“What A Dream!”
A Short Story by William Raymond Hicks
Copyright 2012 William Raymond Hicks & Elizabeth Emily Hicks
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Cover design by William Raymond Hicks
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Prologue
Coney Island
By Joseph Hicks
Was there ever a place as magical as the Coney Island of long ago?
Long before there was a Disneyland, and long before there was a Las Vegas,
there was Coney Island.
"Good Ole Coney Island" it was called.
Although many people preferred to call it "Sodom by the Sea,”
in quite a disdainful manner.
It was the place where all of America, indeed, all the world, came to play.
What in the world is a coney, you ask?
A coney is a rabbit, very prevalent on the island way back when;
way back when it really was an island;
before the river that separated it from the rest of Brooklyn was filled in.
The modern day roller coaster debuted there, back in 1884.
And the hot-dog too! Right around the same time.
Let's not forget the modern day Amusement Park was born there,
with all the joy those places bring.
Was it the majestic Statue of Liberty that immigrants first saw as their
ships brought them into New York Harbor and a new home?
Or Ellis Island or the magnificent New York skyline?
No, it was none of these.
It was the bright, dazzling lights of Coney Island that they first saw,
there at the southernmost end of Brooklyn.
Thousands, if not millions of lights, a virtual fairyland of lights.
And the roar of the roller coaster, the happy sounds of the carousels,
and the joyful screams of the happy visitors were probably the first
sounds they heard as well.
What a wonderful way to be welcomed to your new country!
There was Luna Park, which succeeded Sea Lion Park,
And Steeplechase Park - "Steeplechase, The Happy Place!"
And of course, Dreamland, the grandest and most spectacular of them all.
Dreamland - painted all a bright, gleaming white, and festooned with thousands
upon thousands of lights.
What made Coney Island so magical?
What was the secret of its enormous appeal?
The answer is simple, but nonetheless true:
It was a place to have fun.
Wonderful, unbridled fun.
It was teeming with roller coasters,
and carousels, Shoot the Shoots, Tunnels of Love.
Whips, Scooters, Scenic Railways and Fun Houses.
Scary Dark Rides and Mirror Mazes.
Cotton Candy, Nathan's Famous Hot Dogs, ice cream and popcorn.
Guess Your Weight concessions, Shooting Galleries, Penny Arcades and
huge Bamboo Slides.
Bumper Cars, Ferris Wheels and the famous Parachute Drop,
and the equally famous "Wonder Wheel.”
And so much more.
Glorious sounds, intoxicating smells,
and lights, everywhere lights.
And a wide sandy beach, and a beautiful boardwalk.
Pure, unadulterated, unapologetic fun.
A place to let yourself go, to be a child again.
A place to throw propriety and decorum to the wind.
Go ahead. Laugh out loud, squeal with delight.
For just today, it's okay.
Tomorrow we'll get serious,
when we get home we'll fret and worry.
Today we're at Coney Island
- the original "Happiest Place on Earth."
If I had a time machine
I'd have it take me back to the heyday of that colorful, happy and
magical place,
Coney Island by the Sea…
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My brother, Joe, emailed me a poem that he wrote which he titled “Coney Island.” I found it to be very well written and an interesting read, and thought about it as I drifted off to sleep that night. I opened my eyes to find myself lying on a wide sandy beach. It was sunny and warm and I could hear pleasant music playing and joyful screams in the distance. I could also hear the cry of seagulls nearby. The air tasted salty and a breeze blowing off the ocean licked my face. I turned to see Joe standing before me, blocking the sun with a happy, childish look on his face. “Welcome to “Good Ole Coney Island! Or aka Joe’s World!” he said. “Is this a dream?” I asked him, “It seems so vivid!” He just continued to smile and replied, “Let’s go have some fun!” as he held out some antique-looking coins. “I got them last week,” Joe said, and he was off…”Come on!” I followed, passing several fully clad people on the beach. Joe and I, on the other hand, had bare feet and wore T-shirts and running shorts.
