Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Man arrested on red carpet says he never hit Pitt


LOS ANGELES (AP) - The ex-journalist who was arrested after jostling with Brad Pitt on a red carpet last week said Monday he was merely trying to give the actor a hug and didn't mean him any harm.

Vitalli Sediuk, a former Ukranian television reporter, told The Associated Press in an interview that was in a fan area of the event that was open to the public when he went in to give the actor a hug. Sediuk, 25, has gained a reputation for outlandish pranks on red carpets in Moscow, Los Angeles and last month, at the Cannes Film Festival when he crawled underneath America Ferrera's dress at a film premiere.

His contact with Pitt, which caused the actor to lose balance while he was signing autographs at the "Maleficent" film premiere on Wednesday, led to Sediuk's arrest. He spent two days in jail before pleading no contest to battery and unlawful activity at a sporting or entertainment event and was sentenced Friday to three years of probation and a year's worth of psychiatric counseling.

"I'm a normal guy," Sediuk said. "I'm not crazy."

The former Ukranian journalist, who has hugged the crotches of Bradley Cooper and Leonardo Di Caprio and crashed the 2013 Grammy Awards said the primary purpose for his pranks is entertainment. "I'm doing this for fun," he said.

Sediuk has been fired by the Ukrainian television station 1+1 and said he does not know what his next steps will be. He said he intends to spend the next few months focusing on fulfilling his sentence in the Pitt incident, which include community service and a restraining order preventing him from going near Hollywood events.

He said he would like to remain in the entertainment field, working as a movie director or appearing in a reality show, and would continue work as a journalist - if anyone will hire him.

 http://www.aol.com/article/2014/06/02/man-arrested-on-red-carpet-says-he-never-hit-pitt/20904896/?ncid=webmail30

