As Great America fades away, the FIFA World Cup will soon begin. Santa Clara might never be the same.
After picking up my credential for the World Cup games at Levi’s Stadium, I looked at my photo—the same mug shot I used for my visa to India a few years back—and everything from my teenage years spiraled back to the present moment.
Nowadays, the amusement park across from Levi’s is called California’s Great America, operated by Six Flags. It used to be called Marriott’s Great America and Paramount’s Great America, although I wouldn’t possibly remember which name came first unless I looked it up.
There was just something darkly ironic about seeing my own long-haired mug on yet another press pass, this time, for the world’s largest spectacle of any sort, the FIFA World Cup, right across the street from Great America, where, as a teenager, I was not allowed to work because my hair was too long. My hair is longer now than it was then. I can cover the world’s largest sporting event with 48 countries participating, I can travel to India, but I couldn’t work at Great America.
Sitting at the lightrail station, I began to wonder just how this might have affected me all these years, since Great America is contemplating a permanent closure following the 2027 season. It’s sad, especially for the zillions of families and employees with happy memories of the place.
I am not here to dump on Great America. I would never do that. It’s a bummer that a cherished place must come to an end. Redwood Amphitheatre was home to many, many shows over the decades. Cheap Trick? Paula Abdul? Triumph? Ask anyone who was there.
First of all, if Great America closes, they will have to change the name of the lightrail stop and Great America Parkway. All those exit signs from the freeways will have to be renamed. Santa Clara is already pissed off from dealing with the 49ers all these years, and now FIFA. How much will they have to spend taking all the signs down? Who can imagine the city of Santa Clara without Great America Parkway?
In yet another dimension of irony, Great America is currently celebrating 50 years in business. For the grand opening in March of 1976, there were three ticket booths at the gate, all funneling traffic into 135 acres of parking. According to an old Merc story, 20 San Jose Police officers were present to help their Santa Clara brothers. CHP supplied 10 motorcycle officers to patrol 101, along with three cars and a helicopter.
If you think that’s crazy, wait until all the hammered Australian fans show up on June 25 for the game against Paraguay.
I continued to contemplate all of this while waiting at said lightrail stop—empty and desolate at 10am on a weekday with no big events going on at that exact moment, not at the convention center, Great America or Levi’s, where the FIFA tarps were just starting to go up. Gazing over at Great America, I was catapulted right back to my teenage years.
Several places wouldn’t hire me. McDonald’s. The Winchester Mystery House. The Chevron station at Camden and Leigh. All because of the hair.
I am not traumatized over this. On the contrary, I am grateful. Even if the slobs in charge of the aforementioned places had their issues, I eventually transformed the alienation into creativity, just like I’m still doing, as you read this. That said, I did feel a little embarrassed for even letting this junk into my head, so I crowd-sourced my predicament to see what others had to say.
“I got sent home for my hair being too long and Mr. Marriott was inspecting the park,” offered one former employee. Another recalled: “My wife worked there when the Marriott family, who were Mormons, ran it. No makeup or jewelry for the girls.” Another person said he wasn’t hired because he wouldn’t change his ducktail haircut and he was too tall for character work.
So I wasn’t alone after all. I felt much better with my worldly press pass and my long-haired mug shot as the empty lightrail arrived, taking me back to San Jose.