People seemed to be in their own little worlds and too preoccupied with what they were doing to notice us…either that or too polite. The men wore top hats and three-piece suits of earth tones, and most had facial hair of some kind of varying lengths. The women wore big fancy hats and full-length dresses, mostly whites and pastels in hue, and their hair was pulled up under their hats. The boys more or less dressed like the men and the girls like the women. All of the folks carried themselves very well and every move they made seemed perfectly calculated. Some people wore beach attire and yet it covered most of their skin. They all seemed to be having a good time, although their outer gestures and mannerisms remained quite reserved most of the time, as if they all had images to uphold. Even the children, who looked as if they wanted to burst, were very well behaved, out of fear of the consequences I deduced.
I took in the surroundings while catching up to Joe. What first caught my eye was the Statue of Liberty. It wasn’t green, but rather copper in color. The statue and gold-plated flame of the torch both reflected the sunlight…they held me spellbound. Joe told me that the statue currently functions as a lighthouse. The air was so clear that I knew I could see the smallest ship on the horizon. I took a deep breath, and even though it tasted salty, it felt like mountain air…it was rejuvenating! The skyline was magnificent but the Statue of Liberty still towered above it. The music was much louder now and even Joe, who collected old records, didn’t recognize most of the songs being played.
We reached the beautiful boardwalk where a middle-aged man sat on a bench with one leg crossed over the other while he smoked on a pipe. He quickly glanced up from what he was reading and looked at us. His eyes seemed to look through us, then focused on us, looked us up and down and then moved back to his newspaper. I noticed the front page read “First Modern Olympics in Athens.” I turned to Joe and he said, “There haven’t been Olympics in fifteen hundred years since banned by Roman Emperor Theodosius I.” The man checked his pocket watch and resumed reading as other passers-by looked at us askance.
We both noticed a wooden sign that read “Shoes Required on Boardwalk.” The boardwalk was bare wood with splinters so it was probably a good idea. The boards looked pretty new but some were oddly shaped with knots and squeaked beneath our feet. I could actually smell the wood. Most of the women did not make eye contact, I noticed, but the men looked at us like we were actors or part of a circus act, especially Joe who is about six feet, two inches tall. The majority of people were shorter, smaller and thinner than Joe and I are. Some of the upper class ladies, however, had some meat on their bones and caught the eyes of the passing men. These women received more obvious attention and exaggerated hat tipping. The people were clearly American but their European ancestry was easy to detect in their facial features. The dialects we heard were also noticeably peculiar.
Joe gestured us toward an open clothing store. We walked inside and could instantly smell leather, textiles, cotton and wool. This town had a rustic and rural feel even though we were clearly in the city. We each located some leather shoes and wool socks our size and Joe looked through his change and paid the gentlemen behind the counter. The man looked curiously at Joe’s “old-looking” money, thanked us very formally, and we left, finding a bench to put on our new socks and shoes. We looked pretty dorky but it was time to hit some attractions! Joe and I passed a penny arcade and couldn’t resist spending a few pennies by dropping them in the newly polished metal, wood and glass machines. After that we rode a Merry-go-round. The wooden horses looked freshly painted and I could still smell the paint and see brush strokes. Joe told me that the Merry-go-round was invented by the Persians to practice jousting. We always enjoy a good Merry-go-round!
Of course we rode some dark rides, went through some funhouses and laughed until our stomachs ached. Other folks laughed too but they reacted to our laughing like we had lost our minds. They had more self-control but you could see the life coming back to their eyes – eyes that had seen a lot of hard work, eyes hardened from tough yet simple lives. This place must have indeed seemed like a magical fairyland to them! I overheard one man telling another that he had taken the trolley to get there and the other said he had taken a stagecoach. One smelled of tobacco smoke, the other like road dust. Yes, there was definitely a rural feel here.
We were manhandled as we rolled out of a funhouse to make room for those tumbling out behind us in their full suits and dresses. Funny how we didn’t mind, that’s just the way it was – you get out of the way or you were moved out of the way! People here were proper but very practical. Laughs and squeals were automatic and involuntary from most as they let go of propriety and decorum. It felt like the wild west in that we felt more free to do as we pleased – not that there were no laws but almost as if we were expected to help enforce them…whatever “they” were. There definitely seemed to be an unspoken “right” way to do things, but way in the background here.
