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the haunted swing It was the scariest ride in the world By Richard Bauman
T
oward the end of the 20th century and into the 21st century, there was a lot of hoopla about “virtual reality.” Computer scientists, using electronic wizardry, could trick human minds into believing they were experiencing some daring or exciting activity when in reality they were just hooked up to a computer. Alfred Pitzer never heard of computers or virtual reality, yet in 1908 he designed an amusement ride called the “Haunted Swing” that was a kind of virtual reality. It was so bizarre and unnatural that most people who rode the swing wouldn’t take a second ride. Yet it was one of the safest rides ever built. Pitzer introduced his Haunted Swing at the 1909 Midwinter Fair in San Francisco, Calif. He promised that anyone willing to pay the 25-cent admission would experience the wondrous sensation of weightlessness. Those who dared to ride the Haunted Swing came away convinced Pitzer had made good his promise. One hundred-plus years ago the idea of weightlessness was a foreign concept to everyone. Airplanes were in their infancy. High speed automobiles were just a dream. Space travel was pure fantasy. And here was Pitzer offering the chance to experience something out of this world. Patrons got their first inkling of what lay ahead as they waited in a darkened hallway for their turn to ride the Haunted Swing. They could hear shrieks of fear seeping through the darkness from those riding the swing. A few minutes after the screams subsided, a man appeared at the ride’s entrance and told them the ride was not for the weak-hearted, or those prone to fainting. He advised such persons to leave and get their money back. Pulling back a curtain, and sliding open a door a few feet beyond, he ushered 16 people into what looked like a small room that could easily have been anyone’s parlor of that period.
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Common household items and furnishings filled the room. There were large paintings on the walls, a baby carriage with a blanket tossed casually over its handle was in one corner. Along another wall was a bookcase partially filled with books. A small table occupied another corner of the room draped in a heavy tablecloth. A lighted lamp sat on it. There was an open book, too. Dozens of other objects filled the room including a high-backed chair and even a small organ. There were delicate lace curtains over the windows, and rich carpeting covered the floor. The one odd thing in the room was the Haunted Swing. A huge cylindrical beam stretched between two walls of the room, midway between ceiling and floor. Nearly a foot in diameter, it was polished to a mirror finish. Suspended from the beam by four, 2-inch diameter iron rods was a rowboat-like contrivance with four bench seats. Riders must have wondered what could be so terrifying about all of this? After seating everyone in the swing, the attendant gave a little speech. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, almost breathlessly, “you are now about to embark on one of the strangest journeys mortal man has ever undertaken. Let me assure you that the swing is perfectly safe as long as you sit back and relax.” With a note of forewarning in his voice, he went on: “If anyone should try to jump out of the swing, that would be a different matter. May I caution you to hold tight to the children. And now, I bid you adieu. You will enter an enchanted land in which the law of gravity has been repealed.” He flashed the riders a smile, bowed, and walked to the rear of the swing. He gave it a strong, steady shove. Like all swings set in motion it began moving in pendulum fashion. As he scrambled from the room, closing the door and locking it, the swing began acting strangely. The motion of a swing diminishes when there’s no force to keep it going. Not the Haunted Swing. It did just the opposite. On one backward sweep it shot several feet further toward the ceiling. On the forward swing, it went even higher. There were no restraining devices such as safety belts or even hand grips. The riders simply sat on wooden benches—seemingly free to fall should the swing go too high. With each back and forth cycle, it climbed higher and higher. In dream-like slow motion, it would reach its zenith of movement, hang for an instant, then the cycle would begin again. At each pause, screams of panic filled the tiny room. Riders were sure they were about to fall from their seats.