When the sun came up this morning I took the time to watch it rise
And as its beauty struck the darkness from the sky
I thought how small and unimportant all my troubles seem to be
And how lucky another day belongs to me
Before long, our gently gliding camera locates the singer himself, decked out in denim and casually making his way along a small dirt road amidst this tranquil wilderness, picking his guitar as he croons. By this point, you may wonder exactly what it is that you’re watching. Until Campbell ambled on-screen, one might think they were watching one of those “tranquil morning scene” programs that used to air early mornings on PBS stations. Could this be an old music video, or some promotional film for Campbell’s album? Or perhaps a segment from his CBS variety show, The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour? The answer becomes startlingly clear when, following more shots of the wandering minstrel making his way through the backwoods, the camera stops and pans with Campbell as he walks across a sunny expanse of grass … and right under a monorail beam. The song concludes as he looks skyward, just in time to witness a sleek white and blue monorail train zooming by overhead.
So begins The Grand Opening of Walt Disney World, a 90-minute special which originally aired on October 29th, 1971 - a full 28 days after the gates were officially opened to Disney’s 43 square-mile “Vacation Kingdom” outside the small town of Orlando, Florida. Following the disastrous live airing of Disneyland’s opening day in 1955, Walt Disney Productions vowed to never again allow chance (or missing microphones) spoil their carefully crafted public image. Over the following 15 years, the studio perfected how they further presented Walt’s park in such slickly-produced specials as 1962’s Disneyland After Dark and 1965’s Disneyland’s 10th Anniversary. Through such specials, Disney also hit upon a workable formula in which to best present their theme park to the general public: present Disneyland as a pleasant place to spend a day through copious use of pre-filmed footage, interspersed with musical numbers - some part of the daily park experience (such as parades or band concerts,) others presented solely for the television cameras (such as Louis Armstrong playing on the deck of the Mark Twain Riverboat.) Peppered throughout would be segments previewing new or upcoming attractions, as well as a few warm words from Walt himself (sometimes shown to be speaking from inside the park - through the magic of rear-projection.)
The Grand Opening of Walt Disney World, on the other hand, takes this formula and twists it. A harbinger of some truly awful (or at least awfully cheesy) specials to come throughout the ‘70s and early ‘80s, it’s here where Disney begins to present the parks more like a backdrop for musical numbers, comedy skits and sitcom-like storylines involving celebrity guest-stars. Much of this new direction can be attributed to the outsourced production company, Smith-Hemion Productions, who produced a multitude of popular television specials from the ‘60s through the ‘90s, but whose particular brand of polyester-clad razzle-dazzle has aged about as well as a bowl of cottage cheese in direct sunlight. The Grand Opening of Walt Disney World isn’t their worst offense to Disney nostalgia, serving as something of a bridge between the more informative specials of the ‘60s and the cringe-inducing ones to come (1975’s Welcome to the World and 1981’s Kraft Salutes Walt Disney World’s 10th Anniversary spring to mind - we may get to those someday.) It does, however, contain a number of bizarre sequences, some of which cause one to wonder if they were even attempting to lure potential guests to their new vacation destination at all.
Following the almost religious reveal of the monorail leaving Glen Campbell to fend for himself in the swamp, host Julie Andrews (7 years since Mary Poppins and looking very much like a demure Disney public relations hostess in her knee-length skirt and piped blazer) appears, stating that she is very glad to be here “for the opening of the Walt Disney World.” Traveling first by monorail, then ferry boat, and finally by crossfade, she makes her way across the Seven Seas Lagoon and onto Main Street, wistfully singing “When You Wish Upon A Star” to a mostly deserted Magic Kingdom (crowds of pre-opening cast members and their guests can be seen on the fringes of the screen, straining to peek past the just out-of-sight security guards.) Making her way inside the Main Street Cinema (since replaced by - what else - a gift shop,) she is soon joined by the costumed Goofy, Pluto and Pinocchio characters, who march down the sidewalk while a funky, electric clavinet-heavy rendition of “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah” plays. As Andrews takes up lead vocal, she’s joined by a group of energetic young performers (the “Kids of the Kingdom,”) who, in their white bell-bottoms, bright colored sweaters and wide-collared shirts, look like back-up dancers from The Brady Bunch Variety Hour.
