Bob Welbaum
Page 2 of 2

Since Ward and Walt were both train enthusiasts, Ward had some stories about Walt’s Carolwood Pacific miniature backyard railroad. Walt would very often bring company executives, friends, and their children over to his home to play with the train. Ward would be invited over, don the engineer’s hat, and run the Carolwood Pacific for Walt. Ward said he had a (posed?) photo of Salvadore Dali riding on a flat car, sitting with his cape flowing, his cane in one hand, and his little mustache off to the side with his nose up in the air.

We had seen elements of the Carolwood Pacific at the Disneyland train station and they all seemed very small. We wondered how it was possible that anyone could ride on them without damage. Ward replied they were very well designed and could take the weight. But a lot of times there would be accidents or kids would climb all over the cars, knocking them over and stepping on them. The complication was these could be some very famous kids. As Ward put it so directly, “You don’t tell John Wayne’s kids, ‘What the ____ are you doing’?�?

Frequently Walt would drift away from his guests and putter around in his shop. Ward would be running the Carolwood Pacific while Walt disappeared. Once Ward was piloting the train past a little shed and he heard a saw running. The Carolwood Pacific plaque at Disneyland says Walt did a lot of the work himself; that was Ward’s impression, too.

Walt also had a soda fountain with just about everything you could think of, probably because such treats were a luxury when he was a child. He would reappear, put on a little Coca-Cola visor, get behind the counter and make anything you wanted. In fact, Walt seemed disappointed when people didn’t show great enthusiasm for his soda creations.

Next Ward told us about accompanying Walt to a train show in Chicago. Apparently Walt’s doctor told him to take some time off. So the phone rang: “Kimball, how would you like to go to the train show in Chicago?�? (Although Disney has the reputation of being a first-name company, in every story Ward would use his last name when he described how Walt spoke him.)

Ward said he kind of hemmed and hawed and then asked when would they be leaving?

“Friday�? was Walt’s reply.

So they took the trip together. Ward didn’t go into much detail on this story, except to say Walt relaxed the minute he got on the train.

We got the impression Ward knew Walt as well as anyone. Although when I mentioned this, Ward’s response was simply that no one really knew Walt, or really got close to him.

Toward the end, the topic turned to Disney books. I asked the obvious: “When are you going to do your book?�? His reply was that he was waiting for everybody else to die so he could tell what really happened. But he said that with a smile on his face. He did volunteer that he had been keeping a journal which would provide enough information for three books. But of course Ward’s book was never written.

One more story is worth repeating. During World War II, the British had developed a very bright flare that could be launched from the ground and would slowly descend by parachute, illuminating the entire countryside. For some reason, probably in conjunction with a training film, they shot some off one night at the Studio. Ward was on a roof with others watching the display. During one shot, he happened to look down —below them lying on the ground was a bewildered couple in a compromising position who were wondering where the darkness had gone. The chief of security just happened to be one of the observers. He scrambled down to give chase, but by the time he got to the ground the two had recovered their senses and vanished into the night.

The time went by all too quickly. After almost two hours, Ward politely made it clear this was all the time he could spare. So we quickly parted company. It was a truly magical experience.

And Ward -- thanks again, wherever you are.

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-- Bob Welbaum
-- January 3, 2005