Detroit — There is a lot of work that needs to be done on Belle Isle, the geriatric queen of Detroit’s grandeur.
The island’s 100-year-old neoclassical fountain is as dry as a dog bowl.
The abandoned 135-year-old zoo looks more like a soundstage of a Hollywood horror flick and is scheduled for bulldozing. (The albino deer have been shipped to the Detroit Zoo to die a dignified death of old age.)
The 120-year-old aquarium has a roof that spits more water than the grand fountain.
But the island’s giant slide—that majestic Stonehenge of the Great Lakes—has been repaired, reopened, and is now operating at limited hours, costing $1 a ride.
The slide vaulted into international headlines in 2022 after being closed for two years due to Covid. Somebody from the state’s parks department applied too much canning wax to the structure’s stainless steel arches, causing thrill seekers to rocket airborne and return with a crushing thud, only to be launched skyward again.
It was a veritable slaughterhouse. A fuselage of flaming skin. A bobsleigh of battered bones.
So the track was closed again. And repairs were promised.
Were scientists from the Department of Natural Resources able to triage the problem?
The background:
The iconic 40-foot slide, built somewhere in California, opened in 1967 as part of plan to build a grand, privately run amusement park on the island to be christened “Funland.” The plan ran into financial trouble, and community controversy and was never realized. The riots later that summer probably didn’t help matters much.
Still, we got the slide, and it has provided memories for generations of Detroit daredevils. It ran continuously until 2004 when it was replaced due to decrepitude. The new slide (origins unknown) operated continuously from 2005 until the city went broke in 2013 and Belle Isle was turned over to the State of Michigan. The slide again was opened for business until 2020. Then Covid. Then the infamous videos of people being tossed like bags of soiled laundry.
And now, once again, it’s operational. Park officials say the ride of a lifetime is available to all comers.
But did they fix it? Behold as Ken Beck, my corpulent cameraman, scales the towering heights of our midwestern Mt. Everest.
Charlie LeDuff is a reporter educated in public schools. Follow him on X @Charlieleduff.