Hall of Fame QB Dan Marino latest to sue NFL over concussions

Dan Marino
Dan Marino becomes the most prominent modern player to join concussion litigation against the NFL.
John Iacono/SI
Hall of Fame quarterback Dan Marino has joined the nearly 5,000 retired NFL players to sue the NFL over concussions and long-term neurological harm. The former Miami Dolphins star, along with 14 other retired NFL players, filed a lawsuit on May 28, 2014 in the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. This is the same federal court where the consolidated concussion lawsuit against the NFL is being heard by U.S. District Judge Anita Brody. Attorneys for Marino and the other 14 players are also attorneys in the consolidated case. Marino's case, Bishop et al. v. NFL, is functionally identical to other concussion litigation and will likely become part of the consolidated case.
Marino, 52, is an intriguing person to sue the NFL. The complaint does not allege that he has suffered a specific long-term neurological injury, instead asserting that some of plaintiffs have suffered an increased risk of long-term illness from playing in the NFL. Until CBS dropped Marino from its pregame show The NFL Today in February, Marino had enjoyed a successful post-playing career as an NFL broadcaster. Marino has also scored lucrative endorsement deals with major companies NutriSystem, Papa John's and Hooters.
He was most recently seen visiting fellow Hall of Famer quarterback Jim Kelly, who is hospitalized with cancer. By joining the concussion litigation, Marino arguably becomes the most prominent ex-star to take on the league. For young NFL fans, many of the retired players suing the NFL are older men who played in unfamiliar eras. Marino's broadcasting and endorsement career, however, makes him instantly recognizable to all fans and thus might catapult him to a celebrity role among plaintiffs.
NFL concussion litigation: No end in sight
Marino's lawsuit is a reminder that concussion litigation in the NFL is far from over. It has been nearly three years since Jim McMahon and six other players sued the NFL over concussions, a move that prompted an avalanche of other retired player lawsuits. To date, the concussion litigation remains unsettled and there is no end game in sight. In January, Brody stunningly rejected a proposed $765 million settlement between the league and the retired players. Even though the settlement had been agreed to by both sides and also recommended by a neutral mediator, Brody reasoned that the settlement lacked sufficient data to prove that enough money would be available for the potentially 20,000 retired NFL players and their families. Six months later, Brody awaits the league and retired players to propose another settlement. If no settlement is reached to satisfaction of Brody, pretrial litigation will resume.
It may be difficult to reach a settlement in NFL concussion litigation. The thousands of retired players suing the league span different stages of life, with varied conditions and wide-ranging healthcare costs. Some are comfortable financially, others are in financial distress. Determining acceptable formulas for assigning and distributing money to retired players appears highly challenging.
Even if the consolidated concussion case ultimately settles, NFL concussion litigation will continue for years. Some retired players would likely opt-out of the settlement and sue the NFL on their own. This process could play out over years, with the NFL in a state of perpetual concussion litigation. The league would likely treat concussion litigation as an ongoing expense, similar to other types of litigation the league regularly faces. This strategy would likely be true of other health-related litigation, such as the recent painkiller lawsuit against the NFL.
A scouting report on what to expect in an NFL concussion trial
If concussion litigation goes to trial, the players' core thesis to jurors would be that the league fraudulently concealed the risks of concussions. This argument would be advanced by citing specific actions or omissions by the league. Marino's lawsuit, for instance, emphasizes how NFL coaches allegedly instructed players to tackle and block with their helmets, thereby increasing damage to players' brains. Like other concussion lawsuits, Marino's lawsuit also portrays NFL physicians as willfully promoting false science to obscure the link between playing football, concussions and long-term neurological injury. These are damning accusations and they depict the league as callously dismissing players as replaceable cogs in the NFL's billion-dollar machine.
The NFL's defense in a concussion trial would be multifaceted. The league would insist players' claims are barred by terms contained in collective bargaining agreements that the NFLPA willingly negotiated and signed. While much of the blame for retired players' health conditions has been directed at the NFL, the NFLPA's responsibility would receive far more scrutiny in a concussion trial. The NFL would also insist that players assumed an obvious risk of neurological danger by playing in the NFL, where on every play very large and strong men collide with one another at full speed. The league would similarly raise questions about causation, especially since before his first NFL snap, a rookie NFL player has already played thousands of downs in games and practice during college, high school and Pop Warner football. NFL attorneys would surely argue, "Who's to say when a player's neurological injury occurred while playing football -- if it even occurred while playing football?" Statute of limitations, the league would contend, also bar some of the players from suing the NFL decades after their careers ended.
The NFL clearly hopes to avoid a concussion trial, as it would risk a massive public relations disaster for the league and its teams. Still, the concussion controversy hasn't seemed to have harmed the league's image with fans. The NFL continues to set record television ratings for games and even the NFL draft, thus suggesting that fans are able to separate their concern for retired players' health with enjoyment from watching current players inflict big hits on one another.
Michael McCann is a Massachusetts attorney and the founding director of the Sports and Entertainment Law Institute at the University of New Hampshire School of Law. He is also the distinguished visiting Hall of Fame Professor of Law at Mississippi College School of Law.

Brazil judge sentences Pele's son to 33 years


SAO PAULO (AP) - A Brazilian judge sentenced the son of soccer legend Pele to 33 years in prison after finding him guilty of laundering money for a drug gang.
Judge Suzana Pereira said Monday that Edson Cholbi do Nascimento must surrender his passport to the court this week. She said the 43-year-old can remain free as he appeals, which can take years in Brazil.
"The process is still open. He can still appeal and have another court review the case," Pereira said.
Pereira said she couldn't reveal many details about last week's ruling because both parties agreed to handle the case privately. But she said she found enough proof to convict Do Nascimento.
The defendant's lawyer could not be reached for comment. Do Nascimento previously denied the charges, although he said he had used drugs out of curiosity after he quit professional soccer. He spent six months in a maximum-security prison in 2005 after being arrested with 50 others in a sweep aimed at a gang in the port city of Santos. Prosecutors said he was associated with the criminal group.
Pele is considered the best soccer player ever and in Brazil he is hailed as a national hero. He is currently in the spotlight as the country makes final preparations to host the World Cup in 10 days.
His personal adviser, Jose Fornos Rodrigues, said the sports star was traveling in China and had no comment on the case.
Known as Edinho, Pele's son played as a goalkeeper and is now a coach for the Santos professional soccer team, where his father rose to fame in the 1950s. The club said it would not comment, calling the case a personal matter for Edinho.
It wasn't his first run-in with the law. He was charged in early 1990s with taking part in a high-speed race where the other car hit and killed a motorcyclist. He was sentenced for manslaughter years later and then acquitted in 2005.

