november 1: amusement
Hi there,
When I was growing up, we had a framed poster in my house that read, in big bold letters: “Mannions Park Now Open … plenty of new, novel attractions for all!” I never really knew what it was referencing — it was one of those things you grew up with and neither questioned nor gave much thought. But I must have had heard at some point that Mannions Park was, or used to be, a real place.
It turns out it was, for a short while, indeed a real place: an amusement park in St. Louis owned by my great-great grandparents Cecilia O’Brien and Ed Mannion. “For many years, I had heard of a mysterious park once located on S. Broadway … hardly anything is known about this park,” this website’s author says. The site claims the park opened as early as 1899, and that “on June 4th, 1918, a raid by the local police happened after soldiers from the nearby Jefferson Barracks were caught buying liquor from bootleggers on Mannion's Park property.”
I called my dad last night to ask him what he remembers. He retold the stories his dad had been told, speaking with the same cadence and intonation my grandpa did (letting out a crackly “ahhhhh” between sentences as his thoughts crystallized — maybe my great grandpa spoke like this too). My dad said Ed and Cecilia had worked in the steel mills in Illinois, saved their money, opened a tavern in St. Louis, and eventually opened Mannions Park.
The park supposedly boasted a swimming pool, a ferris wheel, a boxing ring, a bar and restaurant, pony rides, and a Vaudeville theater where George M. Cohan played. The park also featured silent picture films that my great grandpa, as a little kid, would score on the piano. It was on the end of the trolley line, the last stop before the Jefferson Barracks Military Post. At the end of the night, all the soldiers would go to the park to “whoop it up a bit, I guess,” my dad said.
I also learned that the beloved woman I’d known as my great aunt Betty, wasn’t related to us by blood, but was the Mannions Park bartender’s daughter, whom our family took in after Betty’s parents died in the 1918 Influenza Pandemic. Prohibition was “the beginning of the end” for Mannions Park, my dad said. Ed wanted to hide the park’s whiskey in the cellar, but Cecilia made him dump it in the sewer because “she would have no shame brought upon her house,” as my grandpa remembered.
I have a few pages of notes that chronicle the stories my grandpa was told about the park times. They include all kinds of anecdotes: stories about lovers, bar fights, and a mean bulldog named Buster; tales of the Catholic school kids and public school kids “battling for their faith” at recess; a priest instructing Cecilia (who was 5’10) to put a brick on her head to stunt her growth; how, after Cecilia’s cousin Annie emigrated from Ireland, Cecilia would dance around the room with a broom in an earnest attempt to make Annie laugh and cure her homesickness.
One of my friends said the mysterious park sounded like a story for This American Life, which made me think it might be interesting to write about here. I wish I had recorded my grandpa talking about it — and telling those other stories — before he died last year. I’m certainly not the historian of my family (thank you to my sister Clare for sending me our grandpa’s notes) and not all the stories line up (how did no one mention the giant roller coaster from the photos??), but I’m glad this newsletter could document a little bit of family folklore.
Some October things
Portland: good trees, cute architecture, free kombucha, big beautiful bridges, a newfound appreciation for sunshine
Talking about a book with friends and strangers feeling just as fulfilling as reading the book itself
Live music: Art Sorority, Bartees Strange, Lucy Dacus, Tomberlin (anyone else love Tomberlin’s Projections and want to chat??), 2020 Tiny Desk Contest winner Neffy
Wes Anderson’s The French Dispatch (my movie theater concessions order is a blue raspberry icee, popcorn, and milk duds; please send me yours if we haven’t already discussed)
Good reads with Auggie
Still trying to convince myself I like biking
I hope November is nice, or at least amusing, where you are.
Best of luck,
Elle
P.S. In other St. Louis carnival news: Did you know the celebrated waffle cone was invented at the St. Louis World Fair in 1904? I remember learning from relatives that the fair housed a waffle stand next to an ice cream stand, and that when the ice cream stand ran out of dishes, the vendors started scooping ice cream into folded waffles. That’s not exactly how this New York Times article says it happened, but … pretty close! “No plates. No spoons. It was a revelation.”