My Brother's Keeper

I was the oldest boy in the family, with my older sister Carol and two younger brothers, Brad and Tom (until 1961 when my youngest brother Bill was born, rounding out the squad to five siblings). The photo to the right is of myself (to the left), Carol, and Brad. Growing up it was Carol and the boys was not easy for me. As the only girl and oldest child, Carol enjoyed perks that her younger barbarian brothers were unworthy of. She got her own bedroom, while we boys had to bunk up with each other. She got her own private telephone line in her bedroom – I am not kidding. She also shared Mom and Dad’s bathroom, while we boys had to scrabble around together in “the boys’ bathroom”. Above all, she stayed indoors all day while we boys were kicked outside after breakfast and told not to come back inside until dinner.

I was the law among my brothers. I have not asked my brothers for their opinions, but as kids they would just as likely have considered me the evil dictator of a totalitarian state. Maybe so, but as the oldest boy, I saw myself as the world’s policeman, the arbiter of all disputes, who spoke softly but carried a big stick. The other two boys looked to me for direction, decisions, and inspiration. I chose the day’s activities for the three of us, whether it be climbing trees, digging a tunnel under the backyard patio, or setting fire to our model airplanes. Sometimes my plans were benign, like playing three-man baseball (a batter, a pitcher, and a fielder), while other ideas ended in stitches – like throwing rocks at each other to see who could come the closest to missing.

My brother Brad was two years younger than me, and two years older than Tom. Brad found himself somewhere in the neutral zone and the advocate of peace. Thanks to Mom’s unique fashion sense, Brad came to feel like the odd man out, in more ways than one. Because Brad and I were close in size, Mom sought to simplify clothing identification by buying Brad’s wardrobe in a contrasting color from Tom and me. For example, while Mom would buy three identical coats for us, my coat and Tom’s coat would be tan in color while Brad’s would be chocolate brown. The same would go for pants, shoes, and shirts. In a pile of clothes it was easy to spot which item was mine, but I am sure Brad did not feel like “a band of brothers”. This visual distinction no doubt contributed to his feeling of detachment. There was Larry and Tom, and then there was Brad.

If it appeared that Tom and I were a unified duo, the truth was quite something else. Four years my junior, Tom knew that he could not best me in actual combat to settle disputes, so he resorted to psychological warfare to level the battlefield. When locked in disagreement, he would taunt and provoke me with words until I could no longer suffer his insolence, and I would haul off and slug him. In righteous indignation, he would run to Mom: “Larry just hit me for no reason!” While Mom scolded me, Tom would stand behind her and stick his tongue out at me. My rage at his impudence only hardened my heart and steeled my determination for a more imaginative revenge.

The age of plastics had not quite found its way to all the little kitchen items we know today. In particular, the standard ice tray kept in the kitchen freezer was made of aluminum (unlike the plastic trays we use today), with a handle you lifted to crack open the individual cube compartments. If you remember these trays, you know how your fingers would stick to the tray if they were wet. Armed with this knowledge, my devious plan to get even with Tom’s wagging tongue was hatched. One afternoon I called out to Tom and showed him the frost that had gathered on the ice trays in the freezer. Pulling one of the trays out, I wondered out loud what the frost might taste like if you licked it off the bottom of the tray and invited Tom to try it. Naively, he laid his tongue on the tray.

Instantly his tongue froze to the tray and he erupted in pain at the shock of cold. Without thinking, he yanked the tray off his tongue, and with it came the entire top layer of his tongue. Blood immediately came pouring out of his mouth and he screeched in horror at the sight of it. Mom came running to the kitchen to Tom’s rescue, and quickly got to the bottom of my treachery. As swift as Tom’s injuries could be tended, my comeuppance was sure. At least Tom’s tongue was in no condition to wag at me while I got the lecture of my life.

With this backdrop of sibling hostilities, the family (minus Dad) was once again off to Disneyland for a day of pleasure. We were all under the age of ten, and Mom braced for the challenge of herding the bunch of us through the park. To help manage us kids, Mom announced the buddy system for the day: Carol and Brad would stick together and Tom and I would stick together. We were to keep an eye on each other to avoid separation. That way no one would wander off alone and get lost in the crowd. The concept was sound and seemed to work for the better part of the morning. That is until Tom announced that he had to go to the bathroom.

The nearest bathroom was located at the convergence of Adventureland and Frontierland, just across the street from the Enchanted Tiki Room. Mom escorted Tom and me to the entrance of the men’s restroom and gave us a thorough briefing. We were to both go into the bathroom together and come out together. Once outside, we were to stand at a specific spot where Mom would retrieve us. “I am going over to the Adventureland Gift Shop,” she told us, “So, if you don’t see me, just wait right here. Don’t go anywhere. I will be right back.” Clear enough to me.

The day saw the usual crowds, and for two kids like Tom and me, the sea of people made the task of identifying a specific person an almost impossible task. So, when Tom and I emerged from the restroom, we went to our assigned spot and looked for Mom. Sure enough, she was nowhere in sight. Throngs of people passed before us to the left and to the right, but no Mom. We stood there for what seemed like minutes, when Tom began to get agitated.

“Where is Mom?” he asked. “Are we lost?”

“No,” I assured him. “Mom told us to wait for her right here.”

“Well, where is she? Shouldn’t we go look for her?”

In that instant I saw my opportunity. “If you would like to go look for her, go right ahead,” I said, as I pointed to the crowd in front of us. “But I am staying here.”

“Well, I am going to go look for Mom,” he declared as he drifted into the haze of humanity. In a moment my waist-high brother was enveloped by the masses. I stood my ground, confident that Mom would be proud of me for following directions. I smiled with glee, certain that Tom would suffer for his actions.

In a moment or two Mom found me, and heaped praises on me for staying put. “Thank you for staying right where I told you to stay. Where’s Tom?”

“I don’t know,” I said righteously. “He just up and left.”

“He what?” she exploded.

This wasn’t going the way I expected. So I tried to put the best face on facts. “He decided to go looking for you. I told him that you told us to stay right here, and that’s what I did.”

“And you let him go?” Her eyes drilled right through me. If I wasn’t mistaken, I could swear that things had moved from praise to blame. With my arm in tow, Mom made a quick search of the immediate perimeter, with no luck. After retrieving Carol and Brad, she continued the fruitless search, and finally collapsed at the park’s lost and found station. For the next several hours we sat while an extensive search ensued. Brad and Carol were none too happy. We did not come to Disneyland to sit in a lost and found room. I felt everyone’s accusing eyes on me. This was not going as planned. Why was I under indictment? I was the one who had followed instructions and stayed put. It just didn’t seem fair.

Finally Tom was found and returned to his anxious mother, and she hugged and kissed him like she hadn’t seen him in a long time. Then all eyes turned to me. And the unkindest cut of all – Tom stuck his tongue out at me.

