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Action Park: Fast Times, Wild Rides, and the Untold Story of America's Most Dangerous Amusement Park
The outlandish, hilarious, terrifying, and almost impossible-to-believe story of the legendary, dangerous amusement park where millions were entertained and almost as many bruises were sustained, told through the eyes of the founder's son
Often called "Accident Park," "Class Action Park," or "Traction Park," Action Park was an American icon. Entertaining more than a million people a year in the 1980s, the New Jersey-based amusement playland placed no limits on danger or fun, a monument to the anything-goes spirit of the era that left guests in control of their own adventures--sometimes with tragic results. Though it closed its doors in 1996 after nearly twenty years, it has remained a subject of constant fascination ever since, an establishment completely anathema to our modern culture of rules and safety. Action Park is the first-ever unvarnished look at the history of this DIY Disneyland, as seen through the eyes of Andy Mulvihill, the son of the park's idiosyncratic founder, Gene Mulvihill. From his early days testing precarious rides to working his way up to chief lifeguard of the infamous Wave Pool to later helping run the whole park, Andy's story is equal parts hilarious and moving, chronicling the life and death of a uniquely American attraction, a wet and wild 1980s adolescence, and a son's struggle to understand his father's quixotic quest to become the Walt Disney of New Jersey. Packing in all of the excitement of a day at Action Park, this is destined to be one of the most unforgettable memoirs of the year.
Often called "Accident Park," "Class Action Park," or "Traction Park," Action Park was an American icon. Entertaining more than a million people a year in the 1980s, the New Jersey-based amusement playland placed no limits on danger or fun, a monument to the anything-goes spirit of the era that left guests in control of their own adventures--sometimes with tragic results. Though it closed its doors in 1996 after nearly twenty years, it has remained a subject of constant fascination ever since, an establishment completely anathema to our modern culture of rules and safety. Action Park is the first-ever unvarnished look at the history of this DIY Disneyland, as seen through the eyes of Andy Mulvihill, the son of the park's idiosyncratic founder, Gene Mulvihill. From his early days testing precarious rides to working his way up to chief lifeguard of the infamous Wave Pool to later helping run the whole park, Andy's story is equal parts hilarious and moving, chronicling the life and death of a uniquely American attraction, a wet and wild 1980s adolescence, and a son's struggle to understand his father's quixotic quest to become the Walt Disney of New Jersey. Packing in all of the excitement of a day at Action Park, this is destined to be one of the most unforgettable memoirs of the year.
352 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 30, 2020
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 518 reviews
July 29, 2022
While watching YouTube videos of dangerous amusement park rides with my kids, the name Action Park kept coming up. I learned there was a book about it, so I decided to check it out. Promptly, I had both the librarian and my husband regale me with their memories of injuries and insane rides.
Action Park was an interesting read. I didn’t realize it was going to be a memoir of the owner’s son, but I quite enjoyed learning about the history of the park along with his family’s creation of the signature rides and attractions. It was a fascinating glimpse into a bygone area before appropriate safety regulations existed.
Action Park was an interesting read. I didn’t realize it was going to be a memoir of the owner’s son, but I quite enjoyed learning about the history of the park along with his family’s creation of the signature rides and attractions. It was a fascinating glimpse into a bygone area before appropriate safety regulations existed.
June 29, 2020
I'd say this was a roller coaster of a ride, but there were no roller coasters at Action Park, just rides that let you go as fast as you want down the side of a mountain and if you got road rash that's your problem. Action Park is legendary for anyone who grew up in the New York tri-state are in the seventies and eighties. I did not, but my wife's family did and they quickly perked up with stories as soon as I mentioned reading this. Often called Traction Park or Class Action Park, it was one of the first extreme sports parks in the country. They came up with rides you could go as fast and crazy as you wanted on and attracted every jackass and delinquent in the Northeast.
This book is absolutely hilarious. It's co-written by one of the owner's sons. He grew up working in the park and has a wry writ. Here's one of the passages:
A neighborhood kid broke into the park in the middle of the night, made off with a Lola, and took it for a joyride down Route 94. He figured out how to deactivate the governor...and tore off like a Daytona 500 finalist. Police followed in pursuit for miles before they apprehended him.
Maybe it was then I began to wonder whether the park was broadcasting on a frequency only a special kind of lunatic could hear.
If that sounds like a fun read to you, you will love this book. I love the stories where he talks about how his dad, Gene, would make him test the rides. He's all suited up in his hockey gear ready to test out the Cannonball Loop that later comes to knock out several teeth and break quite a few noses.
It's almost hard to believe this place was real. It's like an amusement park the idiots from Jackass would build. Damn, I had a great time reading this!
An Action Park commercial
2021-01-03 Just watched the documentary Class Action Park. It provides a different perspective on the park via interviews with park goers, employees and family members of kids who died there. It's very good.
This book is absolutely hilarious. It's co-written by one of the owner's sons. He grew up working in the park and has a wry writ. Here's one of the passages:
A neighborhood kid broke into the park in the middle of the night, made off with a Lola, and took it for a joyride down Route 94. He figured out how to deactivate the governor...and tore off like a Daytona 500 finalist. Police followed in pursuit for miles before they apprehended him.
Maybe it was then I began to wonder whether the park was broadcasting on a frequency only a special kind of lunatic could hear.
If that sounds like a fun read to you, you will love this book. I love the stories where he talks about how his dad, Gene, would make him test the rides. He's all suited up in his hockey gear ready to test out the Cannonball Loop that later comes to knock out several teeth and break quite a few noses.
It's almost hard to believe this place was real. It's like an amusement park the idiots from Jackass would build. Damn, I had a great time reading this!
An Action Park commercial
2021-01-03 Just watched the documentary Class Action Park. It provides a different perspective on the park via interviews with park goers, employees and family members of kids who died there. It's very good.
December 22, 2020
"'I think he sees potential in the recreation business.' I said this as though my father had ever consulted a projection, or had any kind of long-term plan other than getting people inside [Action Park] and letting them run amok." -- the co-author and park owner's son, on page 75
Once upon a time . . . okay, between 1981 and 1991 . . . my family would usually vacation, either for a week in the summer or a weekend in autumnal October, in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. It was not unusual that we would spend a carefree afternoon at the now-defunct Pocono Action Park, which offered kid-friendly attractions like a go-kart track, twisty water slides, and a video-game arcade. It was only in the past few years that I learned that said park was actually a spin-off site, and that the original and much more substantial location in the sleepy town of Vernon, New Jersey had a reputation, especially during the first half of its 1976 to 1996 operating years, as one crazy place.
Hoping, I think, to set the record straight (or at least unbend it a little), Action Park is co-authored by Andy Mulvihill, and his late father Gene was the tireless and unique creator / manager behind this homegrown amusement park. At a time when said parks were largely turning towards movie studio affiliation or financing and offering bigger / faster / taller rollercoasters, Action Park was something of an anomaly. Staffed by Mulvihill's teenage children, their friends, and many local kids and young adults, the park quickly - and the co-author would argue, sort of unfairly - became known in the tri-state area (New Jersey, New York, and Connecticut) as a location where the chance of injuries, near fatalities and/or death were just around the corner of every ride or attraction. After all, the place eventually received such giggle-inducing nicknames like 'Traction Park' and 'Class Action Park.'
I thought this was a very entertaining memoir. The co-author clearly loves his father, but doesn't always let him off the proverbial hook in regards to some of the decisions made. (Actually installing the 'Cannonball Loop' waterslide, anyone?) There are some great anecdotes and humorous stories, and by the conclusion I actually felt like I missed out on something unique by never having the chance to spend a day at 'ACTION PARK - WHERE YOU'RE THE CENTER OF THE ACTION!'
Once upon a time . . . okay, between 1981 and 1991 . . . my family would usually vacation, either for a week in the summer or a weekend in autumnal October, in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. It was not unusual that we would spend a carefree afternoon at the now-defunct Pocono Action Park, which offered kid-friendly attractions like a go-kart track, twisty water slides, and a video-game arcade. It was only in the past few years that I learned that said park was actually a spin-off site, and that the original and much more substantial location in the sleepy town of Vernon, New Jersey had a reputation, especially during the first half of its 1976 to 1996 operating years, as one crazy place.