Toddler is a cheerleading superstar



For many toddlers, balancing is a difficult task, but not for little 2-year-old Emerson Decker. Emerson and her dad Andrew practice their cheerleading moves on the beach. She pulls off an amazing stunt: her father throws Emerson up in the air and sticks the landing ... on his hands! They even performed the stunt again on 'Fox & Friends.'
 Emerson is clearly talented, and it might be because she started stunting before she could even walk. "We actually started when she was three months old. Before she could walk she would stand in my hand," her father says.
Emerson, the "Little flyer" even has her own Instagram, which is covered with videos and photos of her stunts. This page is filled with a whole lot of cuteness and is co-managed by her dad because ... well, she's 2 years old.
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Emerson's dad Andrew has been cheering since he was four.
He's currently a cheer coach at Cheer City United and teaches Emerson her stunts. "We're working on all kinds of new tricks. She likes doing stuff on her own and stuff with me."
A popular cheerleading vine page called Cheer Vine re-vined a sweet stunt Emerson and her dad pulled off. The vine was was captioned, "She's like 2," and naturally it went viral.
And get this! People Magazine points out little Emerson isn't the only famous lady in the family. Fashion model and actress Brooklyn Decker is a relative of hers.
Decker helped the talented Emerson go viral when she posted a video of the toddler and her dad on her Instagram account, saying, "What a stud!" Heck, "stud" might even be an understatement.

