Skilo Concession at Palisades Park

Hello, Vin,

I'm 65 now but my memories of Palisades Park are embedded in my mind till this day. I lived in North Bergen, NJ, and my very first job was at Palisades Park in 1960. I was sixteen and worked a couple of stands down from the roller coaster ride in a concession called "SKILO." SKILO was really Bingo in disguise -- same type of cards, same 80 numbers, same win variations. The SKILO hall was large and could accommodate at least a couple of hundred people, although it was always less crowded most of the players were regular senior types who seem to really love the game. Each seat had a box in front of it separated by a small aisle. In each box were 80 smaller square boxes (numbered 1 to 80). The players themselves "selected" the numbers by tossing red rubber, ping-pong sized balls into their box and wherever the ball landed, that was the number. My job was to walk the aisle and hand a player a ball to toss into the box. Whatever the number, I would yell it out and my boss, who sat on a kind of judge's stand situated between two large lighter number boards. He then would shout out the number and make it light up on the board -- just like a Bingo parlor.

I did this for two seasons and the pay was actually pretty good --$75 per week. But the real bonus was having free access to Palisades Park. I got to know a lot of people who worked the other concessions and rides and most activities were mine for the taking.

The highlight of my two season stint was the Clay Cole Show. I regularly saw it live and once, when some regulars got delayed, a producer asked me and a friend if we would like to be on the show. That. I believe, was my 15 minutes of fame. On that particular show, Ray Peterson did his classic, “Tell Laura I Love Her.” Now there was a nice man. After the show, he freely mingled with everyone and conversed in an almost shy, but friendly way. I also saw Chubby Checker live introduce “The Twist” on The Clay Cole Show – although at the time I had remembered Hank Ballad’s version a couple of years before and didn’t quite “get” Chubby at the time. Hey, I was sixteen.

Another memory that has stuck with me though the years was “The Clyde Beatty Circus.” My daily job break wanderings brought me there and I got to know a lot of the young circus hands who filled my imagination with stories of travel and adventure in new places. I could easily be a part of that, they said. When I mentioned this to my mother, she nearly went through the roof and wanted me to quit my job. She really didn’t have to worry though. There was something about the odorous air of certain big top chores that definitely did not make me a candidate for running away with the circus. Besides, I worked in the best circus in the world – Palisades Park, New Jersey.

It was a place where I could ride the Cyclone any time I wanted because I knew all the ride operators. It was a place where I could take my lunch hour in the famous swimming pool and roll around in artificial waves and look at girls – and impress the girls I did know outside of the Park’s life by getting them on this ride or that gratis.

Most who worked in the Park had a good sense of Mr. Rosenthal. And, needless to say, also possessed a high respect. I was always in awe of how he just seem to walk around the Park as if evaluating this or that and all without interruption from anyone – except sometimes from my fellow employee, Jimmy Finn, who had this compulsion to walk up to the man and make small talk. And the odd thing was that Mr. Rosenthal would usually oblige. Like me, he was 16 years old. Unlike me, he was sort of a wise guy but it was up to you to prove it. When I asked him what he talked about, he say things like, “I told Mr. Rosenthal the Ferris Wheel seemed to be squeaking a bit and if he would like me to do something about it?” And when I asked what Mr. Rosenthal had said, he laughed that inside laugh of his and replied, “He said, ‘just keep listening, son, but don’t do it on company time.” I guess big shots were different back then.


Best wishes,

Alan Holder