Hoping, I think, to set the record straight (or at least unbend it a little), Action Park is co-authored by Andy Mulvihill, and his late father Gene was the tireless and unique creator / manager behind this homegrown amusement park. At a time when said parks were largely turning towards movie studio affiliation or financing and offering bigger / faster / taller rollercoasters, Action Park was something of an anomaly. Staffed by Mulvihill's teenage children, their friends, and many local kids and young adults, the park quickly - and the co-author would argue, sort of unfairly - became known in the tri-state area (New Jersey, New York, and Connecticut) as a location where the chance of injuries, near fatalities and/or death were just around the corner of every ride or attraction. After all, the place eventually received such giggle-inducing nicknames like 'Traction Park' and 'Class Action Park.'
I thought this was a very entertaining memoir. The co-author clearly loves his father, but doesn't always let him off the proverbial hook in regards to some of the decisions made. (Actually installing the 'Cannonball Loop' waterslide, anyone?) There are some great anecdotes and humorous stories, and by the conclusion I actually felt like I missed out on something unique by never having the chance to spend a day at 'ACTION PARK - WHERE YOU'RE THE CENTER OF THE ACTION!'
March 29, 2020
I was a strong swimmer in my youth, raised in a swimming pool, a junior lifeguard by age 10. I almost drowned in the tidal wave pool at Action Park. I, along with tens of thousands of tri-state area kids, had a close brush with fate at Action Park. Believe the hype, the legends are true.
This is a fabulous true tale of American ingenuity and individuality. Gene Mulvihill was a maverick turned legend in New Jersey. At times, he veered close to con-man territory with his insurance racket and complete disregard for safety. This book is authored in part by his son who played an outsized role in the running of the park since before he hit puberty. The reader can feel the love, suspicion, hero worship, and frustration his son felt for him.
I loved this book. Someone has to buy the rights and turn this into a prestige ensemble dramedy. I laughed and cried reading this book. Well done.
Received from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
This is a fabulous true tale of American ingenuity and individuality. Gene Mulvihill was a maverick turned legend in New Jersey. At times, he veered close to con-man territory with his insurance racket and complete disregard for safety. This book is authored in part by his son who played an outsized role in the running of the park since before he hit puberty. The reader can feel the love, suspicion, hero worship, and frustration his son felt for him.
I loved this book. Someone has to buy the rights and turn this into a prestige ensemble dramedy. I laughed and cried reading this book. Well done.
Received from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
August 2, 2020
I'm of two minds with this. On the one hand, it was very entertaining and informative. I learned a lot about the history of this park that most other sources don't include, since they just focus on the highlights.
On the other, I absolutely hate the author and his family. It took a while to come out that the author is included in this, but when he started talking about his involvement in Reagan's campaign I knew the wheels were starting to come off. It just got worse when he started defending the insurance fraud.
The father, owner and operator of this insane park, was clearly in that most privileged and hated of groups: Libertarians. It's clear he hated the idea of anything resembling sane regulation, and even something like a handrail or a sign warning patrons about something is apparently over the line and telling people what to do.
Adding to that is the Baby Boomer nostalgia for a "simpler time". It's that usual fallacy, "when we were kids we did ___ and we turned out fine". It's longing for an imaginary time of prosperity and bliss that really only partially existed if you were a well-off white family in the suburbs.
That's taken to an extreme here, as the author grew up in this bubble of privilege where his family evidently had the means to own their own amusement park. He never had to struggle to find a job or pay for college. Even through rough patches, he was led to expect that his family would make it work out for the best, to the point where the ultimate undoing of the park inexplicably came as a shock.
See, that's where the author lost my sympathy. I could maybe understand blaming some of the accidents as partially the fault of the guests. I say partially because the idea that "they're responsible for themselves" only goes so far; there really should have been the bare minimum of safety precautions in place, and the rides should not have been designed to be just barely safe if the rider did exactly what they should (so if they didn't listen and pushed the limits, they were instantly way over the line). As actions during COVID show, people cannot be relied upon to act in their own best interest, let alone that of others.
But going well beyond that was defending insurance fraud as "victimless", only to describe EXACTLY why that crime can't be described that way a few chapters later.
Insurance requirements exist for a reason. If you are injured (or killed, in an alarmingly nonzero number of cases at this park), and the business is at fault, you are rightly entitled to compensation for the losses caused by that negligence. The idea that "it only harms me" as a business owner because you have to pay out of pocket is blatantly false.
The entire point of insurance is to cover those scenarios without having to actually maintain a pool of assets with which to pay those claims.
Fast forward to the end of the book when, lo and behold, the park is liable for seven figure payouts....and it doesn't have the money!
It's almost like, if you had insurance, you'd have no problem covering that liability without disruption to your business! Your victims have not been paid despite winning in court, and can only maybe receive their due after a lengthy process of forcing you to sell off your property (assuming that debt isn't just discharged in bankruptcy).
Your crime of insurance fraud is only "victimless" so long as the scenario for which you need insurance never happens. It's like saying a seatbelt is pointless....until you actually get into an accident and are hurled out through your windshield. Bad analogy since you're still mostly the victim there, but you get the point.
This entire endeavor was a futile exercise in Boomer nostalgia for a time that only existed if you got lucky. If you got away with taking stupid risks as a child, it wasn't because those were a good idea and we're just being overcautious and ruining all of your fun now. We're looking at the past through a narrow zoom lens and focusing on those who emerged unscathed.
It's exactly the problem with anecdotal "evidence". The problem here is one kid swinging on a rope into a swimming hold does so what, a few dozen or hundred times? Now multiply that by tens of thousands of people over years....it's inevitable that even low probability events add up. Look at the wave pool there and having daily accidents. It's a matter of volume.
These are people who grew up insulated from consequences and cannot understand why other people thinking that putting bare minimum restrictions and safety precautions in place might be a good idea. They can't admit insurance fraud is a crime. They don't get why ripping off American Gladiators is a problem. They never faced consequences for their impulsive, risky choices, and so when something finally happened that they couldn't squirm out of (bankrupted by 7 figure judgments), it was impossible for them to understand that their stupid choices have consequences.
This is a fascinating view into the history of these bad decisions, but eventually one too many attempts to hand-wave away underage drinking and insurance fraud kind of ruins the fun. These people weren't just goofing around and having harmless fun, they were criminals who managed to avoid the consequences of their choices for far too long. It was cathartic to know that at least things caught up with them in the end and this mistake was eventually destroyed.
On the other, I absolutely hate the author and his family. It took a while to come out that the author is included in this, but when he started talking about his involvement in Reagan's campaign I knew the wheels were starting to come off. It just got worse when he started defending the insurance fraud.
The father, owner and operator of this insane park, was clearly in that most privileged and hated of groups: Libertarians. It's clear he hated the idea of anything resembling sane regulation, and even something like a handrail or a sign warning patrons about something is apparently over the line and telling people what to do.
Adding to that is the Baby Boomer nostalgia for a "simpler time". It's that usual fallacy, "when we were kids we did ___ and we turned out fine". It's longing for an imaginary time of prosperity and bliss that really only partially existed if you were a well-off white family in the suburbs.
That's taken to an extreme here, as the author grew up in this bubble of privilege where his family evidently had the means to own their own amusement park. He never had to struggle to find a job or pay for college. Even through rough patches, he was led to expect that his family would make it work out for the best, to the point where the ultimate undoing of the park inexplicably came as a shock.
See, that's where the author lost my sympathy. I could maybe understand blaming some of the accidents as partially the fault of the guests. I say partially because the idea that "they're responsible for themselves" only goes so far; there really should have been the bare minimum of safety precautions in place, and the rides should not have been designed to be just barely safe if the rider did exactly what they should (so if they didn't listen and pushed the limits, they were instantly way over the line). As actions during COVID show, people cannot be relied upon to act in their own best interest, let alone that of others.
But going well beyond that was defending insurance fraud as "victimless", only to describe EXACTLY why that crime can't be described that way a few chapters later.
Insurance requirements exist for a reason. If you are injured (or killed, in an alarmingly nonzero number of cases at this park), and the business is at fault, you are rightly entitled to compensation for the losses caused by that negligence. The idea that "it only harms me" as a business owner because you have to pay out of pocket is blatantly false.
The entire point of insurance is to cover those scenarios without having to actually maintain a pool of assets with which to pay those claims.
Fast forward to the end of the book when, lo and behold, the park is liable for seven figure payouts....and it doesn't have the money!
It's almost like, if you had insurance, you'd have no problem covering that liability without disruption to your business! Your victims have not been paid despite winning in court, and can only maybe receive their due after a lengthy process of forcing you to sell off your property (assuming that debt isn't just discharged in bankruptcy).