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| The hills are aliiiiiiive ... oh, wait ... |
Following their show-stopping dance toward Cinderella Castle, we get the first of our comedic skits, in which a big family arrives by car at the Fort Wilderness campground. This bit (which continues later in the program) is mostly a showcase for comedian Jonathan Winters, who plays the overbearing family patriarch that spends endless minutes berating his poor wife with one unfunny line after another. His stream-of-conscious diatribe to his silently terrified spouse is nothing short of astonishing, in that it goes on and on and on without even once steering anywhere close to funny. I only managed to write down a few seconds for your reading pleasure, in which Winters growls out the following to his mute wife from the passenger-side seat: “Well Margaret, it wasn’t too bad a drive, after all it was only two days and two nights from Fort Smith ... I didn’t bug you too much. Well what about me sitting in this side all the time going bumpety bumpety bumpety?! Wasn’t easy for me! Why Margaret, you must’ve hit a thousand chuckholes from Fort Smith to here. Let me tell you something, we didn’t do this vacation for me or for the kids, we did this for you Margaret! So you could get out of that hot, sweaty kitchen and have the fun of your life!” And later, after wrenching Margaret’s hands from the steering wheel and getting her out of the car: “What are you doing, Margaret? What kind of a walk … huh … you’re like some kind of female Frankenstein, you’re gonna scare the kids if you don’t put your hands down, stop that … oh, you look like Smokey the Bear after he’s hit by lightning … you’re dogging it, Margaret, dogging it!”
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| The face that haunts my nightmares... |
After this “hilarious” bit, we return to Glen Campbell, who’s thumbed a ride on a speedboat that pulls up to the dock outside the monolithic Contemporary Resort. He briefly touches on the massive scope of Disney’s new property (“when I found out that Walt Disney World is twice as big as the isle of Manhattan, <whistle> ... I just had to stop and think about that a minute!”) before introducing Bob "ex-Mousketeer" Hope, coming to you from inside the not-quite-finished Contemporary. Delivering his short set of zingers to an atrium full of cast members, Hope’s routine has since gone down as one of the most trite, old-hat collection of strained Disney-themed jokes ever recorded. After dismissing his entourage of female tour guides (“Thank you, girls … wait for me in Adventureland <canned laughter>”,) he launches into a number of attempted rib-ticklers about the Contemporary itself (“now I know where the Goodyear blimp goes during the mating season <canned laughter>”, “it’s really two buildings leaning against each other - and I want to congratulate the architect, Dean Martin <canned laughter>”,) the Disney company (“to think it all started with a gentle mouse, a bad-tempered duck and seven mixed-up dwarfs <canned laughter>”,) and its renowned service (“I ordered lunch from room service and Snow White brought it in, and I was afraid to eat the apple <canned laughter>”, and “the bathtub I share with Donald Duck; did you ever try bathing with a duck who’s playing with his rubber man? <canned laughter>”.) Okay, that last one’s pretty funny, though for entirely unintended reasons.
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| Hey, isn't that wild? |
After a brief musical interlude, in which Arthur Fiedler conducts a stirring orchestral performance of the finale to Ottorino Respighi’s Pines of Rome (featuring some lovely shots of the Magic Kingdom’s central hub at night, its trees alight with hundreds of twinkling fairy-lights,) a tuxedoed Glen Campbell (this guy really gets around) introduces one of the park’s new attractions, the Country Bear Jamboree. After a lengthy preview (in which all but a couple of the Bear Band's songs are played out,) Campbell pops up again on the Frontierland dock, singing his song “Wherefore And Why” while the Admiral Joe Fowler Riverboat veers dangerously close to the singer as it comes to a stop nearby (at least the telephoto lens makes it look that way.)
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| Look out, Glen! |
This special differs from Dateline: Disneyland and many later opening-day specials in that it doesn’t touch upon many of the rides awaiting guests at the new theme park - and those that it does are notably unique to the east coast (no mention is made, for example, of the Haunted Mansion that looms in the background behind Campbell.) Thus, after taking a moment to offer some down-home thoughts on the meaning of freedom, Campbell introduces viewers to The Hall of Presidents - soon to be the park’s most popular attraction, believe it or not (now sleepy Liberty Square was quite the hot spot during the years leading up the the United States’ bicentennial celebration.) Naturally we are treated to a generous preview of the attraction’s finale in which, following a roll-call of all the US presidents, a speech is delivered by Disney’s favorite animatronic commander-in-chief, Abraham Lincoln. Until 1993 (when then-president Bill Clinton was tapped to record an additional speech for his animatronic doppelganger) the standing president did not have a speaking role in the show. Perhaps in 2017 the time has come to return the show to it’s Lincoln-centric roots, since the current president can’t seem to deliver an inspirational speech to save his life?