Celebrity Sightings

As a kid I grew up in Los Angeles, and in the late 50’s and early 60’s I worshipped the Los Angeles Dodgers. I loved the listen to the exploits of Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Maury Wills, Duke Snider, and Frank Howard. At night my ear was glued to my transistor radio to share in their next glorious victory or grieve their untimely defeat. I cheered Maury Wills in 1962 as he broke Ty Cobb’s record for the most stolen bases in one season – 104. I marveled at Sandy Koufax as he struck out batter after batter in his legendary perfect game in 1965. I hated Juan Marichal for clubbing Johnny Roseboro with his bat in a 1965 game. But I would say that my life seemed complete and I was ready for God to call me home in 1963 when the Dodgers beat the Yankees in the World Series in four straight games, with Koufax trouncing the Yankees in Games 1 & 4.

At the height of my devotion to the Dodgers, I learned that Frank Howard was to make a personal appearance in my home town, for autograph signings at Gemco, a giant grocery/department store. I circled the calendar and sold my soul to my mother in exchange for driving me to that event. I stood in the crowded parking lot with hundreds of other kids and their parents waiting for this Dodger legend to arrive, and waited, and waited, and waited. After two hours we heard the heart-piercing announcement that Frank Howard had to cancel. The drive back home was dark and bleak.

This was not the only time I was disappointed by a celebrity no-show. In high school I thrilled to the news that actor/comedian Bill Cosby was coming to our school with his celebrity basketball team to play our high school all-stars in an exhibition game before the entire student body. I loved watching him in the I-Spy TV series and could not wait to see him close up in person. On the day of the event the auditorium was packed, and we shot hoops as we waited for the arrival of our special guest. Then came the news – Cosby had to cancel. Another heart-breaker.

Those celebrities are an elusive bunch. When they are not making an appearance on Jay Leno to promote their next movie, it seems actors dodge the public or mingle in disguise to avoid recognition. I don’t know about you, but I have rarely seen a celebrity in public. One of my rare celebrity sightings was in 1992 in Las Vegas. My dad and I walked into the Las Vegas Hilton for a night at the craps table when we ran into none other than Robert Redford himself in the midst of filming “Indecent Proposal”. He paused between takes and looked right at me. I waved. He is a lot shorter than he appears on film. I also managed to get backstage at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion where Charlton Heston was appearing in the Shakespeare play “Macbeth”. I got him to autograph his autobiography that I brought with me. That was quite a moment for me. It almost made up for the Frank Howard no-show years before.

One thing I love so much about Disneyland is that their celebrities are never camera-shy. I know that on any day at the Magic Kingdom I may see Winnie the Pooh or Sleeping Beauty walking down Main Street waving at the fans and posing for pictures. In the years when my kids were growing up, we have photographed them hugging Mickey and Minnie, Roger Rabbit, Goofy, the Chipmonks, the Three Little Pigs, Alice in Wonderland, and Cinderella. In fact,Disney hosts daily parades down Main Street to allow guests to see the whole stable of characters marching down the street. The closest Hollywood comes to that is the Red Carpet pre-show to the Academy Awards. But at the Red Carpet, guards are posted to make sure you don't get too close.

I know that for a period the poor Disney characters who wandered the park and added luster to the day got some abuse from overly aggressive kids who took advantage of the good natured costumed characters. For a time, the Disney characters were hard to find, as Disney employees objected to the hazards of walking the streets of the park unprotected. I used to know an old high school alum who worked the Disney costume gig for awhile, and he told some awful tales of kids actually hitting costumed characters because they knew the character had to remain in “character” and not retaliate. Thanks, kids - way to spoil a good thing! Demand for these celebrity sightings continued, and Disney began arming its characters with “bodyguards” to protect them from belligerent kids. That system continues today, which seems to work.

I have likened Disneyland celebrity sightings to the pastime of bird-watching, a hobby that gives certain bragging rights to those who spot the most elusive of winged creatures. My list of celebrity sightings at Disneyland is long and impressive. I have spotted Woody from Toy Story, the Mad Hatter, and even Cruella De Vil. Top that one if you can. On my last trip to Adventureland I encountered Aladdin and Jasmine strolling past the Jungle Cruise hand-in-hand. I may never shake hands with my idol Sandy Koufax, but I can rub shoulders with my favorite characters at Disneyland any day of the week.

Growing Pains

I had been a devoted visitor of the Magic Kingdom for over 10 years from the day it opened. But by the mid-1960’s I began to experience the unthinkable. I was actually becoming bored with Disneyland. Can you believe that? I can’t say exactly when it happened, but somewhere in my early teens after 100 visits or so, I was losing that feeling of wonder and make-believe that had made the park so special. To his credit, Walt anticipated this possibility and had implemented counter measures. He actually had a name for it. He called it “plussing” – it was a plan to keep the park fresh by tinkering with attractions, adding new rides, tweaking old ones, and making continuous improvements so that repeat visitors like me would never become bored.

The Jungle Cruise alone has seen seven major renovations and upgrades over the years. Tomorrowland is in constant upheaval, and Fantasyland gets a makeover every few years. Walt was not at all shy about tearing down a ride and replacing it with a new ride he thought would be better. My beloved Fantasyland Theater became the new home of Pinocchio’s Daring Journey, the Pack Mule Ride gave way to Thunder Mountain, the Mine Train Ride was deep sixed to make room for “It’s a Small World”, and “The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh” took the place of “Country Bear Jamboree.” I could go on and on.

On the other hand, I think some rides never get tiring and should never be replaced, like the Matterhorn. My brother Brad lived at the Matterhorn. I think he received mail there. It was his favorite ride. On one trip he and a buddy challenged each other to ride only the Matterhorn all day long. As soon as they finished the ride, they would get right back in line for the next bobsled. They became one with the mountain, and even discovered that the track on the left side (the Tomorrowland side) was actually faster than the track on the right side. Except for the token addition of Yeti, the bobsleds have remained pretty much unchanged since the Matterhorn opened in 1959. Oh, yes, the mountain was painted a warmer shade of grey in 1978, but who noticed?

The Mad Tea Party doesn’t need much tweaking either. After a minute and a half of spinning in three directions at once, I’m pretty much just as ready to puke today as I was 30 years ago. I indoctrinated my two kids into the fraternity of the Tea Cups as soon as they were old enough to stand it. I sat them down in our own cup and instructed them to spin the wheel with me as hard as possible for the ride of their life. My daughter recalls that we were a blur at “the party”. The funniest part of the ride was watching them try to walk to the exit when the ride ended.

