Welcome to Iowa!

June 09, 2019 by Dave Gottwald

Sometimes I come across random bits of theming while I’m travelling. Sites which weren’t on my agenda that I just stumble into. Thematic design is so widespread at this point that it’s no longer confined to theme parks, the hospitality industry, or dining and retail. The genre now includes… visitor centers.

Top of Iowa Welcome Center complex, satellite view. Click for link. Map data: Ⓒ Google.

The Top of Iowa Welcome Center is on the outer edge of Northwood, the first city across the state line from Minnesota. The complex appears much more sprawling in this satellite view than the view from I-35.

But then I spied this massive water tower and sign advertising a casino, so I pulled off.

And I’m glad I did! Honoring the state’s agricultural roots in the the heart of the Corn Belt, “Top of Iowa” is designed as a massive red barn. There are some modernist touches, as well as a more contemporary, industrial-grade roof treatment, but this is still a thematic structure. A child could identify it from “The Farmer in the Dell.”

Barns inside of barns! This was a kind of Matryoshka (Russian nesting dolls) experience. A large red barn with smaller red barns inside. These smaller ones were more traditional, paneled wood with the requisite white X’s and trims. The interior walls of the large barn were stained yet unpainted. It was all sort of surreal.

One of the inner barns was labeled, incongruously for the region, the “Coffee Shoppe.” I saw this at my prior stop, Valleyfair, so maybe the New England-style colonial spelling is more prevalent in the Midwest than I thought? The smallest of the nested barns I found was the small U.S. mailbox on the reception desk. Quite cute.

But the barn motif didn’t end at the visitors center. Across the parking lot, the Diamond Jo Casino continues the theme, and adds to it.

Wisely, the designers positioned the casino’s red barn structure at the corner of the complex which is closest to the Top of Iowa Welcome Center barn. Diamond Jo’s barn is more traditional, just like the smaller ones nested inside the visitors center—red paneled wood with white trimmings. I particularly like the faux address of 777 for jackpot.

The rest of the casino complex is vaguely designed as a loose collage of Western Frontier forms. I was impressed with the attention to detail paid to the layout (casino theming can be rather hit or miss). Much like the work Disney does, the multi-building facility appears to have been cobbled together organically over time, rather than designed and constructed in place. There is a diversity of architectural styles, roof treatments, materials, and a wealth of faux aging, distress, and rust.

The “Big Wheel Bar” even features a working water wheel.

I was disappointed that I had to press on and couldn’t spend time exploring the interior spaces of the Diamond Jo. But I’m glad I stopped, if only for a moment. You never know what kind of thematic design you’re going to run into on the interstate.

Next Stop: Missouri.

Who's the Fairest of Them All?

June 05, 2019 by Dave Gottwald

As with all the thematic destinations I have visited and written about so far, I try to limit my research before arrival. I don’t look at the site on google maps, and I don’t read up on any history which might be new to me. I might not even go to the website or, in the case of a theme park, look at the park’s map or attraction list. I want to go in fresh.

In the case of Valleyfair this led to a similar experience I had at Michigan’s Adventure. I was somewhat underwhelmed. The park was much smaller than I had assumed it would be, and the grounds weren’t even organized into clearly defined themed areas or lands. In short, this was not the park I thought it would be.

Valleyfair, satellite view. Click for link. Map data: Ⓒ Google.

A “Fairway”

Valleyfair is some 25 miles to the southwest of downtown Minneapolis, Minnesota, in a town called Shakopee. The park opened on May 25, 1976, just a few days before Six Flags Great America in Gurnee, Illinois. The property is long and narrowish, sprawling east-west alongside Minnesota State Highway 101, so it feels orientated almost like a golf course fairway. There is no hub-and-spoke or Duell Loop navigation, just a meandering path to the back (west) of the park and back again.

In typical hyperbolic Cedar Fair style, the map above exaggerates the soaring heights of four major coasters—High Roller (1976), Excalibur (1989), Wild Thing (1996), and Renegade (2007). Corkscrew (1980) is rendered here in diminished scale; the ride is actually 15 feet taller than High Roller, but you can barely make it out in this illustration.

Excelsior

From 1925 to 1973, the Twin Cities had their very own Coney Island-style amusement park called Excelsior which was founded by Fred W. Pearce, a noted designer and builder of wooden roller coasters. After Excelsior was closed and subsequently demolished by the Pierce family at the end of the 1973 season, son Fred Pierce Jr. approached local venture capitalists and developers Walt Wittmer and David Sherman about building a new park on a different plot of land in nearby Shakopee.

Construction began in August of 1974 and the park opened two years later. Parts of Excelsior Amusement Park were transplanted to the new site, including its historic carousel. Thus Valleyfair is essentially Excelsior’s descendent.

Vintage Valleyfair souvenir park map posters.

I was surprised at how difficult it was to track down older park map posters of Valleyfair online. These are pretty poor quality images, but it’s clear that the park was far more lushly wooded and landscaped during its earlier years. The map on the left must be from before 1980, as there is no Corkscrew yet in the park. The map on the right is after, as the Corkscrew is visible just to the right of the middle portion.

Valleyfair original wordmark.

The Fair in Cedar Fair

Much like Kings Island, Valleyfair sought to traffic in the “Medieval Fantasy” aesthetic employed by the iconic Disneyland with their wordmark. I’m not quite sure about the exclamation point, which makes you want to shout! the park’s name. The original version from the 1970s has forked “flags” on the swashes of the ‘V’ and ‘f’ which remind me of a snake’s tongue.

Cedar Fair original wordmark.

At the end of the park’s third operating season, Valleyfair was purchased by Cedar Point in September 1978. Ironically this was to stave off buyout threats from the likes of Taft (Kings Island and Kings Dominion) and Marriott (the two Great America parks). Valleyfair’s acquisition is the origin of the resulting parent company’s name Cedar Fair which was formed in 1983. Because of this connection, I assumed that the park would be somewhat more remarkable than what I actually found.

Valleyfair entertainment venue, sometime in the early eighties.

