Dispatch From Disneyland
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Memories are fickle things. This is especially true as you near the holidays. Did Uncle Mark really end up walking around the house last Christmas with a turkey carcass on his head? Who gave you that lovely sweater with the argyle pattern and the Mickey Mouse stitching? Was it your Mom or was it a practical joke from that web site editor you know?
Here’s a holiday season memory of mine I seem to recall. But it can’t have happened this way… could it?
Way down at the end of Main Street USA, back in the far corner of Carnation Plaza, if you had been wandering around a few years ago, you might have stumbled upon this scene.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls. Jane Simon turns 12 years old today. Let’s all wish her a happy birthday.”
Jane stood there on the seat of her red cushion chair. She was trying hard to steady herself so she wouldn’t fall and embarrass herself in front of all her friends from school. Meanwhile the Cast Member in charge had everyone singing Happy Birthday.
At the end of the song Mickey and Minnie burst out from behind a curtain and into the crowd. The kids all cheered.
“Oh no, Mickey and Minnie. You’re too late,” announced the Cast Member. “We’ve already sang Happy Birthday to Jane.”
Everyone watched as Mickey pantomimed his extreme disappointment at being tardy.
“What? What did you say Mickey?” asked the Cast Member. “Did you say we should sing Happy Birthday one more time so you and Minnie can join in?”
Jane sincerely hoped the Cast Member had misunderstood.
“What do you say kids,” said the Cast Member who was apparently determined to stretch out this embarrassing moment. “Let’s sing again.”
So Jane stayed standing on her chair without so much as a sympathetic look from her Mom while the whole group of kids, Mickey and Minnie, and some random people who had stopped when they saw the two famous mice, sang her Happy Birthday again.
In fact, her Mom had one of those ‘cat who caught the canary’ looks on her face. Jane got a sinking feeling in her stomach that the fun had just begun.
She was right.
• • •
Rehearsals were over, workers were scurrying around in teams putting the final touches on the decorations for tomorrow’s events, and the day was still young. These are the times that try men’s souls, thought Walt. So much has happened over the last year, and I have so many plans.
Walt stood in his private apartment that overlooked the town square area of the park. Although he knew in his heart this idea would succeed. If it didn’t. If he had misjudged American sentiment like he did with Alice, then it was all over. He had sold his vacation home, mortgaged his house again, and more.
Those television cameras down there in the square belonged to ABC television. He knew that Disneyland represented a big gamble for ABC as well. But at the same time things were looking up for the studio, and the TV show the he used to lead the public the gates of this park, like so many bread crumbs, was no small part in that turn around. Walt comforted himself with that piece of evidence.
Walt looked at this watch. It was nearly time for the afternoon walk-through where he would have to decide what final details could be fixed over night and which could be left for later. He saw his brother Roy downstairs talking with some men in suits. His brother. Always talking with the men in suits.
Walt realized, not for the first time, how happy he was to have someone there to interface with the bankers, insurance men, sales guys, etc… Without all that, there could be no Disneyland, no Disney Studios, no future projects.
Walt headed down stairs to tell his brother exactly how thankful he was. But there waiting at the backdoor of the apartment was the inspection team. Already the list of improvements was growing long. Thanking Roy could wait for another day.
• • •