Despite Walt’s “plussing” strategy, he could not keep pace with my relentless assaults on the park. I just kept showing up faster than he could tweak. I am sure in planning sessions they wrung their hands over me and said, “That Larry Richardson keeps coming back over and over. We have to give him something new, or he might get tired of us.”

“But, sir, we can’t keep up.”

In the park I was becoming an observer rather than a participant. Instead of enjoying the magic, I was dissecting it. If you stay in your “child”, you will be mesmerized by the magician’s levitation. The cynic in us tries to unravel the trick and spoil the illusion. And that is exactly what I was doing.


I think the magic started fading for me on one trip to Disneyland, when the maintenance team had drained the entire lake around Tom Sawyer’s Island to make some major repairs. The bone-dry riverbed exposed the tracks that guided the Mark Twain Steam Boat and the Columbia Sailing Ship around the island. I was shocked, like the Norman Rockwell painting depicting a boy discovering the fake Santa Claus beard and costume in his parents’ dresser. I naturally believed that these two vessels sailed by the skill of their captains, not the clutch of a metal track. It was like pulling back the curtain at the Wizard of Oz and seeing the little man pulling all the levers.

From there, I started questioning every water ride in the park, and sure enough, they are all on a track – the Jungle Cruise tramp steamers, the submarines, motor boats, the keel boats. But wait – for what its worth, there is still one water ride totally free floating – the Indian War Canoes. To this day it is the only Disneyland attraction that is powered entirely by park visitors. Even with two guides to supervise the ride, you could still capsize the canoe if you wanted to make the day memorable for everyone – and maybe get yourself kicked out of the park.

For years I had turned to Disneyland to enter its wonderful world of make believe, but now I was no longer willing to suspend disbelief. I began studying the illusions of the various rides to figure out how they worked. At the Haunted Mansion I could not rest until I could explain how those statues could be staring right at me no matter where I stood. It was downright creepy, but I knew there had to be a logical killjoy explanation.

I found myself at Disneyland with that same ceaseless longing I had as a child, but could no longer find a ride to fill the emptiness. At the hub of Main Street I would stare through the castle archway – was there anything in there for me? No. I looked to the left – what about Adventureland? Same old – same old. Maybe the Pirates? I had memorized the “Pirate’s Life For Me” song and could recite the “properly warned be ye says I” speech verbatim. How about Tomorrowland and the snail’s pace People Mover? No thanks. I was in a bad way.

I schlepped over to the Fantasyland Theater and sat in the back row, watching Mickey Mouse cartoons until I fell asleep. Oh, yes, I took naps at Disneyland, of all places. Can you believe it? I know, what a waste of precious amusement time. But there really wasn’t anything I wanted to do. The Fantasyland Theater was ideal for taking naps, since it was dark, and they never kicked you out. Too bad it got torn down in 1984. It was one of the two attractions in the park with no ending. The other is the Disneyland Train, which circles the park ceaselessly. I would snooze on the train as well. It was an 18-minute round-trip, and since passengers boarded at three different locations, you could get off whenever you wanted. In the day of the ticket books, I really got my money’s worth on that train.

I have a picture of me at the age of 13 sitting on one of the horses on the King Arthur Carousel ride. I look positively silly on this kiddy ride surrounded by little children. And the expression on my face is anything but gleeful. I seem to be asking myself, “What am I doing here?”

As I look back at this time in my life, I know that I was going through my own growing pains. I was in my early teen years and anxious to be thought of as an adult. I didn’t want to be seen on any Disneyland rides that had once enchanted me as a child. That meant no more carousel, no Casey Junior Train, and no Story Book Canal. I cut those three rides out of my life for 20 years, until I became a parent and rediscovered them with my own kids.

In addition, at the age of 13 I definitely did not want to have to tag along with the grown-ups, or to supervise my baby brother Bill all day. I felt that I was grown-up enough to roam the park on my own recognizance, with only periodic check points throughout the day.

Another problem that contributed to my boredom was that from 1961 – 1967 Disneyland was in a bit of a development lull. After the expansion of the Mine Train Ride in 1960 (to include Nature’s Wonderland), the park introduced almost nothing new until 1967, when a whole new flurry of rides ignited my passion for the park once again. In 1967 the following attractions opened:

• Adventures Thru Inner Space
• Carousel of Progress
• People Mover
• New Rocket Jets
• Pirates of the Caribbean
• Tomorrowland Stage

Between 1960 and 1967 only three new attractions opened: Swiss Family Treehouse (1962), the Enchanted Tiki Room (1963), and Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln (1966). I had seen the Swiss Family Robinson movie and explored the Disneyland Treehouse several times, but got to the place where I didn’t care to climb the Treehouse anymore. The Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln attraction is definitely an acquired taste, and it took me some time to warm up to it. Today it is one of my all-time favorites.

In 1966 all of Tomorrowland closed down for a complete makeover, and across the park in Adventureland the work crews were creating a new “Land” – New Orleans Square - and they were digging a gigantic hole in the ground for a new “pirate” ride. I peeked through the baracades to watch the construction progress. I could not believe what a deep hole they were digging. I couldn’t see the bottom of it. “Why are they digging so deep?” I wondered. “Is the whole ride going to be underground?” The answer, of course, was yes.

I finally decided that if I was going to be an adult, I needed to learn what exactly adults see in Disneyland. Everywhere you look there are grown-ups wandering around the park, but I never really paid any attention to what interested them.

My grandpa was a frequent visitor to Disneyland, which seemed odd, given his dower disposition. Growing up, I never saw him laugh and rarely saw him smile. He seemed a calloused victim of the Great Depression (pictured left). I was actually a little bit afraid of him. But if grandpa liked Disneyland I knew there had to be something redeeming about him. He kinda actually looks like a member of the Disney family, like Walt's older brother. So on his next trip to the park, I walked beside him. Halfway down Main Street at the start of the day, I looked up at him and asked, “Grandpa, why do you come here so much?”

He thought about it for a moment.

“I like to watch people.”

“You do?” I scratched my head. “And you need to come here to do that?”

“There’s no place better,” he replied. “Come watch with me. You’ll see what I mean.”

For grandpa Main Street was a stroll down memory lane, a time machine that took him back to the days of his youth. We walked over to the China Closet, a quaint little store selling china and fine class collectibles. On the front porch of the store was a wooden bench that served as grandpa’s perch. He made himself comfortable with his fedora and sunglasses, and together we watched the endless parade of humanity. We saw mothers pushing strollers, fathers studying maps, kids scrambling to get somewhere, the trolley car full of passengers, souvenir hunters laden with bags, balloon merchants surrounded by children, families making plans, arguing, laughing, unloading sweaters, sipping drinks, scanning, scheming, sauntering, scolding, searching. We saw young couples holding hands and smelling carnations, little grandmas window shopping. I watched with grandpa until I couldn’t’ sit still any longer.

