“The Attic” was a file that Jack created to store all of his rejected ideas for rides and attractions. Many of them were concepts from his original contest proposal that he’d removed from Americana as he reworked it before Charles began his crazy idea to actually build Jack’s park, and a few of them were so early that they actually predated his final proposal in the theme park website contest. Others were more recent rejects- ideas that he liked, but that nobody else did and that he’d been convinced- or occasionally badgered- into removing from consideration for Americana. Some were carefully described rides, with photos of similar attractions, sketches and even rough blueprints that Jack or someone on the rapidly-growing support staff of the design team had created.
A few were little more than notes scribbled on the back of a piece of scrap paper, and some were so poorly written that Jack himself couldn’t translate his writing. Those might have been middle-of-the-night brainstorms that he woke up from, jotted the idea down so that he wouldn’t forget it, then went back to sleep. The next morning, he had no idea what the scribbled note meant. He hoped it wasn’t a brilliant idea that would never come to fruition because he couldn’t read his own late-night chicken-scratching or didn’t remember what sleep-obscured idea the apparently random words were intended to trigger.
Jack secretly admitted to himself that there really was no organization to The Attic file. He usually just stuffed the ideas in the front of the file with the intention of going through them and getting them sorted out in a logical manner. Perhaps the fact that the ideas and concepts at the back of the file were the oldest ideas was as close to organization as it would ever have achieved- that is if Alex hadn’t chosen today as the day to try and organize Jack’s filing cabinet, and Sid hadn’t chosen that moment to send his email demanding that Jack decide what would be going into the middle of Americana 1900.
Two hours later the Attic file had been carefully organized- and Century Plaza had been created. Jack and Alex had turned the disorganized mess of papers, photographs and drawings into five distinct piles. One pile was for ideas that were just plain untranslatable. They consisted of those random or illegible words that Jack had scribbled down but for some reason had relegated to the Attic; the second pile was for ideas and concepts that were just plain bad ideas, either completely impractical, impossible, or blatant copies of other attractions at other parks. They even discovered three instances where Jack had created the same bad idea for a ride over and over, and Jack had no memory of any of them. “That might have been when I had the flu,” he tried to claim as an excuse. The third stack was for concepts that weren’t necessarily bad, but wouldn’t fit into a Township where the overriding theme was visual movement and kinetic energy. At the beginning of their creation of Century Plaza, Jack and Alex agreed that every ride and attraction had to be a primarily outdoor experience. It had to have movement that was visible to everyone strolling through the Township, and such historically important attractions as Laff-in-the-Dark or the Tunnel of Love were, by their very nature, indoor dark rides. There might be a place for them somewhere else in the park, possibly sometime in the future, but not right then and not in Century Plaza.
The fourth stack was what Jack and Alex began calling the “second string” attractions. These were rides that could work in Century Plaza, but they weren’t the best fit. Perhaps they could be rethought, improved somehow, but they weren’t Jack's first choice. One attraction in this group caused more contention between Jack and Alex than any other ride in the Attic file- the Scenic Spiral Wheel, also called “The Top.” This was a strange, unique roller coaster that, as far as they could find doing any sort of research, only existed at Coney Island in New York for a few years. It rotated and rolled around on a circular track, like a spinning dime just before it stopped spinning. It looked exciting, terrifying...and according to what little documentation was available, was also not popular with the crowds, and nobody would ever say why. Jack wanted it, but Alex insisted that there must be a reason why it was not popular and didn’t feel that they were in a position to experiment with something that might have a hidden flaw in its design or experience. He wanted to put it in the third pile, the “maybe someday” pile. Jack wanted it in the final stack, the “definitely include” stack. They compromised and put it on the “second string” list, but Jack insisted that it go on the top of that list.
The final stack contained the attractions that they both felt were perfect for Century Plaza. They didn’t want to overfill the Township with ‘stuff.” They wanted it to look impressive, exciting, visually magnificent, elegant- they actually made a list of words that were important to remember as they turned this vast, empty space, surrounded by every other Township in Americana 1900, into the heart and soul of the park. The sketch they finally scribbled onto a sheet of printer paper, as rough and amateurish as it was, told them that they had created just such a place.
Rising from the center of the Township, and thus standing in the middle of Americana 1900, was the elusive icon that Jack had been searching for- the three-hundred-foot tall Americana Wonder Wheel, a cross between the original Ferris Wheel from the 1893 Chicago world’s fair and the Coney Island Wonder Wheel, an “eccentric” Ferris Wheel where some of the cabins slide on tracks between the rim of the wheel and the central hub. It would be, in essence, two rides in one- the sedate cabins on the rim, which would offer breathtaking views of the surrounding park countryside, while the “sliders” would provide a thrilling experience as they slid back and forth as the massive wheel rotated.
“This kills two birds with one stone,” Jack said.
“How?” Alex asked.
