Why the Merry Go Round Still Captivates Us (and Why It Almost Disappeared)

Why the Merry Go Round Still Captivates Us (and Why It Almost Disappeared)

The lights flicker. A calliope starts its wheezing, mechanical song. You step onto a platform that smells faintly of grease and nostalgia, and suddenly, the world starts to blur. It’s the merry go round, a staple of every childhood summer that somehow feels both ancient and indestructible.

Ever wonder why we’re still obsessed with spinning in circles on wooden horses? It’s kinda weird when you think about it. We have VR headsets and roller coasters that pull 4Gs, yet the humble carousel remains the heart of the fairground.

But here’s the thing. The merry go round isn't just a toy. It’s a survivor. From its brutal origins as a military training tool to the "Golden Age" of American woodcarving, this machine has a history that’s surprisingly dark and incredibly complex. Most people just see a ride. I see a masterpiece of engineering that nearly went extinct when the Great Depression hit.

The Brutal History Behind the Merry Go Round

Believe it or not, the first versions of this ride weren't for kids. They were for warriors. The word "carousel" actually comes from the Italian garosello and Spanish carosella, meaning "little war."

Back in the 12th century, Arabian and Turkish horsemen used a rotating device to practice their combat skills. They would ride in circles, tossing balls of perfumed clay at one another. If you dropped it, you smelled like a flower—the ultimate mark of shame for a soldier. Crusaders brought the idea back to Europe, where it eventually evolved into the "ring tilt."

By the 17th century, the French had turned it into a spectacle. Imagine young nobles on wooden horses, trying to spear a small ring hanging from a pole while spinning. It was training for the joust. It was high-stakes. It was definitely not for five-year-olds eating cotton candy.

Everything changed when steam power arrived. Suddenly, you didn't need a mule or a person to crank the mechanism. The merry go round became an industry. Makers like Gustav Dentzel and Charles Looff started carving animals that looked so real they almost breathed. We're talking real horsehair tails, glass eyes, and gold leaf.

There is a specific reason why a merry go round feels different from a Ferris wheel. It’s about the centrifugal force and the "up-and-down" motion, technically known as the jumper mechanism.

Psychologically, it hits a sweet spot. It’s safe but dizzying.

I talked to a local mechanic who services vintage units, and he pointed out something most of us miss: the "lead horse." On almost every carousel, there is one horse that is bigger, fancier, and more decorated than the others. It’s usually on the outside row. If you want the "best" seat, that’s the one you look for.

Honestly, the appeal is mostly about the suspension of disbelief. When the music starts, the outside world disappears. You aren't in a parking lot or a dusty park anymore. You’re on a galloping charger. For three minutes, the physics of the real world don’t apply.

People use the terms interchangeably. They shouldn't.

Technically, a carousel usually features only horses, while a merry go round can have anything—lions, tigers, chariots, even mythical sea creatures called hippocamps.

Also, direction matters. In the United Kingdom and much of Europe, carousels usually turn clockwise. In North America? They almost always turn counter-clockwise. Why? Some say it’s so riders can easily grab the "brass ring" with their right hand, which was a common game in the early 20th century. Grab the ring, win a free ride. Simple as that.

The Tragedy of the "Golden Age" Machines

Between 1880 and 1930, the United States saw an explosion of carousel art. There were thousands of them. Carvers like Marcus Illions—known for his "Coney Island Style" horses with flying manes and wild eyes—created works of art that are now worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Then the Depression hit.

Amusement parks closed. The giant wooden machines were left to rot. Many were chopped up for firewood. It’s gut-wrenching to think about. A hand-carved cherry wood horse, polished to a mirror finish, ended up in a furnace because nobody could afford the nickel it cost to ride.

Today, there are fewer than 150 of these vintage wooden carousels left in North America. When you see one, you’re looking at a museum piece that happens to move.

How to Spot a "Real" Antique

If you’re at a park and want to know if you’re on a classic or a modern fiberglass reproduction, look at the legs.

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  • Real Wood: You’ll see subtle seams where the legs were joined to the body. The paint might have a "crazed" or cracked look under the varnish.
  • Fiberglass: The surface is perfectly smooth. It feels hollow when you tap it.
  • The Pole: Antique poles are often solid steel or even brass-sleeved.

Maintenance Is a Nightmare (But Worth It)

Maintaining a merry go round isn't like fixing a car. You can’t just go to a shop and buy a new gear for a 1912 Philadelphia Toboggan Company machine. You have to custom-forge parts.

The center pole is the spine. If it tilts even a fraction of a degree, the whole thing grinds itself to death. The bearings have to be greased constantly. And the paint? It’s a never-ending cycle of sanding and retouching. Because kids kick the horses. They spill soda on the platforms. They grab the manes.

It’s a labor of love. Most of the people keeping these things running are volunteers or specialized historians who treat the machines like living creatures.

The Future of the Spin

We’re seeing a weirdly cool resurgence in carousel technology. New ones are being built with sustainable materials, and some even use solar power. In places like Salem, Oregon, communities have come together to carve brand-new carousels by hand, keeping the old-school techniques alive for a new generation.

It’s a reminder that even in a world dominated by AI and digital screens, we still crave the tactile. We want the wind in our faces. We want the smell of the machine.

The merry go round survives because it’s the only ride that grandparents and toddlers can enjoy together. It’s the ultimate bridge between generations.


How to find and appreciate a classic carousel near you:

Check the National Carousel Association database to find historic machines in your state. When you visit, don't just jump on the first horse you see. Walk the perimeter. Look for the "romance side"—the side of the horse facing the public, which is always more heavily decorated than the inside.

Check the rounding boards (the panels at the top) for hand-painted landscapes. Many of these were painted by immigrants who wanted to show scenes from their home countries.

If you're lucky enough to find a machine that still has a working "brass ring" dispenser, give it a shot. It’s much harder than it looks to grab a ring while moving, but it’s the closest you’ll get to experiencing the 1920s in the modern day. Keep the horse's ears in your sights, lean out slightly, and keep your fingers hooked. It’s a piece of history you can actually touch.