“Don’t you want to go on any rides?” I asked, trying to break up this study in social anthropology.

“No, this is better than any ride,” he declared, as he looked up and down Main Street.

So, this is what grown-ups do, I thought. “Well, I think I’m going to go to the shooting gallery,” I announced.

“Suit yourself,” grandpa said. “I’ll be right here. Tell your mother to let me know when it’s time to leave.”

You are kidding me, I thought. You are going to just sit there all day? This is Disneyland, for crying out loud. I may ride the train for an hour or so, but I didn’t come here to sit on a bench all day. After all, there are targets that need to be shot.

As I got older, my interests and perspective matured, and I began appreciating things at the park that I had overlooked as a kid, and got hooked on attractions that are really geared for us “grown-ups”, like Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln.

Disneyland got exciting again for me in 1967 with a brand new Tomorrowland, the opening of New Orleans Square, and so many new things to do. Sadly, Grandpa passed away that same year. It was a big loss to our family and to me. I had grown to appreciate his extra dry humor and his perspective Disneyland. It would have been fun to get his take on all the new changes at the park. Now, whenever I go to Disneyland, I always take a moment to sit on the bench in front of the China Closet - you know, like grown-ups do. But just for a moment – after all, there are too many other fun things to do. I think I hear Dumbo calling.

Pin-Mania

Last week my wife and I made a trip to Anaheim's Disneyland. This time we maneuvered into the monster parking garage rather than permitting ourselves to get funneled into one of the remote satellite parking lots. The main 6-story parking garage is mammoth. We were unlucky enough to get directed to the third to the last stall in our row, at the very back, on the Goofy Level. We needed a shuttle just to get to the other end of the row where the escalators take you down to the tram station, which drives you to the drop-off, where you then walk through the security station to get to the ticket booths, and then into the park. Whew! I'm exhausted just telling you about the effort it takes to get to Main Street these days.

Mid-morning we walked through the entrance to Frontierland, and happened to notice just inside the fort walls a make-shift station where two ladies were engaged in selling and/or trading a vast array of Disneyland commemorative pins. Two western style wooden barrels were flipped upside down and several folders full of pins were on display, like a huge coin collection, for customers to peruse.I was intrigued by the transactions:

I will sell you this Tinker Bell 'It's All About Me' pin for $20, or I've got a Mickey through The Years three-pin set for $50."

There had to be hundreds and hundreds of Disney pins on display: Mickey pins of all kinds, Goofy pins, Donald Duck pins, pins for each land, each ride, pins commemorating Disney anniversaries, every imaginable Disney cartoon character, limited edition pins, hidden Mickey pins, seasonal pins, Disney movie pins, Disney Olympic pins, state character pins, and on and on.

I had never known this secret world existed - the world of pin traders and collectors. My son had flirted with an interest in coin collecting as a boy, so I felt I was on some familiar ground. Like coins, I was sure that there must be commonplace pins of modest value, as well as rare limited edition pins that would fetch a pretty price.

Eager to learn more, I stepped up to one of the ladies and asked innocently which of her pins was the most rare and valuable. She immediately clammed up. I could tell I had entered the club without the secret handshake. She hemmed and hawed for a moment and offered some canned dribble about the value of pins being purely in the eyes of the beholder. I didn't give up:

"Yeah, I'm sure that's true, but like coins, there must be some pins that are serious collectors items. For example, which of your pins would you charge the most for?"

For some reason, that question wiped the smile off her face and she muttered:

"I'm not going to tell you that."

And she moved on to her next customer. She acted like I had asked her income or how she votes. Maybe she thought I was casing her out to snatch her precious pins and make a run for the parking garage.

Back home, I called my brother Bill, who used to work at Disneyland, to learn more about this secret society of Disney pin collectors. He was quite illuminating. Apparently, this pin-mania is a serious affliction bordering on addiction. There are websites exclusively for the sale of Disney pins, with literally tens of thousands of pins (see dizpins.com or pinpic.com). And new pins are being rolled out literally every day. It is impossible to collect them all. Bill has a modest collection of his own, so he recognizes the sickness and the level of obsession associated with Disney pins. He e-mailed me a picture of one of his favorite pins - the parking lot tram pin, a three-piece set commemorating his job in the parking lot (See the pin to the right). A popular Tinker Bell pin (to the left) was originally sold off of the Disney Auction pin site...similar to Ebay. It sold for $67 dollars. It then was up on Ebay for a lot more. And trying to trade for it is difficult as those who have don't easily let it go. They have it ready for trade for the next MUST HAVE pin that comes out. And since new pins come out daily...one never knows. My brother said that some of the most sought-after pins will sell for thousands of dollars. Wow. Pin conventions and special trading and sales events are held throughout the year for the faithful.

When I think back on our recent trip to Disneyland, I recall a moment when my wife and I were standing in the Finding Nemo Submarine line, when we spotted a family standing not far behind us with that foreign nationality look. They were all blond, fair-skinned, with eyes and cheek bones that screamed "northern European". What caught my eye next was a large round pin each person was wearing with pride. It read "1st Time Visitor".I side-stepped my way back to them to learn more. I was dying to hear first-time impressions of the park.

"Are you from the USA?" I asked. "No, we are visiting from Finland," the mother confided. We chatted for a minute about their expectations and goals for the day, then I took a picture of their pin (shown at right).

I confess I was jealous. The more I thought about that "1st Time Visitor" pin, the more I wished I had my own pin to commemorate my own first visit so many years ago. But they didn't make those pins back in 1955. If they had, and my parents had thought to buy me one, I would cherish it to this day as the rarest of pins that celebrated that once-in-a-lifetime event: my first shining wide-eyed visit to the Happiest Place on Earth. I only wish I had such a pin of my own. They are not sold on eBay, you could not attach a price to it, and it would be untradeable. For me, that would be the rarest and most unique of all Disney pins.

Going To X-S

My mother has a very particular idea of what constitutes fun – especially in her choice of movies. (Here she is with me at Disneyland). She is a sucker for a musical, romantic comedy, or anything silly, like Chevy Chase’s Christmas Vacation. She is quite the product of the traditional Hollywood movie formula where boy meets girl, boy overcomes all obstacles to win her heart, and they all live happily ever after. For her, good must triumph, happy endings are essential, and the bad guy must get his comeuppance.

What she does NOT like is any movie theme dealing with the supernatural, the occult, satanic activity, witches and goblins, vampires and zombies, or any unexplainable phenomenon. Of course, the entire encyclopedia of horror flicks is out of the question. She has a very tender heart and finds nothing entertaining in the suffering of innocent victims at the hands of lunatics. To this end, we kids have steered Mom away from such movies as The Exorcist, The Devil’s Advocate, or any movie with the words “chainsaw” or “Friday the 13th” in the title.