Sometimes the (!) is used with the logo, and sometimes it’s not. Other times throughout the park’s history the lettering hasn’t been consistent, as seen on the stage above.

Valleyfair refined wordmark.

At some point in the 1990s, Valleyfair streamlined their mark and removed the forks on the swashes. It’s a cool mark, yet unlike at Kings Island, I unfortunately couldn’t find it honored on any merchandise. Yet it exists in various guises throughout the park, sometimes with forks, sometimes without.

In 2007, Cedar Fair corporate developed a consistent system of park logos and deployed them across all their properties, giving them a common typeface DNA just like the Six Flags chain.

Examples from the Cedar Fair parks wordmark system.

Nearly all the wordmarks are drawn on an arc or path in one way or another, and the key unifying element is a small triangular flag used for the dot on all lowercase i’s. Granted, this isn’t a branding blog, but Valleyfair is now the fourth Cedar Fair park which I’ve visited on this trip, and I thought it was time to mention it.

Amusement Park or Theme Park?

Some two years before he passed away in 2018, David Sherman was quoted in an interview with the Valleyfair official blog as noting that the creative development of Valleyfair was protracted:

It took us four years from concept to reality. As we toured around we knew that this was a smaller park and we wouldn’t have enough money to change themes, so we went for a turn of the century - family get together theme.

By “change themes” I take it that Mr. Sherman means they thought that the development of separate themed areas or lands within the park was cost prohibitive. What he then calls a “turn of the century - family get together theme” appears to be what I call “Amusement Park-ness” comprised of various forms of Victorian Gingerbread architecture as I’ve seen elsewhere across the country.

Because of this, I’m reluctant to call Valleyfair a theme park at all. Kings Island and the Great America parks were developed as theme parks from day one. Cedar Point was a traditional seaside resort that eventually evolved to include themed areas and lands due to competition from the Disney model.

But Valleyfair was designed as an amusement park, and for the most part it remains one. Most of the opening day attractions were variations upon standard carnival rides.

Classic amusement park offerings are also represented, such as this version of the Shoot the Chute model called The Wave. What I found curious, however, is that the queue / load building and flume trough is stylistically more turn of the century—it not only operates like an original Shoot the Chute as was once found at places like Coney Island’s Luna Park, it looks like one too. Other such rides at Cedar Point or at the Six Flags parks often have their own unique theming (Cedar Point goes for the Old West) and do not directly reference the historical form of the ride.

The flagship attraction at Valleyfair’s opening in 1976 was High Roller. It’s a modest experience by today’s standards, but in the seventies—after rides like Kings Island’s Racer (1972) reignited the country’s love affair with wooden roller coasters and ushered in a renaissance of the form—70 feet in height and a top speed of 50mph were notable stats. This out and back coaster continued to be a top draw well into the 1980s, but I personally found it to be entirely too rough around the edges (older woodies don’t age very well).

Again, the contours of the superstructure, the white painted boards, the flapping red flags, the roar of the trains going by…the wooden roller coaster is like its own form of nostalgic American architecture, just as surely as Victorian, Art & Crafts, or Googie.

All of this suggests to me that if Valleyfair could be considered a kind of theme park, then its theme is the American amusement park itself, much like Cincinnati’s Coney Island was resurrected at Kings Island as its own themed area. Yet there are still bits of Disneyland scattered about. Somehow by the 1970s, for any aesthetic credibility in the public’s eye, there had to be. But haphazard in presentation.

Here a village square “post clock” or “street clock” (originating in Victorian England and becoming more commonplace in the eastern United States after the Civil War) sits all by itself, with no Main Street U.S.A. to give it any architectural context. It was literally sprouting from the sidewalk next to a bench and a trash can. There’s no nostalgic anchor for its presence.

No park built in the 1970s would be complete without an Arrow Corkscrew model. Valleyfair’s Corkscrew was added in 1980 as the park’s second coaster, and it was the state of Minnesota’s only true outdoor steel coaster until the mid-nineties.

Like High Roller, its ride appeal has faded in the decades since. However, this Arrow model is unique in that it’s the only Corkscrew the company built which contains an upward helix (banked spiral) as the final element. Other than that, it’s essentially the same coaster I rode at Cedar Point.

I’m not sure what to make of the queue station. It looks like a Five Guys burger joint. At least at Cedar Point I had bits of architectural DNA to go on. The ride dates to 1980, and maybe there’s a bit of that here.

The Mysterious Park Logo, here in its refined (but pre-rebranded) form atop Valleyfair’s Power Tower.

Standard Fare at the Fair

As I’ve travelled around the United States looking at various theme parks, the design taxonomy and genealogy of various elements has become more apparent. Depending on the region, there’s a pseudo-Victorian Country Ranch Home aesthetic at work. Eateries and retail outlets are fashioned as quasi-domestic spaces, sometimes clearly “down home” houses and sometimes merely “house-like.”

Valleyfair is replete with these kinds of structures all throughout the park; they’re not confined to any one district or land, as Valleyfair doesn’t feature individually themed areas. As such, just like the lone post clock, they stand out. But because there’s at least more than one of them, if you spend a day at the park, they eventually add up to a kind of “themishness.”

Fried chicken is an amusement park/theme park staple. Here the architecture is more “ranch-like” than “house-like.” Columns and trim.

Town Square Theater at the Magic Kingdom, 2007.

These (admittedly less detailed) Victorian stylings are similar to buildings found at the Disney parks’ Main Street districts, particularly at Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom.

Here is a French-style copper mansard roof, which reminds me of the New Orleans themed areas I’ve visited. Maybe because the outlet is selling French fries, a designer thought this was an appropriate motif? The name “Northwoods Grill,” however, is pure Midwest.

This isn’t the first “Subway-as-Barnhouse” that I’ve seen, and it probably won’t be the last.

Same goes for “Grandma’s Panda Express Cottage.” This is nearly identical to the outlet which I saw at Cedar Point in the Frontier Trail area, just smaller. The fake brick chimneys are a nice touch.

