a difference to someone or to something. I fell in love with Coney Island and its splendor right there on that beach in the background of the setting sun.

I stood in that same spot on the beach staring at only the Park behind me until it was almost dark outside. Slowly, all of the beach visitors began gathering their things and returning home. Since the park was closing in half an hour I left my spot on the waterfront to go on one more ride before my day at Coney Island ended. I walked up a small hill to the beachfront gate of the park. To my surprise the entranceway back into the park was a ride in itself called ãBarrel of Funä. The ãBarrel of Funä was a large, slowly revolving hollowed out cylinder in which people had to pass through to enter the Park from the beach. Without even thinking I walked right into the ãBarrel of Funä and was quickly thrown off balance. I had never experienced a feeling of losing my balance like this before so I wasnât surprised when I fell to the ground. But to make matters even more embarrassing, as I fell to the rotating ground I landed on a young girl. The ãBarrel of Funä was just another trick Coney Island had to force people who would not usually come into contact with each other to literally collide. The social restrictions at the beginning on the twentieth century were so strict that a man could not approach an unknown woman without scaring her away. Although lower class families in the early 1900s had a more relaxed social code than upper class families, there were certain rules and customs that were simply not broken. Many parents closely monitored the activities of their children, especially their daughters, and often insisted on a chaperone being present when a young man or woman spent time with a member of the opposite sex. Naturally Coney Island became a center where young men and women could escape from the social restrictions of their lives and interact with whomever they wanted. It was ironic back then that the most privacy you get was to be in public. The vacationing atmosphere and the freedom of anonymity at Coney Island permitted young couples to display their feelings without scrutiny. Coney Island didnât just hide the normally unacceptable social behavior of young people but it also promoted it. By designing rides like the ãBarrel of Funä and other simply dark and long rides through mysterious tunnels and caves Coney Island was promoting normally unaccepted intimacy. Advertisements for rides called the ãCannon Coasterä and the ãBarrel of Love said it respectively the best: ãWill she throw her arms around your neck and yell? Well, I guess, Yes!ä and ãTalk about love in a cottage! This has it beat a mile!ä

After toppling to the ground with a young woman in the ÎBarrel of Funä I helped her up and out of the rotating cylinder. We were both smiling and laughing and joking about the hysterics of the Park. I asked her name and she shyly replied, ãMy name is Mar Riley. Whatâs yours?ä I told her my name and then we talked about the specific rides at the park and the amazing beauty of it all. She wasnât as shocked as I was because it was her second visit to Steeplechase but she was definitely still amazed by it all. We moved over to a bench and sat down. Invigorated by the sense of freedom and liberation that the park provided me with I was able to sit and have a whole conversation with a complete stranger. Mary was from Brooklyn, I never knew where in Brooklyn though. I always pictured her living somewhere near Coney Island because at first she just seemed like the human embodiment of the Park. She was free-spirited and ready to take on any challenge life brought her way. She was only 21 when I first met her but already she had gone through four different jobs and cared for her ill father for the last ten years of his life. She was worldly without ever traveling outside of New York City. She loved to read and devoured herself in any reading material she could get her hands on. I can still picture the way she looked that day on the bench in the middle of Steeplechase Park. Her skin was so fair and delicate for all that she had said she had been through. It looked like it had been kept perfectly manicured and had not been touched in the past five years. Her frail but beautiful body hid the secrets in her heart and in her mind. She looked so innocent but was really anything but.

Before we knew it it was seven oâclock and the Park was closing for the night. We walked to the main entranceway of the Park together and said our goodbyes never to see each other again. I was sad with her leaving because I felt that we had made a strong connection but she seemed to feel quite the opposite. She bid me farewell all chipper and happy and just like that turned and quickly walked away from me. I stood there a moment or two in shock. Could this girl have been so much more mature and experienced than me that she could just turn and walk away with our time together meaning nothing? The thought infuriated me so I decided right then and there to forget about Mary and start on my long journey home. I caught the last nickel trolley to the Brooklyn Bridge and left Coney Island feeling satisfied and empty at the same time.