A large grey area for Mom is the entire science fiction genre of films. Movies that deal with the future, like Star Wars, are generally OK with Mom, and even modern day science fiction silliness, like Back to the Future or Multiplicity, are harmless good fun. But hostile aliens from outer space intent on the destruction of earth is deeply upsetting to my mother and leaves an emotional wound of very disturbing images that she would rather avoid. She would not go near any movie like War of the Worlds, Alien, or Invasion of the Body Snatchers. She even sought to keep us kids from being traumatized by shocking movie images when we were growing up. I remember when the old Vincent Price movie House on Haunted Hill came to TV, she forbade us kids from seeing it, in a motherly gesture of nurture and protection. “It will just give you bad dreams,” she warned. I managed to sneak a peek at the movie anyway, and I am no doubt damaged as a result.

I never fully understood her depth of feeling in this matter until we coaxed her to join us to see the newly released Close Encounters of the Third Kind in 1977. The story dealt with the whole idea of alien visitation and abduction – a big no-no for Mom. But she liked Richard Dreyfuss from The Goodbye Girl, and she felt safe in the hands of master storyteller Steven Spielberg, the director of the movie.

Big mistake! As the story unfolded on the screen, I could see Mom’s agitation grow at the depiction of rather scary UFO activities. But when the aliens abducted the little boy from his farm house despite his mother’s frantic efforts to save him, Mom wanted out of the theater. Literally in tears, she whispered, “You know I can’t stand these satanic movies.”

I vainly attempted to split hairs. “This isn’t really satanic – these are just aliens.” I could see that wasn’t much comfort. After watching the little boy get sucked out of his house amid blinding lights and vibrating appliances, Mom was beyond reasoning. She agreed to sit through the rest of the film, but she covered her eyes through most of it. Lesson learned.

By the 1990’s Tomorrowland had become a real sore spot for Disneyland. After three complete overhauls and numerous tweaks and renovations, this area of the park had Disney executives exasperated. They continue to wrestle with two major challenges: 1) keeping up with advances in science and technology so that Tomorrowland doesn’t go out of date so quickly, and 2) making the future look as interesting and exciting as it did to us in the 1950’s.

For Walt, and most of America, the future was outer space. He said:

"Tomorrow can be a wonderful age. Our scientists today are opening the doors of the Space Age to achievements that will benefit our children and generations to come."

But once we landed on the moon, shot probes at Mars, photographed the outer planets, and launched numerous shuttles to develop an orbiting space station, America’s interest in outer space cooled. While the everyday benefits derived from the space program are quite numerous, most people think of Tang, Velcro, and Teflon as our principal payoff for the multi-billions of dollars spent by NASA (although none of these items were actually developed specifically for space applications).

In addition, with nuclear meltdowns, oil spills, and chemical poisonings, growing fears about the dangers of science and technology to our planet have convinced some people that science is not the solution, but the problem to our quality of life. Go figure that one out and get back to me.

Anyway, something was needed to give the “future” a new makeover. In the 1990’s Disneyland announced a new vision for Tomorrowland that it labeled “Tomorrowland 2055”, which would coincidentally mark the 100th anniversary for the park. The plan called for a new line-up of exciting rides with a strong alien flavor. The centerpiece attraction was to be ExtraTERRORestrial Alien Encounter, a sit-down theater with harnessed special effects seats. The back story for the attraction was that a futuristic corporation called X-S was demonstrating the technology of teleportation. The company’s motto was “If something can't be done with X-S [excess], then it shouldn't be done at all.”

For those of you who have experienced this ride, be patient while I explain it to the other readers. Guests were ushered into a darkly lit stadium-style chamber for the demonstration. Each seat came with a harness needed for the ride’s special effects. At the center of the chamber was a large plexi-glass container – the “teleportation tube”, where the demonstration was to occur.

The “host” and announcer for the show, along with two X-S Tech employees, run the demonstration. Initially, you are told that a single guest is to be teleported out of the chamber. Then the host is "seized" by inspiration and decides to have himself teleported into the chamber to meet the entire group.

Here is where the ride takes an unexpected dark turn. Through some technical glitch, the teleportation signal is diverted through an unknown planet. As a result, a towering winged, carnivorous alien is beamed into the tube by mistake. As ugly and dangerous as any movie alien, this terrifying creature is on full display, with only the plexi-glass shield to protect the audience. Of course, you can guess what happens next. The creature shatters the glass tube and escapes, amidst intermittent darkness and flashes of light that reveal the empty teleportation tube. A power outage suddenly plunges the entire chamber into total darkness as guests sit helplessly restrained in their seats.

During the portions of the attraction that take place in darkness, binaural sound effects suggest that the alien is moving through the chamber, menacing the guests and even devours a maintenance man. In-seat vibration, air-blasts and other effects contribute to the illusion, with the alien appearing to be breathing and at one point licking the guests. "Blood" spattering in the dark is simulated by the spraying of water. Among other spine-tingling highlights during the encounter is a moment when a cast member shines a flashlight over the guests to ask if they are alright, only to be "ripped apart, limb-from-limb, and eaten" by the alien, using the technology of sound effects.

With assistance from the two X-S technicians, the ravenous alien is ultimately driven back into the broken teleportation device and destroyed. Guests are then released from their seats.

Of course, I had no idea what this ride was actually going to involve, or I would never have taken my mother on it. This was The Magic Kingdom, for crying out loud, full of little children. What was Michael Eisner thinking? I suppose the name of the ride (with the word TERROR in bold caps) should have given me a clue. It was probably not what Walt had in mind when he envisioned the exciting possibilities of tomorrow. No matter. Walt had been dead for almost 30 years, and there was a new team in charge. I am told that when Disney CEO Michael Eisner first sat through a dry run of the ride, he complained that it wasn’t scary enough, and ordered the fear factor ramped up. The ride was being test marketed at the Orlando Magic Kingdom, where it opened in June of 1995 amidst lots of promotional hoopla. The ride was described as “hip” and “edgy”, and “a darkly humorous science-fiction experience”. It was kind of like a dress rehearsal for the ride, which would ultimately be installed in the Anaheim park once all of the bugs were worked out of the system.

In 1995 I was living in Tennessee, and Orlando was a mere nine-hour drive away. For Thanksgiving, my wife and I decided to fly my mother out from California to spend a week with us. Knowing her affection for Disneyland, we planned a thanksgiving excursion to Walt Disney World, with a stay at the Contemporary Hotel, and plans for a sneak preview of this coming attraction for Anaheim.(Here she is with me, our two kids and a cousin at Disneyland in 1995).

