Clementon Park Shuts Its Doors After 118 Years of Screams

For generations of South Jersey families, the sound of summer was the clatter of the Jack Rabbit wooden coaster and the splash of the log flume. That soundtrack went silent this week when Clementon Park announced it is closing permanently after 118 years in business, a casualty of rising insurance costs, sagging attendance, and a $12 million maintenance backlog it could never climb out from under. The park, which opened in 1907 as a lakeside picnic grove, survived the Great Depression, two world wars, and the rise of mega-parks like Six Flags. It could not survive 2025. “It’s a gut punch,” said Dana Whitfield, 41, who grew up ten minutes away in Lindenwold and brought her own kids to the park every June. “My first roller coaster was the Jack Rabbit. My daughter’s first roller coaster was the Jack Rabbit. There’s no replacing that.” Here’s what the closure means for anyone holding tickets, season passes, or memories. **The money question** If you bought a 2025 season pass, you’re entitled to a refund for the unused portion, but you have to ask for it. The park’s website instructs pass holders to email a refund request with proof of purchase by August 15. Don’t wait for a check to show up on its own — companies in liquidation rarely chase you down. Single-day tickets purchased with a credit card are the easiest to recover. Under the Fair Credit Billing Act, you can dispute the charge if services weren’t rendered and the park refuses a refund. You generally have 60 days from the statement date, so move fast. Debit card purchases have weaker protections, but many banks will still process a dispute. Gift cards and group-event deposits are murkier. Those are unsecured claims in a bankruptcy-style wind-down, which means you get in line behind lenders. Translation: don’t count on seeing that money. **The bigger squeeze on your wallet** Clementon’s death is part of a pattern that should worry anyone who loves a cheap family outing. Regional parks across the country are folding under insurance premiums that have tripled in some cases since 2020, plus wage pressure and deferred maintenance bills that compound like credit card debt. Fewer parks means less competition. When the only game within driving distance is a mega-park charging $90 a day plus $30 parking, your summer entertainment budget takes the hit. The affordable middle tier of American fun — the $35 wristband, the free parking lot, the cooler you snuck in the gate — is disappearing. **What to do now** If you’re staring at nonrefundable passes to any park, treat them like cash. Use them this season. Don’t bank on next year. Before buying any 2026 season pass anywhere, check whether the park is current on its debt and insurance — a quick search of local news and court records tells you more than any glossy brochure. And if you’re owed money by Clementon, file your refund request and your credit card dispute this week, not next month. Deadlines in these wind-downs are real, and the squeaky wheel gets paid first. **Our take** Clementon Park wasn’t Disney World, and that was the entire point. It was a place where a working family could blow a Saturday and forty bucks and come home sunburned and happy. Losing it isn’t just losing a coaster — it’s losing proof that a good day out doesn’t have to cost a week’s pay. If you have passes or tickets sitting in a drawer, get your money back now, and spend it somewhere that still believes that.