They're Tearin' the Buick City Complex Down

The Gheorghian calendar, influenced as it always is by a combination of lunar position, grain harvest, and Romanian weather, extends this year into the early days of the new Gregorian year. Which gives me an opportunity to highlight the best opening line of any song in the modern era. 

In turn, that song, "Buick City Complex" by Old 97's, in all its wistful longing for an era that won't return, is the soundtrack for today's interlude.

Even when I visited her for the first time in 1997, Conneaut Lake Park had seen much better days. The resort/amusement park opened in 1892, and in her day, she attracted Pittsburgh's upwardly mobile families, who rode her rides, played on the beach, and stayed in the grand Hotel Conneaut. A gorgeous carousel opened in 1899, and in 1938, the park's signature roller coaster, The Blue Streak, opened in 1938. It was one of the largest wooden coasters in America at the time.

I had occasion to visit the park because of my wife's family's long and winding history with the place. Her grandfather was the original owner of The Blue Streak, among several other amusements within the park's boundaries. Her father's uncle owned the carousel, which is a source of long-standing inter-familial jealousy. That's not what this story is about.

When I visited with my then-girlfriend in July 1997, the park and hotel had slid towards the seedy side. Most rides were in various states of disrepair. The Pittsburgh scenesters had long ago found more modern and sophisticated places to vacation. The hotel air conditioning went out one night, which would've been manageable but for the 95 degree temperatures and high humidity.

But a roller coaster is a roller coaster, especially a wooden one that was likely rickety on its very best day. The Blue Streak was a bone-rattling out and back, and honest, fast, and loud coaster that relied on gravity and tight turns and none of that fancy stuff. It was simple fun.

We went back a couple more times after that first visit. During the last one, my eldest daughter got terrified on the kiddie coaster and several of our party got marooned in the lake when the pontoon boat we rented blew an engine. In retrospect, these were omens.

After years of steady decline, which included several convenient fires that claimed different buildings and attractions, the property was sold in bankruptcy for $1.2m. The buyer is trying hard to quash rumors that they intend to shitcan the park and develop homes on the land. 

That got harder today when a "controlled burn" near The Blue Streak got out of hand and badly damaged the legendary coaster. It's now scheduled for demolition. My wife let out an audible gasp when she saw the news on the interwebs. 

Our chronicles of the decline of American institutions are usually limited to the news media and William & Mary hoops. But in every domain, time marches on, taking with it the temporary that our ancestors thought permanent. I think we're the only people left in town.