Charles Phillips: Playland at the Beach

My memories of Playland at the Beach date from the early '60s, when I first arrived in San Francisco. It was my habit, as I roamed the country, to take bus tours of the cities I visited before starting to look for work.

The Gray Line Tour covered all the usual points of interest, but as we drove past Playland, we were cautioned against going there. Later, after getting a job and a place to live, some guys from work asked me to join them one evening to check out the action at Playland. I went with them and the Grey Line guide was right. The place was seedy, smelly and even a bit sinister.

It's been hard for me to understand how so many of the people I've met over the last 40 years have such fond memories of that grisly dank place.

People tell me about throwing birthday parties for their kids at Playland, saying "It only cost me 75 cents a head and the kids had a lot of fun," or they reminisced about going there on double dates and riding the Big Dipper, visiting the Fun House and eating Bull Pup enchiladas before heading home.

One fellow I know, who lives on 30th Avenue in the Richmond District, told me how he used to take his son and his friends out for a walk to Ocean Beach and on the way back they would stop at the fun house so the gang could ride the slides. He says he carried pockets full of band aids to treat their scrapes. He loved it. He and the kids had fun.

Another friend remembers being terrified by the mechanical woman Laughing Sal at the age of 8.

That crescent of land at Ocean Beach near the Cliff House has been home to a variety of amusement parks and other attractions since 1884. First, there was the Ocean Beach Pavilion. Then the Looft Brothers came along, and in 1912 they built Loofts' Hippodrome, where they installed a magnificent carousel that was built by their father.

In 1922, the Big Dipper roller coaster and the Chutes At The Beach debuted.

But it was George Whitney who put Playland At The Beach on the map. He, together with his brother Leo, starting with a photo-finishing concession and built the Playland empire.

In 1926, Whitney became general manager of the enterprise known as Whitney's Playland at the Beach. By 1942, through a series of shrewd business moves and hard work, he extended his realm all the way to Fulton Street. During the '30s, '40s and into the '50s, Playland had its heyday. This is the time many people remember.

With the It's It, Topsys Roost, Fun House, Dodger Cars and Loop the Loop ride, it must have been great fun. Walt Disney certainly thought so. He came to San Francisco for a series of meetings with Whitney. In fact, Disney hired one of Whitney's sons for his "imagineering" department.

But during the '50s things began to go downhill. By 1960, the Big Dipper was gone and in 1966 a mysterious fire destroyed the Sutro Baths that were already undergoing demolition. By 1968, Whitney was no longer operated the facility and police raids, drug busts and biker battles kept folks away. In 1972 it closed forever.

But you can't keep a good nostalgiacs down. The carousel ended up at Yerba Buena Gardens, Laughing Sal went to the Santa Cruz Boardwalk and the Musee Mechanique moved to the Cliff House and then to Pier 45 at Fisherman's Wharf.

Over in El Cerrito a clever chap named Richard Tuck has committed himself to bringing back the fun he and so many other people remember. Tuck and his dedicated band of volunteers have been working for the last three years on "Playland Not At The Beach," a museum celebrating San Francisco's Playland and other bygone amusement parks.

Tuck is one of those kids who spent some of his birthdays at Playland in the '50s. He fell in love with the place and never forgot the fun he had. After graduating from college, he became an English Teacher and a skilled amateur magician. Later, he began collecting amusement park memorabilia and turned his home into "It Must Be Magic" - a showcase for his collections and his magic.

As many as 3,000 visitors a year joined in the fun. He also started a head-hunting firm now know as Lander International. When he decided to get his scattered offices under one roof, a creative real estate agent worked with him to purchase a defunct grocery store building on San Pablo Avenue in El Cerrito.

Tuck proceeded to move in many of his collections, and people started to come by to see them and drop off artifacts that they thought might interest him. He and his friends threw parties for disadvantaged youths, community outreach organizations and even homeless grandmothers. Everyone was enjoying themselves.

Now Tuck and his friends are on the threshold of the grand opening of the "Playland Not At The Beach" museum. Exhibits include tributes to Playland's thrill rides and there's the Marcks Family Miniature Circus, with more than 300,000 hand carved wooden pieces depicting the Sells Floto Circus of the '30's. Playland arcade features are there, including The Cat Rack, Skeeball and Pokerino games. There's even a Laughing Sal replica in a specially-made glass case to greet visitors and a huge mural by Dan Fontes, Ed Cassel and other talented and dedicated artists.

As Master of Fun, Tuck knows the non-profit museum will never be completed, but he is hoping there will soon be a grand opening.

For more information or to donate Playland memorabilia, call Tuck at (510) 4264, ext 25.