Aug. 12, 1977, Cover Story: The Comet at Crystal Beach

 

One of the joys of writing Gusto cover stories was the chance to get away from daily deadlines and stretch out into something that would include interviews, research and personal perspective. Here’s my first ride along that trail. 

Aug. 12, 1977 

Roller Coaster 

          First the metal bar locks down in front of your chest. It’s kind of reassuring, watching the attendants check them all out, but to set the mind completely at rest it would take a parachute or at least one of Ralph Nader’s air bags.

          It’s different on the Matterhorn roller coaster in Disneyland. There you relax, secure in the knowledge that Old Walt wouldn’t let you get hurt. Neither would the folks at Crystal Beach, but as the Comet rolls away from the platform, all the old reassurances get shaky.

          The first wave of panic sets in as the cars ratchet up the initial incline. The shallowest of the Great Lakes opens in a panorama below, a comforting sight if only one thought would go away – the thought that, perhaps, in less than a minute, you and 47 other roller coaster maniacs might go looping into those waters like so much fish bait.

          Actually, as long as you sit there, you’re safe. The only fatality on the Comet since it opened in 1948 – a 26-year-old Ontario man in 1975 – had the audacity to think he could stand up on a curve.

          The Comet is a smooth, safe, reliable version of the old Crystal Beach coaster. That was the infamous Cyclone, which intimidated Buffalonians during the Depression and World War II. The Cyclone featured a figure-eight, banked 75-degree turns and sudden descents. At the end of the line, there was a nurse in attendance. A lot of folks passed out.

          The Cyclone was too scary for its own good. After a while, nobody would ride it. So they tore it down and used the steel to help build the Comet, which at the time was the longest, highest roller coaster in the world.

          That’s a bothersome fact to ponder as the car reaches the top of the incline and tips over that 96-foot dip. Try to remember that it’s no worse that falling off a nine-story building. Try to forget that the car is falling faster than you are. That’s why you’re floating above your seat.

          Hands glued to the safety bar, eyes glued to the earthy rapidly coming up below, it seems like a good time to murmur that little invocation you usually save for when your airplane is landing in a sleet storm.

          It was the Russians, naturally, who thought up this fiendish way of frightening oneself to death. They’ve been doing it since the 15th Century, when they devised giant ice slides as public amusements.

          In the late 1700s, a Frenchman brought the idea back to Paris. Since it sizzles too much in Paris for ice slides, he used toboggans on a ramp of rollers and – viola! – the roller coaster was born. The only trouble was that you still had to walk back to the top.

          The first modern coasters appeared in the 1880s at Coney Island and have spawned a herd of variants – stainless steel slides, the Wild Mouse and the newest ride at Crystal Beach, the formidable Texas Revolver and its never-ending loop-the-loop.

          The Comet’s modus operandi is relatively simple. Scatter the senses on the first dip and keep them shaken all the way home.

          The fall devastates the rider so thoroughly that all the other curves, hills and threats to toss you into the lake become a dazed blur. Just for good measure, there’s a couple quick dips at the end of the run. Top speed is around 60 mph – faster on hot days when the packing grease is thinner. It’s all over in about one minute, 45 seconds.

          When the mania for them was at its peak in the ‘20s, there were about 900 coasters in the U.S. That number dwindled to about 200, but the revival of amusement parks in the past 10 years has seen perhaps a dozen new ones built. Though the Comet cost only $125,000 to erect, new ones are likely to run 20 times that much. The Screamin’ Eagle in Missouri’s Six Flags Over Mid-America took $3 million.

          1977 may well be the Year of the Roller Coaster. Beginning with that coaster movie in Sensurround, interest is at a new high. Among the riders on the Comet this season have been writers for the Toronto Star, the Chicago Tribune and People magazine.

          Grant Nicholson, assistant manager at Crystal Beach, says the Comet is ranked as one of the 10 best coasters in North America. It’s perennially the most popular ride in the park, despite the additional 50 cents it costs to get on. As many as 12,000 a day have ridden it and always there’s somebody who wants to go back and ride it again.

          “If we didn’t charge for it,” Nicholson remarks, “this’d be the only ride running.”

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IN THE PHOTO: A 1940s postcard view of the Comet.

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FOOTNOTE: Though Crystal Beach is gone, closed down in 1989 and  replaced by condos, you can still ride the Comet. It just takes a longer drive to get to it. Wikipedia tells us that it was disassembled, stored for a while at Fantasy Island on Grand Island, then bought by the owner of an amusement park north of Albany. It was reconstructed and reopened in 1994. There's usually a wait in line to climb aboard.