If you ask any kid who grew up in NOLA in the 50s/60s,"what did you do for fun?", there would be several things they might say- but going to Pontchartrain Beach would be right up there at the top. There were swimming pools right on the lake front, what seemed like a HUGE roller coaster called the "Zephyr", rides with names like "Wild Maus", a ferris wheel, merry-go-round, a penny arcade, a gondola called the "Sky Ride", mini-golf, and a great hokey Polynesian restaurant called "Bali Ha'i" complete with tiki drinks and fake leis. My favorite was the hall of mirrors.
The best part was that parents saw absolutely no need to supervise their children. Taking a cue from more primitive cultures, parents got hammered at the Bali Ha'i or other places the kids didn't go, or just dropped kids off, while children needed to adhere to the harsher realities of survival of the fittest. If you were stupid enough to get caught in a piece of moving equipment, there were no lawsuits- just a little pity on the part of people that a child was that dumb that they would stick a finger or toe into a device that could remove it. In a world of no seatbelts, no car seats, DDT mosquito foggers and cigarette smoke, well- what was a little unsupervised run around a crowded amusement park. Parents just didn't BELIEVE their children were in constant danger. SO neither did the kids- thus relieving us of any sense of impending doom- just adventure lurking.
We ran like the proverbial- and meant only in the most complimentary way- wild indians. We were immune to the 95 degree heat. We ate snowballs and candy. My first recording was with Brenda at the record booth in the arcade- we sang a lovely version of "playmate, come out and play with me". Kids would go to "the beach" with anyone who would take them along. If someone was going to the beach, they were automatically your best friend.
As to the ACTUAL beach- it had a sandy beach along what was probably some very polluted water. Some kids were so sensitive to the water that if they went on Sunday, they missed school on Monday - held hostage to the bathroom and the pepto bismol bottle. Swim shoes hadn't been invented yet, so we cut our feet on the billions of tiny oyster shell shards. Sunscreen had not been heard of- the most sensitive children had a dab of zinc oxide on their noses- but the rest was left to chance. I burned and peeled. It was not seen as anything particularly dangerous. Just part of the deal. Like going barefoot all summer- a certain number of nails or tacks would find their way into your feet, and the occasional foot peel be done by hot asphalt. It made your feet tougher. If it was a good day, you could do this in just the parking lot at the beach. It just insured a visit to the public health clinic to get yet another tetanus shot. At some point, a bulkhead was built. I don't really know when- but it was a series of little concrete steps. Maybe Katrina took that too.
The park closed after integration- but some of the rides were relocated to Alabama where hurricane Ivan removed them in 2004. And the internet has a lot of archival photos and essays about the amusement park.
It was fun, and it was certainly one of the most common experiences shared by kids in New Orleans. Before parents felt compelled to document on film every breath of their children at the risk of not living their own lives, before laws and lawsuits ruined childhood as an adventurous time, before children were given everything so that nothing is a treat- there was Pontchartrain Beach.
(I refuse to belabor the fact that it was a whites only beach. I just refuse. When you are a child, you are not responsible for social problems. You are merely a child. I had no idea what Lincoln Beach did. I don't know. But this is a story of a white child. Maybe someone will write about their childhood if they are black. I cannot speak for them.)