What’s disappointing is that when parks like Great America or Valleyfair opened, they featured home-grown eateries. As a result, such restaurants’ offerings were often more thematically specific. But once larger chains like Six Flags and Cedar Fair began gobbling up such parks in the 1980s and 90s, national food franchises were introduced as a cost cutting measure. Today these franchises are the rule rather than the exception at many parks across the country. So you get rather stark design incongruencies—Chinese fast food being served in a country home like this.

There are also couple of midway games areas in opposite corners of Valleyfair. The design at this one is unremarkable.

But at the other end of the park, the midway presentation is more detailed. And flags! There were more flags at Valleyfair than at perhaps any other theme park I can think of. Which in hindsight kind of makes sense, given the park’s original wordmark.

The Grandest Bandstands

I’m not sure why this is, but a key component of the Theme Park Victorian Gingerbread design language is the use of the bandstand form. They show up at parks as guest services / information desks, ticketing booths, shops, game areas, and food outlets.

Like so much else at Valleyfair, these structures are at opposite ends of the park, with no thematic areas to anchor or further define them. More than once I was reminded of a model railroad set, with a kit of parts. I imagined the design team which developed Valleyfair simply reaching into this metaphorical box and placing all the expected trappings (and Disneyesque touches) willy-nilly on the tabletop.

And flags. Plenty of flags!

File Under Random

Here’s one out of nowhere—an Art Deco-era movie house. Great design, but no comment on its inclusion.

I don’t know what to make of this one, either. Sort of a Versailles-type building with obvious false fronts (you can see the flat mansard roof clearly has nothing behind it). It’s obvious, REAL FAKE, like the kind of backlot presentation you’d find at Universal Studios. But it’s apropos of nothing, and there’s no context for it on either side of the building. It looked to be a private meeting space of some kind. With more flags!

Back on Track(s)

Valleyfair has its own narrow gauge railroad just like the Disneyland standard I’ve found at Cedar Point, Kings Island, and elsewhere. The Minnesota River Valley Railroad doesn’t circle the park, but completes its circuit through about a third of it, with only part of the route on the perimeter.

The train ride was not added to Valleyfair until 1990, which explains why the route is not well integrated into the park’s layout. It has a nice tunnel feature however.

The gauge is unusual: 2 foot 6 inch, smaller than the 3 foot type common to Disneyland, Cedar Point, and many other parks. 2' 6" is more popular at zoos throughout the United States, though it’s the same gauge as was used for the Disneyland attraction Mine Train Through Nature's Wonderland (1956–1977).

Waterworld

Valleyfair’s waterpark area (called Soak City since 2008, consistent with similar areas at other Cedar Fair parks) is fully integrated into the main park with no separate gate or admission charge. I’d only seen this once before at California’s Great America, but I’m sure other parks offer this.

The waterpark began gradually, with Panic Falls opening first in 1983. More attractions were added, and the area became Whitewater Country Waterpark in 1992. This incremental development has created some bizarre visual juxtapositions over the years with waterslides snaking in, out, and over walkways which are outside the waterpark area.

Westworld

Again, probably the most common thematic element at any American theme park (or even amusement park) is the Old West. Kept alive through the Western genre on film and television throughout the 20th century, the thematic Old West has little connection to the real, historical American West. It’s more real to us—well over a century removed from that era—than the real thing will ever be.

Like everything else at Valleyfair, this saloon feels like it fell from the sky fully formed, and has no themed area around it to provide context. Chickie & Pete’s is a regional chain headquartered in Pennsylvania which I also found at Cedar Point, so they likely have a deal with Cedar Fair as a whole. I was unable to find out when this saloon structure dates to, however, so I don’t know if this is another example of corporate cannibalizing an older, more unique eatery.

Another trope that comes part and parcel with the Old West is the “Old Time” photo studio in which guests are provided with historical clothing for their family portraiture to recreate the experience of a 19th century daguerreotype studio. Prints are often available in grayscale and sepia for extra authenticity.

One design faux pax here is the use of “Olde” which is a colonial spelling common to New England but not widely used in the West (much like “Shoppe”). Not to mention the garish and anachronistic type treatment on the sign.

Typography fares better at the entrance to the adjacent wooden roller coaster Renegade which was added to Valleyfair in 2007. This is why I’m unsure how long the saloon structure has been in the park; perhaps it was part of this expansion.

This sign appears to be set in Ashwood Condensed which is part of the Walden Font Co. Wild West Press Collection. I recognize the face because I’ve used the collection in my own exhibit design work before.

Renegade was my favorite coaster at Valleyfair, and I rode it a total of eight times. Its layout is a considered combination of both an out and back and twister model. But what really heightened the experience for me was the (relatively impressive) attention to design detail.

The queue area winds through the middle of the coaster layout, giving those waiting multiple views of the trains racing by and building anticipation to ride. All the wood is appropriately distressed and aged, the metal fixtures rusted. And I really appreciated that no two signs carried the same 19th century wood typeface. Here is one form of slab serif.

And here is another. It’s the small details like this which Disney’s designers excel at, and which I rarely see at Cedar Fair parks. It was especially surprising at one as sparsely themed as Valleyfair.

Many contemporary coasters offer a souvenir ride photo experience, and here at the Renegade a daguerreotype studio setting is quite appropriate.

Decently rendered wood type, and hand-painted at that.

Unfortunately this red brush script has more in common with The Partridge Family (1970–1974) than the Old West. But at least they tried.

There are a couple other structures around the Renegade which make an attempt to be “Western” but Victorian elements are also thrown into the blender. Again, I don’t know if they predate the addition of the wooden coaster or not.

Rapid(s) Fire

The river rapids ride Thunder Canyon was added at the back of the park nearby back in 1987, and it carries a loose Old West theme, so these other elements like the Saloon, “Olde Time” Photo Shop and General Store might very well date back to then. I haven’t been able to confirm this either way.

This is a very standard type of attraction that became wildly popular as it was added in one variation or another to parks all over the United States. The first Thunder Canyon had opened at Cedar Point the year before, and this sibling is modeled after it, though it’s much smaller.

