Lincoln Park Remembered, 1894-1987 - Softcover

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Lincoln Park grew not only as an amusement park but also as a cultural, economic and social influence on the region. The park was a thread between families and friends that also drew the region together. In Particular, it helped weave the regional character and identity of southeastern Massachusetts, solidifying ties between Fall River, New Bedford and the surrounding communities.

"Common experiences shared by people lead to community," explains Donna Huse, professor of sociology at Umass Dartmouth. Ms. Huse teaches and researches the significance of community space and places.

In many ways, Lincoln Park is a sacred place. A sacred place doesn't have to be religious, although it can be that too. It's where people have connection, affection, and shared memories from generation to generation. It's a place that means something to the community.

A sacred site is full of feeling for many people, where they had important life experiences over a long period of time, Lincoln Park is all that.

It may have been where people's parents met, maybe they kissed their first boyfriend there. Maybe their parents got engaged there, or their kids got engaged there. It's become a consecrated place. Lincoln Park is full of the community's stories and histories. Such a thing is to be cherished, guarded. It should be cherished and enhanced. Somehow we've lost touch with that. - Professor Donna Huse

Over the years, Lincoln Park was a gathering spot for many events - big bands, baseball games, wrestling matches, roller-skating competitions, county fairs, high school proms, company picnics, club outings.

The park hosted balls, boxing, bands, proms, political rallies, company outings, family reunions. Nothing has taken place as a major connecting force for southeastern Massachusetts.

It's sad that we've lost touch with so many of these places, that we want to sell them off to the highest bidder, not really taking into account the experiences people have had here. As a population, we haven't acknowledged these places as valuable resources. You can't recreate old friends. It's places like this that root us. It's the cauldron of feeling and experiences that that make us who we are... - Professor Donna Huse

Today, Lincoln Park sits vacant and for sale on Route 6. Only a carcass of the wooden roller coaster, grown over with vines, haunts the grounds. The empty park leaves an ache for many people in southeastern Massachusetts.

There is nothing as exciting, nothing that fills the need that Lincoln Park filled. People need a place to go to feel alive, to release from the daily grind. People need to be able to relax, dance with a friend, feel festive with loved ones and families. Unless you have that in a community, a public place where you can have face to face experiences with other people, your sense of community erodes... Lincoln Park brought the region together. That's the crux of its importance. - Professor Donna Huse

Memories of the Park - An excerpt by Mary McCarthy Donovan

There were two different visitors to Lincoln Park, respectable and not quite. The respectable group included families and couples who came to enjoy the rides and picnic grounds. In the '50s, if a girl went un-escorted to a dance in the ballroom, she was in danger of losing her good name. She would become a "pickup," which was just a short of being a loose woman. Needless to say, nice girls knew better that to chance losing their reputation over the cha cha cha.

Another way to damage your reputation was to be seen out with a sailor. Newport, Rhode Island, 20 miles away, was the home of a large naval base filled with sailors out to have a good time, innocent or otherwise. One of those footloose young men was my future husband, Bob Donovan.

On October 24, 1953, he and a friend headed for Lincoln Park to hear Ralph Flanigan's big band sound. That same evening my best friend, Norma Rapoza and I, escorted by her brother and a friend, drove from New Bedford to the same destination.

Fate was about to step in and take a hand. On the way to the park, the four of us got into a mild debate over curfews. Norma and I had to be back at the student nurse's home by midnight and the driver wanted to stay until 1AM. We called Norma's mother and asked her to come for us at 11:30, which was quite embarrassing for two sophisticated 19-year-old girls.

When the boys took our coats, Norma and I disappeared into the large crowd. I had never been to the ballroom before and, to be on my own made me very uneasy. Suppose someone asked me to dance? Worse, suppose no one asked me to dance? Before I had time to think it through, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and met my destiny in the shape of a young, tall, dark, and handsome sailor. A sailor! Was I about to become a "pick up?" After the first five minutes, I certainly hoped so. We found a place to sit and started a conversation that has continued for nearly 40 years.

When it was time to leave, Bob asked me if he could call me and I, of course, said yes. Unfortunately, neither of us had a pencil so we had to go to one of the concession stands and ask for one. Never before or since was I so embarrassed. I blushed with shame. The man who sold pop knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was one of "those girls."

The young man in bell-bottom trousers did indeed call, and we were married eight months later on July 10, 1954. Two years later our children began to arrive with regularity. Though the fire may have destroyed the buildings, it did not destroy our fond memories of a romantic era.