As we stood in line for the Alien Encounter, we observed the warning label alerting guests that the ride was very intense, and that parents were recommended to not bring small children into the attraction. I had never heard of such a warning for a Disneyland ride. Thunder Mountain came with a warning, but that seemed more related to the physical demands of a roller coaster. The Alien Encounter warning focused on potential psychological trauma. Undaunted, we pressed on.

As we were seated in this theater-in-the-round, it reminded me of the Mission to Mars chamber. I was anticipating a pleasant virtual reality experience similar to Star Tours. Was I in for a shock.

The teleportation of the “Alien” into our plexi-glass tube was startling enough. The creature was large and menacing, and I could see that Mom was nearing her limit. I thought, please don’t let it get any more intense. No such luck. The lights flickered, the beast broke free, and we were all cast into total darkness, with only the sounds of screaming patrons, death, and destruction all around us. At one point a puff of air from our harness and the slobbering sounds of the Alien made it seem it was right behind us. I could only grit my teeth and hope for a speedy conclusion.

By the end of the ride Mom was a wreck. When I turned my head to look at her, she was gripping her harness with her eyes shut tight. I broke the silence by offering, “Well, that was fun.” I don’t think she has forgiven me to this day.

We were not the only ones to be stunned by the nightmarish Alien Encounter. Many guests complained that the ride was too frightening to be enjoyable, and refused to go on the ride again or to recommend it to others.

The ride was finally closed down in 2003 and was never installed at the Anaheim park. Compared to the lifespan of most Disneyland rides, it was a short run. While it developed a cult following among some Disney fans, it was largely criticized for terrorizing the park’s primary customer – young children. The ExtraTERRORestrial Alien Encounter is perhaps the scariest ride in the history of the kid-friendly Magic Kingdom.

Even without the Alien Encounter, there are enough heart-stopping rides at Disneyland to prompt management finally to install cardiac defibrillators at some of its more intense thrill rides, as a protective measure, which currently includes:

• Haunted Mansion
• Splash Mountain
• Space Mountain
• Big thunder Mountain Railroad
• Pirates of the Caribbean
• Buzz Lightyear Space Ranger Spin

I guess Disney has decided that it will not cut back on the “thrill factor” of its rides, but if you have a heart attack, they are ready to revive you. How’s that for fun! Just to be safe, some of the non-thrill rides that lack defibrillators come with warning labels. Even Snow White’s Scary Adventure has a warning that reads “WARNING: May be too intense for young children.”

Nevertheless, I was not sad to see ExtraTERRORestrial Alien Encounter retired. If I want a Disneyland ride to plunge me into imminent danger, I will settle for Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. Straddling those bumpy railroad tracks with that locomotive headlight bearing down on me is unnerving enough. And while the ride ultimately sends you to hell, it doesn’t actually try to kill you.

Betrayal

I can’t believe I did it. What was I thinking? She had never given me a reason to stray. She had always been constant, even more charming as the years went by. She always took care to look her best and impress me with a few surprises now and again. But I admit, after years of a mutually fulfilling monogamous relationship, I was restless and curious about other rivals for my affection. For years I had been faithful to my one love, but I was eventually to bear the guilt and shame of breaking my vow of fidelity. My union with Disneyland was tested the day I set my heart to visit its younger sister – the Orlando Magic Kingdom – when it opened its arms to me in 1971 and wooed me to travel across the country to see how much more fun she could be.

Why would I commit such an act of betrayal? Disneyland had always been so close, so convenient. I could roll out of bed, stroll down Main Street, and be back home in time for dinner. She was what you might call “easy”. I didn’t have to work for it – wait for it - not like kids who lived in Chicago, Kansas City, or Pittsburgh. One overly crowded day at Disneyland I had to share a sky bucket ride with two kids from out-of-state. They gushed to me that this was their very first trip to Disneyland.

“Oh,” I replied. “This is the third time this month for me.” Their mouths dropped in awe. “Wow,” they uttered. “We’ve waited our whole lives for this.” I could only gaze at them with pity.

And what about the rest of the world? If Disneyland was a faint dream for kids living in Atlanta, Georgia, imagine the kids living in Japan or Europe all pining for their first spin on the Mad Tea Cups! I was always amazed to see any international tourists in the park. While standing in the Matterhorn line, I would occasionally hear people speaking to each other in a foreign language, and thought, “Wow - they traveled the globe to be here.“

I am sure Walt anguished over the problem of making Disneyland more accessible to the world, until he struck upon the genius solution – if you can’t bring the people to Disneyland, bring Disneyland to the people. Why not just build another Disneyland on the other side of the country. Brilliant! So in 1963 he started looking for land in Florida to construct a duplicate theme park. He wanted a little bit more land than he had for his original Anaheim park, which was only 160 acres including the parking lot. So, just to be safe, he bought 27,000 acres south of Orlando. That’s over 40 square miles, or more than twice the size of Manhatten Island. I think that was probably big enough.

Although Walt Disney himself died in 1966 before the Disneyworld Resort could be completed, his brother Roy oversaw the construction of the resort’s first phase – the new Magic Kingdom. When the Disneyworld Magic Kingdom opened in Orlando, Florida, in 1971, my favorite hangout had been cloned on the other side of the country. In no time the inevitable comparisons arose and lines were drawn over the question: which park was better - the original or the clone? I had to take a stand in the great debate.

In my heart I felt deep loyalty to the Anaheim park, the haven of my childhood, but since I had not yet seen The Clone, I could not speak with authority. Although both parks bore the same name, I had read that the Walt Disney people made certain modifications to the new park. They called them “improvements”. I had my doubts. How could they improve on the original? I wanted to defend Anaheim as the best, but until I had seen the Clone for myself, I knew I would have no credibility. Back in the 1970s I didn’t know anyone who had been to both parks. It just seemed that the east coast crowd went to Orlando and the west coast crowd went to Anaheim, and everybody in the middle flipped a coin.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to go. I felt a little unfaithful, like checking out your girlfriend’s younger sister. I could hear Disneyland whispering in my ear, “I gave you my best years, and this is how you repay me.” How could I betray my first love by patronizing The Clone.

I remember my first visit to the Orlando Magic Kingdom. The experience was eerie and unsettling. It was Disneyland and yet it wasn’t. Like a Stepford Wife, it looked like the original, but her soul and personality was missing.

So, what were the differences? The first thing that struck me was that I couldn’t walk from the parking lot to the ticket booths. The two are separated by the gigantic Seven Seas Lagoon, which must be crossed either by ferryboat or monorail. What was the point of that? Crowd control? It made no sense to me, especially at the end of the day when all the throngs of people are leaving the park and wanting to get to their car.

If this was an improvement, I would have liked to have overheard that design meeting:


“OK, I’ve got a great idea. Let’s make the new parking lot even farther away than the one in Anaheim. Let’s put the parking lot so far away, you can’t even see the park at all.”