Some river rapids rides are richly themed (Grizzly River Run at Disney California Adventure or Kali River Rapids at Disney Animal Kingdom) and some have practically no theming at all (Grand Rapids at Michigan’s Adventure). Valleyfair’s Thunder Canyon is somewhere in the middle.

Many of these types of river rapids have opportunities for onlookers to shoot water at guests as they ride by. Once nice thematic touch is that here these water guns are fashioned to look like antique cannons. I realize this is more Pirates of the Caribbean than Frontierland, but (again) at least they tried.

Medieval Times

Next to Thunder Canyon at the far back of Valleyfair lies something I didn’t expect at all—a rollercoaster called Excalibur with a sword in the stone to match. The lettering is admittedly pretty sloppy, but the sword is wicked cool (and looked quite sharp). Beyond the entrance there isn’t any theming to speak of.

Excalibur was built for the park by the now-defunct Arrow Dynamics in 1989, and just like their Gemini for Cedar Point (1978), the coaster is a unique hybrid of steel tubular tracks atop a traditional wooden frame.

It was a fun ride, but quite short. And, at the far back of the park, completely vacant. It almost felt abandoned.

Yikes! While this mistake is more common at small town Thai restaurants, here we have Adrian Frutiger’s infamous Ondine. Although reminiscent 15th century Italian humanist lettering, his design is actually based on Arabic calligraphic forms. Ondine ("wave" in French) is quite a sad typographic story, as the face is abused and misused all over the place, rarely if ever found leveraging its original Middle Eastern heritage. And here that hard, long drop shadow makes the eyes bleed.

At first glance I thought the coaster’s station was nondescript. But then I looked closer, and the shape of the roof actually has an appropriate medieval tent look.

Ondine yet again, sans drop shadow, and with (oddly) appropriate flourishes.

I wished to conclude my observations with Excalibur because although I think (and the park’s founders have stated for the record) that the overall theme of Valleyfair as designed and opened in 1976 is the turn of the century America amusement park itself—exemplified by the High Roller, pictured above—I think there’s another view here.

The original wordmark lettering, carnival atmosphere, and omnipresent red triangular flags fluttering in the breeze makes me think that the “fair” in Valleyfair might mean “Faire” as in “Renaissance Faire” or “Medieval Faire.” Yet I was unable to find any sources supporting this (online or otherwise).

It’s sort of a lost opportunity, like the failure of Cedar Fair to market Valleyfair’s original wordmark on nostalgic merchandise like they do for their other parks. The irony, of course, is that this logo is still in use in various contexts throughout Valleyfair. Conversely, I couldn’t find the original Kings Island lettering in use inside that park, but they sold it on all kinds of souvenirs.

Perhaps if Cedar Fair decides to reinvest in some thematic design at their Valleyfair park, they might decide to capitalize on this (admittedly on my part, hypothetical) connection, and turn up the volume on some medieval elements throughout, maybe by formally parsing the park into themed lands. Certainly the popularity of the Game of Thrones HBO series and other recent fantasy films suggest that the public has an appetite for castles, knights on horseback, and fire-breathing dragons.

Up in the Nor' Woods.

May 12, 2019 by Dave Gottwald

From Gurnee, Illinois I headed up to the Northwoods of Wisconsin to stay the night with some old friends before continuing on to Valleyfair just outside Minneapolis, Minnesota.

I had been to Minocqua once before back in 2005, where my friend’s family has a cabin on a small private lake. The town bills itself as Nature's Original Water Park™ (yes, some local business association or tourist office actually trademarked it). Which makes some sense, as the crown jewel of their regional identity is the Min-Aqua Bats Water Ski Club. The club dates back to 1950 and claims to be the oldest continually running amateur water ski show in the United States.

Bunyan Breakfast

I saw the Min-Aquabats show in 2005, and it was really neat. This time though I wanted to return to what I think is the coolest local spot in the area—Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty.

After back-to-back theme parks, it was nice for a change of pace to take in a good ol’ fashioned American roadside attraction, much like South Dakota’s Wall Drug which I posted about some time back.

Vintage postcard, Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty.

The giant lumberjack Paul Bunyan and his blue ox, Babe, are famous figures in American folklore. Many places claim to have birthed him:

Maine - Bangor
Michigan - Oscoda, Ossineke, St. Ignace
Minnesota - Akeley, Bemidji, Brainerd
Wisconsin - Eau Claire, Stevens Point, Wausau

Given his iconic status, Bunyan is honored by several roadside attractions. Perhaps the most famous is in Bemidji, Minnesota. Paul even has a cameo in the Coen brothers’ 1996 film Fargo (though the statue depicted does not actually exist).

Vintage postcard, Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty, Wisconsin Dells location.

The original Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty opened just to the south in Wisconsin Dells in 1958. The Minocqua location followed in 1961. The Dells Shanty was made famous by their “Lumberjack Show” which still runs today. As their website describes:

The Dells Lumberjack Show features events such as the standing block chop, axe throw, spring board chop, obstacle pole, hot saw, log roll, and many more performed by professional lumberjacks, medalists and athletes.

Camp Style

Both Shanty restaurants feature an all-you-can eat “camp style” breakfast in which shared portions are served to long tables of various parties of diners. In 2005 I ate this breakfast, and it was terrific. For this second visit, I arrived after the menu had shifted to lunch for the day.

While the metatheme here is the myth of Paul Bunyan the giant lumberjack, design-wise the dining areas are a cross between a frontier log cabin and a traditional North Woods hunting lodge. This is a common motif from Maine to across the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest—any heavily forested area, really.

Like many common American themes, there are requisite trappings to this setting: metal camping coffee cups (typically painted a solid color with white spackling), metal dishes, red and white checkered table coverings, and bench seating. Typical Western / frontier props include hurricane-style kerosene lamps, assorted tool and rifles, and mounted hunting trophies.

The raftered ceilings are also filled with numerous props—a trope I detailed while at Six Flags Great America. Lots of taxidermied fish (real or otherwise). And there are small skylight areas that brighten up the dining rooms.