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| Come hoot n' howl n' holler from the heart... |
We then return to Jonathan Winters, who gathers his family for a pow-pow after Margaret finishes setting up their huge tent. After more painful gags (including repeated instances of Mr. Winters blowing into his hand, stating he's giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a gnat he insists is an injured Tinkerbell,) Margaret decides she’s had enough and makes a break for it. Winters, who at that moment was trying to convince her to partake in a game of “William Tell” (“remember that, kids, when I forgot to put the rubber tip on the arrow!? And that was some kind of headache she had!”,) then leads the gathered children in a chant of “We're gonna track down mommy!” before setting them after her. I swear I’m not making this up.
Nearing the halfway point in the show, we are treated to an all-too-brief look at the nightly luau performed on the shores of the Polynesian Village resort - which mysteriously includes the King Leonidas character from Bedknobs and Broomsticks perched on a throne at the back of stage, regally taking in the grass-skirted dancers before him. Like many of the promotional films, books and brochures released about Walt Disney World in its early years, much time is dedicated to the funky Contemporary Resort, while comparatively little attention is paid to the south seas themed Polynesian Village ... despite the fact that “the Poly” has been scientifically proven to be the greatest hotel on planet Earth. But I digress…
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| All hail the Polynesian. Hail! Hail! |
The clean-cut “Kids of the Kingdom” soon return for a musical interlude, informing viewers that the show (and by extension Disney World itself) has “More! More! More!” to show us. They perform their routine, which was clearly filmed way ahead of the park’s opening, through a strangely barren Fantasyland (most of it's banners, signage and decorative greenery doesn’t appear to be in place yet) and a far-from finished Tomorrowland. Beyond the fact that no water runs through it's monumental entrance fountain, and that the land's focal point, the Star Jets, wouldn't open until 1974, there's also a big ugly construction wall that would run the length of the land for the rest of 1971. This was likely one of the sequences that angered Roy Disney upon transmission of the special, as he felt that showcasing an empty, uncompleted Magic Kingdom was bad for the company's image. While not the most egregious thing about this program, it does pretty much nullify the entire purpose of making a pre-recorded special in the first place.
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| Let's grab a Tuscan Frozen Pop after our victory lap, Herbie! |
Following a brief look at the Mickey Mouse Review (a beloved animatronic musical show that was shipped to Tokyo Disneyland in 1983,) we are then treated to a skit taking place at the Grand Prix Raceway (now the Tomorrowland Speedway) - which was then, as it still is now, basically a whole lot of concrete. Legendary sportscaster “Chick” Hearn announces a few famous race car drivers, as well as comedic actor Buddy Hackett, as they each run out to grab a pint-sized car for a zip around the guide-railed track. Hackett is pushed aside, and so whistles for his Love Bug co-star, Herbie, who drives up to the starting line amid (fake) jubilant cries from the gathered spectators. “Okay Herbie, let’s go!” Hackett shouts, as he pulls a giant key from the Volkswagen's trunk and winds Herbie up like a giant toy. What the hell!? Herbie doesn’t need a wind-up key! Had anyone involved in this god-forsaken production even seen The Love Bug!?
Jonathan Winters returns one last time, but now he’s playing a different character - that of a stereotypical “swamp-folk” redneck, standing in his baggy overalls on the wooded shore of Bay Lake. He launches into an account of “some kinda crazy man” and “six to eight kids, at least that many” that’d been by looking for “his lost missus,” asking if he and his decrepit bloodhounds (“Jessie and Cudger”) were trackers. “I said, ‘if you lose’em, we get ‘um.’ Eh-hehehehehhee … that’s a, a little tracker funny that I always throw in when, when we, well shoot, any rate …” Oh Jesus. In each of the segments featuring the comedian, it seems as if the producers gave him a vague layout of the storyline they were after, said “Action!” and let him go, second takes be damned! As Winters drawled on and on, I just had to wonder who in their right mind thought this would attract anyone down to Florida for a Disney vacation? I understand that the famed funnyman had his fans, and many may even have found these sequences funny (I get a kick out of watching YouTube Poops, so who am I to judge?), but how the hell does it translate into theme park promotion? Is Joe Schmoe from Muncie going to spit out his mouthful of Schlitz and exclaim “Holy shit Ethel! Cancel the trip to the Grand Canyon, we gotta drive the Newport to Disney World next summer! Maybe some of those funny hillbillies they’ve got can wrestle a ‘gator for the kids!”?
