It was a concrete scar on a hillside in Vernon, New Jersey. If you grew up in the Tri-State area during the 80s or early 90s, the name Action Park doesn't just represent a theme park; it’s a survival badge. People call it "Traction Park" or "Accident Park" for a reason. Honestly, it's a miracle more of us didn't end up in the hospital every single weekend.
The place was the brainchild of Gene Mulvihill. He was a man who basically didn't believe in the laws of physics or, frankly, the laws of insurance. He created a playground where the inmates ran the asylum. The lifeguards were teenagers who were more interested in getting tan than saving lives. The rides? They were built by people who didn't really understand how water and speed interact with the human body.
The Cannonball Loop and the Myth of the Water Slide Action Park
Let’s talk about the Cannonball Loop. You’ve probably seen the grainy photos of it—a blue pipe with a vertical loop at the end. It looks like something a kid would build for a Hot Wheels car, except it was meant for actual humans.
Legend says they offered employees $100 to test it. Some took the bait. They came out the other end with bloody noses and scratched-up backs because they didn't have enough momentum to clear the loop and just fell straight down onto the wet plastic. It only stayed open for about a month in 1985 before the Advisory Board on Carnival Amusement Ride Safety shut it down. But that one ride cemented the reputation of the water slide Action Park as a place where the risk was the entire point.
Why does this matter now? Because in an era of hyper-regulated, sterilized corporate theme parks, the raw, unfiltered chaos of Vernon Valley/Action Park feels like a fever dream. It was a time when personal responsibility meant "if you’re dumb enough to go down a slide made of concrete and fiberglass, whatever happens is on you."
The Alpine Slide: A Rite of Passage in Scraped Skin
If the Cannonball Loop was the park's urban legend, the Alpine Slide was its daily reality. It was a long track made of concrete and asbestos. You sat on a plastic sled with a handbrake that worked maybe 40% of the time.
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The goal was simple: get to the bottom.
The reality was that people would fly off the tracks into the weeds. I’ve talked to people who still have "Action Park tattoos"—thick, raised scars on their elbows and knees from sliding across that sun-baked concrete at thirty miles per hour. There wasn't any real padding. There weren't any safety nets. Just you, a flimsy piece of plastic, and gravity.
It’s easy to look back and say it was reckless. It was. But there’s a nuance people miss. Action Park was a response to the "look but don't touch" nature of Disney. Mulvihill wanted guests to be the actors in their own drama. If you wanted to go fast, you pushed the lever forward. If you were scared, you pulled back. You had agency. That agency just happened to come with a high probability of a concussion.
The Water Rides That Defied Logic
The "Geronimo" was basically a vertical drop into a shallow pool. You didn't slide so much as you experienced freefall until your body slapped the water. Then there was the "Kayaking" experience, which featured underwater fans that occasionally gave people electric shocks. Not a joke. Real, documented electrical shocks.
And we can't forget the Tidal Wave Pool. They nicknamed it the "Grave Pool." It was one of the first of its kind in the US, and it was deeply misunderstood by the public. Twelve lifeguards would be on duty at once, and they were reportedly making thirty rescues a day. The problem wasn't the machinery; it was the sheer volume of people who couldn't swim jumping into twelve-foot deep churning water.
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Why the Legend of Action Park Persists in 2026
You might think we’d want to forget a place that caused so much documented trauma. But the opposite happened. After the park closed in 1996 and eventually rebranded as Mountain Creek, the nostalgia only grew. Documentaries like Class Action Park and the movie Action Point proved that we are obsessed with this specific brand of 80s danger.
It represents a lost world. Today, you go to a water park and you're strapped in, checked three times, and monitored by cameras. At the original water slide Action Park, the only thing monitoring you was a 16-year-old from West Milford who was thinking about his lunch break.
The Business of Chaos
Gene Mulvihill was a pioneer in more than just slides. He created his own insurance company in the Cayman Islands—London International Insurance—just to insure his park because no one else would touch it. That’s the level of commitment we’re talking about here. He wasn't a villain; he was a guy who believed in a version of fun that was inherently risky.
From a business perspective, it was a goldmine until the lawsuits and the debt finally caught up. It’s a case study in how "brand identity" can be built on something as unconventional as danger. People didn't go despite the risks; they went because of them.
The Safety Legacy: How Action Park Changed Everything
Believe it or not, the chaos in Vernon actually made modern water parks safer. The industry looked at what happened there—the drownings, the fractures, the sheer statistical anomaly of the injury rates—and used it to develop better standards.
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- Redundant Safety Systems: Modern slides use sensors to ensure one person is clear before the next starts.
- Pool Depth Physics: We now understand how to transition a high-speed slider into a splash pool without causing a spinal injury.
- Staff Training: Lifeguard certification became a standardized, rigorous process rather than a summer hobby for local teens.
Moving Forward: How to Experience the Spirit (Safely)
If you’re looking for that old-school thrill, you can't go back to 1985. And honestly, your joints probably couldn't handle it anyway. But you can still find the DNA of that era if you know where to look.
Visit Mountain Creek: It sits on the same land. While it’s infinitely safer and professionally run, some of the natural terrain slides still use the hillsides in a way that feels more "organic" than a steel tower at a Six Flags.
Do Your Research: If you’re a history buff, check out the Vernon historical records. The legal battles between Mulvihill and the state of New Jersey are as entertaining as the rides themselves.
Check the Engineering: When you go to a modern water park, look at the run-out lanes. Those long, flat sections of water that slow you down? Those are the direct descendants of the "abrupt stops" that used to break ribs at Action Park.
The era of the "anything goes" water slide Action Park is dead. It had to die. But for those who were there, the smell of chlorine and the sight of a scraped knee will always bring back memories of a hillside in New Jersey where, for a few bucks, you could try to outrun physics.
To truly understand the impact of this place, look at the safety regulations in your local municipality. Chances are, there's a rule written in a dusty book somewhere that exists specifically because someone at Action Park tried to do something impossible.
Next Steps for the Interested:
- Search for the 1980s Action Park commercials on YouTube to see the original marketing.
- Read the 2019 book Action Park: Fast Times, Wild Rides, and the Untold Story of America's Most Dangerous Amusement Park by Andy Mulvihill for an insider's perspective.
- Check the current safety ratings of any park you visit via the International Association of Amusement Parks and Attractions (IAAPA).