This postcard from the early 1970s shows how little Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty has changed over the years. Given how many such mid-century roadside attractions and restaurants have been heavily remodeled or even completely destroyed, the Shanty is a thematic time capsule.

Some dining areas are more densely filled with props and decoration than others, including fake trees. This reminded me quite a bit of the Clearman’s restaurants in Southern California, which carry a similar theme (albeit with fake snow on their roofs year-round). I wonder if, like Clearman’s, the Shanty is decked out in special decor for the holiday season.

One subtle feature I thought quite clever is that the closer you get to the kitchen entrance, the more cooking props (basins, pots and pans, etc) show up hung from the rafters. The vibe is like a mining camp.

Part of the main dining are completely over the top, however. There’s a complete horse wagon here hanging mere feet from diners heads! Thank goodness Wisconsin is not traditionally earthquake country; this would not likely fly in California.

Enter (and Exit) Through the Gift Shop

Attractions and restaurants such as this probably garner a good portion of their income from the gift shop and (like the Shanty has) a bakery. This is a small owner-operator tradition that was latter corporatized by chains like Cracker Barrel which has nearly 650 locations across the United States. There are also smaller, regional chain examples like Van de Kamps.

The idea here is to present the merchandise exactly as the propping is staged throughout the restaurant, so you feel like you’re “buying a piece” of the place. All the expected kitsch is present. And yes, I’ll admit I bought a couple t-shirts.

Northern Exposure

Although I really liked the overall thematic design of Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty, I think it had one major thing going against it. The restaurant was overlit. So for a few of my photographs, I decided to play with my exposure settings. These were further enhanced digitally. I think the Shanty is much more dramatic and interesting when lit this way.

High contrast, oversaturated photography is not usually my thing. But I really like the mood present in these shots.

There’s something about the blown-out brights which heighten the sense of gas lighting as opposed to electricity. And I love the drama of the trophy buck head in silhouette. North Woods noir?

Minocqua Theming v. 1.0: Euro-Town

After a couple nights, I headed out from my friend’s family cabin and spent some time photographing the downtown area before leaving for Minnesota. It would appear that Minocqua underwent the same kinds of aesthetic changes throughout the middle of the twentieth century that many other similar sized Midwestern towns did. In order to capitalize on their various European immigrant histories, they took a cue from Disneyland and ‘sweetened’ these associations, providing cultural tourist draw in the form of dining, retail, and entertainment.

Many of these themed buildings clearly date to the 1950s and 60s, just like I found in Frankenmuth, Michigan. Some have been retrofitted over the years. It’s especially easy to spot the seventies creeping in, in the form of dark shingles.

This step panoramic of a single block is a typical example of what I found—a somewhat generic-yet-Germanic presentation.

There are also restored brick buildings which appear much older, some of them turn of the century. Many feature augmentation of one kind or another, like this shop which clearly added the A-frame roof to the first story to “Alpinize” the structure. But the level above belongs to the Victorian era.

This postcard appears to be from the late sixties or early seventies based on the automobiles in the shot, which makes me wonder about the age of some of thematic elements I found. Perhaps some came later, in the 1980s and even the 90s.

The “Clock Tower Centre” feels very late-seventies or early eighties, again based on other examples I’ve seen throughout the country. I know Carter was big on wearing sweaters and turning the heat down to save energy…did he have a similar mandate to install wide, dark roof shingles on everything?

This block was composed of mostly older brick buildings, with less thematic alteration.

Except for Otto’s Beer & Brat Garden, which is rocking the Ski Lodge vibe. I found the mounted barrel curious. How is anyone supposed to access that? It seems like an unwise place to store surplus beer.

Their website doesn’t reveal anything about the history of the place or even the date it opened. But based on the exterior and the interior (I had eaten here back in 2005) I’d guess the mid-sixties.

Fudge! Looks to be as popular here in Wisconsin as it is in Michigan. I saw similar fudge shops—with nearly identical typography—when I visited both Mackinaw City and nearby Mackinac Island.

Again, just like at themed Euro-towns like Michican’s Frankenmuth, I found lots of great hand lettered (routed and/or hand painted) blackletter typography. The serif treatments on the upper lines suggests anywhere from the 1950s–1970s.

Wonderful wrought iron as well, just like I found in Two Rivers, Wisconsin.

Minocqua Theming v. 2.0: Disneyland, Wisconsin

But one particular block of downtown Minocqua really got my attention. This was not only theming in the Disneyesque tradition, but it was of a much, much newer vintage. I’d say late 1990s to early 2000s, much like the Mackinaw Crossings shopping development I had described earlier.

This is the Main Street U.S.A. approach, straight out of central casting (so to speak), crossed with a kind of Old West Frontier Town design that I saw in Deadwood, South Dakota.

I realize that the developers wanted to find a way to drawing attention for their Gaslight Square Shoppes indoor mall, but in the context of the rest of Minocqua, it’s very odd indeed.

The “shoppes” don’t represent the oldest buildings in town (original brick structures which date to the early twentieth century) nor the oldest theme (that’s the European stylings added around mid-century which portray nineteenth century settlements). Rather they depict a setting somewhat in between. But paradoxically, Gaslight Square Shoppes appears to be the newest actual development in Minocqua.

Gaslight Square Shoppes interior. Minocqua Area Chamber of Commerce. — Gaslight Square Shoppes interior. *Minocqua Area Chamber of Commerce*.

The mall’s website claims the theme is the 1920s and draws from St. Louis, Missouri. But that doesn’t jive with the architecture in my opinion. I do regret that I didn’t take a few moments to venture inside, as the retail spaces on the first floor are “indoor for outdoor” and resemble city streets. This place needs a casino!

The intersection block has been painted with a large mural that suggests faux storefront balconies and signage. It’s a bit cheesy, sure, but at a distance (from across the street) I kind of liked it. I just wish the lettering wasn’t so clumsy.