Your crime of insurance fraud is only "victimless" so long as the scenario for which you need insurance never happens. It's like saying a seatbelt is pointless....until you actually get into an accident and are hurled out through your windshield. Bad analogy since you're still mostly the victim there, but you get the point.
This entire endeavor was a futile exercise in Boomer nostalgia for a time that only existed if you got lucky. If you got away with taking stupid risks as a child, it wasn't because those were a good idea and we're just being overcautious and ruining all of your fun now. We're looking at the past through a narrow zoom lens and focusing on those who emerged unscathed.
It's exactly the problem with anecdotal "evidence". The problem here is one kid swinging on a rope into a swimming hold does so what, a few dozen or hundred times? Now multiply that by tens of thousands of people over years....it's inevitable that even low probability events add up. Look at the wave pool there and having daily accidents. It's a matter of volume.
These are people who grew up insulated from consequences and cannot understand why other people thinking that putting bare minimum restrictions and safety precautions in place might be a good idea. They can't admit insurance fraud is a crime. They don't get why ripping off American Gladiators is a problem. They never faced consequences for their impulsive, risky choices, and so when something finally happened that they couldn't squirm out of (bankrupted by 7 figure judgments), it was impossible for them to understand that their stupid choices have consequences.
This is a fascinating view into the history of these bad decisions, but eventually one too many attempts to hand-wave away underage drinking and insurance fraud kind of ruins the fun. These people weren't just goofing around and having harmless fun, they were criminals who managed to avoid the consequences of their choices for far too long. It was cathartic to know that at least things caught up with them in the end and this mistake was eventually destroyed.
November 2, 2020
There’s certainly a story to be told in this saga of a mismanaged amusement park, but it’s evidently not a story that someone so enmeshed and implicated as the owner’s son can do any sort of justice to. Instead, his lack of perspective makes for cringe after cringe, as serious OSHA violations are reduced to slapstick comedy and criminal negligence to hijinks.
As the narrator, Andy Mulvihill comes off as a delusional rich kid play acting as a particular sort of underdog who wants to make sure you know he’s better than those other, lesser underdogs. Amid out-of-touch complaints about what other teenagers had that he didn’t—allowances and cushy jobs in the fast food industry(???), mostly—he details his nepotistic adventures of too much responsibility and not enough sense.
In his painstaking recollection of every Animal House-aping bender and skin-gouging park attraction, he seems to want you to gasp at the audacious danger while also reveling in the thrill of it. It’s precarious balance from the first that quickly becomes untenable as the bodies start piling up.
The whiplash in this book isn’t just literal. You can’t, it turns out, effortlessly bounce between first snickering at two “heavyset” women having their swim suit tops pulled off in a comedically rendered near-drowning to then half-heartedly justifying why the park really couldn’t be blamed for those other patrons who really did drown. And, if the, again, multiple fatalities are ruining the rollicking vibe, it was a puerile, mean-spirited vibe to begin with.
Though Mulvihill savors the tedious minutia of his personal life—rattling off the names of all his various drinking buddies and teenage sweethearts who barely figure into the narrative—he reduces the guests at the park to one amorphous teeming mass of adrenaline and bad decision-making. Instead of treating those tens of thousands of daily patrons as, well, tens of thousands of different people with different motivations and access to information, they are reduced to one shared impulse for self-destruction, with the implication that, if anyone was injured, weren’t they pretty much asking for it?
“My father offered risk. People took him up on it. Some had regrets,” he hand waves, before detailing the deliberate steps his father took to underreport injuries and flout the safety laws that might have allowed for more-informed risk taking.
That victim blaming impulse might be shocking if it weren’t so nakedly self-interested. This is a man who clearly can’t bear to let the pall of death and dismemberment darken his cherished memories of dirtbag teenage antics.
That allergy to self-awareness is the book’s most persistent feature. “In my father’s world, being a relative or near-relative held no guarantee of preferential treatment,” he insists, while describing his brother’s fiancee’s recent promotion to head of ride operations and general services, which came after his own series of outsize responsibilities as a high school and college student. “It was usually the opposite.” Brazen insurance fraud becomes a “divisive insurance strategy;” skirting legal restrictions becomes “waving off the state’s aggression like a martial-arts master deftly sidestepping a mugger.” He can’t or won’t recognize that readers may not all be rooting for this death trap run by his glorified fraudster of a father to stay open.
Setting aside the dubious justifications of two decades of endangering the public, this book has the quality of being told by that one parent partying at the college tailgate, buying the attention of his underage fellow tailgaters with smuggled alcohol and questionable recollections of his glory days. Mulvihill has a fabulist’s flair for situational irony that strains even the most generous credulity, with pithy fragment after fragment of telling dialogue immediately disproven with a sitcom-quick cut for comedic effect.
In the end, this tiresome personal memoir masquerading as micro-history is anything but the “wild ride” it promises in the sub-title; instead, it is an off-putting chronicle of unchecked greed, political cronyism, and criminal negligence.
As the narrator, Andy Mulvihill comes off as a delusional rich kid play acting as a particular sort of underdog who wants to make sure you know he’s better than those other, lesser underdogs. Amid out-of-touch complaints about what other teenagers had that he didn’t—allowances and cushy jobs in the fast food industry(???), mostly—he details his nepotistic adventures of too much responsibility and not enough sense.
In his painstaking recollection of every Animal House-aping bender and skin-gouging park attraction, he seems to want you to gasp at the audacious danger while also reveling in the thrill of it. It’s precarious balance from the first that quickly becomes untenable as the bodies start piling up.
The whiplash in this book isn’t just literal. You can’t, it turns out, effortlessly bounce between first snickering at two “heavyset” women having their swim suit tops pulled off in a comedically rendered near-drowning to then half-heartedly justifying why the park really couldn’t be blamed for those other patrons who really did drown. And, if the, again, multiple fatalities are ruining the rollicking vibe, it was a puerile, mean-spirited vibe to begin with.
Though Mulvihill savors the tedious minutia of his personal life—rattling off the names of all his various drinking buddies and teenage sweethearts who barely figure into the narrative—he reduces the guests at the park to one amorphous teeming mass of adrenaline and bad decision-making. Instead of treating those tens of thousands of daily patrons as, well, tens of thousands of different people with different motivations and access to information, they are reduced to one shared impulse for self-destruction, with the implication that, if anyone was injured, weren’t they pretty much asking for it?
“My father offered risk. People took him up on it. Some had regrets,” he hand waves, before detailing the deliberate steps his father took to underreport injuries and flout the safety laws that might have allowed for more-informed risk taking.
That victim blaming impulse might be shocking if it weren’t so nakedly self-interested. This is a man who clearly can’t bear to let the pall of death and dismemberment darken his cherished memories of dirtbag teenage antics.
That allergy to self-awareness is the book’s most persistent feature. “In my father’s world, being a relative or near-relative held no guarantee of preferential treatment,” he insists, while describing his brother’s fiancee’s recent promotion to head of ride operations and general services, which came after his own series of outsize responsibilities as a high school and college student. “It was usually the opposite.” Brazen insurance fraud becomes a “divisive insurance strategy;” skirting legal restrictions becomes “waving off the state’s aggression like a martial-arts master deftly sidestepping a mugger.” He can’t or won’t recognize that readers may not all be rooting for this death trap run by his glorified fraudster of a father to stay open.
Setting aside the dubious justifications of two decades of endangering the public, this book has the quality of being told by that one parent partying at the college tailgate, buying the attention of his underage fellow tailgaters with smuggled alcohol and questionable recollections of his glory days. Mulvihill has a fabulist’s flair for situational irony that strains even the most generous credulity, with pithy fragment after fragment of telling dialogue immediately disproven with a sitcom-quick cut for comedic effect.
In the end, this tiresome personal memoir masquerading as micro-history is anything but the “wild ride” it promises in the sub-title; instead, it is an off-putting chronicle of unchecked greed, political cronyism, and criminal negligence.
January 28, 2025
Action Park was the creation of Gene Mulvihill and it was based on the idea that attendees love to be in control of their experiences. The whole place had water rides that caused serious injury or even death but the owner was a slick operator that got himself out of legal trouble with ease. Everyone came to the park because of how dangerous it was. I was very amused but not surprised at the reckless behavior of its teenage client base. That park lived a charmed life because it went on for years with safety violations, poor hygiene, and the injuries that would have ended it a long time ago. What I respected about the family was they took risks with this park that most sane folk would not.
