The Carousel Chorus

"The Proud Guardian" - Hand-carved in the early 1900s, the Herschell-Spillman carousel lion roars with timeless majesty. With its flowing mane, ornate saddle, and fierce yet noble stance, it has carried generations of riders — a symbol of courage, strength, and the magic of the Pavilion’s golden era.

There’s a place tucked beside the water, where the golden lights hum softly as the sun slips low. It’s not far from the fudge shop or the fountain with the pennies. If you pause, close your eyes, and listen, you can hear the carousel calling — a tune older than your own memories, yet somehow already familiar.

Oakley-Mae calls it “the horsies.” When I mention the beach, her little face lights up like sunrise over the ocean. She knows the magic waiting for us there. Sometimes she waves as we walk up, and other times she runs straight to the gate, Tao the monkey bouncing in her arms as if he knows the way.

We come here often — me and her, and sometimes her mama or Aunt Tay Tay too. But the best time, the very best time, is when the shadows grow long and the sky wears the colors of dreams.

This isn’t just any carousel. It’s our carousel.

Built in 1912 by the Herschell-Spillman Company in Tonawanda, New York, it began life far from the sea. In 1950, it found its way to the Myrtle Beach Pavilion, right across from the ocean — a place where generations of my family made memories. My mom, her mom, and I all once rode the lion, the zebra, and the frog.

When the Pavilion closed in 2006, the carousel didn’t vanish. It simply waited, moving to Broadway at the Beach. Still singing. Still remembering.

It’s a rare menagerie masterpiece — three rows of all-wood animals: 12 jumping horses, 11 standing horses, and 27 other creatures — elephants, giraffes, cats, pigs, even a dragon. Two grand chariots stand still and waiting. The original band organ no longer plays, but in my heart I can still hear its calliope tune drifting like salt air.

"The Gentle Giraffe" - One of the most elegant figures on the Herschell-Spillman carousel, this hand-carved giraffe lifts its head high, as though peering above the crowd in quiet wonder. Its delicately painted saddle and soft expression capture the charm of a bygone era — a creature of both whimsy and grace, forever circling in the golden glow of the Pavilion’s timeless carousel.

Oakley-Mae struggles to choose which animal to ride. If she could ride them all in one day, she would. Sometimes it’s the zebra with the twisty mane. Other times it’s the pig, the giraffe, or the lion that looks like it knows all your secrets.

I lift her gently onto the zebra’s back. Tao, her brave little monkey I gave her when she was born, always rides along. I take my place behind her, usually on the lion — the very same lion I rode as a child. When I sit atop him, I am both forty and five again, all at once.

The music pulls me back — to summer vacations with my parents and grandparents, to Easter Sundays at the Pavilion, to the joy of riding beside my oldest sister Lisa. I can hear my aunts and uncles laughing, see cousins chasing cotton candy, and feel the warm breeze rolling in from the nearby ocean. Visions of other rides, now long gone, light up and swirl around the carousel with me. From the Rainbow to the Little Eagle, the Caterpillar, and Pirate Ship.

This carousel holds generations of joy. And every time it turns, I ride with all of them again.

The bell chimes. The lights blink. The music begins. And then — it happens.

The world shimmers.The carousel hums… with life.

"The Spirited Zebra" - Hand-carved by the Herschell-Spillman Company in the early 1900s, this zebra stands among the rare menagerie of the Myrtle Beach Pavilion’s historic carousel. With its short, upright mane and bold stripes, it seems to spring forward mid-prance — caught forever in motion, alive with the rhythm of the carousel’s song and the laughter of generations who rode upon its back.

The lion stretches and lets out a royal hum. The dolphin twirls and clicks its tune. The frog strums a lily-pad guitar. The zebra taps its hooves in perfect rhythm. Painted panels above us awaken — swans gliding across rippling lakes, elephants swinging their trunks in golden grasslands, deer leaping through silver streams. The air feels warmer, richer, as if the carousel’s heartbeat has set the whole world in motion.

Behind us, the silent band organ flickers to life. On each end, two carved dancers whirl gracefully, their wooden skirts frozen mid-spin. Just beside them, a harpist and a lute player pluck their strings, their carved hands poised in timeless rhythm. At the center, a conductor stands tall before the gleaming organ pipes, one hand raised to keep the tempo, the other clutching a scroll of sheet music. Flanking the dancers on the outside, drums pound and cymbals clash of their own accord, striking themselves in perfect time. The whole spectacle glows as if the past had awakened, and together they join the Carousel Chorus in perfect harmony:

🎵Round and round, the dream begins. With little hearts and wide-eyed grins. Hold on tight, and don’t let go — This is where the wonders grow.🎵

Oakley-Mae’s eyes go wide. “Uncle Tripp! They’re singing! Tao hears them too!”

The zebra she rides turns its head just enough for her to notice. “Hold on tight, Oakley-Mae,” it whispers, “the song is for you.” She gasps and hugs Tao close.

And I believe it too.

The carousel is alive with song.And so are my memories —the smell of salt air, the sound of laughter,the warmth of my grandmother’s hand,the soft squeak of my shoes on painted boards.

Each time the music plays, the carousel tells stories — one verse at a time. The zebra once galloped through cotton-candy clouds. The frog led concerts under the moon. The dolphin remembered lullabies sung by waves. And the lion — the oldest of them all — remembered every laugh, every child, every ride.

He turns to me and whispers, “You brought her here. You gave her this magic.”

My chest tightens in that warm, wonderful way that only happens when something truly matters.

We ride again. And again. Each ride, a new verse. Each turn, a new story.

🎵Every child who rides our song, Becomes a note that plays lifelong. From sea-swept winds to twilight skies. You’re part of us, our lullabies.🎵

As the sky deepens to indigo and the first stars appear, we know it’s time to go.

I lift her from the zebra. She pats its neck three times — her goodnight ritual — then leans forward to whisper something only the zebra hears. The animals bow their heads as if in reply, and even the music sighs.

Before we leave, the lion gives us one last gift — a whisper to carry home:

🎵You’ll always hear the carousel sing. In bedtime dreams and tire swings. Even when you’re far away. The magic rides with you each day.🎵

Oakley-Mae kisses the zebra’s ear and squeezes Tao.

“I’ll come back,” she promises.

The lion smiles, as if he already knew.

I whisper too. Because even magic needs rest.

The carousel slows. The music softens. But it’s never really over.

Not for Oakley-Mae.

Not for me.

Not for the carousel —

Still spinning across time,

Carrying joy,

One child,

One memory,

One song at a time.

🎵Through echoes of laughter and ocean breeze. It carries the love of memories. So round we go, in joy and grace. Forever held in that magical place.🎵

THE END

"The Pavilion's Wurlitzer Organ" - Once the heartbeat of the carousel, the ornate Wurlitzer band organ filled the Myrtle Beach Pavilion with its bright calliope tunes. Flanked by carved dancers, harpist, and lute player, and led by a solemn conductor before the pipes, the organ’s self-playing drums and cymbals created music that was as much seen as it was heard. Its cheerful melodies became part of the Pavilion’s soul, carrying generations through summers by the sea.