Old Freedomland Stories
Posted: Sun May 17, 2009 3:36 pmFolks,
Remember old Freedomland Amusement Park, where Co-op City is now (I think it's still there)?
After Freedomland shut down, but before it was demolished, Joseph Hoey, myself, and a few other bright boys had the brilliant idea to visit Freedomland once again before it vanished from the planet forever. We set off to that destination on a Saturday morning to fulfill our destiny.
We climbed the fence (same as we did when it was open) and made ourselves at home, never really thinking about the fact that we might not be alone as we wandered in and out of various parts of the complex. While exploring the darkness of the house of mirrors we moved from room to room, carefully stepping over crackling shards of broken glass beneath our feet, teasing and scaring each other with a false sense of bravado, no one wanting to appear afraid. Open exit doors emitted enough light into the interior of the building to barely outline forms, but only after our eyes had adjusted to almost no light. Even then we were not quite sure which shapes were real, and which were illusion caused by mirror reflection. I don’t mind admitting it was more than a little bit spooky for kids our age, about twelve or thirteen, and suddenly it got a whole lot spookier in a hurry when we heard some glass breaking in another room.
One of the guys said, “Shush! Did you hear that? There’s somebody else in here.”
There was an uninvited guest nearby in the building, or actually I probably had that backwards, since this wasn’t our turf. But we knew what to do on a short term basis. We needed to melt into the darkest corners of the room we were in, and regroup as a unit. We had to be really quiet and wait to see what we had to contend with. Given a little more time to adjust our eyes to total darkness, we might have the element of surprise working in our favor on whatever might be stalking us out there - or maybe not.
“Don’t move, I know you’re in here,” commanded this hulking silhouette in the doorway with a revolver in his hand pointed straight at us. Someone sounded just like a little girl when he screamed in fright. It was me.
I didn’t appreciate enough about guns at the time to know what caliber weapon he had leveled at us, but from where I stood, the barrel of that gun looked like a fire hose. It was the first time in any of our lives that we were looking at the business end of a gun pointed towards us in a threatening manner. He turned his flashlight on, visibly exhaled and his shoulders relaxed just a little bit when he saw we were kids.
I guess I was so shocked that I don’t actually recall what happened next, but I know nobody got hurt or went to jail, so the watchman must have been a nice guy and just threw us out. But I can tell you this, I will never forget looking down that gun barrel and wondering whether he would shoot before he discovered we were kids. I think I came close to fudging my drawers, excuse me for being crude.
There was a recent interesting addendum to this story, more than forty years later. Out of the blue I got an E-mail from a guy named Charlie Nott, who saw a posting I had left on the Stratton Park website, and it rang a bell in his head.
“You may not remember me but…,” and he’s right, I didn’t remember him at first, but he proceeded to remind me of the story of that day in intimate detail. He was one of the other "bright boys" with me and Joey! I could hardly believe it, but he knew the story so well he had to have been there. I asked him his most vivid recollection of the afternoon.
He said something like “I remember it like it was yesterday. That gun barrel looked big enough to park a truck in.”
Eddie
Remember old Freedomland Amusement Park, where Co-op City is now (I think it's still there)?
After Freedomland shut down, but before it was demolished, Joseph Hoey, myself, and a few other bright boys had the brilliant idea to visit Freedomland once again before it vanished from the planet forever. We set off to that destination on a Saturday morning to fulfill our destiny.
We climbed the fence (same as we did when it was open) and made ourselves at home, never really thinking about the fact that we might not be alone as we wandered in and out of various parts of the complex. While exploring the darkness of the house of mirrors we moved from room to room, carefully stepping over crackling shards of broken glass beneath our feet, teasing and scaring each other with a false sense of bravado, no one wanting to appear afraid. Open exit doors emitted enough light into the interior of the building to barely outline forms, but only after our eyes had adjusted to almost no light. Even then we were not quite sure which shapes were real, and which were illusion caused by mirror reflection. I don’t mind admitting it was more than a little bit spooky for kids our age, about twelve or thirteen, and suddenly it got a whole lot spookier in a hurry when we heard some glass breaking in another room.
One of the guys said, “Shush! Did you hear that? There’s somebody else in here.”
There was an uninvited guest nearby in the building, or actually I probably had that backwards, since this wasn’t our turf. But we knew what to do on a short term basis. We needed to melt into the darkest corners of the room we were in, and regroup as a unit. We had to be really quiet and wait to see what we had to contend with. Given a little more time to adjust our eyes to total darkness, we might have the element of surprise working in our favor on whatever might be stalking us out there - or maybe not.
“Don’t move, I know you’re in here,” commanded this hulking silhouette in the doorway with a revolver in his hand pointed straight at us. Someone sounded just like a little girl when he screamed in fright. It was me.
I didn’t appreciate enough about guns at the time to know what caliber weapon he had leveled at us, but from where I stood, the barrel of that gun looked like a fire hose. It was the first time in any of our lives that we were looking at the business end of a gun pointed towards us in a threatening manner. He turned his flashlight on, visibly exhaled and his shoulders relaxed just a little bit when he saw we were kids.
I guess I was so shocked that I don’t actually recall what happened next, but I know nobody got hurt or went to jail, so the watchman must have been a nice guy and just threw us out. But I can tell you this, I will never forget looking down that gun barrel and wondering whether he would shoot before he discovered we were kids. I think I came close to fudging my drawers, excuse me for being crude.
There was a recent interesting addendum to this story, more than forty years later. Out of the blue I got an E-mail from a guy named Charlie Nott, who saw a posting I had left on the Stratton Park website, and it rang a bell in his head.
“You may not remember me but…,” and he’s right, I didn’t remember him at first, but he proceeded to remind me of the story of that day in intimate detail. He was one of the other "bright boys" with me and Joey! I could hardly believe it, but he knew the story so well he had to have been there. I asked him his most vivid recollection of the afternoon.
He said something like “I remember it like it was yesterday. That gun barrel looked big enough to park a truck in.”
Eddie