June 13, 2020
Andy Mulvihill's tribute to his father brings brings me right back to my teen days when I visited Action Park twice. I knew the risks and yet I still jumped off the cliff and landed on my back, still lost skin (and a necklace!) on a few other rides. Why does pain bring back fond memories? Who knows? I just knew it would be a great day when I went to Action Park. Thanks for writing this Andy!
July 8, 2020
This book was the record of Action Park I needed and everything more. My grandfather died when I was barely 11, leaving me grasping at straws to form a lasting image of him in my mind. Reading this book was like sitting for dinner at his house. I could hear his voice in the anecdotes, I could picture the Colorado River Ride (something I rode years after its creation, wearing a helmet.) Thank you to my Uncle, Andy for finally getting it all on paper. Not just for myself but for anyone else who needs the record set straight on what Action Park really was. I wish I could’ve been there for all of it.
July 17, 2024
Here’s another reason why my parents demonstrated good judgement: I never visited Action Park. Of course, this could’ve been because they, like any sane person, simply didn’t want to pay seven admission tickets or supervise five children across a sprawling them park. And I didn’t help matters, having proven my affinity for daring/stupid stunts, including sledding down the entirety of the steepest street in our Yonkers neighborhood in a blizzard (and I’d have made it, too, if it weren’t for that darn stone wall). Call it frugality, call it overprotectiveness: I dodged a bullet, and I’m here to tell the tale.
Choose a nickname, but I like “Traction Park” best. We all knew about the accidents, and even deaths, of that lawless zoo in North Jersey, and those I’d known to have partaken did indeed have scars to prove it. Mulvihill, son of the park’s founder, tells the story through a journalist in a memoir style. He’d done it all, from digging ditches for the Alpine Slide, to head of the Wave (pool) Patrol, to general manager. It opens with his attempt to survive his father’s latest slide idea: the Cannonball Loop.
From that, I got the theme: Action Park was the wild, crazed dream of a guy who didn’t believe in limits. Safety wasn’t exciting, wouldn’t sell tickets. Besides, skiing philosophy of the time seemed to indicate that if you hit a tree and died, it was your fault for having poor skills. You assumed the risk. Problem was, as Mulvihill hints, his father pushed the risk barometer as high as it got. Much of the book focuses of the son fretting about injuries and death and being waved away by his dad.
The author also comments often about the culture fostered by the park: screw the rules. He indicates that guests were crazy and rarely abided the attendants’ and lifeguards’ admonishments. People would (and could) jump into the Wave Pool at any depth without knowing how to swim. They’d take the go-karts for a spin, and NOT stop when their allotted laps were up. They’d ram the speedboats into each other, capsize, and have to be dragged from the oil-streaked lake (because they couldn’t swim). I was a lifeguard at a public pool in college, and I know the feeling: something about the late eighties/early nineties inspired a sense of anarchy among park visitors. I suppose, then, that the carnage was partially THEIR fault, although the owner’s disregard for safety sure didn’t help.
I watched the HBO documentary just after reading, and there’s quite a difference. Mulvihill himself speaks, but only sporadically. That story is more driven by park visitors and people affected by the park’s problems. Among them are the aged parents of a guest who died on the Alpine Slide at age 19 in 1980. There’s also a sense from the interviewed guests that communicates “Hey, this is Jersey. S--- happens.” Where have I heard that before?
Might be worth it to look at both the book AND the doc and absorb the full view of the place. Mulvihill paints his dad in a sympathetic view near the end, and while he criticizes him for his reckless management, falls short of condemning him. Sometimes I wonder if another man might have walked away from the business, knowing what he knows about how his father managed it. But that IS an awful lot to ask of a son. It might also be true that in the seventies and eighties, there might have been less outrage about theme park violence: the place, and its style of “you control the action,” was a brand-new thing. There were no real, hard-and-fast rules to break. Sure, in 2024 even a few major accidents would close a theme park. But in 1980?
Either way, this book offers an interesting combination: heartfelt nostalgia and cringeworthy journalism. The reader can pine away from a lost era of wild rides and nutty behavior, and wipe their brow in relief, knowing there’ll never be another Action Park.
Choose a nickname, but I like “Traction Park” best. We all knew about the accidents, and even deaths, of that lawless zoo in North Jersey, and those I’d known to have partaken did indeed have scars to prove it. Mulvihill, son of the park’s founder, tells the story through a journalist in a memoir style. He’d done it all, from digging ditches for the Alpine Slide, to head of the Wave (pool) Patrol, to general manager. It opens with his attempt to survive his father’s latest slide idea: the Cannonball Loop.
From that, I got the theme: Action Park was the wild, crazed dream of a guy who didn’t believe in limits. Safety wasn’t exciting, wouldn’t sell tickets. Besides, skiing philosophy of the time seemed to indicate that if you hit a tree and died, it was your fault for having poor skills. You assumed the risk. Problem was, as Mulvihill hints, his father pushed the risk barometer as high as it got. Much of the book focuses of the son fretting about injuries and death and being waved away by his dad.
The author also comments often about the culture fostered by the park: screw the rules. He indicates that guests were crazy and rarely abided the attendants’ and lifeguards’ admonishments. People would (and could) jump into the Wave Pool at any depth without knowing how to swim. They’d take the go-karts for a spin, and NOT stop when their allotted laps were up. They’d ram the speedboats into each other, capsize, and have to be dragged from the oil-streaked lake (because they couldn’t swim). I was a lifeguard at a public pool in college, and I know the feeling: something about the late eighties/early nineties inspired a sense of anarchy among park visitors. I suppose, then, that the carnage was partially THEIR fault, although the owner’s disregard for safety sure didn’t help.
I watched the HBO documentary just after reading, and there’s quite a difference. Mulvihill himself speaks, but only sporadically. That story is more driven by park visitors and people affected by the park’s problems. Among them are the aged parents of a guest who died on the Alpine Slide at age 19 in 1980. There’s also a sense from the interviewed guests that communicates “Hey, this is Jersey. S--- happens.” Where have I heard that before?
Might be worth it to look at both the book AND the doc and absorb the full view of the place. Mulvihill paints his dad in a sympathetic view near the end, and while he criticizes him for his reckless management, falls short of condemning him. Sometimes I wonder if another man might have walked away from the business, knowing what he knows about how his father managed it. But that IS an awful lot to ask of a son. It might also be true that in the seventies and eighties, there might have been less outrage about theme park violence: the place, and its style of “you control the action,” was a brand-new thing. There were no real, hard-and-fast rules to break. Sure, in 2024 even a few major accidents would close a theme park. But in 1980?
Either way, this book offers an interesting combination: heartfelt nostalgia and cringeworthy journalism. The reader can pine away from a lost era of wild rides and nutty behavior, and wipe their brow in relief, knowing there’ll never be another Action Park.
June 9, 2023
30 Books in 30 Days, Vol. 3
Book 6/30
Action Park tells the story of the country's most dangerous theme park, from the perspective of the son of the man who owned it. Gene Mulvihill wanted to provide a theme park that catered to people who didn't want to passively experience things, but be the actor in the rides and attractions. His lax attitude towards safety standards and his strong belief that people had the right to endanger themselves meant injuries and near-drownings were the norm for guests in the park. And people did die. There is a reason the names "Class-Action Park" and "Traction Park" became synonymous with its actual name.
This park sounds like a wild place, but I didn't really like the author very much and a lot of the stuff he wanted to write about didn't need to be in the book. I appreciated the insight into the behind the scenes details of how the park ran and why and how the attractions came to be (his father was a character, to say the least), but I absolutely did not give two shits about his political beliefs (he admires Ronald Reagan and was a Young Republican), his time at school, or his romances. If this had focused solely on the park it would have been a four star read. But I just can't give four stars to a book that at several points, I kept wanting to read other things instead.
I also listened to the audio version, bought off a $2 Audible sale years back. The narrator does a good job with the story. An entertaining read overall. Some of the details in here definitely gave me that feeling I was looking for when I went into this, that "I can't believe I just read that" feeling. But it could have been tighter and less of the author's personal life would have been preferred.
Book 6/30
Action Park tells the story of the country's most dangerous theme park, from the perspective of the son of the man who owned it. Gene Mulvihill wanted to provide a theme park that catered to people who didn't want to passively experience things, but be the actor in the rides and attractions. His lax attitude towards safety standards and his strong belief that people had the right to endanger themselves meant injuries and near-drownings were the norm for guests in the park. And people did die. There is a reason the names "Class-Action Park" and "Traction Park" became synonymous with its actual name.
