Wildwood's Roaring Summers: The Lost Amusement Park of White Bear Lake

Marcus Webb — Powderhorn Park, South Minneapolis
Lifelong Minneapolitan, former walking tour guide, knows where every demolished building used to be.

On a July afternoon like this one, the air hangs heavy and still. Maybe you’ve got the air conditioning cranked, or perhaps you’re plotting a strategic move from one patch of shade to another. For us Minnesotans, the summer heat is a familiar adversary, one that’s sent generations scrambling for a cool reprieve. But picture this: a July day a century ago, before the hum of central air, before every car had its own climate control. Where did folks go to escape the swelter of the city, to find a breath of fresh, lakeland air?

For decades, one of the most popular answers lay just a streetcar ride away, on the shores of White Bear Lake: Wildwood Amusement Park. It wasn’t just a park; it was an entire destination, a sprawling wonderland of thrills, music, and watery respite that drew thousands from St. Paul and Minneapolis every single summer day.

The Rails to Recreation: A Streetcar Dream

Before Wildwood, White Bear Lake was already a favored summer retreat for the city’s well-to-do, dotted with grand cottages and exclusive hotels. But the advent of the streetcar changed everything. In 1889, the St. Paul and White Bear Railroad extended its lines directly to the lake’s edge, specifically to a prime piece of land bordering the water. It was a classic late 19th-century move: railroad companies building attractions at their termini to drive ridership. Wildwood Amusement Park was born from this vision, opening its gates to the public that very summer.

Imagine the journey: climbing aboard an open-air streetcar in downtown St. Paul, the city slowly giving way to verdant countryside. The clatter of the tracks, the breeze through your hair, the growing anticipation. For a nickel or a dime, you were transported from the dusty, brick-lined streets to a lakeside paradise. This wasn’t a trip for the family car; this was communal escape, accessible to anyone with a few coins in their pocket. And for many working-class families who couldn’t afford those grand lakefront cottages, Wildwood offered a precious, fleeting taste of summer leisure they might not otherwise experience.

The Grandeur of Wildwood: Roller Coasters and Dance Halls

Wildwood was no small-time affair. It quickly became the premier amusement park in the Upper Midwest, a rival to even Coney Island in its ambition and popularity. The crown jewel was undoubtedly “The Comet,” a towering wooden roller coaster that twisted and plunged, its screams echoing across the lake. But there were other marvels too: the Scenic Railway, a gentler coaster that offered panoramic views; a grand carousel with hand-carved horses; the Shoot-the-Chutes, a thrilling boat ride that ended with a tremendous splash, drenching delighted riders on a hot day.

Beyond the rides, Wildwood was a full-service entertainment complex. A massive dance pavilion hosted big bands and lively dances well into the night. There were penny arcades, picnic grounds shaded by mature trees, and boat rentals for those who wanted to venture out onto the cool waters of White Bear Lake. On any given July evening, the air would have been thick with the smell of popcorn, the sound of calliope music, laughter, and the distant rumble of the Comet.

For nearly fifty years, Wildwood was the place to be on a Twin Cities summer day. It was where couples courted, families picnicked, and teenagers dared each other to ride the fastest coaster. It was a democratic playground, though like many public spaces of its era, access and experience could unfortunately vary depending on one’s background. Still, for thousands, it represented the quintessential summer escape, a place where the cares of the city melted away under the bright Minnesota sun.

The Fading Echo: Automobiles and the Great Depression

But even grand institutions have their lifespan. The same forces that brought Wildwood into being—transportation and public leisure—also conspired in its demise. The rise of the automobile in the 1920s meant people were no longer beholden to streetcar lines. Families could drive to more distant destinations, explore new lakes, or simply enjoy their own backyard. The thrill of the streetcar ride faded as personal freedom of movement grew.

Then came the Great Depression. Discretionary income for amusement parks dwindled rapidly. Keeping up a sprawling park with expensive wooden roller coasters, daily maintenance, and staff became unsustainable. Wildwood valiantly tried to adapt, but the economic realities were too stark. In 1937, after a final, quiet season, Wildwood Amusement Park closed its gates for good. The rides were dismantled, the structures torn down, and the laughter and music faded into memory.

Where the Comet Once Soared: Wildwood Today

If you drive along the eastern shore of White Bear Lake today, particularly around the intersection of Wildwood Avenue and Lake Avenue in Mahtomedi, it’s hard to imagine the vibrant, bustling park that once stood there. The land where the Comet thrilled riders is now largely residential, a quiet neighborhood of homes with well-kept lawns and mature trees. The expansive picnic grounds have been carved into individual plots. The grand dance pavilion? Long gone, replaced by private dwellings.

However, a piece of the park remains: Wildwood Beach Park, a public beach and green space on the lake. It's much smaller than the original footprint, but it’s a direct descendant, a quiet echo of the area’s storied past. When you wade into the cool waters of White Bear Lake on a hot July afternoon at Wildwood Beach, or walk the tree-lined streets nearby, you're treading on ground that once buzzed with the energy of thousands seeking summer joy. That familiar desire for escape, for a cool breeze and a bit of fun on a hot day, hasn't changed. We just find it in different places now, often without a thrilling streetcar ride or a wooden roller coaster to get us there.

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Photo by wal_ 172619 on Pexels