I finished my visit to Minocqua with a stop at their “Welcome to” sign on the edge of town. Every settlement of a particular size throughout the United States has one of these, and they’re always from different aesthetic eras. By the typography, wood carving, and paint colors, I’d say this is anywhere from the mid-seventies to the mid-eighties.

Well, farewell to “The Island City.” Next stop: Valleyfair!

Tilt-A-Whirl.

May 08, 2019 by Dave Gottwald

After so many posts of field observations, I wanted to take a break and just showcase some theme park images without any annotation. Tilt-shift photography, along with high-dynamic-range (HDR) trickery has indeed become a digital cliche during the past decade or so. You see this stuff everywhere online. Disney even got into the act at one point, producing a series of park videos using a tilt-shift effect.

To Shrink Is to Own

I’m reminded of a great passage in Richard V. Francaviglia’s Main Street Revisited: Time, Space, and Image Building in Small-Town America (1996). It’s something of an aside in the closing pages of the book; almost an afterthought. Throughout the text, Francaviglia presents and elaborates upon sixteen axioms of the design and development of the American small town Main Street. The sixteenth is: “The miniaturization of Main Street signifies its acceptance as an integral part of American life and leisure.” He then goes on:

By assuming a place in the home, Main Street joins the ranks of dollhouses and miniature trains as an endearing symbol of America’s past. Miniaturization is, in a sense, the ultimate act in commodification…

That last line sort of blew my mind. What Francaviglia is saying, basically, is that by making something small, we dominate it, we control it, we remake it in our own image; we own it.

Model of the park on display at Disneyland, 2007.

Walt Disney’s fascination with miniaturization is well documented, and the best example is his obsession with model trains. The construction of a small train ride in the backyard of his Holmby Hills home lead directly to the Disneyland project. Walt considered the park a toy at human scale, much like a model railroad. Through Francaviglia’s suggestion, then, when we inhabit the thematic design of Disneyland and places like it, we exert control in the inhabitation, we own the experience. In this way, perhaps, we make the built environment manageable; we make it ours.

Tilt-shift photography has the effect of making large structures appear as miniatures. For cityscapes and the like, it’s sort of a neat trick. But for the thematic environment, it’s uncannily appropriate. These spaces, designed as they are to feel like a toyscape to be inhabited, look rather remarkable as actual miniatures. In a sense, the tilt-shift effect reveals thematic design for what it really is.

Cedar Point

The best way I’ve found to make this kind of digital technique work in thematic environments is to shoot most photos from a very high place. By digital, I mean that I’m manipulating my images in post production, and I am not creating this effect in-camera with my lens. Thus far, three parks I’ve visited—Cedar Point, Kings Island, and Six Flags Great America—have offered an appropriate vantage. Curiously, in order, those vantages ascend in height. So my lowest shots are from the gondola Cedar Point, and my highest are from the observation tower at Great America.

At Cedar Point, the highest you can get today and take numerous quality photos of the park is from the Sky Ride gondola which spans the Main Midway. I wish I would have had the Von Roll gyro tower Space Spiral to snap even more pics from, but it was removed in 2012.

So here is Cedar Point in tilt-shift. Let’s begin with a ride down the Main Midway.

Now let’s head back in the opposite direction, returning to the park entrance.

Some shot from the ground also turned out pretty well in the tilt-shift look.

Kings Island

At Kings Island, I was able to get even higher. The observation deck on the park’s Eiffel Tower replica is some 264 feet in the air.

Like at Cedar Point, some shots also worked well from the ground.

Six Flags Great America

Finally at Great America, I had the entire park at my disposal via their Sky Trek gyro tower. From this height (nearly 300 feet) and panoramic views of the horizon, the tilt-shift effect gets truly magical.

I wish I was able to photograph the Disney parks in the same way, but not one of them has a remaining gondola ride or observation tower. But at least with Cedar Point, Kings Island, and Great America I have captured—or in Francaviglia’s words, ultimately “commodified”—these parks by miniaturizing them.

Thematic design, pocket-sized.

Six Flags Great America - Part 3: The Great Southwest (in the Midwest).

May 04, 2019 by Dave Gottwald

It surprised me that Six Flags actually decided to make investment in theming beyond Marriott’s design of the park. The company is known for dropping serious money on the latest megacoaster, sure. But adding an entire land complete with elaborately designed buildings and themed attractions? Not very likely. Yet that’s exactly what Six Flags did at Great America in the mid-nineties.

Concept painting of the Great Southwest area.

Go (South)West, Young Man

A land called the Great Southwest was actually on the drawing board as part of the original Great America park masterplan. The expansion was planned to open in 1979, but never did. It’s quite possible that Randall Duell named the land in tribute to the Great Southwest Corporation, Angus G. Wynne’s company for which Duell designed Six Flags Over Texas.

The Southern Cross skyride intersecting with Delta Flyer / Eagle’s Flight.

The best evidence that Marriott was serious about this expansion was the addition of the Southern Cross skyride which opened in 1977 for the the park’s second season. Like so many other gondola-type rides built at parks across the United States, this was a product of Swiss firm Von Roll. But there were two ways in which this gondola was unique—its height and its route.

1979 park guide map with intersecting skyride routes.

The Southern Cross was one of the tallest and longest gondola skyrides Voll Roll ever built for a theme or amusement park. Really high—guests traveled some 125 feet in the air. And the reason for this lofty stature was that Southern Cross intersected perpendicular with—and passed completely over—the Delta Flyer / Eagle’s Flight skyride. Which made the name for the ride quite appropriate. “Southern Cross” is an astronomical term for a kite-like arrangement of stars (also called a “crux”), which is the shape that the two skyride lines formed. The Southern Cross route also ran northeast to the southwest.

The Southern Cross skyride heading towards its dead-end turnaround.

The gondola was only round trip ride as the Great Southwest area was awaiting the start of construction. There was nothing at the end of the line but a pile of dirt. But it never came. By the end of the 1982 season it was determined that since there was literally no destination keeping Southern Cross viable, it was removed. Two seasons later the Delta Flyer / Eagle’s Flight was also removed from the Gurnee park. The skyride at the Santa Clara park continues operation to this day.

