The Paranormal Echoes of Kings Island's "Black Sunday"

 Originally published 11-28-2017. 

Sunday, June 9, 1991 is a date forever remembered by Kings Island enthusiasts as "Black Sunday." However, less known are the ghost stories that have been swirling ever since. In this post, I will cover both accidents in-depth as well as their ghost stories. I have decided to cover them separately.

OKTOBERFEST POND

In the mid-1980’s, Kings Island officials decided to add an aerator pump to this pond to cut down on algae growth. Since 1971, there has been a federal law requiring a piece of equipment called a ground fault circuit interrupter (or GFCI) to be installed on all electrical outlets. A GFCI has the power to stop the flow of electricity in an electrical system in 1/40th of a second if something goes wrong. They cost about $8-10 and take about 15 minutes to install. For some unknown reason, Kings Island officials decided not to install a GFCI on the pump.

       Fast-forward to Sunday, June 9, 1991. Early that morning, some employees were working in the pond, cleaning up trash. A Kings Island plumber changed the filter on the aerator pump. The employees said that during their time in the pond, none had felt any electrical current.

       Ameritrust was having its company picnic at Kings Island that day, and 22-year-old employee Timothy Binning from Mariemont had brought along his best friend of seven years, 21-year-old William Haithcoat Jr. from Oakley. Also present in the park that day was 20-year-old Darrell Robertson from Hamilton, who was in his second season working as a park security guard. Robertson had just gotten a small award from the park that morning recognizing him for “special effort in guest satisfaction and employee teamwork.”

At about 8:48 p.m., William Haithcoat and Timothy Binning climbed off of Viking Fury and decided to make their way over to the Beast. As they walked on the bridge that crossed over the pond, Binning leaned over the railing and touched the fountain spurting up to playfully splash Haithcoat, who was walking in front. However, Binning was electrically shocked by the water, and fell over the bridge's railing and into the pond. Haithcoat apparently turned around and saw Binning plunge into the dark water. Haithcoat immediately jumped into the pond to pull Binning out, who was fading in and out of consciousness and was repeatedly jolted by the water's electrical current. Haithcoat, too, was shocked. Meanwhile, Darrell Robertson was walking along the wooden deck of the Bier Garten and either heard or saw what happened. He jumped into the pond to pull both men out, but was also shocked.

Craig Paeltz, a park guest from Newark, Ohio managed to use a lid from a garbage can to hook around Haithcoat and Robertson’s shoulders, and he pulled them onto the Bier Garten's patio. Paeltz then held another guest by the ankles, who pulled out Binning, who was now completely submerged in the water. Paula Earls, a visiting nurse from Indianapolis happened to be walking through Oktoberfest at the time and began CPR on the men. Emergency services from the Mason Fire Department arrived at 9:02 p.m., eleven minutes after 911 was called at 8:51 p.m. An ambulance took Timothy Binning to Bethesda North Hospital in Montgomery, and at 9:25 p.m. a helicopter landed in the park for Robertson and Haithcoat. It lifted off at 9:40 p.m. and took them to University of Cincinnati Medical Center. Sadly, nothing could be done. Haithcoat was pronounced dead there at 10:00 p.m. and Robertson died at the hospital at 10:02 p.m. The Hamilton County Coroner later ruled that Haithcoat had died instantly in the pond from the electric shock and that Robertson had drowned. On Wednesday, June 12, Binning was released from Bethesda North Hospital.

William Haithcoat (left) and  Darrell Robertson (right).

Photo from the Columbus Dispatch.

The Cincinnati division of OSHA (Occupational Safety and Health Administration) investigated the incident, and shortly after, they found that the source of electricity was the aerator pump submerged in the pond. Because the park did not install a GFCI, there was nothing stopping the flow of electricity into the pond. “Kings Island could have spent the price of a discount ticket [to install a GFCI],” said William Murphy, the area OSHA inspector at the time, “and these people would still be alive today.” Investigators could never determine why the pump emitted electricity in the first place-they speculated that it was either because of “ordinary wear-and-tear” or the employees working in the pond the morning of the accident had accidentally damaged it.

In the end, Kings Island was fined $23,500 for bad electrical grounds, improper circuit breakers, lack of a GFCI, and having railings around the pond that were 8 inches lower than what they were supposed to be. $3,000 worth of ground fault circuit interrupters was then added to every electrical outlet in the park, and the railing around the pond was eventually heightened. The bridge over the pond was removed in the late ‘90’s for unknown reasons.

However, if stories are to be believed, Haithcoat and Robertson have never really left.

Former employee Austin Eversole says that, quite frequently, security guards will be walking through this area during closing, making sure that no one is in the area, and they’ll hear the sounds of two men talking near the pond. There is never anyone there when they investigate. Eversole also stated that when the guards walk through this area during closing time, they will often see strange shadows near the pond in their peripheral vision, but when they shine a flashlight there, the shadows will disappear. 

Psychic Deborah Lantz reported that as she was sitting next to the pond during a paranormal investigation of the park and suddenly felt as though she was being pulled towards the water. Then, she saw a ghostly hand appear and reach for the water, and then she felt like she was being electrocuted and shocked with electricity. Lantz refuses to research the history of the locations she visits so it doesn't impact what she experiences, so how she accurately picked up on the pond's tragic past is unknown.

Perhaps William Haithcoat and Darrell Robertson are still lurking near the Oktoberfest pond.

"A Kings Island security officer is the only person in the Bier Garten area, sealed off after two men died there Sunday night."