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| You got a purdy mouth... |
So anyway, after another musical number by Julie Andrews (an extended version of “It’s a Small World,” which I realized was written for this special after a long and fruitless internet search) and some kind words about the departed Walt Disney from Bob Hope (“Walt Disney loved America, because his dream came true in America,”) we are then treated to a lengthy recording of the actual opening-day celebrations from October 1st. The Music Man composer Meredith Wilson leads precisely 1,076 trombonists (“Seventy-Six Trombones?” We can beat that!) in a cacophonous performance of said song, as they march their way down Main Street like some brass-blowing army ready to storm Cinderella Castle. A large choir then intones a triumphant rendition of “When You Wish Upon A Star”, as thousands of multicolored balloons are released into the air - surely playing havoc with nearby Cape Kennedy’s mission control. And then … that’s it! We don’t get to hear Roy Disney’s heartfelt dedication, or any closing thoughts from Julie Andrews or the wandering Glen Campbell - hell, we never even find out if Margaret made it to Zihuatanejo or not - just some credits over still-shots of the Vacation Kingdom, surely transmitted with a voice-over recommending that viewers “Now stay tuned for Gene Kelly and special guest Alan King on The Funny Side, and then your local news.”
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| Look at all those tromboners! |
While not a mess by any stretch (and remarkably still more focused than Dateline: Disneyland, if less historically valuable,) The Grand Opening of Walt Disney World is so full of random asides and bewildering entertainment choices that one can’t shake the feeling that Disney wanted to go to great lengths to differentiate their new entertainment complex from their little park in California. Understandable, of course - the “Florida Project” was an incredibly complex venture, in planning for nearly a decade and requiring over five years to build (and, in typical Disney fashion, still not really ready for opening day.) Besides the long and tricky process of buying up so much land from hundreds of different owners, miles and miles of natural-looking (that was one of Walt’s mandates) drainage canals were built in order to evenly distribute the swampy waters and make the land habitable (and to set up a number of nature preservation spaces, so as to affect the ecosystem as little as possible - in late ‘60s terms, anyway.) In addition to it’s own internal network of roads, the 200-acre Seven Seas Lagoon was created adjacent to Bay Lake, just so that the Magic Kingdom could be fronted by a lovely lake instead of a parking lot. This excavation revealed pristine white sand underneath the marsh, that was then utilized to construct beaches at the Contemporary and Polynesian Village resorts, as well as for Fort Wilderness. These hotels, built using a unique modular construction technique (rooms were built and furnished offsite, then trucked in and slid into a pre-built framework,) represented a whole new enterprise for Walt Disney Productions, who now found themselves in the hospitality and lodging industry, in addition to theme parks, consumer products, music, movie and television production. Incredibly, these projects making up “Phase 1” of the Walt Disney World development took up only a small portion of Disney’s total acreage, giving credence to Walt’s oft-quoted line that “there’s enough land here to hold all the ideas and plans we can possibly imagine.” It was (and remains) a truly monumental undertaking.
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| Fiedler, Fifer, and Practical |
So why was none of this ever mentioned in their “Grand Opening” television extravaganza!?! If much was made of Walt’s achievement in opening Disneyland back in 1955, surely a project over 54 times larger would warrant some attention to a national viewing audience? The sheer scope of the project may have possibly interested those not inclined to care about a theme park or a family vacation. Why are we instead treated to so many humorless skits and tedious musical numbers? While most of Disney’s other specials made it a point to show off as much of their parks as possible, The Grand Opening of Walt Disney World seems to play it coy much of the time. We are offered a number of nice aerial shots of Magic Kingdom and the surrounding waterways, but never with any explanation of exactly what we’re seeing. Heck, if Disney really wanted to differentiate their new property from Disneyland, they could’ve emphasized the recreation and amenities of the entire resort, including the hotels and lakes, instead of sidelining both in favor of random “variety show” fodder.
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| Well, I guess it's either this or The Chicago Teddy Bears... |
Reading this, one might think that I really dislike the program. Oh how little you know me! While this isn't my favorite theme park special, I honestly appreciate anything that offers a peek into these little moments in history - even when it’s wrapped in such a cheesy, Brylcreem-scented package. And, in spite of itself, there are some genuine moments of odd brilliance in this strange piece of promotional art: Campbell’s laid-back performances are right at home in the more quaint Disney World of the early ‘70s, Julie Andrews is always a joy to watch (her starry-eyed gaze as she watches clips from Snow White and Song of the South in the Cinema is a stand-out moment,) and the brief look at Arthur Fiedler’s concert really should’ve been stretched to fill an entire hour (for posterity, at least.) For me, it’s simply a shame that a marvelous achievement like Walt Disney World was given such a lame-duck presentation to the general public, when it really deserved to be held in as high esteem as it's younger sibling in California.
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| The world is a carousel of colors... |
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