New York City, New York State //
A trip to the seaside
Climbing the Parachute Jump at Coney Island
Date October 2009
Posted April 2011
Posted April 2011
Unlike the two rabbits I can see from the window, which stop every now and then and carefully look around, we no longer need to live in fear of our lives. And in fact, you and I never did, not like our distant ancestors for whom hunting, gathering and staying alive was a daily operation. But for us with all this time and money on our hands, what are we to do? Countless Western families answer that question during summer months, joining queues to experience something a little closer to those long-lost origins.
Today's theme parks all but guarantee their visitors' safety. Here we can be spectators in seemingly dangerous situations, but of course we're comfortably relieved of the need to actually do anything. There are no decisions, no endings, no fate other than the slowing to a painless stop and stepping off. Apparently this satisfies some inner thirst and then we're free to return home under the illusion that we actually just lived a little. For some it never gets boring...
The amusement rides of yesteryear were constructed with a similar purpose in mind, but of course were that bit more rustic, imaginative and dangerous. Consider 'The Parachute Jump', built for the 1939 New York World's Fair like some kind of giant Meccano creation. The principle of the ride was simple: you were strapped into a canvas seat, winched up 180m above the ground and then released. A parachute above you opened, slowing your fall (more detail and photos here), and all being well you reached the ground still in one piece.
After the fair the tower was dismantled and moved to Coney Island, where it stands today. Whilst disused, the structure is looked after, and currently sports a decent coat of red and yellow paint. The cables, parachutes and harnesses are however long gone, but one assumes they were primitive in design.
For the third time that week myself and Eric stood staring at this steel giant, having once more taken the rattling Q Train south, jumping off at Stillwell Avenue and crossing the road to gorge on greasy hotdogs at Nathan's. We had walked in the darkness down to the beach, where on the boardwalk could be found various shady characters, drug addicts and drunks. Now and then a NYPD truck would roll by, but otherwise it was quiet.
Of course we were here to climb it. This time we'd arrived with various rope kit with which we hoped to reach the metal hatch in the bottom of the tower. This hatch is a good 20ft above the ground, and no ladders were available. The situation isn't helped by the fact that the hatch is set away from the steel framework of the tower legs. Nevertheless a plan came together: I would climb up, reach out and undo the locking catch - meanwhile Eric would push the hatch from the other side. Now came the tricky bit: with the hatch open but too heavy to shove right up and back upon its hinges, it had to be jammed. With Eric summoning every inch of his climber's stamina to keep the hatch up, I reached into my jacket, withdrew a lump of wood and stuck it in the hinge mechanism.
From the hatch one emerges into the old winding room, host to a whole load of pigeon crap, beneath which are the rusting remains of the winches that carried riders up to the dizzy heights above. From here it was fairly easy to climb up on a beam and through a hatch, taking us back into the night air, only the mass of steel latticework above us reaching up to the stars. Our ascent from here on would be rendered easy by the bright yellow ladders bolted to the side of the structure.
Near the top the ladder snakes outwards following the contours of the tower top, eventually finishing amongst a series of mesh walkways which would've allowed the workings of the machine to be serviced. Unsurprisingly the top of the tower is fitted with a bright red light and a mast - few other structures nearby stand quite as tall.
Up here as you can imagine the view was pretty good, and this angle was certainly different to others offered by the city. I seem to remember we'd neglected to take any beer with us this time, so instead we took some photos, breathed the fresh air coming in off the sea, and then climbed back down.
Big thanks are due to Eric (who by now had clearly recovered from his busted ankle) for being an awesome companion and for providing the rope kit, Nathan's for being on hand to feed us and of course the good ol' MTA for running a 24 hour rapid transit service.
Today's theme parks all but guarantee their visitors' safety. Here we can be spectators in seemingly dangerous situations, but of course we're comfortably relieved of the need to actually do anything. There are no decisions, no endings, no fate other than the slowing to a painless stop and stepping off. Apparently this satisfies some inner thirst and then we're free to return home under the illusion that we actually just lived a little. For some it never gets boring...
The amusement rides of yesteryear were constructed with a similar purpose in mind, but of course were that bit more rustic, imaginative and dangerous. Consider 'The Parachute Jump', built for the 1939 New York World's Fair like some kind of giant Meccano creation. The principle of the ride was simple: you were strapped into a canvas seat, winched up 180m above the ground and then released. A parachute above you opened, slowing your fall (more detail and photos here), and all being well you reached the ground still in one piece.
After the fair the tower was dismantled and moved to Coney Island, where it stands today. Whilst disused, the structure is looked after, and currently sports a decent coat of red and yellow paint. The cables, parachutes and harnesses are however long gone, but one assumes they were primitive in design.
For the third time that week myself and Eric stood staring at this steel giant, having once more taken the rattling Q Train south, jumping off at Stillwell Avenue and crossing the road to gorge on greasy hotdogs at Nathan's. We had walked in the darkness down to the beach, where on the boardwalk could be found various shady characters, drug addicts and drunks. Now and then a NYPD truck would roll by, but otherwise it was quiet.
Of course we were here to climb it. This time we'd arrived with various rope kit with which we hoped to reach the metal hatch in the bottom of the tower. This hatch is a good 20ft above the ground, and no ladders were available. The situation isn't helped by the fact that the hatch is set away from the steel framework of the tower legs. Nevertheless a plan came together: I would climb up, reach out and undo the locking catch - meanwhile Eric would push the hatch from the other side. Now came the tricky bit: with the hatch open but too heavy to shove right up and back upon its hinges, it had to be jammed. With Eric summoning every inch of his climber's stamina to keep the hatch up, I reached into my jacket, withdrew a lump of wood and stuck it in the hinge mechanism.
From the hatch one emerges into the old winding room, host to a whole load of pigeon crap, beneath which are the rusting remains of the winches that carried riders up to the dizzy heights above. From here it was fairly easy to climb up on a beam and through a hatch, taking us back into the night air, only the mass of steel latticework above us reaching up to the stars. Our ascent from here on would be rendered easy by the bright yellow ladders bolted to the side of the structure.
Near the top the ladder snakes outwards following the contours of the tower top, eventually finishing amongst a series of mesh walkways which would've allowed the workings of the machine to be serviced. Unsurprisingly the top of the tower is fitted with a bright red light and a mast - few other structures nearby stand quite as tall.
Up here as you can imagine the view was pretty good, and this angle was certainly different to others offered by the city. I seem to remember we'd neglected to take any beer with us this time, so instead we took some photos, breathed the fresh air coming in off the sea, and then climbed back down.
Big thanks are due to Eric (who by now had clearly recovered from his busted ankle) for being an awesome companion and for providing the rope kit, Nathan's for being on hand to feed us and of course the good ol' MTA for running a 24 hour rapid transit service.
