Disneyland opened in 1955 and changed the nature of amusement parks forever. Some maintain that Disneyland went so far as to alter the nature of reality (see Baudrillard), but I wouldn’t necessarily go that far. In the ensuing 55 years, the concept of theming has become standard. Go to the local mall if you don’t believe me, and try to figure out why there’s an awning over the door of Hollister’s.
In its early years, Disneyland was mostly in the process of finding itself. It opened with some fairly empty spaces, and some ideas that just didn’t work. The circus, for instance, was counterproductive. Who wanted to watch traditional circus acts for an extended period when there was all the other unique attraction stuff and theming to explore? And Tomorrowland was virtually nonexistent on opening day, because there was just so much startup money and so much time. For its early years the place did what it took to fill in the gaps and determine what was really needed. And after a few years, phase one was complete. Disneyland was not only extremely popular, but it was rich and full and, paradigmatically, the happiest place on earth. (It was also, going all pomo again, it’s own sur-reality.)
Walt Disney, meanwhile, was a tinkerer extraordinaire. He liked to make things, and he liked new things. In the early Sixties, the opportunity arose to do some work for the New York World’s Fair, and he jumped at it. In fact, he over-jumped at it, extending his company’s abilities to the limit (and, for a while, stalling development plans back in Anaheim). At the Fair Disney worked on the Ford exhibit (an endless line of cars as attraction vehicles past newfangled audioanimatronic figures), the GE Progressland exhibit (the Carousel of Progress where the audience moved and the theater stood still, that theater populated by more audioanimatronics), It’s a Small World for Pepsi (boats and mini-A-As) and Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln (A-As to the limit). Shortly thereafter, the engineering innovations from the Fair (and the rides themselves) went to California, leading to Pirates of the Caribbean and Doom Buggies and all manner of attraction beyond the phase one. Phase two, in other words.
The 1964 World’s Fair was just down the road from me. Unlike Disneyland in Anaheim, which I visited with full pilgrimage attitude, the Fair was a train and a subway whenever, which meant that I was there a lot (including closing day, when people were literally pulling stuff out of the ground to take home—it was absolutely bizarre). It was a great fair, probably the best since 1939 (which was before my time but which is considered by many to be the ultimate), and certainly better than any fair since. It was a futurist’s dream, in many ways. Some people see it as the culmination of the even better dream of ’39, which perhaps explains why it was the last of the greats. In any case, there was the technology of the imagined future, plus the actual technology of Disney phase 2 (his attractions were among the most popular), plus the whole thing that I was a teenager at the time, and impressionable and enjoying the freedom of exploring the place at will. So add to my cultural connection to Disney from my earliest childhood this new cultural connection at the height of my adolescence. By now, the idea of Disney wasn’t some considered element in my makeup, but instead was an integral, nearly structural part of it. Like many things in one’s life, one didn’t think about it, one simply took it for granted. Later, of course, I would think about it at great length, but the important thing to understand is that, practically from the moment I was born (and I’m not alone here, given that I was part of the Baby Boom), Disney was there. First, the general narratives slipping in through stories and films. Then the weekly and daily television shows. Then the Emerald City of Disneyland, followed by the Emerald City down the road of the 1964-65 New York World’s Fair.
Any wonder that I got hooked?
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