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.