Clothing allowance not a perk for first ladies' fashion needs and wants


news
By NANCY BENAC
WASHINGTON (AP) -- Michelle Obama's fashionable clothing has become something of a given in her five-plus years as first lady. Yet her wardrobe still is the subject of endless public fascination and one long-simmering question: Who pays for those incredible outfits?
It's no small matter. Her high-low fashion choices mix everyday, off-the-rack fare with custom creations from top designers whose gowns can run into five figures.
In recent weeks, Mrs. Obama has turned heads with a forest-green Naeem Khan dress at the opening of a new costume gallery at New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art. She shimmered in a silver Marchesa gown at the White House Correspondents' Association Dinner. And her flowered shirtdress for a Mother's Day tea at the White House (recycled from an earlier event) hit the just right note for an audience of military moms.
It takes money to pull that off, month after month. Those three dresses by themselves could add up to more than $15,000 retail, not to mention accessories such as shoes and jewelry.
Is it the taxpayers who foot the bill? No. (Despite what critics say.)
Is it Mrs. Obama? Usually, but not always.
Does she pay full price? Not likely.
Does she ever borrow gowns from designers? No.
The financing of the first lady's wardrobe is something that the Obama White House is loath to discuss. It's a subject that has bedeviled presidents and their wives for centuries. First ladies are expected to dress well, but the job doesn't come with a clothing allowance or a salary.
Mary Todd Lincoln racked up tens of thousands of dollars in clothing bills and considered selling manure from the White House grounds to pay them off, according to the National First Ladies' Library. Jacqueline Kennedy's father-in-law stepped in to finance her Oleg Cassini wardrobe to keep clothes from becoming a political liability for President John Kennedy. Nancy Reagan got grief for borrowing designer gowns and not always returning them or reporting them as gifts.
Laura Bush, in her memoir, said she was "amazed by the sheer number of designer clothes that I was expected to buy" as first lady.
How does Mrs. Obama, a fashion icon with far more expensive tastes than Mrs. Bush, swing it?
For starters, the Obamas reported adjusted income of $481,000 last year, and assets worth $1.8 million to $7 million.
And like most people, Mrs. Obama (mostly her personal aide, really) looks for discounts.
And, for really big events, the first lady has an option not available to every fashionista.
Here's how Joanna Rosholm, press secretary to the first lady, explains it:
"Mrs. Obama pays for her clothing. For official events of public or historic significance, such as a state visit, the first lady's clothes may be given as a gift by a designer and accepted on behalf of the U.S. government. They are then stored by the National Archives."
That saves Mrs. Obama considerable money, although the White House refused to say how often the first lady wears donated clothes and the National Archives declined to say how many such items it has in storage. The White House did say that the first lady doesn't borrow any clothing and, for the most part, buys her own clothes.
The clothing donated by designers includes Mrs. Obama's two inaugural gowns made by Jason Wu, a lesser-known designer before Mrs. Obama turned him into a star in the fashion firmament. Wu declined to discuss how he works with the first lady.
Mrs. Obama and Wu both were there when the first inaugural gown was presented to the Smithsonian in March 2010. The first lady said in her remarks: "The dress I donated today, made by Jason Wu, is a masterpiece." But the Smithsonian lists the gown as a "gift of Jason Wu in honor of first lady" Michelle Obama, making clear it came from him. The first lady's office had no comment on that.
Two other examples of gowns worn by the first lady that were donated by designers: the blue Carolina Herrera gown that Mrs. Obama wore to February `s state dinner for French President Francois Hollande and the gold beaded Naeem Khan gown that Mrs. Obama wore to the 2012 governors ball, now on display at the American Museum of Natural History. Herrera and Khan declined comment.
The first lady's office had no comment on whether the couture gowns worn by Mrs. Obama for her six other White House state dinners also were donated. Nor would it say how many gowns have been donated for the array of other big events for which the first lady is expected to appear in couture finery, such as the annual Kennedy Center Honors ceremonies, governors' dinners and White House correspondents' dinners.
Wearing donated gowns represents a change in practice from the Bush administration.
Anita McBride, chief of staff to Laura Bush during her time as first lady, said Mrs. Bush paid for all her clothes, including her two inaugural gowns: a red crystal-embroidered gown by Texan Michael Faircloth and a silver and blue V-neck creation of Oscar de la Renta.
McBride credits the Obama White House with finding a cost-saving way to "keep Mrs. Obama in all those incredible clothes and to have the use of them not once but multiple times."
The costs of a custom couture gown can be phenomenal, particularly if it is highly embellished with something like beading.
New Yorker Sarah Phillips, who designed Hillary Rodham Clinton's 1993 inaugural gown, puts the full cost of that violet beaded lace sheath in the range of $50,000, with the Presidential Inaugural Committee paying $10,000 and Phillips and the workshop covering the bulk of the costs. Phillips isn't sure whether Clinton herself paid anything toward the dress, but the Smithsonian's website describes the gown as a "gift of Hillary Rodham Clinton and the Presidential Inaugural Committee."
Lawyers who served in the Obama and Bush White Houses describe taking care in working with the first lady's office to ensure that arrangements with designers didn't run afoul of ethics rules designed to guard against conflicts of interest and questionable quid pro quos.
Beyond the unknowns about how often Mrs. Obama's clothes are donated, there are questions about how much she pays for those she purchases.
In a 2011 Washington Post story about Mrs. Obama's personal assistant, Meredith Koop, the first lady's office said Koop acted on Mrs. Obama's behalf "in arranging for purchases, including considering the best offered price and buying on discount if discounts are available."
That's still true today, the first lady's office says, without elaborating.
Several designers who have provided clothes for the first lady declined to discuss their arrangements. But given the prestige that comes with dressing Mrs. Obama, it's widely thought that designers are eager to cut the first lady a break. Former White House lawyers said any discounts provided to the first lady would have to be in line with what designers offer other top customers to avoid being considered gifts.
Paco Underhill, author of "What Women Want: The Science of Female Shopping," said the markups on designer clothes are "astronomical" - and the discounts can be steep as well.
"Some of the routine discounts that people ask for are 40 percent off," he said. "Whether they get it is subject to somebody's discretion."
First ladies have tried all sorts of tactics to hold down their clothing costs, including keeping some dresses in rotation.
Mrs. Obama wore the same dress to this year's Mother's Day tea that she'd worn to lunch with Katy Perry in October 2012. She often switches around separates, belts and other accessories to give clothes in her wardrobe a fresh look.
Recycling carries its own risks.
Mrs. Bush, in her memoir, tells of arriving at a TV studio and noticing a picture on the wall that showed she'd worn the same suit to her last interview there.
"Quickly, I exchanged tops with my press secretary, so that it would seem as if I had more wardrobe variety," she recalled.