Southwest Territory area, satellite view. Click for link. Map data: Ⓒ Google. — *Southwest Territory* area, satellite view. Click for link. Map data: Ⓒ Google.

Phase One, 1995: The Viper Strikes

After years of planning by Six Flags, the Southwest Territory area of Great America opened in three phases. Phase One began when Viper debuted just outside the park berm for the 1995 season—the first major wooden coaster added since the American Eagle in 1981.

Six Flags has a habit of using coaster names multiple times on different rides at various parks throughout the chain. As it turns out, “Viper” is quite common. The earliest use I could find is the Viper at Darien Lake in New York, an Arrow steel looper which opened in 1982 and is still running today. Curiously that park came to be managed by Six Flags in 2017. There was also a Viper which operated at Six Flags AstroWorld from 1989 until that park’s closing in 2005.

Original Viper logo as developed for Magic Mountain in 1990.

In 1990 Six Flags Magic Mountain opened their own Viper. As of 2019, it’s the last of the 7-looper roller coasters built by Arrow still operating. This is when the Six Flags “Viper” logo appears to have debuted.

The same logo was again repeated at Six Flags Over Georgia for their Viper, which opened in 1995 and operated until 2001. Ironically, this ride was the very same Schwarzkopf shuttle looper Tidal Wave which had opened at Gurnee in 1978. Yet another Viper operated from 1995 to 2004 at Six Flags Great Adventure in New Jersey, but it was a completely unrelated design and its logo was a bit similar—but not identical—to the other Six Flag “Vipers.”

And that very same season in which the park’s former Tidal Wave became a Viper down in Georgia, Great America opened their own (with that same pesky logo).

This massive wooden Viper in the Southwest Territory was built as a tribute to the famed Coney Island Cyclone. The layout is essentially a mirror-image of that classic, with some adjustments in scale.

Like other wooden roller coasters across the country carrying an Old West theme such as The Beast (Kings Island) and GhostRider (Knott’s Berry Farm), Viper is constructed of rough and bare dark wood, as opposed to being sanded and painted the more traditional boardwalk white.

As I’ve seen before, it’s common to use fictional proprietors and industrial concerns as foundation for backstory in thematic design, particularly in the Old West and Turn of the Century genres. In this case, the coaster station for Viper is presented as a “Snake Oil” elixir factory.

The details of the station and surrounding queue structures are surprisingly realized for a Six Flags project. Much like the rest of the Southwest Territory area, I was impressed. Authentic-looking aged and weathered planking, rope, rusted metal wire, and barn lighting factor in throughout.

You Flotsam, You Jetsam

In the coaster station for Viper there are several caged-off areas with tools, oil barrels, and other various industrial machinery and materials on display. I call these “prop cages” and I’ve seen them at thematic environments all over the world. Six Flags is sloppier about this than most—at a glance it’s just a bunch of junk that was gathered at a salvage yard and scattered about. You might say this suggests “story” or “theme” but it’s really the laziest pass possible.

Prop cage in queue for the Indiana Jones Adventure at Disneyland, 2007.

Disney has been doing this kind of stuff in their attraction queues for years. But they’re more thoughtful about it—there is backstory embedded in each and every display. For example, in the queue for Disneyland’s Indiana Jones Adventure: Temple of the Forbidden Eye, this prop cage is designed as an archaeologist’s field office. The crate planks are stamped with the names of famous universities from around the world.

Another design trope that I’ve found at nearly every theme park I’ve visited is what I call the “Flotsam / Jetsam” approached to a vaulted ceiling. Basically, if you’ve got a high open interior area in a structure, a solid shortcut to theming is to fill the rafters with a bunch of appropriate “stuff.”

My guess is that this treatment is linked to antique stores and other retail establishments in the tradition of “Grandma’s Attic.” The idea is that the more stuffed to the gills with junk a curiosity shop is, the more sweetened and heightened the discovery of a “hidden gem” is after a lengthy “treasure hunt.” Which is why antique malls and other kinds of vintage flea markets feel completely overwhelming (and intriguing).

I think the “Flotsam / Jetsam” ceiling, at least in thematic design, can be traced back to the mid-century tiki craze which began in the United States in California during the 1930s with Don the Beachcomber and Trader Vic’s. Donn Beach realized the narrative value of decor in securing a restaurant’s aura and reputation, and decorated his Beachcomber with artifacts of his overseas travels as well as props from the movie business.

Victor “Trader Vic” Bergeron took this practice to even greater heights and basically perfected the artform. Each new restaurant in his chain featured more and more elaborate decor. And every vaulted ceiling was crammed full of native canoes, paddles and spears. And fish netting and rope, plus Japanese glass fishing floats and lanterns made of both bamboo and taxidermied puffer fish.

Southwest Territory during the 2017 season. Underlay map data: Ⓒ Google.

Phase Two, 1996: Ol’ West Town

For the 1996 season, the second phase of the Southwest Territory expansion in the form of an eleven-acre themed area opened adjacent to Viper. This Old West Town features retail stores, restaurants, and a saloon split across two sides of a single block.

There is nothing groundbreaking about the design, and there didn’t have to be. At this point the American public had been awash in westerns on television, in the movies, and at other theme parks for decades.

George Ladyman, Six Flags vice president of design/entertainment, commented to the press upon the opening of Phase Two of the Southwest Territory in May, 1996:

We developed it to the point where we've brought westerns to the 1990s. We've created a great family section to the park. The stunt show is for little kids, big kids and Moms and Dads. It worked well for us.

It was nice to see some actual hand painted signage leveraging historically-appropriate typography. Quality of this sort varies widely at the Six Flag parks, but here they’ve really nailed it.

Phase Three, 1997: A New (Old) Mission

Some five additional acres were added to the Southwest Territory with the opening of Phase Three for the 1997 season. Again, there continued to be great attention to detail in the design. As Great America park President Jim Wintrode said to the press in the spring of 1996 when Phase Two opened:

Theming is the one thing we concentrated on most with this new area. This is the best we've ever done. The buildings are all full-scale size, unlike Universal Studios and Disney, which utilize half-scale and three-fifths scale models. I'm not degrading what they do by any means, but the height coupled with the theming adds a lot to the realism effect.