Working up an appetite, Joe and I found a Nathan’s Hot Dog stand, hot popcorn, fresh lemonade, and a bench upon which to eat them. The hot dogs tasted fantastic as if we had raised and slain the pig ourselves, and the lemonade tasted as if we grew and squeezed our own lemons…talk about a very lucid dream! While savoring our hot dogs, we overheard a couple of gents discussing the Supreme Court ruling in Plessy vs. Ferguson introducing the “separate but equal” doctrine and upholding segregation. At one point, one of the men reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his copy of the Constitution of the United States, printed on an all-natural hemp-like material, and pointed out one of the Articles to the other man. We finished our hot dogs and lemonade and ate our popcorn on the way to a large wooden roller coaster. I could really taste the corn! It’s like we had grown and popped it ourselves!
We hurriedly got in line for the coaster. Finishing the popcorn in line, a man behind us was talking about getting a job at the recently formed New York Telephone Company. The other guy said he worked for a railroad company and mentioned that an Indian skirmish was delaying some new tracks being laid. The man in front of us was reading a newspaper on which I could make out a couple of headlines over his shoulder, such as “Utah is Admitted as the 45th U.S. State,” and “William McKinley defeats William Jennings Bryan in the U.S. Presidential Election.” Again, the smell of tobacco smoke, road dust and horse permeated the air, masked slightly by the strong scent of cologne or aftershave. Joe was visibly excited as we grew nearer to the coaster. He examined the gleaming white-painted crossbeams like an engineer. We were next in line to board but a ride worker split us up.
I was seated next to a young woman who appeared both rigid and frigid. She seemed much older than I knew she was. She stared straight ahead and sat as far from me as possible on the seat. Her dress was off-white and slightly frayed on the edges but it was pressed and she was very neat and clean. I could smell her perfume. I surmised that her parents were too old or scared to ride with her. The man in the seat ahead of me wore a thick stitched, well-worn suit, which was not Armani-like but apparently more for play. His hair was perfectly trimmed. His apparent wife sat next to him and was slightly older than the woman next to me and wore more makeup – it was a thicker and paler coat than what I am used to seeing. I looked behind me to see Joe several seats back grinning from ear to ear. After they checked our lap bars and suggested to the riders to please hold onto their hats, glasses and possessions, the cars jerked and started moving forward. It felt more rickety than what I am accustomed to and I could hear gears grinding, chains turning and wood creaking. Joe must be loving this, I thought. “The more rickety the better!” he’d say.
Climbing the first hill I got a clear view of the surrounding city. It looked like an old beach resort town like the way our hometown Manhattan Beach must have looked before it was developed. Chimneys smoked as meals were prepared. Ships grew ever closer on the horizon. At the first drop, the young lady next to me squealed uncontrollably and I could hear Joe scream behind me. Oh what a thrill! I laughed and yelled. I was lost in the moment. Boards creaked and metal wheels rolled loudly over metal tracks. This roller coaster had one purpose: pure, unadulterated, unapologetic fun, as Joe put it! People laughed and shouted as wind rushed past. Time seemed to stand still. Up and down, back and forth, it was great fun! When the ride finally came to a screeching halt, I glanced at the woman next to me. One of her dark brown hairs had fallen out of place and she was smiling and glowing. There was a glint in her pale blue eyes as they peered briefly into mine. She quickly looked away and became more serious, but then our eyes met one last time and we both smiled at one another. She was motionless for a little while and her small coarse, water-dried hands, which had seen many years of physical labor, clutched the metal bar in front of her, before she was asked to leave the car and assisted out by a ride worker. Of course Joe wanted to ride it again.