“Originally I was going to have the Chicago wheel in the middle of The Pike, but everyone said it was too big and would block the view of the buildings. I wanted the Wonder Wheel in the middle of State Fair, but it took up too much room and we’d have to scrap having a lot of other rides in that space, so they both ended up in the Attic file.”
“Plus you’d have had two big Ferris wheels basically side-by-side,” Alex observed. “This way you get to have both, and you get your icon as a bonus.”
Four other rides surrounded the wheel, one in each of the four quadrants that Century Plaza would be divided into by wide pedestrian walkways. The southeast quadrant would be totally occupied by the Virginia Reel, which was a once-popular style of roller coaster very similar to a wild mouse, with round cars that rotated as they traversed the back-and-forth track down an artificial hillside. After reaching the bottom, they disappeared inside the framework of the ride, into a dark-ride portion that held some sort of scary scene that would make the Virginia Reel a completely unique ride experience, unlike anything else in the world.
The northeast quadrant would have two features- a restaurant overlooking some beautiful gardens, and a ride that resembled a carousel, but instead of having beautifully-carved horses it would be filled with a collection of steampunk-inspired mechanical transportation devices- airplanes with propellers powered by foot pedals operated by the passengers, steel hot-air balloons with man-powered wings, submarines that moved through the air like fish- all inspired by a unique French carousel ride that Jim saw in a video. Alex even discovered a name for the ride, the “Turn of the Century,” scribbled on a scrap piece of paper mixed in with a totally different proposal in the file.
“Ford’s Model-T Road Rally,” filled the northwest quadrant. A traditional drive-it-yourself car track, but with a variety of Model-T cars and other period Ford vehicles that would be driven by guests through a model town of 1900 and the surrounding countryside. The thing that would make this attraction unique from other similar driving rides is that the cars would be as close to their original size as possible, and almost every car would be from a different model year, different style and different color. The only modifications would be that there would be extensions for the foot pedals and raised seats for younger, shorter drivers- and seat belts would be required to keep the insurance people happy. Computer controls would also be used, to prevent accidental (or intentional) rear-end collisions from occurring.
“Why specifically Ford?” Alex asked.
“Because Charles told me- in confidence- that he’s working on getting Ford as a corporate sponsor. Nothing official yet, if you know what I mean.”
“I understand, Boss.”
The fourth attraction was probably Jack’s least favorite, but he had to admit that it would add a truly unique form of kinetic energy to the Township. At first they didn’t have a name for it, but it would be similar to the Dumbo ride at Disneyland, which Jack told Alex was called an “aerial carousel”, something that Alex wondered if Jack had just made up. It would be similar, but instead of flying elephants, it would have actual historically-inspired airplanes for “pilots” to operate as they spun around a central column. Alex suggested that the planes be able to not only fly around and move up and down, but also piston towards and away from the central column, possibly turn slightly and even roll a bit, just like a real airplane.
Jack thought about Alex’s suggestion for a moment, then said, “You’re right. It needs to have something to make it different from other airplane spinner rides- or flying elephants or flying dinosaurs like they have at Disney World.”
“Pterodactyls flew,” Alex stated, not really being sure what Jack was talking about.
“Yea, but Triceratops didn’t, and that’s what Disney used in Animal Kingdom,” Jack said with obvious distaste.
“Flying Triceratops,” Alex said, sharing his disgust. “That’s just not right.” At that moment, Alex and Jack looked at each other, and they both got the same idea. Alex grabbed his computer, searched for “Wright airplanes” and discovered that there were several different designs by the Wright brothers, not just the first, most famous “Wright Flyer” that hangs in the Smithsonian. They could have a variety of Wright brothers-designed flyers for guests to pilot, and thus the “Wright Flyers” in Century Plaza got its name.
One last feature that Jack was excited to be able to include was a massive floral clock, inspired by one he discovered in photographs from the St. Louis World’s Fair of 1904. He commented that along with the clock having massive hands that would tell the time of day, there would be a floral display showing the date and month of the year that would be changed daily- but that the year would always be “1900.”
“Nice touch, boss,” Alex said. He then looked at the crudely-drawn map and said, “I see a problem.”
“What’s that?” Jack said.
“The Ferris Wheel stands right in the middle of everything, and people trying to go between Maple Grove and Courthouse Square on Maple Grove Road will have to walk all the way around the wheel. It’ll be a bottleneck.”
Jack looked at it for a few moments, then said, “Not if we build a pedestrian underpass beneath the wheel so that they can just walk underneath it.”
“Great idea!” Alex said as Jack drew an arrow with a label on the map indicating the underpass under the Americana Wonder Wheel. They looked at the map, examining everything they’d added, looking for something major that they’d missed. They knew that there would be lots of details to be added- park benches, locations of flowerbeds and lawns, trashcans, but those details were for different people to decide. There were already dozens of skilled artists, technicians, craftspeople and designers that were creating the blueprints needed to support the work of the senior design team. This poorly-sketched map before them was just the linchpin, the keystone needed to tie the rest of the park together.
