Evangelizing Disney (Mouseketeers at Walt Disney World and Disneyland's 25th Anniversary)

It was somewhat confusing for me to learn that Walt Disney was, in fact, dead.

How was this possible when the studio bearing his name was still releasing new films (The Rescuers, ['77], Pete's Dragon, ['77], Freaky Friday, ['76]) in theaters, the United States was flanked on either coast by a Disney theme park that was open, operating, and adding new rides (Space Mountain, Big Thunder Mountain), and the man himself occasionally showed up on my television set, albeit in a slightly old-fashioned suit, to introduce that night's episode of The Wonderful World of Disney?

It was hard for me to reconcile the fact that Disney--the company--was wielding such a huge influence on my childhood while Disney--the man--had passed on over a decade earlier, before I was even born. How exactly was Disney able to sally forth so successfully without the guiding influence of Walt? 

Unbeknownst to me, industry sentiment at the time was not that the Disney studio was having trouble staying on the path set forth by Walt, but rather was too timid to break away from it.  

"Young people's tastes were changing, and the Disney product was not changing along with it." writes Leonard Maltin of Disney's post-Walt decade (The Disney Films, 3rd Edition, 1995, p. 270)

While the Disney brand still dominated the pop culture I consumed in the 1970s, my tastes were also being informed by the irreverent humor of The Muppets (not a Disney property at that time), PG-rated (and sometimes vulgar) comedies like The Bad News Bears ('76), Meatballs ('79) and Grease ('78), and of course the mega-blockbusters of the decade, Jaws ('75), Star Wars ('77, also not yet a Disney property) and Close Encounters of the Third Kind ('77).

The Cat From Outer Space ('78) and Unidentified Flying Oddball ('79), two examples of the type of corny sci-fi Disney was still releasing in the years following Star Wars and Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

Disney, for its part, seemed stuck in a 1960s time-loop. Some current theatrical releases hewed too closely to Walt-era hits to be appreciated entirely on their own merit. Bedknobs and Broomsticks ('71) was Mary Poppins, but witches. The Aristocats ('70) was One Hundred and One Dalmatians, but cats. Island at the Top of the World ('74) was 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, but in the air. There were also countless tepid live-action comedies featuring a familiar roster of actors that Disney had been relying on for over a decade, among them a pair of Dean Jones starring sequels no one was clamoring for, The Shaggy D.A. ('76) and Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo ('77).

With a few exceptions, (The Rescuers was both a critical success and, for a while, the highest grossing animated film of all time), it was generally "impossible to distinguish a Disney studio film of the 1970s from one made prior to Walt's death..." (Maltin).

Attempting to course correct, Disney, under the leadership of Walt's son-in-law, Ron Miller, began developing projects that could be described as experimental for a studio built on wholesome G-rated family entertainment. The films from this era, which lasts from the late 70s through the mid-1980s, included the studio's first PG-rated film, released under the Buena Vista banner to obscure its connection to Disney, Take Down ('79), as well as several attempts to tap into genres unconventional for Disney: horror (Watcher In the Woods, '80), off-world sci-fi (The Black Hole, '79), contemporary teen drama (an adaptation of S.E. Hinton's Tex, '82), a screwball scavenger hunt (Midnight Madness, '80), super heroes (Condorman, '81), and, in an unprecedented partnership with an outside studio (Paramount), medieval fantasy (Dragonslayer, '81) and a live-action adaptation of cartoon character Popeye ('80). 

But despite testing these new waters, Disney hadn't given up on the G-rated family market, they just needed to figure out how to convince Generation X to believe in that good ol' Disney magic their Boomer parents had grown up with, a challenge perfectly encapsulated in a scene from Close Encounters of the Third Kind: The Special Edition (1979), in which a 30-something Dad (Richard Dreyfuss) is more excited about the prospect of revisiting all the "furry animals and magic" of a revival showing of Disney's 1940 classic Pinocchio than his disinterested 8-year old son, who dismisses the film as "some dumb cartoon rated G for kids."

It seems it was up to the adults to evangelize Disney magic to the current generation of disbelieving children. And we can see that in two theme-park focused Wonderful World of Disney television specials from that period: The Mouseketeers at Walt Disney World (1977) and Disneyland's 25th Anniversary (1980).