We rode this, played that, pennies for this, pennies for that. We were having a good ol’ time! Joe bought us some cotton candy, which tasted like pure sugarcane – you got it, like I grew, burned and harvested the sugarcane myself. We ate it while walking the boardwalk and listening to the music and sounds. The lights started to come on as it was getting darker and cooler. I strolled close enough to a light bulb to hear the electricity inside faintly buzzing and crackling to bring the glass bulb to life. Joe pointed out a newspaper stand so we gleaned through a newspaper and read some of the articles. I could smell the ink and paper…it was unreal! “The first X-ray photograph was taken by H.L. Smith, which were originally called Röentgen rays after their Austrian discoverer, Wilhelm Röentgen,” “Dawson Charlie discovers gold in the Klondike,” “Queen Victoria surpasses her grandfather King George III as the longest reigning monarch in British History,” which Joe, a British history buff, concurred, and “Walter Arnold of East Peckham, Kent, England is fined 1 shilling for speeding at 8 mph (13 km/h), thus exceeding the contemporary speed limit of 2 mph (3.2 km/h).”
Coney Island was a faster paced place in a slower paced world dedicated to wonderful, unbridled fun; a slow world but tough – a young boy ran by and fell, dropping his ice cream, but didn’t cry. Joe bought the kid and us ice cream cones. The boy and his parents were very grateful and gracious. The ice cream was thick and creamy – now that was ice cream! Okay, I won’t say that it was like we milked the cow ourselves, et cetera…but it was! We enjoyed it on the way to the very large Ferris Wheel, which had cabins where several people could sit. The thing was grand and the view from the top was spectacular – absolutely breath taking! Joe and I could see millions of lights below, the New York skyline, the harbor, Ellis Island, The Statue of Liberty, the ships closer still. We could see forever to the horizon in the east and undeveloped land to the west, and the sun setting over it. Stopping at the top of the Ferris Wheel and looking out over the sea, all felt right with the world. I breathed in the fresh ocean air and rode around and around – what a joy! We exited the cabin and headed back down the boardwalk toward the beach reminiscing about our day on the Ferris Wheel, Shoot the Shoots, scenic railways, huge Bamboo Slides, and so on…
After riding some bumper cars and trying our skill at the shooting gallery, Joe’s money was all spent, so we stepped onto the sand and removed our shoes and socks. The sand was still warm from its day in the sun but it was rapidly cooling as the night air blanketed it. After a short stroll toward the ocean, we sat next to each other on the sand and watched the old ships - ships with sails, ships with steam stacks, and ships with both, now clearly visible, moving into the harbor toward Ellis Island, bringing immigrants to their new home, welcomed to their new country by the millions of dazzling lights of Coney Island and the joyful screams of its happy visitors, of which Joe and I had just been ourselves. “Thanks, Joe…I had a blast!” I said. Joe just smiled, closed his eyes and began humming a tune. The Statue of Liberty lighthouse guided the ships into the harbor as we contentedly lay back on the cool sand, listening to the distant music and sounds of Coney Island, and the waves lapping against the shore. I relaxed and closed my eyes, smiled, and started humming too…
I awoke in the morning to the voice of my wife, Elise, saying, “Uh, Honey…why are you all…sandy?!”
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Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my brother, Joe, for inspiring me to write this short story by e-mailing me a poem he wrote entitled “Coney Island” published at the beginning of the story with his permission. He has always been interested in boardwalks and amusement parks such as Coney Island, as well as a huge fan of roller coasters, especially wooden ones. His poem and enthusiasm throughout the years finally prompted me to write this story. I would also like to thank Joe and my wife, Elizabeth aka Elise, for helping me with the editing. Thanks to Elise for her constant love, support and encouragement through the years, which has led me to the love of writing. I would also like to thank my family, friends and teachers whose influence on me has given me both the confidence and ability to write. Lastly, thank you to all of you readers who make the activity of writing that much more fulfilling and rewarding!
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About the Author
William Raymond Hicks is a native of Southern California who met his wife, Elizabeth a.k.a. Elise, also a native, through a transformational workshop environment called Lifespring. During much personal growth together, William was inspired to begin painting and writing. He has been journaling and writing his own poems and fiction, of which “What A Dream!” is his first published short story. Both William and Elise were inspired to write Wings, The Journey Home together. They are students of history, psychology, self-empowerment, metaphysics and quantum physics, and their intention is to teach what they have learned in a fun and inspiring way. “Wings” is their first published book together, and they are working on several other books, including a book of poems, short stories, and musings. William is currently working on several more short stories in addition to the novellas that he is working on jointly with Elise.
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