TWO YEARS LATER

Two years after my first visit to Coney Island I was still living in Manhattan but my life had changed completely. I had quit my job as a shoe repairman and now was a personal assistant to a man who worked on Wall Street. This man, Henry Dodger, had come one day to get his shoes repaired at my stand and just like that he offered me a job. He said that his workload was becoming unbearable and that he just needed someone to do all the simplistic work. He offered me double what I was making as a show repairman so I did not hesitate to accept his offer. Now that I had pretty much double the amount of money that I had before I began working for Henry Dodger I was able to move into a better living space. I took advantage of my higher wages and rented out a larger space in the East 20s of Manhattan. Mr. Dodger was so unbelievably generous to me. He gave me Christmas and summer bonuses so that I would have some holiday spending money, a privilege I had never before had. I owe my life to Mr. Dodger because he is the one man that enabled me to completely improve my dreary life.

One May day at Mr. Dodgerâs office he handed me a copy of ãThe New York Timesä and instructed me to review the cover story. I looked down at the heavy paper and read the headline ãConey Island Grows Stronger With The Addition of Luna Park to Its Arsenalä. I couldnât believe what I was reading. Could it really be true that a bigger and better amusement park than Steeplechase had opened up in Coney Island? Mr. Dodger took the paper from my hands and said ãI was thinking about going to see this new Luna Park over there in Brooklyn but I just havenât got the time these days. What do you say old Patrick, would you go and check it out for me and tell me what all the fuss is about? Donât worry about expenses or anything of that sort. I will arrange for transportation to and from the Park and give you adequate enough money to go on a few rides. Would you like to go?ä

Luckily Mr. Dodger was not such a serious man because I would have been in big trouble when I ran around to the other side of his desk to give him a big hug because of his offer. He smiled and simply said, ãIâll take that as a yes Patrickä.

The next thing I knew it was the following Saturday and I was boarding a train on my way to Coney Island with enough money in my pocket to a have a marvelous day. After switching trains once I was once again at the entrance to one of the most amazing places in the world. I felt so fortunate to be able to return to this wondrous Park. I walked across the boardwalk and soon enough I found myself at the foot of the entrance to Luna Park on Surf Avenue. I knew I was in store for great day as I read the writing off of a big heart mounted at the entrance that stated, ãThe Heart of Coney Islandä. I walked through the massive entranceway and I was instantaneously transported to a different world.

The most striking thing about Luna Park was its architecture. I had never before in my life seen anything like it. If I had though that Steeplechase looked like a dreamland, then Luna Park submerged you in this dreamland. Upon entering the Park you felt transported, not just there. Everywhere I turned I saw fantastic sculptured animals of dolphins and griffins alike. Everything was extravagant in its decorativeness and colorfulness. It was as if Luna Park had been especially designed so that everyone there would feel like they were part of some greater scheme; like everyone was an actor in this grand play but the lines between spectator and performer had been completely blurred.

I walked down the main pathway of Luna Park past the Japanese Roof Garden until I saw the ãHelter Skelterä right there in front of me. The ãHelter Skelterä, also called the ãHuman Tobogganä, was essentially just a slide for adults as the ãDew Dropä was at Steeplechase Park. I rode an innovative escalator to the top of a long chute made of rattan. I waited a few seconds for the people ahead of me to take their turns and then I coasted down the slide laughing to myself with delight as I plopped down on a soft mattress at the end of the slide. In just two years I had forgotten the fun of riding down a simple chute with onlookers sharing in the amusement. Just then I realized the true beauty of Coney Island. The magic wasnât about the particular rides or the architecture of the Parks, but rather it was the way that Coney Island provided an escape from everyday life. Since every moment at Coney Island was fun who wouldnât want to be there. Coney Island enabled the most uptight of people to relax for a minute and enjoy the simpler things in life while having a laugh with some new acquaintances. I felt more like a kid than ever before. For the second time in my life Coney Island had lured me into its grasp and I was raring for more.

