I remember going to Holiday Hill one day. Once we arrived at the kiddieland, it started to rain and rain and rain. You could barely see the park from the car. My dad and I sat and sat. The rain did not let up. We sat there for over an hour until my dad finally gave up and drove us home. I remember sitting in the parking lot during off season. You could walk the grounds. I loved the way the carousel looked, covered up in its tan canvas cover.
(above) I had a love/hate relationship with the Octopus.  Hated it but just HAD to ride this horrible ride. The ride was a staple at every amusement park. It later morphed into a much milder (yawn) version with large orange seats called the "Monster".      
(above) This scaled down version of the Scrambler was mainly for the kiddies, but one adult could squeeze in. For some reason, Holiday Hill named theirs the Wild Pussycat. I know its a silly name, but hey, we've probably been called worse.
(above) The games shown here were a favorite among bowlers everywhere. Instead of large heavy balls to toss around, they were replaced by small round flat steel pucks. The object of the game was the same, to try and knock down as many pins as possible.
The above photo was taken when I was leaving Holiday Hill after a long ago trip to St. Louis as an adult. I would always get ticked off at my parents because every time the tickets for the school picnics were given out, they were for Forest Park Highlands! I, it seemned, always got stuck going to Holiday Hill instead. Holiday Hill was one of St. Louis' kiddielands that was part of a larger complex made up of a driving range, minature golf, ect. My best memory at Holiday Hill was: Not to long after I had fallen out of a tree, my mom had taken me and my sister to the small park. I was wearing a ankle to crotch cast Yes. I had a crotch at 6. My mom took me and my sister, Betty, on the Roll-O-Planes. All I remember is being pummeled by mom's Salem cigarettes after they had been ejected from her blouse pocket. My neurotic sister was screaming at the top of her voice, "MOTHER, HELP ME! MOTHER HELP ME!!!!" I thought it was histerical. I was having the BEST time. My sister was not. and neither was my mom who had a arm full of bruises the next day from trying to hold me in. I also almost met my maker there. Holiday Hill had a swimming pool at the back of the park separated by the parks' minature railroad. We would always go there during day camp. I had this killer pair of swimming trunks...get ready... that said "Hi" on the front and "bye" on the back. At some point, I dove in through my water ring /inner tube. I dove straight through the tube, splishin' and a splashin' trying to grab hold of my tube. Mom was on the other side of the fence having a stroke. I eventually got hold of my inner tube and all was well. One more memory I had was the fun house had a very soft floor. We as kids had been told there was a body under the floor. I ask the man at the ticket booth what that was and he told me it was just a cushion. Burst my bubble, he did. Not too long ago, when giving a FPH presentation for the Dogtown Historical Society, I made sure I stayed at the Renaissance Inn on the old Holiday Hill grounds. It just seemed right that I do so.
(above) Karen, of Chesterfield, MO., sent me one of the utility bags from the pool at Holiday Hill. These were for your wet swim trucks, shoes, whatever. Now they are a small gateway to wonderful memories. What a find this is!
The Renaissance Hotel parking lot, just to the left of this picture, was the former location of Holiday Hill.