tral feature is a "Prehistoric
Mountain
Waterfall"
(where, the brochure
states, "water cascades
down from the rock
ledges to the lost river
basin"). Surrounding it
are harbingers of hor-
rors to come: ferocious
fiberglass dinosaurs just
waiting to greet visitors,
and life-sized dinosaur bones. -
"How much does it cost?" a
young couple asks as they
approach the ticket office.
"It's $100 for each of you, but
the kid gets in free," Mr. Sapiro
jokes. (The actual cost: $4 for
adults, $3 for those 4-16, and no
charge for children 3 and under.)
Later, he gives the little boy a
dinosaur sticker to wear. It's a rit-
ual he has for every child who
comes into the Prehistoric Forest
gift shop.
Marvin Sapiro came here in
1948 when he married a girl from
Michigan and settled in Adrian. It
was a small, friendly place back
then — home to about 12 Jewish
families — and remains a small,
friendly place now, the kind of
town where you don't have
to lock your doors at
night.
At first, Marvin
joined his father-in-
law in the scrap
business. Later, he
went into industri-
al gas. -
Then in the mid-
'80s Marvin and
Bruce
heard Prehistoric Forest was up
for sale. Bruce was working in the
equipment leasing business at the
time. He jumped at the chance to
take over Prehistoric Forest
because he loves children.
"At first we didn't know too
much about it (the business)," he
says. "But we learned along the
way."
Prehistoric Forest is strictly a
summer affair (the season lasts
110 days); the rest of the time
Marvin lives in Florida. Bruce,
however, resides year-round in
Adrian, where he owns a dance
and gymnastics center and consti-
tutes about one-fifth of the town's
Jewish community.
Since taking over Prehistoric
Forest, the Sapiros have added the
kiddie bumper boats, the Krazy
Maze (where, if you're not careful,
you could easily get lost; a great
place to take your in-laws) and the
400-foot "Jungle Rapids," the
largest water slide in the Irish
Hills.
Weekends are
busiest
at
Prehistoric
Forest, with
up to 3,000
guests, usu-
ally
from
throughout
the Midwest.
The crowds are
bigger with the
release this summer
of Steven Spielberg's
Jurassic Park.
The work is harder than might
appear, the Sapiros say. They
describe their business as "weath-
er dependent"; obviously, no one is
interested in seeing an outdoor
exhibit or going down a waterslide
when its chilly or raining.
Keeping the dinosaur exhibit in
shape takes tremendous time, too.
Every other year a local artist
repaints the denizens of
Prehistoric Forest. A harsh winter
means the creatures will need
repairs, or maybe completely new
ones will be made.
"Maintenance is the name of the
game," Marvin Sapiro says.
As much fun as the tour itself is
a stop at the Prehistoric Forest
gift shop. It includes such trea-
sures as bracelets made from "gen-
uine rattlesnake skins," plastic
snakes hanging from the ceiling
and a "fashion disco pin" of a
dinosaur.
Looking for a little something
different to give your boss on Boss'
Day? How about some tantalizing
giant plastic grasshoppers said to
be. "long lost creatures from the
deepest, darkest parts of the jun-
gle. Be careful. They might invade
your neighborhood."
Of course, if souvenir spoons are
more up your alley, the store sells
those, too.
Prehistoric Forest is the more
popular and profitable of the
Sapiros' two properties. But those
not enticed by the thought of dyno-
mite dinosaurs have another
option: Mystery Hill.
About a quarter-mile before
Prehistoric Forest on _U.S. 12,
Mystery Hill is a site for strange
eyes and strong stomachs.
Tour guides say it was discov-
ered years ago and is believed to
be a curious configuration of min-
eral deposits affected by gravity.
Or maybe it was earthquakes, or
fallen meteorites that started it
all.
Whatever the cause, Mystery
Hill is, without question, a very
odd place. Forget everything you
ever learned about gravity. Here,
water flows upward and balls
swing in one direction only. Trees
all grow on a slant.
Those considering a visit to
Mystery Hill should heed this
warning, however: There are no
ravenous dinosaurs there, but eas-
ily queasy and nauseated new
mothers might find the lack of
normal gravity unnerving. El
The "fashion disco pin," (above) is coveted by
style insiders everywhere. Tyrannosaurus Rex
(far left) has moving body parts. Owner Bruce
Sapiro got into the business because he loves
children.