This park sounds like a wild place, but I didn't really like the author very much and a lot of the stuff he wanted to write about didn't need to be in the book. I appreciated the insight into the behind the scenes details of how the park ran and why and how the attractions came to be (his father was a character, to say the least), but I absolutely did not give two shits about his political beliefs (he admires Ronald Reagan and was a Young Republican), his time at school, or his romances. If this had focused solely on the park it would have been a four star read. But I just can't give four stars to a book that at several points, I kept wanting to read other things instead.
I also listened to the audio version, bought off a $2 Audible sale years back. The narrator does a good job with the story. An entertaining read overall. Some of the details in here definitely gave me that feeling I was looking for when I went into this, that "I can't believe I just read that" feeling. But it could have been tighter and less of the author's personal life would have been preferred.
August 19, 2025
As a New Jerseyan who grew up in the 80s and knew all-too-well about Action Park, I was really excited to read this. Having watched the Class Action Park documentary a few years ago, I was hoping this would provide some more insight into the inner-workings of the park -- and on the one hand, it does that. But it also gives unwanted insight into the author's spoiled, white, conservative upbringing and his "woe is me, I went to Stanford, but the other kids were richer than me" whining. The second this dude started shitting on Jimmy Carter and talking about how Ronald Reagan was the savior, and how he was blessed to work on his campaign, I was ready to bail out harder than I did from the Alpine Slide. There's a lot of obvious libertarian nonsense here, and it seems like the Mulvihills (or at least Andy and his dad) never really learned any empathy or compassion or responsibility. They blame everyone else for their own misfortunes and complain about how blah blah blah it's not fair blah blah blah.
This book should have been written by someone other than Andy Mulvihill -- preferably someone who isn't shielding his father's reputation and downplaying his criminality with every sentence he writes.
Watch the documentary instead.
This book should have been written by someone other than Andy Mulvihill -- preferably someone who isn't shielding his father's reputation and downplaying his criminality with every sentence he writes.
Watch the documentary instead.
June 10, 2020
For those of you who grew up in NY or NJ in the seventies and eighties, you already know the craziness that was Action Park. Even if you didn't, this book is an incredible ride. I read it as an ARC and promptly asked DCL to get a copy. It is laugh out loud funny and speaks to a time when minor injuries did not lead to major lawsuits. That being said - Action Park was insane and should have closed long before it actually did.
August 6, 2020
The book began as an enjoyable reminiscence through what would seem every kid’s fantasy- becoming part owner and employee of a family-owned theme park.
But the author’s flippant attitude towards underage drinking, personal injuries inflicted by the park, and irreverent attitude toward basic risk management become increasingly distracting.
Though the book simultaneously serves as an homage to an industrious and imaginative father as well as a cautionary tale of rampant boldness - Walt Disney is often cited as the “mainstream” that Action Park collectively detested, the author’s adolescent tone becomes grating, as if he never outgrew his teenage years, and desperately wants to impress the reader by “sounding cool.”
But the author’s flippant attitude towards underage drinking, personal injuries inflicted by the park, and irreverent attitude toward basic risk management become increasingly distracting.
Though the book simultaneously serves as an homage to an industrious and imaginative father as well as a cautionary tale of rampant boldness - Walt Disney is often cited as the “mainstream” that Action Park collectively detested, the author’s adolescent tone becomes grating, as if he never outgrew his teenage years, and desperately wants to impress the reader by “sounding cool.”
December 1, 2020
Two stars for learning the behind-the-scenes stuff about this infamous park. There were a lot of cringe moments in this -- big "kids today couldn't handle it! we were just having fun!" vibes. Deaths and severe accidents are just another day at the park, look at all the great times these stupid masses were having. Mulvihill considers his father a successor to Walt Disney (even claiming Disney took some of their ideas) and it's very clear he still very much looks up to him. I recommend the documentary Class Action Park has a more nuanced look at Action Park.
April 13, 2020
A memoir of both the man and the park he created from the perspective of a son who assumed he was along for the ride, but later discovered he was fully there for it.
This is not the craziest thing that has happened in New Jersey, but this could only have happened in New Jersey.
This is not the craziest thing that has happened in New Jersey, but this could only have happened in New Jersey.
January 10, 2023
As someone from Jersey, Action Park is an urban legend. I have plenty of family friends who have been there and sustained plenty of injuries during, so I know of these insane rides.
However, reading stories about it from someone who couldn’t be more on the inside was so entertaining. The HBO doc was like an appetizer for this in depth look into the ridiculousness of Action Park. The fact that there were no real engineers building rides that were are run by teenagers, with a bunch of crazy people from NJ and NY makes for a truly incredible story. If you haven’t heard it, definitely read this book because it reads like it should be fiction.
However, reading stories about it from someone who couldn’t be more on the inside was so entertaining. The HBO doc was like an appetizer for this in depth look into the ridiculousness of Action Park. The fact that there were no real engineers building rides that were are run by teenagers, with a bunch of crazy people from NJ and NY makes for a truly incredible story. If you haven’t heard it, definitely read this book because it reads like it should be fiction.
September 22, 2020
“Your dad’s in some shit.”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
If there’s were ever a way to demonstrate Andy Mulvihill’s casual indifference (or perhaps resignation) to his father’s crazy antics, it’s the above exchange between Andy and a classmate when Andy’s father Gene finds himself in serious trouble with the law.
The aforementioned trouble and loads more of it is the subject of Action Park, the wildly entertaining, unique, and delightful semi-memoir of Andy Mulvihill, son of the owner and inventor of Action Park, Gene Mulvihill.
Andy, perfectly exasperated when describing his father’s loony ideas yet an enthusiastic, willing participant in them, is about the best you can ask for in a narrator. He’s observant, hilarious, and honest, carefully chronicling his childhood in the shadow of the what was once the world’s most dangerous amusement park.
I won’t get into specifics here because I don’t want to spoil any of the joy you’ll experience when reading about Andy and Gene’s wacky world for the first time, but I will say that Andy’s thoughts and observations are almost as joltingly delightful as the events that inspired them.
This is easily one of my favorite books of the year thus far, a madcap heap of fun and a perfect read if you’re craving some light nonfiction but still want that delivered to you by a witty, incisive author.
Final note: While the documentary on the park is also excellent, the book is better (aren’t they always?) and I recommend reading it before watching the television program.
*I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.*
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
If there’s were ever a way to demonstrate Andy Mulvihill’s casual indifference (or perhaps resignation) to his father’s crazy antics, it’s the above exchange between Andy and a classmate when Andy’s father Gene finds himself in serious trouble with the law.
The aforementioned trouble and loads more of it is the subject of Action Park, the wildly entertaining, unique, and delightful semi-memoir of Andy Mulvihill, son of the owner and inventor of Action Park, Gene Mulvihill.
Andy, perfectly exasperated when describing his father’s loony ideas yet an enthusiastic, willing participant in them, is about the best you can ask for in a narrator. He’s observant, hilarious, and honest, carefully chronicling his childhood in the shadow of the what was once the world’s most dangerous amusement park.
I won’t get into specifics here because I don’t want to spoil any of the joy you’ll experience when reading about Andy and Gene’s wacky world for the first time, but I will say that Andy’s thoughts and observations are almost as joltingly delightful as the events that inspired them.
This is easily one of my favorite books of the year thus far, a madcap heap of fun and a perfect read if you’re craving some light nonfiction but still want that delivered to you by a witty, incisive author.
Final note: While the documentary on the park is also excellent, the book is better (aren’t they always?) and I recommend reading it before watching the television program.
*I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.*
April 29, 2020
Thanks to Edelweiss and Penguin for providing the ARC of this book. I admit to having low expectations because I typically don’t like memoirs, but the subject of Action Park pulled me in. I only heard about this park after its heyday but what I had heard sounded absolutely crazy, so I wanted to read more about it. The book did not disappoint. The things that happened there were crazy and more than a little sad. I think the author did a good job trying to objectively portray his father and his motivations and was a bit on the sympathetic side, but that’s to be expected. Many people will enjoy this book, but definitely those who might have visited the park, especially in the 80s.
July 7, 2020
Loved it! I laughed, I cried, I became part of it... I also was lucky enough (having grown up in New Jersey) to have visited Action Park as a kid and teen. I might've seen my first actual nudity there thanks to bikini-stripping rides. This book brought back many great memories for me.
September 7, 2020
2020 Popsugar Reading Challenge
#6 A bildungsroman
(Does this technically count as a bildungsroman? Probably not. But most of the examples sounded extremely boring and this is, at least in part, about the author growing up, so I'm counting it. Don't at me.)