Using the medium of television to promote the theme parks was nothing new for Disney. The original 1954 incarnation of the weekly series that would eventually become The Wonderful World of Disney was named for the still under-construction park, Disneyland, and branded its anthological content to one of the park's four themed lands. Beginning in the 1970s, Walt Disney World was the subject of several episodes, including The Magic of Walt Disney World (1974, an updated presentation of a 1972 featurette).

But by 1977, much of that "magic" was lost on today's kids... that is, if we are to believe what we see in The Mouseketeers at Walt Disney World, in which the cast of The New Mickey Mouse Club performs at a park they seem to have no interest in actually stepping foot in.

All screen caps were pulled from this YouTube upload of the program, although in an odd bit of coincidental timing, while preparing this post it suddenly became available officially on the Disney+ streaming service.

The New Mickey Mouse Club (TNMMC), premiering in January, 1977, was an attempt to reboot the hugely successful 1950s phenomenon, updating it for the modern era with a diversified cast, a disco-fied theme song, and a crayon box explosion of colorful sets and costumes. Remembered today mostly as the launching pad for Facts of Life actress Lisa Whelchel, TNMMC was yet another example of Disney playing it safe by repeating itself. But lightning didn't strike twice (Maltin called the show a "conspicuous failure"), and it limped along for two years before fading into obscurity.

The Mousketeers at Walt Disney World follows TNMMC's multi-day stay at the Orlando resort, chaperoned by a "Mr. Brown" (familiar TV actor Ronnie Schell, who had become a Disney film regular of late, appearing in The Strongest Man in the World, Gus, The Shaggy D.A. and The Cat From Outer Space.)

TNMMC cast arrives via Monorail at the Contemporary Resort, but they don't pause for a moment to marvel at the cavernous Grand Canyon Concourse and its magnificent six-story tall Mary Blair tile mural. Instead, they're excited to try out the not-so-magical tennis courts, an amenity commonly found at non-Disney resorts, sports clubs and parks across the country.

"I can't wait to get to the tennis courts." says Julie Piekarski to Kelly Parsons.

After a musical montage showcasing River Country, a themed water park that opened near Fort Wilderness Campground the year prior, TNMMC kids are seen enjoying rounds of skee-ball and pinball at the Fiesta Fun Center arcade.

While the arcade might be worth highlighting as a feature of the resort, there's little Disney "magic" to be found here that couldn't be replicated at any local mall of the day. When Mr. Brown interrupts their play to distribute park tickets, the kids' disinterest is un-mouse-stakeable.

Just look at the disappointment on the faces of "Pop" Attmore and Kelly Parsons. This is the look of a child receiving a $10 savings bond from Grandma for his birthday, not tickets to the greatest theme park in the world.

Comedienne Jo Anne Worley arrives as investigative journalist Colleen Osborn, who may as well be channeling audience skepticism (or at least, Disney's presumption of same) that this nostalgic 1950s-era Mickey Mouse Club concept will still fly in the raucous 1970s. "Level with me Mr. Brown, are the Mouseketeers really friendly towards each other?" Assuring viewers that TNMMC aren't the clean-cut and polite squares of yesteryear, but rather modern kids with modern attitudes and modern interpersonal problems, they stampede onto the scene, arguing and tearing at each other's clothes.

Anarchy in the W.D.W!

Lest there be any lingering doubt that TNMMC has changed with the times, in a later scene, Lisa Whelchel and Allison Fonte take a break from fighting over a rack of dresses to flirt with an attractive older man, or "fox" as the cool kids say.

This ain't your Dad's Disney vacation--although this "fox" looks old enough to be their Dad. Yikes!

Finally, action moves to inside The Magic Kingdom and, after riding the Tomorrowland Speedway and Space Mountain, the kids actually seem to be enjoying themselves for the first time.

But it doesn't take long for the Disney spell to be broken when the group spends a night camping at Fort Wilderness and an innocent mishap results in a tent collapsing. Blame lands on "Nita Dee" DiGiampaolo and the angry insults from her cast mates are piled on mercilessly... 