At the Anaheim parking lot you could see the tippy-top features of the park in the distance, and it beckoned you on. In Orlando, you have no frame of reference when you park your car. You simply have to trust the signs and follow the crowd.

At the end of the day at Disneyland, when you leave the park, you could always just keep walking to your car. Outside the exit, the crowds are dispersing, and you finally have some breathing room. As exciting as it may feel to join the press of the crowd at the start of the day, it is a relief to get your space back at the close. But no such luck in Orlando. After you leave the park you have two choices to reach your car: monorail or ferryboat, and the lines for both are crushing. Wow – was this ever a bad idea, I thought. At the end of a day at Disneyland most people just want to fall into their car, not mount one last battle against the hordes and the obstacles to make good their escape. Who wants to spend an extra hour just to get out of the parking lot? Not an improvement, this giant lagoon, not to me.

Next, I was immediately taken by the size of the new Magic Kingdom. The Orlando park was bigger – way bigger. The Anaheim Disneyland had about 60 acres of park, while the Orlando Magic Kingdom had over 107 acres. A bigger park means longer walks between land and within lands. But the worst of all is that a bigger park means more people. The Anaheim Disneyland max’s out at about 85,000 people. And believe me, at that point, it is no longer the happiest place on earth. I have been at the park when the press of people was so great, I felt like the ball in a pin ball machine.

And the lines for rides get intolerable when the park is at capacity. So in Orlando, if you increase to park size by 40%, you end up with 40% more people all vying for the Pirates of the Caribbean or the Jungle Cruise. It was nuts. The lines would weave back and forth, and we waited and waited, sometimes for an hour and a half for one ride. At that rate, you could log in six rides and the day would be over. I have to admit, I prefer the scaled down feel of the Anaheim park.

There were some other modifications, such as Liberty Square instead of New Orleans Square. My precious “Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln” was gone from Main Street, much to my sadness. I love that attraction. It was always the first thing I saw when I walked through the gates. What a great show and an inspiring message. I always left that attraction energized me for the day.

Most of the rides at the Orlando Magic Kingdom were pretty much the same as the Anaheim park. But the structural differences were striking, and here is where the original park wins out in my mind. The Anaheim Main Street is actually only a scale model. Every brick, shingle, and every lamp post was made five-eighths true size, making the town feel like a toy.

However, the Orlando Main Street buildings are all built to full scale, from the first floor up. When I first entered the park and gazed at the two anchor buildings at the head of Town Square, they appeared massive and overpowering. The same was true for the massive Cinderella Castle (pictured to the right), which was much bigger than Anaheim’s Sleeping Beauty Castle. Also, the Cinderella Castle lacks a drawbridge, to me one of the essential features of a castle. The drawbridge at Sleeping Beauty Castle was to me the hub of the park, and the logical family checkpoint throughout the day.

I know – sometimes you can improve on the original, but in this case I will hold my ground. The Anaheim Disneyland rules. When comparing notes with some of my east coast friends who grew up with Orlando’s Magic Kingdom, they often tell me how disappointed they were when they finally visited the Anaheim park. They thought it felt too cramped and crowded. I guess you just become attached to the version you grew up with. I cannot talk sense to the Orlando “loyals”, and they cannot convince me.

The Clone Wars did not end there. When I heard that another Disneyland was going to be built in Tokyo, I blew a gasket. But nobody asked my opinion, so it opened in 1983. Yet another Disneyland opened in Paris, France in 1992, and still a fifth Disneyland in Hong Kong in 2005. All of these parks have their own modifications to adapt to the local cultures. In France Tomorrowland is called Discoveryland. It doesn’t glimpse into the future as much as it celebrates the past, so obviously it made no sense to call it Tomorrowland. Tokyo replaced Main Street with a World Bazaar under a glass canopy, and Hong Kong Disneyland has no Frontierland at all. I am reminded of the movie Multiplicity, in which the Michael Keaton character gets cloned, and then the clone gets cloned and then cloned again, with each new generation bearing less and less resemblance to the original.

I count my blessings that I grew up with the original. It was the purest rendering of Walt’s vision and executed under his personal direction. And I like it. Even today with all the changes made to the original park, it still rules.

For the sake of comparison, let me ask you this - why is there only one Eiffel Tower in the world? And it is in Paris, France. It is so far away and difficult to visit. Oh, wait. I guess we have the Eiffel Tower clone in Las Vegas. That will due. It is so much closer, and I think it is just as nice. What do you think, France?

Is This What Tomorrow Smells Like?

Of all the lands in Disneyland, Tomorrowland has changed the most over the years - which makes sense, since the future is changing so fast we can hardly keep up. When the park first opened in 1955, space travel was an H. G. Wells fantasy, a single computer filled an entire room, and the pocket calculator of the day was the slide rule.

Walt Disney presented a modest picture of “the future” in his Tomorrowland. There were only three rides in Tomorrowland when the park first opened (Autopia, Astro jets, and Rocket to the Moon), mostly due to budget constraints, but by 1961 Tomorrowland featured eight rides:

1. Rocket to the Moon
2. Astro Jets
3. Autopia
4. Monorail
5. Submarine Ride
6. Flying Saucers
7. The Skyway
8. The Matterhorn

I was always troubled by the designation of the Matterhorn as a Tomorrowland ride. What did bobsledding have to do with the future? Not to worry. In 1971 the Matterhorn was reclassified as a Fantasyland ride, making it the only Disneyland ride to switch from one land to another without ever moving.

Even if Disney had a blank check to build whatever he wanted, no crystal ball could have imagined the milestones achieved by science and technology in our lifetime. When the original “House of the Future” premiered in 1957, it was described as Tomorrowland’s most futuristic attraction. For example, it promised that soon I would be able to cook a potato in just a few minutes with something called micro-waves. Are you kidding me – no way! But even if it could be done, I didn’t think that potato would be safe to eat. I was sure it would be radioactive or something, and would cause me to grow a third arm. The House of the Future also featured other wildly fanciful concepts, like lights that could be turned on and off with the clap of the hands, push-button hands-free telephones, a flat screen wall-sized TV, and a closed circuit intercom with a screen to see the person talking to you. Whoever heard of such things? When would they be available? Not in my lifetime, I was sure. Ironically, within ten years the “House of the Future” had to be closed, it was so hopelessly obsolete.