“It’s missing something,” Jack said, looking at the map. Alex was almost afraid to ask, but he did.
“What’s missing?”
Jack looked at the map, then at a rough map of the rest of Americana 1900 that they’d been referring to often, mostly to be sure that they had all the roads connecting to each other.
“Can you resize our map so that it fits inside the rest of the park?” Jack asked.
“Sure, give me a minute.” Alex took their sketch and the other map and went out to his office. In a few minutes he came back with a scanned version of their map that would fit into the empty space in the center of the master plan for the rest of the park. He laid it in place, and before them they saw the complete design of Americana 1900, with the central Township, Century Plaza, now in place. Jack stood over it in silence. He examined it, turned it around so that he had looked at it from all directions, then rushed over to his desk computer. He typed something into it, but Alex couldn’t see what he was looking for, or what he quickly found.
“Yes! That’s it,” he said almost proudly, then came back to the conference table and, picking up a pencil that they'd used to add details to the map, drew four long, skinny triangles away from the wonder wheel, one pointing down each street. He drew an “N,” “S,” “E” and “W” at the point of each triangle.
“That’s what it needed,” Jack said proudly. “A compass rose.”
Alex looked at it, smiled a bit, nodded his head, then said, “There’s one problem.”
“What?” Jack asked, looking confused and a bit surprised that Alex wasn’t bowled over by his brilliant addition.
“You put the wrong directions on the map,” he said. “You were looking at the map upside down.”
Jack looked at it again, quietly and disgustedly said, “damn” and erased the letters, putting them in the right place. He showed the map to Alex and almost challengingly said, “There. Happy?”
“Yes, boss,” Alex said calmly, “I’m happy. Charles and Sid will be, too. It’d suck if we built the entire park backward.”
Jack looked at him for a moment, stunned, then they both broke out in laughter.
When they stopped laughing, Jack said, “Now, get one of those hot-shot architects to draw this up properly. He’s got until tomorrow afternoon to get it done so I can show it off to Sid and the rest of the team. It doesn’t have to be perfect, and there will probably be lots of details changed before we start building, but I need something to show off to the others.”
“Will do, Boss, and don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get a chance to proofread it before the meeting. I’ll also get some copies made of this in case someone accidentally dumps their coffee on it.”
“Don’t give them the original!” Jack said.
“Boss,” Alex said, sounding almost hurt, “I know better than that. The originals always get archived. We never know- Americana 1900 might end up being important someday,” and with a wink, Alex took the original rough, heavily-erased and corrected sketch of Century Plaza into his office to get the copies made.
Jack wondered if Alex was teasing him or being serious.
Century Plaza was a hit with everyone on the design team, especially with Lorrayne. Some of it she dismissed as adequate, if still entertaining, but the Virginia Reel and the Turn of the Century captivated her. She was familiar with the elaborate mechanical carousels in France that had inspired the Turn of the Century, and the Virginia Reel’s integration of a nearly-forgotten type of coaster with a dark ride sparked her imagination. When David saw the Century Plaza concept, he also expressed interest in working on the Virginia Reel. Lorrayne was at first almost protective of the concept, but when David offered both imaginative ideas for the dark ride portion and a willingness to learn from her about the unique side-friction coaster technology required (he admitted he’d never heard of side-friction before), she decided to take him on as “her apprentice,” as she worded it. David didn’t really care what she called him- he just wanted to learn about this new/old type of coaster and to work on it with her.
Sid noticed a problem that Jack hadn’t expected.
“Do you want to use true north or magnetic north?” he asked Jack.
“Oh, no,” Jack almost moaned. “Why?”
“Because right now, based on where we've been planning on building the park, your compass rose is about seventeen degrees off, give or take a few degrees.”
“You mean the park is crooked?” Jack asked.
“It will be, unless we turn it seventeen degrees,” Sid said.
“Give or take a few degrees,” David said, trying not to chuckle at this strange problem. “Well, Jack,” he said, trying to sound serious but failing, “you have a major decision to make. Do you want to use true north or magnetic north? Boy Scouts around the world are waiting for you to decide.”
“Not to mention cartographers,” Blaine tossed in drily, which got everyone chuckling a bit.
“Go ahead and laugh,” Jack said, snickering a bit himself at this unexpected problem. “Sid, can we turn the park so that the points face the right direction?”
“Probably,” he said. “They haven’t started any ground preparation other than clearing some brush and trees, but you’d better decide now before they start digging the sewers.”
“Ok, then let’s turn it to face true north,” Jack said. “I know that magnetic north moves around over time.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to consult feng shui before you make your final decision?” Lorrayne asked sarcastically.
“Feng Shui? Who’s that?” Jack asked innocently.
He had no idea why everyone in the room was laughing.