"That's really a dumb thing to do"

"Can't you do anything right, Nita?"

"What kind of scramble-brained idiot are you?'"

"Stupid!"

"You ruined our camping trip."

...leaving the poor girl in tears.

(Insert some profound comment about idealized Baby Boomer nostalgia being repackaged for a less optimistic generation that can't fully access it.)

So maybe TNMMC kids were more interested in sports, the opposite sex, and arguing with each other than in the unique pleasures afforded by a day at a Disney theme park. But child actor Adam Rich  threatens to one-up their ap-athy-doo-dah in Disneyland's 25th Anniversary (1980).

With his grandfatherly quality and a twinkle in his eye, you might assume that actor Danny Kaye is a Disney film veteran. But despite having appeared in a few non-Disney family friendly productions (Samuel Goldwyn's musical Hans Christian Andersen, ['52], television adaptations of Pinocchio and Peter Pan, both '76) this is actually his first of only two appearances with Disney (the 2nd being 1982's EPCOT Center: The Opening Celebration.) In addition to hosting duties, Kaye plays multiple character roles, including some comic-relief ethnic stereotypes that wouldn't fly today, even with the help of a magic carpet.

Different times, folks.

After an opening song explaining Disneyland's origin story, ("Once Upon a Time in Anaheim") Kaye delivers a thesis statement: "I've had people say to me, 'Disneyland? That's not for me.' You are never too old and you are never too young to enjoy the Magic Kingdom." But proving that to the audience, and Adam Rich, will take some extraordinary heavy-lifting.

Rich was known as the littlest Bradford child on hit television show Eight Is Enough (in its fifth season), and would go on to appear in exactly one Disney film, The Devil and Max Devlin ('81) Here, Rich is playing "himself", but he's also playing audience surrogate for those skeptical, modern young people Disney thinks it needs to win over.   

When Kaye, as Rich's grandfather, asks Rich what he'd like to do first in Disneyland, his one-word answer is: "Leave." He'd rather go to "Adamland", a.k.a. "home, where I live" than spend a lousy day at Disneyland.

Later, when Kaye leaves to find Grandma (also Kaye, in staggered appearances) in Frontierland, Rich grumbles, "What's so great about Frontierland?"

We are then shown exactly what's so great about Frontierland, at least according to a youth-market courting Disney, and it isn't Big Thunder Mountain, the Mark Twain, or any other attraction built by Disney Imagineers... instead it's a live stage performance by hip singing group the Osmond Brothers (intercut with their 1962 debut appearance at the park on the Wonderful World of Color episode Disneyland After Dark.)

Donny Osmond, who, along with his sister Marie, was by this time an even bigger pop sensation than the older Osmonds, joins them on stage to rock it up a bit. 

Afterword, when Grandma asks Rich to guess where they're going to go next, Rich snaps: "Back to the hotel?" Is it too late to deposit this little grouch at the future site of Disney's California Adventure so the adults can have some fun?

"Back to the hotel?" he quipped. Editors note: slapping children is wrong.

Next, we're treated to a great performance by veteran Disney stage performer Wally Boag (joined by Kaye as a black-hatted gunslinger) at the Golden Horseshoe stage, but Rich misses it all because he'd rather sit by himself on a bench, grumbling, "When are we leaving?"

In fact, the first time Rich cracks a smile at the Happiest Place On Earth is when he bumps into superstar Michael Jackson, who sings "When You Wish Upon a Star" and, referencing his recent appearance in the '78 film The Wiz, "Follow the Yellow Brick Road" and "Ease on Down the Road". Unfortunately Michael Jackson is a seasonal attraction, subject to change, with no guarantee he's going to personally serenade you on your visit. Check the park schedule and plan your trip accordingly.

Six years before Captain EO - it's Michael Jackson at Disneyland in 3-D!

Next is a park-wide sing-a-long of "Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah", featuring an era-spanning chorus of celebrities that's part 'Who's Who' (Annette Funicello, Buddy Epsen, Kim Richards, Patrick Wayne, Ruth Buzzi) part 'Who's That?' (Bart Braverman, Danielle Brisebois, Quinn Cummings, Sal Viscuso.) Both Jo Anne Worley and Ronnie Schnell from the The Mouseketeers At Walt Disney World make an appearance here as well, this time as themselves.