The Tomorrowland Autopia premiered when the park opened in 1955, and is still one of the most popular rides at Disneyland. I was never sure what these souped-up go-karts had to do with “tomorrow”. I am told it was supposed to be a foretaste of America’s interstate system. If these cars were the future of transportation, I could not have been happier. It was a 4 ½ minute “C” ticket ride that was unquestionably one of my favorites, for all the obvious reasons. I got to drive a gas-powered Corvette-shaped car before I was street legal, and I actually got to control it. I could go fast or slow (there was no brake pedal), steer to the left or right, and bump into the unsuspecting driver ahead of me. The bumper-car aspect of the ride really troubled my tender-hearted brother Brad, who took no pleasure in whiplashing the neck of the driver in front. To me it was the point of the ride. I maneuvered myself in the Autopia line so that my sister Carol would end up in the car ahead of me. I would collide into her car whenever possible, and when she turned and shot a homicidal glare at me, I would throw up my hands and shout “I can’t control this thing. It has no brakes.”

In 1955 harnessing the elements of nature and unlocking their secrets was clearly viewed as the key to the future. And so Disneyland established the Hall of Chemistry as a centerpiece pavilion in Tomorrowland. Sponsored by Monsanto, this exhibition hall was a like a grown-up science fair, demonstrating all the everyday benefits derived from chemistry, like synthetic materials, miracle drugs, food additives and preservatives, and concoctions designed for industrial use. Because sulfur has so many uses, including industrial, agricultural, and medical, it got prominent display in the Hall of Chemistry, a PR snafu in my mind. In spite of its numerous applications, the smell of sulfur is anything but welcome. The sulfur compound in matches makes them the poor man’s bathroom deodorizer. The aroma that emanates from a burning match is the Muhammad Ali of smell and kicks the butt of all bathroom odor. It doesn’t really clear the air – it just gives you something worse to smell. It’s kind of like stabbing your leg to take your mind off your headache.

Anyway, whenever I walked through the Hall of Chemistry, I was overwhelmed by the smell of sulfur. I don’t know why they felt the need to pipe that fume into the pavilion (maybe for a dose of realism), but to me it was downright noxious. I thought to myself, if that is what “tomorrow” smells like, you can keep it. I am sure I was traumatized from a life of scientific pursuits by the stink that wafted from that building. I don’t know what genius came up with the suggestion, but I am even more mystified that it was approved:

Bob: I know how to draw a crowd into the Hall
of Chemistry – let’s pump sulfur smell
through The whole building.

Group Leader: Bob, that’s brilliant. All in favor,
say “Aye”.

Thankfully, the Hall of Chemistry was removed in 1966 to make way for a whole new Tomorrowland. Today I live about 10 miles from a large paper mill in southeastern Tennessee that manufactures newsprint, and gives off an odor not too different from the Hall of Chemistry. When the wind is blowing south I take a deep breath and think, boy that smells just like tomorrow.

For me, the centerpiece of Tomorrowland was the Flight Circle, a large round concrete deck used for aerial exhibitions. Forget the Rocket to the Moon, the Submarines, and the Flying Saucers. My hangout was the flight Circle. On special occasions the Bell Rocket Belt (made famous in the opening scenes of the James Bond movie Thunderball), was demonstrated, using the Flight Circle as the launching pad. That jet pack, strapped to its pilot’s back, really looked like the future to me. He lifted off and hovered over Tomorrowland to the amazement of every boy and girl. I couldn’t wait for the Bell Rocket Belt to go on sale in hobby stores everywhere. I imagined owning one and rocketing my way to school. What a babe magnet that would have been:

Larry: Hi, Susie. How did you get to school?
Susie: I rode the bus. How about you?
Larry: Oh, I used my jet pack.
Susie: Really?
Larry: Yeah. Wanna go for a ride?

Most often the Flight Circle was used for demonstrations of control-line gas powered model airplanes. Unlike the radio controlled version, these model airplanes are manually controlled by the operator with the use of guide lines extending from a handle in his hand to the airplane itself, allowing him to manipulate the tail rudders and make the plane go higher or lower. Standing in the center of the flight circle, the pilot flew his tiny plane in a circle until the small gas reservoir emptied and the plane glided back to earth.

For even more excitement, Disneyland would hold combat exhibitions with two control-line planes that simulated air-to-air combat or “dog fighting.” Two pilots flew their plane in the same circle, towing a crepe paper streamer behind each plane. The winner was the one to cut his opponent’s streamer with his propeller. The demonstrations were riveting to me, and I organized my day to be at each show. I knew I had to have one of those model airplanes for my own. I had found my calling. Maybe one day I would be good enough to put on demonstrations at Disneyland.

With relentless coaxing, I begged my mother to buy me one. To her it just looked too dangerous. A nurse by training, she saw every possible way this thing could kill me. The spinning 4” propeller is definitely not a toy, and the instant you do not respect it, it will cut your finger off. But I wore her down, as only kids know how. I promised fidelity and obedience. I vowed to do my chores in perpetuity. I swore to play with it only after all my homework was done. I begged on bended knee with the soulful eyes of a sad puppy dog. She gave in.

In the mid 1960s model airplanes were all the rage, and the hobby store had a wide selection, from the most basic to the most elaborate, handsome model WWII fighter planes with small plastic bombs that you can drop in mid-flight. Mom agreed to start me off with the “trainer” model – the kind of plane whose wings are attached to the fuselage with rubber bands so that when you crash it (and yes, you will crash it), the plane can be easily re-assembled and flown again.

I cleared away a smooth take-off and landing pad in the back yard and prepared for a life of aviation. My brother Brad served as ground crew. His job was to hold the airplane in place once I got the engine running, to give me time to get to the center of the circle and grab the control handle. With the nod of my head, Brad let go of the tail section and the plane took off. I required several take-offs, crashes, and rubber bands to master the control line, but eventually I began to feel like a bona fide model airplane pilot.

Over time the small engine would get gunked up with fuel and needed cleaning. The engine was detachable from the fuselage, and that is when I got the brilliant idea to fire up the engine while holding it in my hand. Without thinking things through, I managed to start the engine with one hand, while pinching its backside with my fingers. The propeller blades whirred and the engine hummed with a sound hypnotic.

In less than a minute the small engine started heating up in my fingers. I never considered the fact that metal heats up in an internal combustion engine, and my thumb and index finger were rapidly sending alarm bells to my brain. I had about three seconds to decide what to do.

Too late. My fingers reached the second degree burn stage and I reflexively snapped my hand away. Good news and bad news about that – the good news was my fingers were no longer on fire. The bad news was the engine was still running. With nothing to control the direction of the whirring propeller, it spun to the earth in wild rotations. I could not get out of the way fast enough, and the propeller managed to slice my leg open on the way down.

I looked at my thigh, which was bleeding into my shoes, and I knew that Mom must never know, or my flying days would be over. With Band-Aids and alcohol I attended to my battle wound, and bear a faint scar on my leg to this day.

Disney’s Tomorrowland invited us to preview the exciting prospects of the future, but I never thought the future could be so hazardous. With car crashes on the Autopia, toxic odors in the Hall of Chemistry, and slice & dice with model airplanes, I only hope I should live so long.