#6 A bildungsroman
(Does this technically count as a bildungsroman? Probably not. But most of the examples sounded extremely boring and this is, at least in part, about the author growing up, so I'm counting it. Don't at me.)
March 15, 2021
As a member of Gen-X who first arrived in NJ in the fall of 1989 to attend college, I heard my classmates tell tales of "Traction Park". It seemed almost unbelievable to me: an amusement park so inherently dangerous that most people talked about the injuries they or someone they knew sustained at this place. How could this place have existed? Naturally, I perked up when I heard about this book as well as several recent documentaries. I didn't realize this book was authored by one of the owner's sons. While this offers a unique inside-look at the park operations, I also wonder if the narrator is unreliable.
The book did answer my primary question about how could a place like this exist. The answer: money, privilege, and a complete disregard for the law. The owner made enough money on stock trades to invest in real estate in a rural area of NJ, include a ski resort, and hit upon the idea of building a summer attraction to keep the money rolling in during the warmer months. This grew into the Action Park of legend.
Why was it so dangerous? The owner had no concept of safe ride design. The infamous Cannonball Loop is the pinnacle of this: a ride so unsafe that it decapitated the test dummy, caused serious injuries to most of the few human test subjects, and only operated for part of a summer after minor "safety" measures were implemented, including a hatch to rescue trapped patrons. Worse, the owner thought that unsafe conditions were the point in some misguided notion that people should be in charge of their own destiny. People nearly drowning in the wave pool every day, in conditions so crowded the lifeguards could barely keep watch over everyone, in water so murky that the guards couldn't see people who went under? Don't even think about restricting access points, allowing the water to clear after rain, reducing the depth, or limiting the number of people. He even put his teenage son in charge of the lifeguards. It's remarkable that they only had 3 drownings in that death trap.
That leads to another factor in the danger: the place was run by teens. Sure, there were some adults on hand to do ride construction or maintenance work. But the staff was pretty much all kids, many drunk or barely paying attention. Even when they tried, they could do nothing to stop the patrons from taking unnecessary risks.
Speaking of drunks, the place also served alcohol. Mixing alcohol and inherently dangerous water rides seems crazy now.
How did this place come to be, and how did it continue to operate? The owner criminally broke the law. The author tries to spin this, but the fact remains that his dad scammed several state agencies and local government. In one case, he had an employee pretend to be a NJDOT employee to assure a town representative that the trolly installed to cross Rt. 94 was permitted. In another, the park failed to secure an American Gladiators license but proceeded to install an American Gladiators attraction that was a complete copy of the original, not even bothering to change the name of the attraction. In the most egregious case, his dad failed to carry insurance and went so far as to invent a sham insurance company. This came back to bite him, and his dad was almost, almost held criminally responsible. But as is too often the case: people with wealth and connections do not face the same legal system as the rest of us. He came out of that case with a slap on the wrist and somehow even got to purchase state parkland he had been leasing at a bargain price. Rich people problems.
The author seems completely oblivious to this. He and his siblings all attended elite universities, and he even had the gall to call his college friends pampered elites, as if he wasn't in that same category simply because he had to work at the park. He seems oblivious to the fact that he was put in charge of major park operations despite his youth and inexperience simply because he was the son of the owner, yet maintains that he's not like his spoiled rich buddies. Yeah, ok. I pretty much lost all sympathy for him as the story delved into his life as a drunken college frat boy who could jet off to some Greek Island (because, if you can believe it, it was cheap) to drink himself blackout drunk and fail to remember his first meeting of the woman who would eventually become his wife. At one point, he wakes up from a drunken bender and decides it's time to grow up. I believe he was already out of the college at the time. I don't ever remember needing to make a decision to become an adult.
Back to the insurance fraud. The owner thought self-insurance would save money in the long run. The park failed to accurately report injuries, and the author claimed that Disney parks have the same injury rate but also underreport injuries. He has no evidence to back this up, other that the unfailing knowledge that this is simply what rich corporations do, since that's what his rich father did. Instead of insurance, his father employed an aggressive lawyer who had some very effective methods to ensure that guests injured at the park would lose or give up on their personal injury court cases.
Ultimately, insurance is what did the original park in. After being caught and nearly jailed for his sham insurance company, the owner agreed to carry real insurance. But, no surprise, somewhere along the way he ended up woefully underinsured and lost a couple of court cases. The FBI actually raided the park several times to seize admissions sales to pay for those personal injury awards. This is also a lesson that the wealthy can hide their assets. His father was invested in many other businesses, including real estate deals worth over $10 million, yet he couldn't pay the $1 to $2 million in personal injury awards. The park declared bankruptcy yet the family still enjoys a life of wealth and privilege. They even bought the park back after a period of years.
I'm pretty sure the author wants his readers to think that his father was just a libertarian visionary, and that the much maligned state agencies were all that stood in his way. But I'm currently employed by one of the state agencies his father defrauded, so I wasn't buying his bs.
Still, it was an enjoyable read, even if my takeaway was pretty much the opposite of what the author intended.
The book did answer my primary question about how could a place like this exist. The answer: money, privilege, and a complete disregard for the law. The owner made enough money on stock trades to invest in real estate in a rural area of NJ, include a ski resort, and hit upon the idea of building a summer attraction to keep the money rolling in during the warmer months. This grew into the Action Park of legend.
Why was it so dangerous? The owner had no concept of safe ride design. The infamous Cannonball Loop is the pinnacle of this: a ride so unsafe that it decapitated the test dummy, caused serious injuries to most of the few human test subjects, and only operated for part of a summer after minor "safety" measures were implemented, including a hatch to rescue trapped patrons. Worse, the owner thought that unsafe conditions were the point in some misguided notion that people should be in charge of their own destiny. People nearly drowning in the wave pool every day, in conditions so crowded the lifeguards could barely keep watch over everyone, in water so murky that the guards couldn't see people who went under? Don't even think about restricting access points, allowing the water to clear after rain, reducing the depth, or limiting the number of people. He even put his teenage son in charge of the lifeguards. It's remarkable that they only had 3 drownings in that death trap.
That leads to another factor in the danger: the place was run by teens. Sure, there were some adults on hand to do ride construction or maintenance work. But the staff was pretty much all kids, many drunk or barely paying attention. Even when they tried, they could do nothing to stop the patrons from taking unnecessary risks.
Speaking of drunks, the place also served alcohol. Mixing alcohol and inherently dangerous water rides seems crazy now.
How did this place come to be, and how did it continue to operate? The owner criminally broke the law. The author tries to spin this, but the fact remains that his dad scammed several state agencies and local government. In one case, he had an employee pretend to be a NJDOT employee to assure a town representative that the trolly installed to cross Rt. 94 was permitted. In another, the park failed to secure an American Gladiators license but proceeded to install an American Gladiators attraction that was a complete copy of the original, not even bothering to change the name of the attraction. In the most egregious case, his dad failed to carry insurance and went so far as to invent a sham insurance company. This came back to bite him, and his dad was almost, almost held criminally responsible. But as is too often the case: people with wealth and connections do not face the same legal system as the rest of us. He came out of that case with a slap on the wrist and somehow even got to purchase state parkland he had been leasing at a bargain price. Rich people problems.
The author seems completely oblivious to this. He and his siblings all attended elite universities, and he even had the gall to call his college friends pampered elites, as if he wasn't in that same category simply because he had to work at the park. He seems oblivious to the fact that he was put in charge of major park operations despite his youth and inexperience simply because he was the son of the owner, yet maintains that he's not like his spoiled rich buddies. Yeah, ok. I pretty much lost all sympathy for him as the story delved into his life as a drunken college frat boy who could jet off to some Greek Island (because, if you can believe it, it was cheap) to drink himself blackout drunk and fail to remember his first meeting of the woman who would eventually become his wife. At one point, he wakes up from a drunken bender and decides it's time to grow up. I believe he was already out of the college at the time. I don't ever remember needing to make a decision to become an adult.
Back to the insurance fraud. The owner thought self-insurance would save money in the long run. The park failed to accurately report injuries, and the author claimed that Disney parks have the same injury rate but also underreport injuries. He has no evidence to back this up, other that the unfailing knowledge that this is simply what rich corporations do, since that's what his rich father did. Instead of insurance, his father employed an aggressive lawyer who had some very effective methods to ensure that guests injured at the park would lose or give up on their personal injury court cases.
