PITTSBURGH—Mike Lowery hasn’t been in this spot since he was 10 years old. He edges up to the last stanchion near a pile of hats and backpacks and other loose gear that riders don’t want flying into the Monongahela River.
Smiling and watching the action, he awaits his turn under a shadowy web of rattling white-and-red wood and screeching metal as three ride operators raise their arms and give synchronized thumbs up after final safety checks.
“You can’t beat steel for what you get in height and speed, but I still love wooden coasters. It’s good classic nostalgia,” says Lowery, now a 45-year-old chemistry and physics teacher from Youngstown, Ohio, as he’s poised to hop on the Thunderbolt, a landmark roller coaster at Kennywood Park.
On a field trip with excited Campbell Memorial High School seniors, Lowery’s physics background helped steer his gaze toward the back car of the train now rolling into the station.
Seated in the second cart are: Zachary Hallenbeck, middle left, 13, of Alexandria, Va.; Dave Altman, middle right, of Plum; Ally Ackman, front left, 17, and Zackery Franks, front right, 22, both from Washington. The group rides the Kennywood Thunderbolt coaster on Sunday at Kennywood Park.
“You get that extra whip,” he says.
Lowery was just one of hundreds of riders on a sunny late May day daring Thunderbolt’s immediate 50-foot fall, rocky helixes and ultimate cliffside drop. It’s over in less than 2 minutes.
Lowery was unaware that the ride is celebrating its 100th year at the historic amusement park in West Mifflin.
“I had no idea,” he said. “That makes it even more fun.”
Bill Linkenheimer, of the nonprofit American Coaster Enthusiasts, noted the ride’s second-biggest drop comes “the moment you leave the station”—starting riders off “with a bang” instead of the more traditional chain-lift opening that gradually builds anticipation.
The Thunderbolt tops out around 55 mph, “plenty fast for a wooden coaster,” and combines both lateral and negative g-forces—that feeling of floating as the train flies down—that coaster enthusiasts often seek, said Linkenheimer, a 57-year-old Ross native.
And because the Thunderbolt is a rare “terrain coaster” that doesn’t have to rely on an early large drop to gain steam, its biggest drop surprises riders at the very end.
“It’s crazy to have so many unique features like that all in one ride,” Linkenheimer said. “Everything combined as a package—there’s nothing else like it, anywhere.”
The Thunderbolt barreled to life as the Pippin, which opened May 4, 1924, four years after the debut of the still-popular, double-dipping Jack Rabbit. Just like the wooden Jack Rabbit, the Pippin relied on the park’s natural topography to create surprisingly fast curls and hills.
The Pippin, Jack Rabbit and Racer were designed by master roller coaster designer and builder John A. Miller, who played a role in almost 150 coasters across the country in the early 20th century. Miller’s longtime collaborator, Harry Baker, helped build the Jack Rabbit and the Vernon Keenan-designed Cyclone at Luna Park in Coney Island in Brooklyn.
In the late 1960s, Kennywood leaders aimed to mix things up and at one point considered knocking down either the Jack Rabbit or the Pippin, given the coasters’ similarities, to build a new thriller. Instead, then-maintenance supervisor Andy Vettel Sr. led the transformation of the Pippin into the Thunderbolt, which opened in 1968 with a new loading area, extended lift hill and new intense banked helixes that often give curious passersby their first glimpse of yelping riders wheeling round in two rickety flashes.
“No way,” one woman told a wide-eyed young girl—who would have had to stand on her toes to reach the required 52 inches—as a group of students in matching purple shirts cackled and ran toward the Thunderbolt’s entrance.
Operators and warning signs alert those in line that smaller riders must get on first and sit on the right side of the trains, because the lateral g-forces often slam them against their larger partners during the sharp right-turn helixes that follow the unique mid-ride chain lift.
The Thunderbolt, which still features three Century Flyer trains built for the Pippin by National Amusement Device Co. in 1958, is the only major coaster at the park that requires you to ride with a partner for safety reasons. It’s one more unique feature of some wooden roller coasters.
“They’re more fun, they’re rougher, they’re top-of-the-line in my eyes,” said Allison Clarke, 27, of Plum, who teaches eighth-grade science at Knoch Middle School.
Riding alongside Clarke was Denee White, a family and consumer science teacher at Knoch who enjoys “how the rides cross over each other”—meaning the interweaving of the old-fashioned Thunderbolt track with the purple smooth-steel spine of Phantom’s Revenge.
The Phantom’s haunting 232-foot second drop famously plummets riders into a cavernous, classic “head chopper”—giving the illusion of a close call and forcing even some of the most freewheeling riders to bring down their hands beneath the Thunderbolt at 85 miles per hour. It’s here where riders may question whether the 1991 steel hyper-coaster was in fact slowed down as reported following modifications before the 2001 season.
“I always feel like I’m gonna smack my face on that,” said Caleb Hutcheson, 17, as he waited for a front seat on Phantom’s Revenge. “That’s the best part, though.”
The jitters of the Pittsburgh teens—and other more fearful guests—should subside at least a little knowing that each ride is inspected daily before opening.
A small team of carpenters walks the length of the Thunderbolt, Jack Rabbit and Racers tracks each morning, and the Thunderbolt’s braking and routing systems have been upgraded multiple times since an accident at the station injured a couple dozen riders in 1999, according to Lenny Young Jr., a manager in the park’s operations department.
“The people behind the scenes know every nook and cranny,” said Young, a Pittsburgh native who’s worked at Kennywood for 23 seasons.
“It was probably meant for me to do this. As far back as I can remember, I’ve always liked amusement parks. I used to make rides out of Legos before I really understood the concept.”
As he guided the crew placing another train on the track—adding about 10-15 minutes to eager fans’ wait-time—Young said the Thunderbolt remains his favorite.
“I like it because it can’t be built anywhere else,” he said. “It’s not about how big or how tall or how fast. It’s just a unique structure and a unique experience.”
Asked about the ride’s history, he chuckled and said “there would be an uproar if somebody announced” they were going to move or shutter the Thunderbolt.
Linkenheimer said while steel coasters are more marketable because young people are drawn to their speed and acrobatics, “what the wood coasters do have is longevity.”
“If you go to Kennywood, you’ll see kids in lines for those coasters, you’ll see them having a really good time on it,” he said. “A properly made wooden coaster literally will thrill generations.”
ACE recognized the Thunderbolt as a landmark coaster in 2014—an honor “that’s not given lightly.” There’s “no specific set of qualifications but they’re all historically significant, and the parks maintain them, keep them open, and they always run exquisitely,” Linkenheimer said.
Fewer than 50 coasters have received the designation, and Kennywood is the only park with three of them (including the Jack Rabbit and Racer).
Fifty years ago, The New York Times immortalized the Thunderbolt as the “king of coasters” in a 1974 story that had a lasting impact on the park’s history, according to Kennywood spokeswoman Tasha Pokrzywa.
“For the first time, Kennywood was placed on the worldwide map,” she said. “This set the stage for Kennywood’s major growth and expansion into the 1980s and 1990s.”
The ride’s century-mark comes as Kennywood’s newest coaster, Steel Curtain, is closed during a major modification project, which sparked a lawsuit from a New Kensington season pass owner.
But the Thunderbolt is going steady.
After checking riders’ lap bars, ride operator Dave Werner jumped into the back car to partner up with a lone reporter. After his colleague in the elevated station booth announced to the line that it was his birthday, Werner was cheered, congratulated and teased by almost everyone on the platform.
“I’m 36,” he said before the Thunderbolt’s opening-ride drop, which slides just below the imposing Phantom. “It’s not my birthday. It’s just a thing we do.”
