Linwood Park Branch Library, Wichita, KS

I don't know the south side of Wichita. In fact, it is only through my recent explorations of the city that I've come to have a better understanding of the south part of town at all. Even though we lived on the south side after we returned from Texas, that was nearly 40 years ago and my memory is shoddy at best. There is one thing Wichitans who were kids from the late 1940s up to the early aughts associate with the south side of Wichita: Joyland. Unfortunately, the owners could not make it work and let the park run to rot until they finally, just recently, tore most of it down. I drove by a couple of months ago to see the sign--because the sign was up for many, many years after the park closed for good--but it was gone, and it was as though that wonderful, terrifying place had never been there at all.

If you didn't grow up regularly visiting a haunted amusement park, I'm sorry. Sucks to be you. But if you did, you know. You know. Surely there are plenty of these old monsters lurking about the country, with their rigged games, hot lights, and lead painted, technicolor carnival art--leaping lions, spotted clowns, hot pink candy clouds--all drenched in rich buttered popcorn aromas and simmering in a steamy, summer haze. There's the old fairway, with the kiddie rides all the same variety of cars in a loop, boats in a loop, trucks in a loop, graduating to the carousel, Ferris wheel, tilt-a-whirl. Around the perimeter of Joyland you'd find the forever broken water ride (which I never rode, it was literally always broken), bumper cars, and the Wacky Shack, which shouldn't have been scary, but was because even though it was kind of babyish, it seemed put together by someone with Seriously Bad Intentions. On the other end of the park was the tall slide and the rollercoaster, a wickedly good ride made all the more exciting because it swayed--just a bit--and no, it was not supposed to do that. 

But what people remember about Joyland--when they forget the rides, the treats, the train around the park--is what greeted you when you first walked in, over the bridge, and could not avoid, and dared not to in case He noticed and Took Offense...and perhaps decided to Visit You in the Night. Louie. Say it with me. Loooouuiiieee. Louie was a terrible, terrible mechanical clown that sat at a huge, Wurlitzer and "played" music for all the children to enjoy and dream about later, much later, In the Night. Louie is a shared nightmare for many Wichitans, and as soon as Joyland comes up in conversation, the next mention--always, always--is remember that goddamned scary ass clown? Because we all remember. 

Louie had a checkered life, spending most of it scaring the piss out of tiny children, only to fall into a bad crowd after Joyland went bust. He was found at the home of a known sex offender, a stolen prize, and has allegedly been returned to his rightful owners. If we're at all lucky, they've locked him in a box and put him in the same warehouse as the Ark of the Covenant. Don't hold your breath. He's out there. Waiting.

These are the sort of haunted, happy thoughts I have whenever I venture to the south side, but it was an altogether unexpected blast from the past that shook me out of my merry memories as I approached the south side's Linwood Branch Library to pick up the copy of The Force Awakens being held for me. Joyland could never be as terrifying as the jolting memory of junior high school. Especially if you served your time at Horace Mann Middle School, may it burn in hell for all eternity. The Linwood Library's outer foyer is decorated in the same jazzy, late 70s, early 80s "racing stripes" style as Horace Mann's hallways used to be--an aesthetic that would remind most of those groovy Hot Wheels track sets under the plastic Christmas tree, or perhaps dad's old Adidas running pants. It was a Thing, a "vibe," back in the day.

The interior of Horace Mann tried desperately to evoke a sense of lively fun, but for me it was always a place of darkness and despair. Those bright oranges and yellows racing up and down the walls could not cure the sick pit in my stomach as I waited for the next insult or assault. Gotta tell ya: I am viciously, unsympathetically GLAD that schools have gotten serious, unwavering, and extremely harsh about kids laying hands on other kids in school. I wish it was because they cared about kids' well being, but I'd guess it's more about lawsuits than anything. Wrangling children is hard--I wouldn't elect to do it, and for those who have the calling and respect the responsibility, you have my sincere gratitude--but you don't get to turn your back and say "kids will be kids" or, worse, "boys will be boys." Fucking Horace Mann, I'm glad they razed you. Too bad they put up a new building on the soiled land, but at least it isn't the same, dank structure housing all those unhappy memories.

ANYWAY, it's the past. But sometimes the past sneaks up on you in the weirdest ways, like when you are visiting the library to pick up a DVD and see something that takes you back to the way, way back and you have to--at the very least--make a stinkface at it. Which I did. It also made me wonder if the same designer/painter was responsible for both--like was there a rash of Hot Wheelian murals all over Wichita back in the 70s? I'm pretty sure I've seen it elsewhere around town, though in more muted dark blues and such--something that would not yank me back to 1985 and give me instant cold sweats.

Linwood Park Library is actually just one part of the larger Linwood Center, which also offers fitness facilities, meeting and event rooms, and senior services. The library had plenty of patrons on the day I visited, even in the middle of a weekday, and there were people coming and going from other parts of the facility, as well. The whole center is well overdue for a face lift, there's no getting around that, but aesthetics aside, Linwood clearly serves a vital purpose to the community around it. I think the south side has always been the forgotten part of Wichita--most revitalization is downtown, as you'd presume--so I wouldn't expect any work to be done on the Linwood Center or library anytime soon.

Library staff had The Force Awakens waiting for me at the front desk and proved just as friendly and engaging as all other staff I've encountered since recommencing my Wichita library relationship. Despite the fact that the overall aesthetics had launched me back to the bad old days--by the time I entered the facility, it might as well have been Horace Mann, and I was convinced the library looked just like the one in my old middle school (probably not, but the mind, once kicked, gallops)--I still had presence of mind to be charmed by the old school periodical protectors (yikes) and the local artwork adorning the walls.* And really, what does it matter if one particular patron is triggered? It doesn't--and I'd actually advocate for keeping that weirdo wall out in the hall because where else would you see such a thing? In movies? Serpico? Xanadu?

Oh! Heavenly Dog?

But maybe get them some new periodical protectors. I remember those from the creaky, scary old Watson Library days. Talk about funhouse memories...

*CORRECTION: I was mixing memories of Linwood with Evergreen library, a branch I will write about soon. Triple Yikes on me, it seems, though this means I have nothing more to say about Linwood except...best of luck in your future endeavors.