Photo by Jeff Hinckley of the Columbus Dispatch.

FLIGHT COMMANDER (CURRENTLY AN EMPTY PLAZA)

Opened in 1990 at a cost of $2 million, Flight Commander was a flat ride consisting of a 70-foot high tower that had hydraulic arms coming off of it with two person pods at the ends. The ride would lift up the pods to 60 feet, and a joystick in the middle allowed riders to flip their pods upside down and do thrilling barrel rolls while the arms circled around the tower. The ride was a clone, an Intamin Flight Trainer model to be exact, and older clones of Flight Commander were operating in four other amusement parks by the time of Flight Commander’s installation.

One of the people visiting Kings Island on June 9, 1991 was a 32-year-old widow named Candy Taylor. Taylor was enrolled in a Patriot Education Center, a truck-driving school in Monroe and had moved temporarily from Toledo to an apartment in Carlisle. It was almost halfway through the eight-week course so she and two friends enrolled in the same course, Gary Oakley and Dorene Rasmussen, decided to celebrate by heading to Kings Island. The trio had a fine time, and they rode almost every ride at the park. During the day, Taylor had 8 to 10 beers, but witnesses stated that she did not act, look, or sound drunk. 

Candy Taylor (Columbus Dispatch photo)

That evening, Taylor decided to buy a painted parasol to send home to her two children in Toledo to let them know she was thinking about them. While the artist was busy painting away, the trio decided to ride something to pass the time waiting, and eventually settled on Flight Commander. Oakley and Rasmussen rode Flight Commander while Taylor sat nearby, finishing up her final beer. The ride cycled through, her friends got off, and they stood on the ground to watch her ride. Taylor boarded, but despite a sign saying “Singe Riders Will be Paired,” was allowed to ride in Capsule #4 alone. Employees checked if her shoulder harness and lap bar were down and locked, and the ride began. It was 9:45 p.m.

As the pods lifted, Taylor apparently passed out due to the alcohol. As the ride spun around, Taylor began to slide sideways under the harness and into the outside-facing empty seat next to her. Because it was empty, the harness and lap bar were wide open. As Taylor slid out, her leg pressed against the joystick, causing the pod to do a full barrel roll. Halfway through the second roll, Taylor, who was now in the empty seat, was thrown out of the pod. (A witness told the Dayton Daily News that Taylor was “shot out of” the capsule.) She fell 60 feet, landing between 30-40 feet away from the ride on the grassy hill in front of the ride. Her friends rushed over and found that she was still breathing, but the fall had badly injured her.

Paramedics were still busy working on the scene of the pond accident just 200 yards away, so it took a slightly longer time to reach Candy Taylor. A helicopter flew her to Miami Valley Hospital in Dayton. The helicopter landed at the hospital at 10:33 p.m., but unfortunately Taylor was pronounced dead at the hospital at 10:34 p.m. It was the first time in park history, 19 years after opening day, that a person died on a ride at the park. The autopsy found out that her blood alcohol level was .30, which was three times over the legal limit for drunk driving.

The Ohio Department of Agriculture’s Ride Safety division investigated the accident, and came to the conclusion that the fault lay with Intamin, Flight Commander's manufacturer, and not Kings Island. The restraints were inadequately designed--limp riders could unintentionally slide out from under their harness and into the seat next to theirs if no one was sitting in it. The inspectors theorized that Taylor had passed out and gone limp and her hips and buttocks slid into the empty and unrestrained seat next to hers with the rest of her body following. “The centrifugal force and the inertia of the ride itself helped draw her out of that ride and threw her to the ground,” Agriculture Director Fred Dailey told the press.

Investigators acknowledged that Taylor was partly at fault for having such a high alcohol level, but they said, “The restraints should have been designed…to keep her in her seat no matter what condition she was in.”

ODA investigators demonstrate how Candy Taylor fell to her death (The Cincinnati Post)

If you look around online, you’ll find many people who ignore the problem with the restraints and say that Taylor was 100% at fault for her death since she was drunk. But the same outcome would have happened had a different single rider fainted, had a heart attack, etc.

The Ohio Liquor Control Board investigated the accident after the Agriculture Department’s findings that alcohol bought at the park contributed to the accident. The board decided not to press charges, saying that there wasn’t enough evidence to reconstruct the case.

Flight Commander stayed closed the rest of the year as park officials debated what to do with the ride and eventually decided to add many safety features, including a seat divider, the joystick in a recess, and a lengthened lap bar. Flight Commander reopened for the 1992 season. The much-publicized 1993 alcohol ban in the park was not due to the Flight Commander accident, but was instead to make the park have a more family-friendly atmosphere. In fact, the change was being contemplated even before Taylor’s death. Flight Commander closed in 1995 due to lackluster attendance and was sold to Flamingo Land in England where it operated under the name of Top Gun before being demolished and sold for scrap in 2004.

Candy Taylor’s family did file a lawsuit against the park. The park settled with the family for $336,500. In 1993, the family then sued Intamin for $8 million for obvious reasons. The Intamin lawsuit was settled out of court for an undisclosed amount.

Psychic Deborah Lantz tells me of a very interesting story about the location of Flight Commander. She says that she was sitting in the Oktoberfest area when she saw the mental image of a lollipop in her mind, and as she was seeing this, she saw the ghost of a woman seemingly fall from the sky and then vanish. Only later did she learn about the fatal accident. She believes she saw the lollipop because the victim’s name was Candy. It seems that the tragedy left an emotional stain on the environment that continually repeats itself, much to the horror of psychically sensitive visitors.