Again, we find Rich alone and sitting on a park bench in front of Sleeping Beauty Castle (Another bench? Septuagenarian Danny Kaye has more energy than this kid!) where he falls asleep, launching a dream sequence in which Kaye appears as the "Wild Witch of Disneyland".

No, this isn't Rich's report card for Attitude (that would also have a minus symbol on it). 

The Wild Witch presents Rich with a very special "F" ticket. Back then, the park wasn't all-you-can-ride, but used a ticket book system with graduated ride categories ranging "A" though "E", "E" being the newest and biggest rides. Awareness by the general public of Disney's ticket book system was so pervasive that the term "E-ticket" entered the lexicon as a metaphor for any exciting experience. 

So while there was no actual "F" ticket, we know this must be a very special category of attraction even better than "E", and not available to non-celebrity children who actually enjoy Disneyland. 

Kaye explains that the "F" ticket "entitles the bearer to one of the most fantastic fantasies of his choice." What follows might best be described as a leveled-up private performance of the Main Street Electrical Parade (still going strong since its 1972 debut) staged entirely around our little curmudgeon and his park bench. For a finale, Rich is magically saddled onto the back of the Pete's Dragon float, where a cast member playing Pete would normally sit.

Rich's "F"-ticket vision is the kiss that breaks the curse, and like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas morning, he awakens reborn, a soul won to Disney magic.

"I haven't missed it! The Spirits have done it all in one night!"

So that's all it takes to entertain a kid these days: have one of the biggest recording artists of all time give him a private concert, then let him ride the tallest float of the parade. 

Give me an "F"! 

Ahwatukee House of the Future (1980-1984)

It was envisioned as a "shining home of dreams", an "experimental living laboratory and testing ground", a "magnificent prism of Man's dreams" where the ideas of tomorrow are experienced today.  

In practice, it ended up being a three dollar tourist attraction. 

Completed in 1979 for a cost of $1,200,000, the Ahwatukee House of the Future was the brainchild of real-estate developer and Ahwatukee village founder Randall Presley. 

Conceived as an attraction to generate interest in the relatively new Phoenix, Arizona suburb, Presley approached the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation with the vision of an idealized futuristic home that would wow visitors while also maximizing efficiency in a harsh desert climate.

Elevation sketches.

Floor plan.

Charles Robert Schiffner, of Taliesin Associated Architects, served as project architect for the striking pyramidal edifice, which looks something like the star-child offspring of a mid-century modern church and an inter-dimensional spacecraft.

Solar panels and copper roofing, which has since turned green after years of exposure.

The interior is centered around a spacious atrium with multiple skylights strategically placed to maximize natural lighting throughout the day. The traditional living room is replaced with a "conversation pit", a 1950's modernist innovation intended to facilitate interpersonal communication, that by the late 70's was still viewed by suburbia as a novelty. 

Pit shmit--let's watch The Love Boat!

Employing an open design, there are no hallways to sequester adjoining rooms from view, and sliding glass panels replace traditional interior doors.

Study and bedroom under glass.

To efficiently keep the environment cool in the hot Phoenix desert, living spaces are below ground level, and a bank of solar panels, unusual in private residences of the day, powers the hot water heater.

Now maybe you're thinking that a conversation pit and solar panels aren't all that futuristic?

Meet Tuke.

Pronounced tu-kee, (as in Ahwatukee), Tuke is the name of the ten interconnected Motorola microprocessors that monitor and control all aspects of the house. The system, which cost approximately $30,000 (although Motorola engineers predicted the price of a comparable system would drop to only $5,000 in a few years), monitors windows and doors, adjusts blinds, controls temperature, and logs energy use for later analysis.

Terminals located in the sitting room, kitchen, and master bedroom allow human beings to interact with Tuke to store and retrieve messages, recipes, and bank account information (the system doesn't connect to the Internet or any other external network.)

"Tuke, look up the recipe for stuffed bell peppers. Then delete it."

