Im Chae-moo's Dream Park: Glory and Debt
For over 30 years, South Korean actor Im Chae-moo has poured his heart and fortune into running Dooly Land, a children’s theme park he founded in 1990 in Yangju, Gyeonggi Province. Created out of a desire to build safe, imaginative spaces for kids, Dooly Land was a passion project turned full-fledged business. Now, it's also a cautionary tale about the emotional and financial toll of dreams pursued at any cost.
Dooly Land was once a beloved destination for families. Designed with unique rides that Im helped conceptualize, it prioritized children’s safety and creativity. During its peak, it was bustling with visitors and even reported over 100 million Korean won in daily revenue, roughly $90,000 USD by today’s currency exchange rates. But since the COVID-19 pandemic, daily revenue has plummeted to just $1,200 to $2,500, while its debt has piled up to a staggering 19 billion KRW, or around $14 million USD.
Bright Vision vs. Dark Reality
The Bright Side
Im Chae-moo envisioned Dooly Land as more than a business—it was a gift to children and families. From inception, he emphasized safety, originality, and social value. His hands-on involvement and attention to detail led to the development of custom rides that differentiated the park from commercial giants. It wasn't just another park; it had soul.
Dooly Land also benefited the local economy, creating jobs and drawing tourism to the relatively quiet region of northern Gyeonggi Province. On the reality show Boss in the Mirror, viewers saw a humble, earnest man struggling not just to save a business, but to preserve a lifetime of joy he's brought to children.
The Darker Truth
Yet, sentiment alone cannot sustain a business. Dooly Land now operates with only 10% of its pre-pandemic revenue. The park's accumulated debt exceeds $14 million, with monthly interest alone reaching nearly $60,000. The electricity bill? Around $22,000 each month.
Im reportedly used personal income from running nighttime entertainment businesses to offset the park's losses—an effort that raises uncomfortable questions about financial planning. Even more telling, his wife allegedly was unaware of the extent of their debt, fueling concern about trust within the family unit. If these financial challenges go unaddressed, Dooly Land may close permanently, dealing a blow to staff, the community, and Im himself.
A Path Forward?
Im Chae-moo’s dedication is not in question, but passion doesn’t pay invoices. Without public support or a strategic turnaround, Dooly Land risks becoming an eternal reminder of an unsustainable dream. To survive, themed entertainment parks like Dooly Land—especially small, privately run ones—must adopt new models.
Diversifying revenue, reducing fixed costs, and forging partnerships with educational or government institutions could help reframe the park as a community-centered space, rather than a struggling business. Finding a way to preserve the park’s original mission while making it fiscally sound is now the challenge that lies ahead—not just for Im, but for those who still believe in his vision.
Why His Story Matters
Im Chae-moo’s dilemma reflects a broader problem: how hard it is to keep small, mission-driven entertainment spaces afloat in a commercialized industry, especially after a global pandemic. While larger parks—backed by conglomerates—survived COVID-19 thanks to government aid or deep pockets, places like Dooly Land slipped through the cracks.
Online responses are mixed. Many applaud his tenacity and mourn what feels like the potential end of a wholesome chapter in Korean family culture. Others criticize the scale of debt and question the viability of dreams that rely on personal financing with no exit strategy.
Some sympathetic users on platforms like Naver and YouTube call for crowdfunding, while others ask whether celebrities should be more financially responsible if they wish to turn public affection into business success.
Closing Thoughts
Im Chae-moo’s story is touching and tragic. It reminds us how combining personal passion with business risk can lead to both magical outcomes and economic disaster. Dooly Land started as a safe haven for childhood wonder, but now stands as a crossroads between nostalgia and the hard truths of sustainability.
Whether or not the park survives, Im’s legacy is valuable. He bet everything—for better or worse—on a dream to bring happiness to families. That dream may have cost him dearly, but it also gave joy to thousands of children. We’re left to ask: when do we step in to help preserve such efforts, and when do we acknowledge that not all dreams are meant to last forever?
