If the Walls Could Talk... "Flying Horses" | No. 03

Flying Horses Carousel was originally built in 1876 in Oak Bluffs, Massachusetts.

Apr 15, 2025

Walls of Circulation

A story from June 22 1971:

The simplicity of a circle, the complexity of a teenager. I examine this contrast from my octagonal slant summer after summer. Every May, the carousel resumes its rotations and every May, a new group of 15-year-olds are hired to man the levers. Their temporary employment lasts no more than 4 months, and for every 4 hour shift they work (in either afternoon or evening, their choice) they’ll hear the carousel’s merry 8-bit theme song about 24 times.

The daily sequence is always the same — smiley tourists, lured in by charm and nostalgia, wait in line as the they watch the carousel carry those ahead of them up and down, round and round. I’ve noticed that while they wait they tend to turn a bit anxious. Children worried about falling off their pony or, even worse, not getting the pony of their choice. Adults sort of embarrassed by their own sentimentality. But when they finally find their friendly seat and the circle starts to move, so do their eyes — genuinely wide open in delight. All of the riders! They are all suddenly awoken by this slow and sweet parade, oblivious to the listless teenage employees standing on that now forgotten, static land they once walked.

Off in the shadows, with shoulders slouched and faces long, are the summer staff. Their wrinkled, oversized cotton polos have “Flying Horses” embroidered over their hearts.

The music fades and the carousel stops. The riders exit happily and dizzily dodge the new ones getting on. It is during this brief interlude of no music where I can hear the teenager’s conversations best.

Tommy: Who came up with this?

Mark: For real, such a gimmick. Would you pay me $5 if I pushed you around in a circle in a Cronig’s shopping cart?

T: Ha! Maybe if you play actual music. My ears hurt.

M: I know, what I would do for some Cool 102.

T: Cape Cod’s Classic Hits, baby. Did you see Joe’s burnt nose?

M: Yeah, what a tourist! Like his mom’s always giving him bottles of that expensive sunscreen too. I just get the cheapo greasy kind. Works though.

T: Same. I wish this carousel would actually move so I could get a breeze. I’m dying.

M: Same. Want to jump off the bridge when we’re done with work?

T: Dude, it’s going to be dark.

M: Dude! No tourists then! You know that. Plus, it’s the longest day of the year.

T: True…

M: You afraid? I swear I only saw that shark once. It was far! Kinda, haha.

T: No, I’m not afraid. I’m just tired. This scene is putting me to sleep.

M: Same.

After their shift was over I watched Tommy and Mark go to the wooden bench near the crosswalk and just sit there for over an hour. I guess they didn’t find the motivation to jump off the bridge or get pushed around in a cart after all, they just wanted to hang out — picking at their nails, wiping windswept hair from their face, staring off at large families trying to figure their way around the “downtown” of Oak Bluffs. Then every so often, I saw them look back at me. Me and my Flying Horses, effortlessly at ease within the glow of incandescent lights and varnished paint.

As time moved through the foggy salt air, I watched as a slow softness rolled over their teenage malaise and they too, finally, got carried away.