Did I mention Tuke talks and can entertain children with spoken jokes and nursery rhymes? Tuke's speaking voice is very similar to the voice synthesizer from 1983's War Games.

Of course, no House of the Future would be complete without a phalanx of robot security guards patrolling the grounds. But we'll have to settle for security cameras, motion detector lights, and a keyless entry system that requires entering a personal code into a calculator-style keypad.

Can my code be 58008?

Now, you may be concerned that an intelligent, computer-controlled house might try to kill you someday after determining you are an inefficiency, or perhaps, after hours of spying on you in the shower, fall in love with and attempt to impregnate you.

Don't worry-- Charles E. Thompson, Motorola's VP of World Marketing , has anticipated your concerns, and assures us, in a somewhat humorous interview ("The Tenant is in Complete Control", InfoWorld Magazine, June 1980), that human beings will remain "in complete control of the environment...making all the important decisions".  Rumors that Tuke will lock you in the house and slowly cook you over several hours by aiming its solar panels at you are highly exaggerated.

The House, which opened to the public from 1980 to 1984, hosting approximately 250,000 visitors at $3 a pop before being sold as a private residence, was notable enough to be featured on the television show That's Incredible and in Volume 3 of its companion book.

Here are a few current photos of the house, followed by the That's Incredible book article in its entirety.

Rite of Passage: Fast Times at Ridgemont High

Back in fifth grade (1983), I had a wealthy friend I'll call "Ed." Well, I just assumed he was wealthy. See, he had multiple video game systems (both an Atari 2600 AND a Colecovision!), multiple action-figure franchise playsets (both a Star Wars Dagobah Action Playset AND a Masters of the Universe Castle Grayskull!), a waterbed, a swimming pool with hot-tub.... so, you tell me.

Do the math, people.

Further affirming his relative affluence was the strange little box that appeared one day atop his massive, wood-paneled television. A pay-TV box. Pandora's box. 

For illustrative purposes only. I can't remember what cable system Ed actually had. (image source)

Cable TV was a relatively new phenomenon in my Phoenix suburb. Who would pay for television when there were already a dozen channels you can watch for free over the air? 

Rich folks, that's who.

There was ON-TV, a scrambled signal broadcast over a UHF channel, which you could watch for free if you didn't mind that wide, vertical stripe wriggling down the middle of the picture like a stretch of bad road.  

Baseball, I think?

There were also these things called HBO and Showtime, cable channels that played movies, "uncut and unedited".  My parents explained this meant they left in all the cursing and nudity.

The bad parts. 

All the best movies (Star Wars, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Rescuers, etc.) didn't have any bad parts to cut, so I still didn't quite get the appeal of this whole pay-TV thing.

But it wasn't long before I began to appreciate the forbidden fruits of Ed's little set-top genie, the first being this crazy channel called MTV, where, as Ed explained, you "watch the radio"... against often provocative imagery.

This ain't your grandparents' television! Literally.

Videos by ZZ Top ("Gimme All Your Lovin'"), Duran Duran ("Girls On Film"), and even Elton John ("I'm Still Standing") demanded our absolute prurient attention when they popped out of the video jukebox, their suggestive images so fleeting that we couldn't quite absorb what we were seeing in real-time, their perceived explicitness magnified later in our imaginations.

One morning, my wealthy friend Ed arrived breathlessly at school in his tuxedo and top hat with exciting news: Fast Times At Ridgemont High, the Amy Heckerling-directed high-school sex comedy whose trailer had caught our eye the year prior, was going to be on cable that Saturday night. 

At this point I had never seen an unedited R-rated movie, the closest thing to a "teen sex comedy" I'd ever seen was, I guess, Grease (1978), (which doesn't count at all), and the only "full-frontal" scenes I could reference were shadowy glimpses of that unfortunate "Summer girl" from the opening scene of Jaws (1975).

A sleepover at Ed's was immediately scheduled.

Complications. The cable was only wired to the living room television set, and Ed's parents were planning to watch the film. With all the bad parts we were anticipating in Fast Times... there was no chance we would be allowed to view it with them (besides, that would be kind of... erm, awkward). 