I got up from my seat on the mattress at the bottom of the slide of the ãHelter Skelterä and looked around me in order to decide which direction I should travel in next. As I looked over towards the carousel I saw a beautiful young woman. I decided I had to go and talk to her considering I was at Coney Island of all places. I followed her path as she wove in and out of the hundreds of people towards a ride called the ãTicklerä. She got on line for the ride and I then realized that she had no companion with her and was apparently visiting the park alone. The park attendant at the front of the line loaded myself, the beautiful woman in front of me, and a couple behind me into the same saucer shaped car. Right before our circular car set off following a downward winding path I looked up at the beautiful woman to my right and realized to my astonishment that it was my acquaintance Mary from two years back. Before I could say anything the ride took off and the four of us in the car were laughing and screaming with delight. As we reached the end of the pathway our laughs dimmed to silent murmurs of pleasure and we exited the circular car. Mary began to walk away for apparently she did not recognize me but I quickly caught up and grabbed her by the arm. She briskly turned around to face me but surprisingly she did not have a look of shock on her face as many other women would have if a strange man had grabbed them. I didnât know what to say but somehow I managed to utter under my breath, ãMary, right? Remember me, Patrick? We met a few years ago at Steeplechase.ä She started blankly into my face for a moment, which made me rather nervous, and then she said, ãOh right, Hi thereä, as if a similar occurrence happened to her everyday. I was embarrassed and almost humiliated because I had such a vivid recollection of her while she seemed like she couldnât have cared less if I had approached her or not. At this point Mary seemed like she was waiting for me to say something and I couldnât think of anything to say so I blurted out, ãWhat do you say we go for a ride on ãShoot the Chutesä. I hear itâs the best ride here at the Park.ä As if she couldnât care less what she did at that point she simply replied, ãSureä.

Together we walked off towards ãShoot the Chutesä as we discussed our lives over the past two years. I told Mary about my luck in finding Mr. Dodger and she told me how she owned her own bakery with her brother. She said that she didnât really like cooking but that it was a good source of income and it wasnât such hard work. I knew where she was coming from so I appreciated every word she said. We walked past the lagoon where ãShoot the Chutesä ends and got even more excited for the adventure that lay ahead. We walked up to the top of the ride and waited, Mary in back of me, between two iron railings that divided the seating rows in the boat. The flat-bottomed boat arrived in front of us and we stepped into our allotted row and sat down. Our boat slowly moved forward, away from where we boarded, and Mary grabbed my hand, lifted it into the air, and began to scream. I looked into her face attempting to achieve eye contact but she was too wrapped-up in the ride. All of a sudden we took off down a steep decline and splashed into the large lagoon below, spraying the innocent onlookers with water from the splash.

We got off of the boat and Mary brushed some of the water off of the back of my shirt. When she was convinced I was as dry as I was going to get, she threw her arms around me and yelled, ãThat was exhilarating! It was like nothing I have ever experienced before!ä I just stood there, sopping wet, holding on to her tightly. I knew then that I never wanted to let her go.

Mary said that she was hungry so we walked over to food stand and I treated her to a hot dog. It felt so good to be able to buy something for her. It made me feel more rich and powerful than I had ever felt before. We sat at a table in the dying sunlight. Mary said over her hot dog, ãYou know, I heard this place gets even crazier at nightä. I was ready for it. I was ready for the surprise that Luna Park was to bring at me. Whatever they were I felt confident that everything would be fine as long as Mary was with me.

We sat at the little table with decorative animals surrounding us talking until it got completely dark out and the lights of the Park were turned on. At night a quarter of a million lights were turned on in the entire vicinity of Luna Park. The lights came on and it was as if the darkness we had been in suddenly turned back into daylight. It was magical. I will never forget Maryâs eyes as she looked up into the sky with all of the lights illuminating her beautiful face. She looked so happy, the happiest I ever saw her. Some people at a moment like that might wish that they had a camera, but I didnât because I knew I would never forget that vision of her gazing up into the lights. Mary was at home at Coney Island, a place where she could reject the standards society had set for her and live the way she wanted to. Coney Island was an escape to a paradise that had no limits, where anything was possible and everything was accepted.

Right there under the lights of Luna Park I asked Mary to marry me. Even though I had only spent two days time with her in my life I was not worried she would say no. I loved her and still love her for the person she was and the way she opened up my heart and mind. Coney Island began to open my eyes to the greater possibilities the world held, but Mary kept my eyes open and my thoughts clear. She was the human embodiment of everything Coney Island stood for and was and that is why I loved her so much.

The night I asked Mary to marry me we hid in Luna Park until it closed and slept together under the stars on the elevated promenade among the decorations of duckâs heads, the lush plantings, and dozens of flags. We awoke the next morning and traveled back to my house in Manhattan together. We never went back for Maryâs things, she just started anew you might say. Every year on the anniversary of our marriage we would travel back to Coney Island and sleep there under the stars. Even though Mary is no longer with me I will still return to Coney Island on our anniversary each year and spend the night in the place that changed my entire life.