WASHINGTON (AP) - Sure, living in the White House has its perks. But a clothing allowance is not one of them.
First ladies feel all sorts of pressure to project a fashionable look, and over the decades they have tried a range of cash-saving strategies to pull it off without going broke.
Seven frugal do's and don'ts that first ladies have tried over the years:
1. TROT OUT RETREADS: Even first ladies recycle their clothes. Michelle Obama recently welcomed military moms to a Mother's Day tea wearing the same shirtdress she had worn to lunch with Katy Perry in 2012. Lady Bird Johnson put her 1965 inaugural gala gown, a white peau de soie dress with a beaded bodice, back in the rotation three times over the next two years.
2. BUY OFF THE RACK: Laura Bush experienced the "ultimate in clothing faux pas" when she selected an $8,500 red lace Oscar de la Renta gown to wear to the Kennedy Center Honors in 2006 without modifying the design. "In the book, that red dress had looked perfect. It vaguely crossed my mind that someone else might see the dress and think exactly the same thing," Mrs. Bush wrote in her memoir, "but what were the odds of that woman wearing it to a White House party?" Pretty good, it turns out. Three other women turned up in the identical gown. They made the best of it by posing for a group photo at a White House reception. Then Mrs. Bush ran upstairs and changed into a navy blue dress from the back of her closet before heading to the Kennedy Center.
3. HUNT FOR BARGAINS: Betty Ford wasn't afraid to economize. She shared clothes with her teenage daughter and used scarves to make the same outfit look different. When she read about low-cost designer Albert Capraro, whose dresses retailed for as little as $70, she asked the New Yorker to bring her some sketches. She ordered spring dresses from him and asked him to make some evening gowns using fabric that President Gerald Ford had brought back from Japan.
4. FIND A BENEFACTOR: When Jacqueline Kennedy caught criticism for wearing pricey French fashions, her father-in-law stepped in to defuse the issue. Joseph Kennedy offered to pay her wardrobe bills, if she used Oleg Cassini, a family friend, as her personal couturier. "Jacqueline Kennedy accepted this offer, a move that was greeted with some astonishment by Seventh Avenue, where Cassini was not regarded as a designer of the first rank and something of a vulgarian as well," author Amanda Mackenzie Stuart wrote in a biography of Diana Vreeland.
5. BORROW STUFF: Nancy Reagan raised eyebrows by borrowing high-priced designer gowns and jewelry as first lady, sometimes without returning them or reporting them on her husband's annual disclosure forms. When it came out that Mrs. Reagan had kept up the practice even after she had pledged to stop, her spokeswoman, Elaine Crispen, acknowledged that Mrs. Reagan "broke her little promise." Mrs. Reagan said later: "I was just trying to help an industry that I could help and I was in the position to help. I didn't see anything wrong with that."
6. RAISE SOME CASH: Mary Todd Lincoln ran up $27,000 in bills for clothes and household items without her husband's knowledge, roughly equivalent to $700,000 in modern times, and then badgered Republican politicians to pay up to "help me out of my embarrassment." Some offered money or loans, but Mrs. Lincoln still came up short, according to historian Carl Anthony at the National First Ladies' Library. "At one point, she even considered selling the manure on the White House lawn as fertilizer to pay the bills," Anthony wrote in his history of first ladies.
7. TRY CREATIVE WRITING: Theodore Roosevelt's wife, Edith, would wear the same dress to multiple events, Anthony says, but vary the descriptions in her press releases. In the days before video and 24/7 media coverage, that made it seem as if she had more clothes than she did.