Instead, we would have to watch surreptitiously from the neighboring rec-room, two rooms adjacent.

Simulated vantage point of the family television for our Fast Times at Ridgemont High viewing adventure (recreated using a frame from Strange Brew, 1983.)

We would have to be on high alert throughout the 93-minute run time. If Ed's parents caught us sneaking a peek, we'd be banished to his room for the night. This meant ducking out of view whenever Mom or Dad went to the adjoining kitchen for a snack.

And that's how I first saw Fast Times At Ridgemont High, squinting long distance from around a corner, over two shoulders and between two heads.  Achievement unlocked.

At fifth grade, my impressions of high-school were informed entirely by pop culture (My Bodyguard [1980], mostly.) Fast Times... would end up completely recalibrating those expectations, and it became my model for what high school would be like. 

Of course, reality would later shatter a lot of these expectations, but that was years away.

Some of the life-lessons learned by Fast Times...:

1. Sex is everywhere

The kids are thinking about, talking about it, doing it, talking about doing it, trying to do it, practicing it, and decorating their living spaces with it. Even the designated "nerd" character, Mark Ratner (Brian Backer) has sex thrown at him (in an awkward scene with Jennifer Jason Leigh's Stacy Hamilton). That teenagers are openly, unapologetically preoccupied with sex should perhaps be filed under "Well, Duh", but this was quite the revelation to fifth-grade me. 

2. Parents are nowhere

Ridgemont exists in an alternate reality where the only adults are teachers and fast-food restaurant managers. Parents are nowhere to be found, and seem to have very little involvement in their children's daily lives. Even in the few scenes where parents are present, they are usually off-screen. 

For example, Jeff Spicoli's (Sean Penn) tortured younger brother Curtis shouts for his off-screen Dad, who we never actually see. Stacy (Leigh) talks briefly with Mike Damone's (Robert Romanus) Mom on the phone, also never seen. The only parent with any screen-time is Stacy's mom, briefly appearing for a few seconds to obliviously tuck her fully dressed daughter in to bed, only for Stacy to immediately sneak out the window for a rendezvous with an older man (see lesson #1). 

Even when confronting serious matters like being fired from work, getting in a car accident, or having to deal with an unplanned pregnancy, the parents are never involved.

These teenagers were managing their personal lives completely without adult influence or supervision. 

3. Work is serious

"I will serve no fries before their time."

When we are introduced to Brad Hamilton (Judge Reinhold) working at All American Burger, the first thing he does is dump a basket of fries into the garbage. He's decided they were sitting out too long and no longer acceptable to serve. No manager tells him to do this. He knows his job, takes pride in his work, and has made the assessment, entirely on his own.

This, to me, was remarkable. It's just a crappy fast-food job... and yet, he cares.

Later while training the new hire, Arnold (Scott Thomson), he asks about the secret sauce recipe at Arnold's former employer, Bronco Burger, because he's actually interested. "Ketchup and mayonnaise. Gotcha". I imagine he files that bit of captured industry intelligence away in some notebook.

This may just be a short-term, minimum wage fast-food job, but its HIS job, and he treats it with the seriousness of any other professional trying to build a career or master a craft.

Stacy (Leigh) and Linda Barrett (Phoebe Cates) work at Perry's Pizza in the mall. Unlike Brad, they don't see their job as a career and are just hanging in there season to season, but they too take their job seriously and are never seen goofing around at work or acting unprofessionally.

Business, it seems, is serious business.  

4. Bullying is apparently no longer a big deal

My previous high-school pop-culture model being 1980's My Bodyguard, I was relieved to discover that bullying was so-o-o-o two years ago. The stoners and geeks and athletes and cheerleaders and skaters of Ridgemont all seemed to be co-existing without shoving heads in toilets or extorting each other's lunch money. 

There are a few brief shots of first-day-of-school hazing (one kid gets toilet-papered like a mummy) but it feels more like a good-natured rule-breaking prank than targeted cruelty. 

And finally...

5. Phoenix is one-up on Ridgemont!

We may not have a beach, but at least we have cable!

Well, the rich* among us do, anyway.

(*Ed, it turns out, was not actually wealthy, he just had a few different toys than I did.)