Chris Berleth Columbia Montour Chamber of Commerce CEO/President

“Chris, we really need to do a camporee at Knoebels again. The kids always loved it.”

“What’s Knoebels?” I asked. The room got quiet.

It was February of 2013. I was new to the area, having just landed in Columbia County one year prior, tha

nks to wedding nuptials and a relocation from State College. I’d grown up in New England, and the area was still really new to me. I’d never heard of this place.

“We can’t describe it to you, Chris. Knoebels is something you need to experience first-hand. Go see it…trust us.”

That’s what the Activities Committee ordered, so that’s what I

was supposed to do. My mission was simple: go to Knoebels, meet with the leadership, and ask, plead, or beg to bring a robotics-themed camporee to the park. The committee gave me a few suggestions: “Tell them we’ll camp in the parking lot. Stay out of the way. Tell them we’ll buy the ticket books and feed the kids in the park. Get us there, and you’ll be a hero.”

I was nervous. The more I heard about this place and the more I imagined I would have to really sell this idea to the leadership team, the more nervous I got. I worked up a whole pitch, practiced it all morning. I gave myself time to navigate the park and showed up super early so I could find my way around without looking like a lost puppy. I walked through a very quiet park, through the pavilions, and past a few rides which were much larger than I expected. I’d been to plenty of amusement parks as a kid, so I wasn’t overly excited right away. (Please forgive an aside – kindly remember that it was February, and the season hadn’t yet begun.)

I’m sure I still looked like a lost puppy when I reached the office.

“Mr. Knoebel is out in the park and will be back shortly,” I was told. True to form, he walked in right on time, smirking a little when he saw me in my Scout uniform. I’m sure he could see how green I was, and he knew what to expect. No doubt, he’d encountered plenty of district executives in his time. A quick, firm handshake, and then he said, “Come with me, young man.”

There was no meeting, no pitch. At a glance, he’d clearly deduced that it was my first time in the park. I obeyed without a

Photo courtesy of Larry Deklinski

word and, at his bidding, jumped into the passenger side of his golf cart.

That’s when the whole thing went crazy.

What followed was the most insane and thrilling ride I’d ever been on in my life, as Dick Knoebel took me on a personal tour of his beloved Amusement Park, at what seemed like 100 mph, in 20-degree weather, with a light vest on.

Imagine getting an invitation to join Santa on his sleigh for a personal tour of the North Pole. In retrospect, that’s what this was.

Instead of “On Dasher, On Dancer”, he shouted “That’s the Paratrooper! The Log Flume. Cosmotron! Merry Mixer! Twister! Whipper!” calling out the names of the rides and their history, flying around corners as fast as the cart would go. This was no tame golf cart. This thing had no regulator. It squealed and shook to his will, as if he were still in the Marines driving a Jeep between battle stations.

I almost fell out twice and caught him grinning as he hit the corner around the carousel. It was right out of a silly Christmas movie. He was a gruff old elf, laughing while I jiggled like a bowl full of jelly - and not the other way around. I didn’t say a word. I knew from the first tire peel that it was a test of fortitude. I just held on for dear life.

He knew every employee’s name, waved, and said hello. The cart screeched to a halt as he popped out to help someone near the high-water mark, while telling me about flooding. Then we were off again, just as fast, but it suddenly felt like something was wrong.

Instead of returning to the office, he took me straight to the parking lot. I’d had time to tell him I was from Rhode Island, that I’d been in Scouts with my dad, that we’d love to bring the Scouts back for a camporee.

As we arrived at my car, with a sort of door-to-door delivery service, he said, “Well, we always have Scout Day at Knoebels. The Scouts never left.”

Then, like St. Nick turning back to the sky with a word of farewell, I watched in horror as he whipped the cart around and wished me goodbye. I was stunned. I had no idea what had happened or how I’d screwed this up. The meeting was over, the golf cart ride was it, and it had lasted all of 10 minutes.

For two days, I agonized over this encounter, trying to think up ways to re-engage this man and try again. While I was stewing, a letter arrived to the council office addressed to me.

Inside were a few scribbled lines on Knoebel's letterhead, and two patches. “See? We’ve always loved the Scouts. Bring the kids to Scout Day and camp in the lot. Sincerely, Dick Knoebel.” In the envelope was the patch he’d been given when the council last held a camporee there…and along with it was a Knoebels Scout Day patch that they’d made up for the years when there wasn’t a formal Scouting event. The message was clear. “Scouts are always welcome at Knoebels, whether it’s an official event or not.”

That letter made me a hero. I reported back to the Activities Committee that we were good to go, and the kids had an amazing time. It was a great event because of the kindness and magic of Dick Knoebel, and the hard work of a lot of volunteers who always made me look better at my job than I actually was.

A few years after leaving the Scouting profession to go into Chamber work, I found myself at an event in Shamokin with Mr. Knoebel. His health had started to decline, but I wanted to thank him for that kindness, and told the story back to him and to the people within earshot. Our encounter

had been so brief and seemingly so insignificant in the grand scheme of what I’m sure he dealt with every day, that I didn’t expect him to remember it at all. He very politely smiled and let me share the tale, showing kindness yet again.

Two days later, I was surprised to receive at the Chamber a second note - this time, wishing me luck in my new career and reminding me that I, too, would always be welcome at Knoebels. Of course, that note was also accompanied by another patch, which seemed to emphasize his point.

As a father of two young boys, and now considerably more immersed in the community, I have been bewitched by the Knoebels Amusement Park in the same way everyone who goes there is. Considering his passing, I can’t help but recall how generous Dick Knoebel was to me personally and consider the gigantic legacy he leaves behind.

It still feels like I met Santa Claus, who had told me I was welcome to return to the North Pole anytime I wished, and as I mull over this comparison, I’m bewitched again by the magic again.

Thanks, Mr. Knoebel, for the notes, these precious mementos which I will treasure. And, thanks for the ride…thanks for ALL the rides.