Chance Rides' Success Built on Dedication to Family Values


Ten years ago, Dick Chance and his son, Mike, started meeting every day at 9 a.m. in Dick's office -- a modest windowless room, made cozy by an abundance of family photos. Their company, Chance Rides -- which makes everything from roller coasters to carousels for amusement parks -- was on the verge of
bankruptcy. Part pep rally and part crisis control, the meetings helped keep the business from going under.

A decade later, the company is in far better shape. But the daily ritual has stuck, keeping the two men in close contact as they run America's largest amusement ride maker just outside Wichita, Kansas.

Fly into the city's airport and you can easily spot the Chance manufacturing building from the sky. Situated in the center of a 40-acre facility, the massive white structure is as tall as the Ferris wheels the company makes and large enough to house 50-foot pieces of roller coaster track.

Despite how visible it is, few people -- including many locals -- know what Chance is making inside those white walls.

But since 1961, when Harold Chance, Dick's locomotive-loving father, started producing the now-iconic C.P. Huntington miniature trains, the company has built the rides that are part of our childhoods: like the Zipper, the Trabant, and the Toboggan.

But making huge rides that cost millions of dollars isn't as carefree as it looks. How this company has survived -- and remained in the family -- is a story as complicated as the rides Chance makes.

Chapter 1: Never Give Up

"Treat people right, be honest, work hard. Things will take care of themselves." Harold Chance lived by those words and his son Dick took to them heart when he bought the business, then called Chance Manufacturing, from his father in 1985.

Dick worked hard to grow the company. He renamed it Chance Industries and branched out into a motor coach division and developed new carnival rides, like the 90-foot-tall Giant Wheel and the pendular Pharaoh's Fury. "It was exciting," Dick remembers. "When I bought it we were doing $14 million a year in business, and that grew to $50 million at one time." By the mid-'90s, Chance employed nearly 400 people. Now 149 people work there full time.

When he was a teenager, Mike worked summers in the family shop -- until he and his dad had what they jokingly call "the falling out."

"My friends had different jobs. They would work in restaurants at night, and I would be like, 'Man, this stinks,'" Mike laughs, retelling the story. "So I went to work at Pizza Hut ... and I was good at it!"

Mike moved away to work in Arizona after graduating from Kansas State University. But he had always stayed connected with Chance Industries -- attending trade shows with his father, so in 1997 he came back to Wichita to work with his dad. Traveling carnivals, which had been Chance's main customers for decades, were slowly dying out as more people went to big amusement parks seeking even bigger thrills.

"We needed a 'Wow!' product," Mike says. "And in this business, that means roller coasters." Chance built coasters like the Toboggan and the Big Dipper, but those were small in comparison to the gigantic rides at parks like Six Flags and Disney World.

But just as Mike was putting his plans into place to get into bigger rides, Chance's business model -- helping carnival owners buy its rides by co-signing their loans -- proved to be problematic.

Chance had been growing between 10 to 15 percent a year in the 1990s, helped by the fact that Chance's lender, CIT Corp., was comfortable with the company backing loans by its customers.

"It worked for years and years," Dicks says. "Carnivals were notoriously a little late in paying ... but they always paid. CIT always went along with it, and they always got paid."

But in 2001, a much bigger insurance company, Tyco (TYC), bought CIT and that all changed.

"Tyco came in and looked at our portfolio of business -- around a $30 million portfolio -- there was about $7 million that was 90 days past due," Dick says. Tyco wasn't willing to wait for that money. So to protect the company, Chance filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection.

Chance wasn't alone in its struggles. Even as he was trying to keep his company afloat, Dick got a call from a longtime competitor, Dana Morgan. He wanted to know if Chance was interested in buying his roller coaster company.

Mike had wanted to build coasters before Chance's troubles began. But could they find customers for multimillion dollar roller coasters when Morgan seemingly couldn't?

The father and son drove to Oklahoma City to meet with Gary Story, the president of Six Flags amusement parks. Story told them that he needed to buy two new coasters. "So we asked, would you buy them from us if we could make a deal with Dana," Mike remembers. "And Gary said, 'Well, yeah.'"

