The Sound of Silence: The Enchanted Forest’s Sonic Specters
Start Date
1-6-2026 4:00 PM
Description
In 1955, a small theme park opened in Ellicott City, Maryland. The Enchanted Forest was filled with nursery rhyme-themed buildings (e.g. Three Blind Mice; Hickory Dickory Dock), characters, and, later, rides. Piped music filled the air, and most exhibits had an audio feature (Kusterer & Clark). The rides themselves also had sounds particular to them, such as the chug of Little Toot the Tugboat. In 1989, the park closed; arson later destroyed several buildings, other buildings were razed, and the rest were left to the elements. However, between 2005-2015, over 100 of the park’s original artifacts were relocated to nearby Clark’s Elioak Farm and lovingly restored. Last year’s 75th anniversary witnessed Little Toot’s long-awaited unveiling. Clark’s has given people of a certain generation a unique opportunity to relive their childhood through the restored artifacts of this long-closed theme park, in which, as Rone might say, “nostalgia has been crystallized.” (8) And yet, a crucial aspect of the Enchanted Forest is missing: its sound. Only one single theme from the original park still plays, and most of the rides are no longer operational. It is, in a way, less a theme park than a memorial, the silent physical remains acting as a Peircean sign, plumbing the depths of our fractured musical memories for hints of their former cacophony (Turino). Musical studies of nostalgia (van Elferen, Pozderac-Chenevey, Aksoy et al, Botstein) have focused on how sound evokes nostalgia; here, however, I address how the new park’s uncanny silence generates nostalgia for the lost soundworld of the Enchanted Forest.
Recommended Citation
Cook, Karen M., "The Sound of Silence: The Enchanted Forest’s Sonic Specters" (2026). Theme Park Music and Sound. 5.
https://stars.library.ucf.edu/tpms/2026/asynchronous/5
The Sound of Silence: The Enchanted Forest’s Sonic Specters
In 1955, a small theme park opened in Ellicott City, Maryland. The Enchanted Forest was filled with nursery rhyme-themed buildings (e.g. Three Blind Mice; Hickory Dickory Dock), characters, and, later, rides. Piped music filled the air, and most exhibits had an audio feature (Kusterer & Clark). The rides themselves also had sounds particular to them, such as the chug of Little Toot the Tugboat. In 1989, the park closed; arson later destroyed several buildings, other buildings were razed, and the rest were left to the elements. However, between 2005-2015, over 100 of the park’s original artifacts were relocated to nearby Clark’s Elioak Farm and lovingly restored. Last year’s 75th anniversary witnessed Little Toot’s long-awaited unveiling. Clark’s has given people of a certain generation a unique opportunity to relive their childhood through the restored artifacts of this long-closed theme park, in which, as Rone might say, “nostalgia has been crystallized.” (8) And yet, a crucial aspect of the Enchanted Forest is missing: its sound. Only one single theme from the original park still plays, and most of the rides are no longer operational. It is, in a way, less a theme park than a memorial, the silent physical remains acting as a Peircean sign, plumbing the depths of our fractured musical memories for hints of their former cacophony (Turino). Musical studies of nostalgia (van Elferen, Pozderac-Chenevey, Aksoy et al, Botstein) have focused on how sound evokes nostalgia; here, however, I address how the new park’s uncanny silence generates nostalgia for the lost soundworld of the Enchanted Forest.