The centerpiece of the second and third phases of the project is a massive California Mission-type structure. The front portion opened in 1996, and the building’s backside was completed in 1997.

I grew up very close to the Mission San Juan Capistrano in Southern California, so it was both familiar and disconcerting to see this. Call the feeling uncanny. Little did I know there was a direct connection. Upon the opening of Phase Two, park President Jim Wintrode noted: “The five mission bells also lend to the authenticity. They came from the same bell company that services San Juan Capistrano."

On the second day of my visit to Great America, I happened to catch this part of the park during part of the golden hour just after sunset. The throws of soft light in yellows and light oranges were perfectly cast onto the mission creating an idyllic atmosphere.

The courtyard on the opposite side of the mission was completed in 1997. There are little touches of broken stucco revealing brickwork underneath that are far superior to what you’d find at the Mexican area of Knott’s Berry Farm or at other Six Flags parks, and are actually on par with any Disney design.

Inside the mission is Chubasco. These spinning terra cotta bowls are basically a clone of the original Mad Tea Party attraction at Disneyland, which has since become an industry standard ride offering known as the “Tea Cups.”

Much like the routed wood, hand painted examples I found in Carousel Plaza, Chubasco features some nice signage (although the typographic choices are a bit dubious).

The Mexican /Southwestern theme spills out into other areas of the expanded land, such as this adobe “Fiesta Fries Cantina.” Here the signage is more tacky than other more authentic samples in the area.

Mind the Drop

The centerpiece thrill ride of this Phase Three 1997 expansion is the Giant Drop. It’s a standard drop tower model, but elaborately themed to be an “Ore Excavator” of the “Loco Diablo Mine.” This is some really good stuff, some of the best overall theming I saw at Great America.

In terms of outward mechanics, there’s nothing special going on. Giant Drop looks like any other similar drop tower at any other park. But the queue descends slightly down into a mine setting that partially obscures the base of the tower (and thus the loading procedure).

You can see rider loading from the other side of the attraction, but not from the queue as you descend into the mine. For a first time rider, this is likely to increase anticipation and maybe up the scare factor.

The wood typography here, all hand painted on weathered wood, is really terrific. This sign was probably the best example in the entire area, maybe even the whole park.

A Load of Bull

In 1999, after all three of the design phases of Southwest Territory were complete, the area received its most recent—and angry—resident. Raging Bull is a Bolliger & Mabillard hypercoaster and is quite similar to its sister Diamondback at Kings Island which opened ten years later. The Bull is something of a twister, whereas the snake is more of an out-and-back model. The coaster station is themed as the ruins of a southwestern mission, and was again designed by Bleck & Bleck Architects of Libertyville, Illinois.

Adding massive coasters like this to a thematic environment are always a mixed blessing. These rides are fun, and some of their queues and stations might be elaborately themed. But then end up towering over the landscape and distorting the scale of everything else, as I saw in Rivertown at Kings Island.

In this step panoramic you can see the attention to detail which was applied to one block of the Old West Town in Southwest Territory. But Raging Bull twists and turns overhead, intruding on the ambiance. It’s a shame, but something which is not going to change at Cedar Fair and Six Flags parks anytime soon. Their unique selling proposition as compared with the Disney parks is to draw an audience for these very thrill rides.

But the details are good. The Six Flags design team spent a month researching a variety of Western, mining, prairie, Mexican and Indian architectural environments across the Southwest to come up with inspiration for all the various elements of the town. And it shows. The “Groceries” façade above is nearly identical to one I saw in Deadwood, South Dakota.

As viewed from the Sky Trek tower, Raging Bull completely dominates the area, dwarfing the California Mission plaza and Old West Town below.

The integration of The Demon, by contrast, is much more organic. This Arrow corkscrew opened with both Great America parks in 1976 as the Turn of The Century. With the addition of two vertical loops and some tunnels and rockwork, both were transformed into The Demon in 1980. So the rockwork pictured and the tunnel the loop travels through were present when Southwest Territory was being developed. Notice the care taken to the color of the rock (which was repainted to a more desert tan) and the trees planted up and around the edge of the ride. Everything blends seamlessly with the new area.

Six Flags doesn’t always get the details right, of course. I found this prop barrel display of horse tack to be tacky indeed.

At Face Value

One last feature of the area which caught my eye were a series of façades on one half block of the Western Town. They are designed and presented as false fronts, just as this were a movie studio backlot set as opposed to immersive theming. Other parks like Universal do this (quite intentionally) and even Disney has attempted the approach at their movie-themed parks and lands (though I’d argue less successfully).

There are no buildings behind these fronts, and no glass in the windows. Which means you see the lift hill of The Demon roller coaster right behind.

For me, the effect is simply surreal. And I mean that in a good way. It’s like something out of The Twilight Zone; I thought it was cool. I commented on this same kind of design when I posted about my visit to Deadwood, South Dakota.

But it’s likely I was reading it the wrong way. According to Southwest Territory designers Sharon Hendrickson and Anthony Stark, there’s another, more intentional story at work here. As Stark elaborated to reporters in 1996:

We meshed all those together and came up with a new town built over time. It includes a little bit of everything. Each ride carries a specific story, like the town bank leveled by a tornado, which is signified by the Trailblazer. We wanted it to look like what would happen if a carnival came through an Old West town.

So, ok, the bank was hit by a tornado, and that’s why the window glass is all blown out, and there is nothing left standing behind the building fronts. I suppose that works. But I also suspect they were just trying to save on construction costs. This is Six Flags, after all.

All in all though Southwest Territory was impressive, especially for a Six Flags park. I realize I’m probably grading them on a curve. But after so many years of owning this former Marriott park, Six Flags managed to introduce—rather successfully—some of the DNA from their original Texas park. Call it a form of corporate self-love, or an extension of branding, but Great America is a more interesting and thematically varied park because of it.