But with Chance in bankruptcy, it was tough getting the deal done with Morgan, a public company. Ironically, the problem that got them into financial trouble ended up helping with the acquisition. Chance had helped Morgan when it was small, financing rides for the company. "So it was our relationship that made it happen," Mike says.

"If we hadn't gotten that Six Flags order, or done that deal with Dana ... I don't think we would have made it," Mike says. But there was never a time when the Chances thought about walking away from the family business.

"My grandfather always told me, 'You only lose if you give up,'" Mike says. "That actually got us through the bankruptcy," Dick adds. "You never lose unless you quit ... and we're not quitting."

Chapter 2: The Weight of a Whistle

A few miles southeast of the Chance plant is O.J. Watson Park, a gem of public space, with miniature golf and pony rides. It also has one of Chance's iconic trains, the C.P. Huntington.

Terry Giddeon, Chance's service product manager responsible for the train brand, grew up just two miles from the park. He can still remember hearing the whistle blow from his bedroom window. In a strange twist of fate, the first C.P. Huntington that Giddeon ever built for Chance -- almost 30 years ago -- was the replacement locomotive for that childhood train. "Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I'd build the train that Watson Park has now," Giddeon says. "Installing it was the best feeling in the world."

The trains needs constant maintenance like any machine, and Giddeon says there were long periods of time when the Watson Park train just wasn't getting it. Last year, the train was shut down more than it was running. But this year, Giddeon is making sure that doesn't happen again.

He has made the Watson Park train a personal priority of his, working with the park's manager to keep the train running. Giddeon believes that dedication sets Chance apart from its competitors.

"The support is always there," he says. Even if a ride is decades old, Giddeon can get parts for it and even provide a service manual. "The Santa Barbara Zoo just bought another locomotive from us. When they get that level of support, they don't shop around."

Giddeon doesn't always see the smiles his work inspires, but just knowing that he's brought joy to children young and old is what keeps him going. "When you see the kids grinning ear to ear, I call it my natural high," he says. "It gives you goose bumps -- makes you feel proud to work for the company."

Chapter 3: An Artist in Kansas

When Julie Boman was a little girl, she decided to express herself artistically -- by drawing a horse on her parents' marriage certificate.

She was in a heap of trouble from the act of childhood mischief, but it proved to be prophetic. Today, Boman is one of three full-time artists in Chance's carousel studio. She paints horses, tigers and dolphins -- even mythical creatures like jackalopes -- for the ride that has been the center of carnivals for more than a century.

Boman, who is self-taught, paints gorgeous animals every vibrant hue of the rainbow, then embellishes them with final touches like jewels and lace. Carousels take an average of three months to assemble, with a single animal taking between 80 and 110 hours to build and decorate.

She also painstakingly adds detail to the center panels of a carousel, inspired by everything from famous works of art to travel photos she spots in magazines. It's that imagination that landed her a job at Chance 15 years ago.

After seeing a mural Boman painted in her church's basement, a fellow parishioner told her boss at a local McDonald's about Boman's artistic skills. He hired Boman to paint murals at a few of his Wichita franchises. "It was my first paying job as an artist," Boman says.

A family friend, who worked at Chance, saw her work at McDonalds's and came to pay Boman a visit one Sunday afternoon. He asked her a question that ended up changing her life: "How would you like to paint carousel animals?"

Boman knows she's lucky to work as an artist in Kansas. "Everyone told me, you better get a backup, you can't do art for a living," she says. "I never thought this would be reality."

But Boman says that Chance being family owned makes all the difference in her work. Both Mike and Dick stop by the studio on a regular basis and Mike often brings his 6-year-old son Carter by on Saturdays to visit the animals. "Oh, he loves carousels," Boman says.

"If you had a corporate board running the company, they'd be focused on the profit and having all of this made in Mexico or China," she says. "And they could have all of this done for less [money]. It's nice to have bosses who let you focus on quality."

In that tall white building in the heart of Kansas, the Chance family has built a company that manufactures magic for the masses. But perhaps even more importantly, they've led a company that, through every twist and turn, has been a place where employees and quality always come first.