Sugar, as you’re walkin’ up, look for a glass-walled atrium with soaring balconies and a towering escalator that just begs you to hitch a ride, and right there up top, you’ll see a fanciful carousel peacockin’ with colorful banners and a burst of balloons floatin’ over the scene-it’s as if a carnival snuck indoors and set up camp.
Now, baby, give yourself a second to take in the feelin’ out here, 'cause you’re standin’ in front of what once was the wildest, most whimsical dream that ever landed in Atlanta-The World of Sid and Marty Krofft. Picture it: May 1976, bell-bottoms as wide as the Mississippi, hair bigger than a summer storm, and Atlanta buzzin’ with excitement for its very own slice of childhood enchanted wonder. It wasn’t just any ol’ amusement park, oh no, ma’am-this here was all inside, tucked away safe from the Georgia summer, but glitterin’ enough to make your heart skip.
The park threw open its doors in the Omni International Complex, a place so modern it seemed plucked right outta tomorrow. You would’ve been whisked up to the sky on the world’s longest freestandin’ escalator-oh honey, that thing was a beast, stretchin’ so high you felt like you were climbin’ right into the clouds. Lord have mercy, if you were afraid of heights, you best have closed your eyes and prayed when you stepped on that ride.
As you glided up, laughter and lights tumbled down from every floor. At the tippy-top waited Tranquility Terrace, three whole levels brimming with mythological crystal carousel creatures just dancin’ around-unicorns, griffins, probably a pegasus or two struttin’ their stuff. The whoosh of carnival music would follow you as you strolled through Uptown, peeked in at a caricature artist, or stopped to watch a belly-dancin’ purple rhino named Betty Broadbent give a show-land sakes, the folks knew how to keep things lively!
The whole place was burstin’ with color and characters. Roll on down to Lidsville and Living Island Adventure beneath, and you’d find stilt walkers, a slackrope strutter up in the air, and the famous 33 RPM breakdancers twistin’ and poppin’ so quick you’d near swear the laws of physics broke just for them. Actors in wild costumes, “little people” who’d later pop up in Star Wars, and shoppers crowdin’ around food emporiums and a glass blower showin’ off his fire.
And angels above, there was that giant pinball machine ride-now, child, imagine gettin’ in a ball like you’re a shiny silver pinball yourself, bouncin’ and whizzin’ through neon tunnels. No truer smile was grinned in Atlanta that summer.
But just as quick as fairy tales turn on you, all that shininess couldn’t wrestle with real-world troubles. Old Atlanta was facin’ rough times back then-folk were nervous about comin’ into downtown, rumors swirled about safety, and besides that, the tickets made some folks’ wallets shiver when they saw the size of Six Flags sittin’ just outside the city. The dream was just too rich for Atlanta’s britches, and after a mere six months, those doors swung shut.
Sweet thing, even though the laughter faded, the bones of this old wonder didn’t just sit here and gather dust. The grand halls and giant rooms tickled Ted Turner’s fancy in the 1980s when he needed a home for his little ol’ CNN cable network. And so, what once echoed with carousel music and children’s cheers soon buzzed with the clatter of keyboards, newscastin’, and satellite feeds-giving Atlanta a second brush with fame.
To this day, bits of that earlier world live on-the massive escalator’s still here, part of the CNN tour, risin’ up like the ghost of amusement past. So as you stand here and listen, let your mind wander to that brief, bright moment, when Atlanta dared to dream big and built a magical carnival in the clouds, if only for just one enchanted summer’s breath.