Ultimately, insurance is what did the original park in. After being caught and nearly jailed for his sham insurance company, the owner agreed to carry real insurance. But, no surprise, somewhere along the way he ended up woefully underinsured and lost a couple of court cases. The FBI actually raided the park several times to seize admissions sales to pay for those personal injury awards. This is also a lesson that the wealthy can hide their assets. His father was invested in many other businesses, including real estate deals worth over $10 million, yet he couldn't pay the $1 to $2 million in personal injury awards. The park declared bankruptcy yet the family still enjoys a life of wealth and privilege. They even bought the park back after a period of years.
I'm pretty sure the author wants his readers to think that his father was just a libertarian visionary, and that the much maligned state agencies were all that stood in his way. But I'm currently employed by one of the state agencies his father defrauded, so I wasn't buying his bs.
Still, it was an enjoyable read, even if my takeaway was pretty much the opposite of what the author intended.
August 25, 2022
I am a sucker for stories of disastrous fiascos. I had read the Wikipedia page for Action Park and I knew it was notorious for being insanely dangerous. Multiple people died and hundreds were horribly injured. So naturally I was excited to read this book and get a more in-depth account of the madness.
The book was written by the son of the founder of Action Park, and his hero worship for his dad's "business genius" contrasts pretty weirdly with the horrible things his dad was doing. His dad thought regulations were for suckers, and he went out of his way to bend, break, ignore, twist, or pay his way out of every rule and regulation in existence. The dad made up shell companies to show that the park was insured when it actually wasn’t. The white privilege and entitlement this guy displayed got many innocent park attendees killed in their youth. But his son plays it off like it was business genius. It's honestly kind of disgusting.
The labor conditions at the park were also clearly illegal, insane, and wrong. The author and his siblings worked there all through their youth, and Andy (the author) was a lifeguard. His dad insisted on no caps on who and who could not be in waterslides, wave pools, and other dangerous areas. There were no limits on how many people could be in a pool at one time. People would get drunk as hell at the park and almost drown in the overcrowded wave pool, where once again, multiple people died due to the park not doing its job. Andy talks about trying to fish drunk drowning people out of this jam-packed wave pool cloudy with filth and sunscreen. He makes fun of the lifeguards at the city pool for not having as high a workload. But MAYBE the city pool was doing the right thing by not making their employees be in a situation where they were constantly killing people?? The author didn't think so, though!!
So, lots of people die. The employees are barely competent teens whose main work benefit is how they can sleep together and get drunk at parties, which also seems like a liability issue for their employers. But the way the author describes it, the park was idyllic and wonderful to work at (for the debauchery).
They are depicted as geniuses for skirting all those silly "nanny state" laws that, you know, keep people from getting killed and horribly injured but stop the park from maximizing sales. The family is a proud set of Reaganites. This book made me conclude this park is what Reaganites want: to maximize profit at all costs, and who cares who dies in the process?
For a less biased and self-congratulatory look at this park's death-friendly business model, watch the documentary Class Action Park on HBO.
The book was written by the son of the founder of Action Park, and his hero worship for his dad's "business genius" contrasts pretty weirdly with the horrible things his dad was doing. His dad thought regulations were for suckers, and he went out of his way to bend, break, ignore, twist, or pay his way out of every rule and regulation in existence. The dad made up shell companies to show that the park was insured when it actually wasn’t. The white privilege and entitlement this guy displayed got many innocent park attendees killed in their youth. But his son plays it off like it was business genius. It's honestly kind of disgusting.
The labor conditions at the park were also clearly illegal, insane, and wrong. The author and his siblings worked there all through their youth, and Andy (the author) was a lifeguard. His dad insisted on no caps on who and who could not be in waterslides, wave pools, and other dangerous areas. There were no limits on how many people could be in a pool at one time. People would get drunk as hell at the park and almost drown in the overcrowded wave pool, where once again, multiple people died due to the park not doing its job. Andy talks about trying to fish drunk drowning people out of this jam-packed wave pool cloudy with filth and sunscreen. He makes fun of the lifeguards at the city pool for not having as high a workload. But MAYBE the city pool was doing the right thing by not making their employees be in a situation where they were constantly killing people?? The author didn't think so, though!!
So, lots of people die. The employees are barely competent teens whose main work benefit is how they can sleep together and get drunk at parties, which also seems like a liability issue for their employers. But the way the author describes it, the park was idyllic and wonderful to work at (for the debauchery).
They are depicted as geniuses for skirting all those silly "nanny state" laws that, you know, keep people from getting killed and horribly injured but stop the park from maximizing sales. The family is a proud set of Reaganites. This book made me conclude this park is what Reaganites want: to maximize profit at all costs, and who cares who dies in the process?
For a less biased and self-congratulatory look at this park's death-friendly business model, watch the documentary Class Action Park on HBO.
May 16, 2020
This non-fiction look at New Jersey's infamous amusement park is so packed with humor and stranger-than-fiction moments, it's as riotous as a stand-up special by a world-class comedian. This book is coming to us a few years after several mini-docs and a not-so-successful movie adaptation (2018's Johnny Knoxville vehicle 'Action Point,' which really isn't THAT bad of a film)... But this book proves to be the most effective presentation of Action Park's history.
Written by the park owner's son Andy (with Jake Rossen as co-writer), the tone is whip-smart, sardonic in a way that made me think of Patrick Bateman surrounded by his circus of a family in 'Arrested Development.' His father Gene wanted each attraction to have more than a hint of danger, and he had a knack for making even his most outlandish visions into a reality. Andy hilariously describes being head lifeguard at the park's wave pool (one pf America's first), with suction fans cranked so high that each day's work involved saving dozens from near-drownings!
How did this place stay open for so long? Is it okay that so many people got hurt... (and worse) at this supposed family playground? The book does not shy away from this stuff, either.
Read this book! Chances are you will be gifting it to a lot of people you know (dads, brothers, guy-friends), just to share the wild rollercoaster (or Alpine Slide) of an epic story that Mulvihill and Rossen spin. When the book's Acknowledgements refer to dozens and dozens of interviews done to get the details right, it's clear that this book is a labor of love and a thorough record of what Action Park was. It's also an illuminating glimpse into the amusement business. For every Walt Disney, there is a twisted funhouse mirror-version like Gene Mulvihill who has just as much vision.
Written by the park owner's son Andy (with Jake Rossen as co-writer), the tone is whip-smart, sardonic in a way that made me think of Patrick Bateman surrounded by his circus of a family in 'Arrested Development.' His father Gene wanted each attraction to have more than a hint of danger, and he had a knack for making even his most outlandish visions into a reality. Andy hilariously describes being head lifeguard at the park's wave pool (one pf America's first), with suction fans cranked so high that each day's work involved saving dozens from near-drownings!
How did this place stay open for so long? Is it okay that so many people got hurt... (and worse) at this supposed family playground? The book does not shy away from this stuff, either.
Read this book! Chances are you will be gifting it to a lot of people you know (dads, brothers, guy-friends), just to share the wild rollercoaster (or Alpine Slide) of an epic story that Mulvihill and Rossen spin. When the book's Acknowledgements refer to dozens and dozens of interviews done to get the details right, it's clear that this book is a labor of love and a thorough record of what Action Park was. It's also an illuminating glimpse into the amusement business. For every Walt Disney, there is a twisted funhouse mirror-version like Gene Mulvihill who has just as much vision.
August 10, 2025
Here are some quotes from this book:
“Under the oppressive leadership of the incumbent Jimmy Carter, we could only slide further into debt.” (p. 96)
“The park was a metaphor for individuality. People didn’t need to be legislated into submission, relegated to narrow corridors of living. Action Park was America. Six Flags and its pre-set coaster paths was communist China.” (pp. 97 - 98)
Andy Mulvihill’s not the kind of guy I’d want to meet in real life. His bootstrap politics and general “kids these days could never handle it” outlook sours the experience of Action Park. Also, like many pop culture histories, it DRAAAGS at the end. This rose-colored look at a bizarre piece of amusement park history has some interesting anecdotes, but ultimately suffers from pacing issues and, ugh, Republican politics.
Save several hours, watch the Defunctland video instead: https://youtu.be/flkW-ceNvck?si=GpS_0...
