From the July 16, 1948 edition of the Vineyard Gazette:

The wooden sides of the old “carousel” were opened wide. People of all ages, from the venerable to the tiny infant, sat in the seats along one side. The rippling notes of Harbor Lights came trilling from the mellowed interior of the ancient mechanical piano, which, if on wheels, would be a hurdy-gurdy, and two little girls stepped up to the ticket-seller. They purchased tickets, two each, and waited for the merry-go-round to stop that they might mount the ancient, galloping horses, or seat themselves in an equally ancient chariot.

Chester E. Turnell, himself a man with graying hair, smiled with a humorous understanding that must be a family characteristic. For he is the third generation to operate Oak Bluffs’ Flying Horses, once the greatest attraction that the Island had to offer during the summer season.

Perhaps this may be doubted by some of the younger people who read this statement, but fifty years ago old and young talked of the Flying Horses as people today talk of a possible trip to Mars. There were few merry-go-rounds in that time, but the carousel of Cottage City was old, even then. Old and tested by time, a worthy and worthwhile feature of the summer resort, which had been the first in New England, and which was, even then, up among the most prominent.

The first of the Turnells had brought the carousel to the Island. Not a brand new outfit, but certainly a beautifully built and highly ornate amusement feature. There have been many tales told of these horses, perhaps none of them correct. Certainly the present owner cannot vouch for any of them, except to say that he believes they first galloped their circular course at Coney Island, giving place to a larger outfit. Whether or not they were built in Europe, is a question, but the tradition persists that they were hand-carved.

Certain it is also, that it would be impossible to duplicate the horses today at any price, and that is one of the reasons why Mr. Turnell will not plan many revolutionary changes to the carousel, but will content himself with making necessary repairs. But he will continue to operate this amusement feature, a decision which will gladden the hearts of many, for the Flying Horses of Cottage City, now Oak Bluffs, have long since become an Island tradition. Generations have ridden them, and still ride, and their glory has diminished not a whit through the years, through wood and metal, paint and gilt, have suffered as such things must.

Looking over the equipment, and there is but a moderate amount of this, one marvels at the workmanship and planning that devised a machine which would stand the wear and tear of decades so well. There hang from the central supporting column, the same suspension devises as of old.

The circular platform has been braced and repaired many times, but it still whirls true and without sagging. Three times has the musical attachment been changed, once when the original barrel-organ was replaced with the first hurdy-gurdy, and again when the present hurdy-gurdy was installed. In between, for a space, a grand concert piano stood in a corner, and a musician performed upon this instrument, but this system did not last. Probably nothing could actually fill the bill like the mechanical music which seems to belong with the Flying Horses.

The supporting column, the motors which provide the power, and such other mechanical portions of the carousel as there are, may not be seen by the patrons of the place, being concealed behind painted canvas screens, alas as old as the rest. Faded, and with gaping slits torn in them, they offer only a hint of the gay and inviting appearance which was once theirs.

Yet those who love the Flying Gorses would not have them changed. Perhaps the elder Turnells felt that way also. For there are landscapes from various parts of the world, there is a twin-stacked river steamer plowing her way along, and other views hint of the past always closely linked with the Gay Nineties.

Here, in those palmy days, flocked the red-hot sports of the period, with their three-inch collars and ties that measured quite two yards in length. To the merry lilt of The Carnival of Venice, or Soldiers’ Joy, they whirled on the horses.

Times changed, and the hurdy-gurdy played Dolly Gray, and blue-coated militia rode the horses, along with civilians in high-heeled, high-topped shoes, with flaming bands on their chip straw hats, and peg-topped trousers, reefed high to reveal inches of striped socks.

There is still a trace of the glitter and pageantry of old, about the ancient carousel, there is still a hint of the magic of the Gay Nineties in the music. There is a holiday spirit manifested in the crowd which is to be found there, regardless of the day or hour, and there is a subtle, but stirring something that cannot die or even falter in the proudly-poised steeds of the Flying Horses. Long may they whirl!

Compiled by Hilary Wallcox

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