When I was little, my sister and I would spend the night at our grandparents’ house, and every time, without fail, we would beg our grandpa to tuck us in and tell us a bedtime story. He always started the same silly way: “When I was a little girl…” and we would erupt into giggles, yelling, “You weren’t a girl, Grandpa!” That was part of the magic—his stories always started with laughter.
He would then tell us tales from his childhood growing up in the 1920s. They were full of imagination, adventure, and little life lessons tucked in along the way. He told them so well, we could see the scenes unfold like painted pictures in our heads. They often made us laugh, sometimes made us think—but they always made us feel close to him.
One of our favorite stories was “Joe, the Rooster on the Merry-Go-Round.” It was inspired by the historic Balboa Park Carousel and the rooster figure that was one of the animals on the ride. Every time our mom took us to Balboa Park, we’d beg to go on the carousel, hoping we could ride Joe the Rooster—and maybe, just maybe, grab the gold ring.
The Balboa Park Carousel is one of only 12 known remaining carousels in North America that still operate a working brass ring game. During the ride, you can lean out and try to grab a ring from a dispenser as the carousel spins. Most of the rings are plain, but one of them—the final one—is gold. If you manage to grab it, you win a free ride.
This story is one we never forgot. It brought Joe the Rooster to life in our imaginations—and it still makes us smile today.
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When the merry-go-round opened in the morning, Joe was very unhappy. He was tired of riding children and going up and down. Joe wanted to see the exposition. He heard the people talking about how wonderful it was. He wanted to be fed popcorn, like the pigeons.
A lot of children climbed on. A boy was on the hen next to him. All of a sudden, Joe went higher than he was supposed to. The pole broke, and off he flew. How glad he was to be free! He flew over the gate and went down the street. He went past the museum and on down the road to the midway.
Joe was walking peacefully, when—WHIZ!—a soapbox derby car just missed him. He started to get out of the way when soapbox cars were going by on all sides. He finally got out of the way and went on. He passed the loop-the-loop.
By that time, Joe was beginning to get homesick. All of a sudden, he heard music. It sounded like merry-go-round music. Yes, it was! It was going full speed. Joe looked for a space for him, but there was none because it was a different one. He wished he could get on so badly, but he could not. So on he went.
He passed the zoo. Some of the attendants saw him and came rushing out with nets and ropes. After a great scuffle, they put him in a cage. Some thought he was the lost Boo-a-Bird. They left him for the night.
That night, Joe flew over the fence and started to look for his merry-go-round. He passed the place where the pigeons were, but they had gone to roost. He passed the museum again. Joe was surely glad to see it. Then he saw the gate. He flew over the gate—and what did he see? The merry-go-round!
It had just stopped. He found his place, and the men fixed him in a few minutes, and the merry-go-round started. There never was a happier figure on the merry-go-round that day. Joe decided he would never run away again.
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A Note from the Author
By Grandpa
The story of the merry-go-round rooster was written in El Centro in April 1936 for my sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Walker. I’m tempted now to rework it, because I think it hints at an intriguing parable—and because I know I’m a little better writer now than when I was 12 years old.
What do sixth graders know about developing and intensifying suspense, for instance? Or about the incredibly insurmountable barriers fiction writers must devise to reveal the character of their hero?
I’m resisting the temptation. The story stands as I wrote it 47 years ago. Any improving, if there was any, came in later years as I told it to my children. Perhaps, as my children tell the story to their children, they can add their own embellishments. Some understanding of the time and circumstances will help.
The story grew out of my impression of the World’s Fair held in San Diego’s Balboa Park in 1936. The merry-go-round, a well-known fixture in the park, became a part of the fair. It had long been something of a tradition in our family.
My mother used to delight in a free ride when she bought me a ticket—back when I was too little to hold on by myself. Our son Jerry also first rode the Balboa Park merry-go-round in his mother’s arms. The rest of our kids rode over the years, brilliantly snatching (I think) more than their share of gold rings.
The free rides for parents of preschoolers have long since been discontinued, but Joe, the big white Leghorn rooster, is still there—to the delight of perhaps millions of children. He kept his word and never ran away again.