“Under the oppressive leadership of the incumbent Jimmy Carter, we could only slide further into debt.” (p. 96)
“The park was a metaphor for individuality. People didn’t need to be legislated into submission, relegated to narrow corridors of living. Action Park was America. Six Flags and its pre-set coaster paths was communist China.” (pp. 97 - 98)
Andy Mulvihill’s not the kind of guy I’d want to meet in real life. His bootstrap politics and general “kids these days could never handle it” outlook sours the experience of Action Park. Also, like many pop culture histories, it DRAAAGS at the end. This rose-colored look at a bizarre piece of amusement park history has some interesting anecdotes, but ultimately suffers from pacing issues and, ugh, Republican politics.
Save several hours, watch the Defunctland video instead: https://youtu.be/flkW-ceNvck?si=GpS_0...
December 31, 2020
3.5 stars. I knew nothing about Action Park prior to reading the book. While I enjoyed the book & the story of Action Park, there were things about the book I didn’t like. The biggest dislike was the Mulvihill family and its patriarch Gene. While innovative and daring, they operated a business with careless disregard for employee and patron safety & well being. They also showed complete disregard for laws, rules & regulations. Worse is that they celebrated both, holding themselves up as some sort of crusaders for personal liberty.
Fun book ...
Interesting story ...
Unlikeable characters ...
Fun book ...
Interesting story ...
Unlikeable characters ...
March 22, 2024
2024 Book Review - Book No. 13: “Action Park: Fast Times, Wild Rides, and the Untold Story of America’s Most Dangerous Amusement Park” written by Andy Mulvihill and Jake Rossen
Date started: 2/23/24
Date finished: 3/22/24
Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (would recommend reading if you like the tv show Jackass, memoirs, and “stranger than fiction” true stories)
Spoiler free review: The idea of “right place, right time” may not be more apropos than when talking about Action Park in the 1980’s. Known for its carefree attitude and high probability of injury, there is absolutely zero chance an amusement park like Action Park could exist now for a year, let alone the better part of 2 decades. In fact, the park owners attempted a resurrection in the 2010’s before shuttering it’s doors permanently in 2016.
For those unfamiliar, Action Park first opened in the late 70’s in Vernon, NJ as a way to utilize a ski resort area in the summer season. It’s first attraction, the Alpine Slide, was essentially a giant asbestos track that riders would traverse on a small cart with no helmet and, most often, with even less care. A single ride of this nature, one that would leave riders with scrapes, burns, broken bones, severed appendages, and concussions, would never survive the test phase nowadays. At its peak, Action Park offered attendees over a dozen such opportunities for recreation and maiming.
Essentially a memoir written by one of the park owners’ sons, the real story behind the park is Gene Mulvihill, the man who brought the park to life from napkin diagrams and increasingly shady deals. With every new ride came new challenges and liabilities, but those never stopped Gene. Each chapter essentially details a year or two and the major attractions installed during that time. From unbridled go-karts to a homemade wave pool to New Jersey’s first stationary bungee jumping platform, Gene’s disregard for safety and focus on free-for-all fun (or chaos) served as the motivation behind each of these.
Predictably, things caught up with Gene and the rest of the people at Action Park. I’ve heard stories from some friends and coworkers about visiting there and they don’t seem too worse for wear. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for some of those detailed in the book who ultimately gave their lives (literally) to the park in various accidents. As someone who grew up going to Dorney Park in the summer, I can only imagine the damage I might have done to myself at Action Park. Suffice it to say I was happier to read about it than to have experienced it.
Date started: 2/23/24
Date finished: 3/22/24
Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (would recommend reading if you like the tv show Jackass, memoirs, and “stranger than fiction” true stories)
Spoiler free review: The idea of “right place, right time” may not be more apropos than when talking about Action Park in the 1980’s. Known for its carefree attitude and high probability of injury, there is absolutely zero chance an amusement park like Action Park could exist now for a year, let alone the better part of 2 decades. In fact, the park owners attempted a resurrection in the 2010’s before shuttering it’s doors permanently in 2016.
For those unfamiliar, Action Park first opened in the late 70’s in Vernon, NJ as a way to utilize a ski resort area in the summer season. It’s first attraction, the Alpine Slide, was essentially a giant asbestos track that riders would traverse on a small cart with no helmet and, most often, with even less care. A single ride of this nature, one that would leave riders with scrapes, burns, broken bones, severed appendages, and concussions, would never survive the test phase nowadays. At its peak, Action Park offered attendees over a dozen such opportunities for recreation and maiming.
Essentially a memoir written by one of the park owners’ sons, the real story behind the park is Gene Mulvihill, the man who brought the park to life from napkin diagrams and increasingly shady deals. With every new ride came new challenges and liabilities, but those never stopped Gene. Each chapter essentially details a year or two and the major attractions installed during that time. From unbridled go-karts to a homemade wave pool to New Jersey’s first stationary bungee jumping platform, Gene’s disregard for safety and focus on free-for-all fun (or chaos) served as the motivation behind each of these.
Predictably, things caught up with Gene and the rest of the people at Action Park. I’ve heard stories from some friends and coworkers about visiting there and they don’t seem too worse for wear. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for some of those detailed in the book who ultimately gave their lives (literally) to the park in various accidents. As someone who grew up going to Dorney Park in the summer, I can only imagine the damage I might have done to myself at Action Park. Suffice it to say I was happier to read about it than to have experienced it.
July 21, 2020
Yep, not literary nonfiction but a hilarious story of an Amusement Park that dared others to keep up with them, or exist. Action Park in Vernon, NJ was all it promised to be: fun, adventurous and dangerously put the attendees in control of their own individual ride or swim. An amazing time to be a creative entrepreneur with a free spirit; and a teenager!
August 23, 2021
I’m at a loss for how to rate this. It was incredibly entertaining and provides a behind-the-scenes look at Action Park that isn’t seen in other media or memoirs on the subject, but it also seriously overestimates the audience’s willingness to go along with the author’s view of his father as a lovable scamp putting one over on some buzzkill government drones.
Gene Mulvihill was a serial criminal responsible for the injury and death of hundreds of people. Waving away insurance fraud as a “victimless crime” and criminal negligence as “pioneering vision” is…definitely a choice, but not a very palatable one. The lack of any kind of reflection here just soured my experience with what is otherwise a really well-written memoir of a specific time and place. By the time I got to the epilogue where the author was bemoaning the Action Park attendees of the 2010s who didn’t ogle women who accidentally lost their bathing suit tops or verbally assault other swimmers, I was ready to throw the book across the room.
I’d still recommend reading this, but only alongside HBO’s “Class Action Park.” The documentary does a much better job at placing the park in the context of America’s coming of age, where we learned that the myth of personal responsibility was never going to hold water.
And honestly? Releasing this in the middle of a pandemic, when that lesson has been underlined, highlighted, and tattooed on our collective national forehead, takes a special kind of willful blindness.
Gene Mulvihill was a serial criminal responsible for the injury and death of hundreds of people. Waving away insurance fraud as a “victimless crime” and criminal negligence as “pioneering vision” is…definitely a choice, but not a very palatable one. The lack of any kind of reflection here just soured my experience with what is otherwise a really well-written memoir of a specific time and place. By the time I got to the epilogue where the author was bemoaning the Action Park attendees of the 2010s who didn’t ogle women who accidentally lost their bathing suit tops or verbally assault other swimmers, I was ready to throw the book across the room.
I’d still recommend reading this, but only alongside HBO’s “Class Action Park.” The documentary does a much better job at placing the park in the context of America’s coming of age, where we learned that the myth of personal responsibility was never going to hold water.
And honestly? Releasing this in the middle of a pandemic, when that lesson has been underlined, highlighted, and tattooed on our collective national forehead, takes a special kind of willful blindness.
June 11, 2021
I shouldn't be surprised that this became a prism for rugged individualism. If the author was more self aware, this could be an interesting sociopolitical cut out of a time and place, regardless of his personal politics then or now.
He stresses several times that his father didn't care about class and that Action Park accepted black people who the community wouldn't normally get to be around, so kudos to him? but these might be caveats considering the next section described the author's youthful exuberance campaigning for Reagan and him having a truthiness realization. The glossy lens of nostalgia is maintained by being incurious about the disaster of Reaganomics and void of any analysis.
This got progressively awful and concludes with a long winded "things will never be the same" lament.
He stresses several times that his father didn't care about class and that Action Park accepted black people who the community wouldn't normally get to be around, so kudos to him? but these might be caveats considering the next section described the author's youthful exuberance campaigning for Reagan and him having a truthiness realization. The glossy lens of nostalgia is maintained by being incurious about the disaster of Reaganomics and void of any analysis.
This got progressively awful and concludes with a long winded "things will never be the same" lament.
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