TV Detour #5 - EPCOT Center: The Opening Celebration (EPCOT Pt. 2)

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome. Welcome to a party … it’s not really a party, it’s more a celebration; a dedication, a festival and an event - also a monumental achievement all rolled into one. And it’s also a party.” Host Danny Kaye’s exuberant and confusing introduction, delivered in a segment recorded at the last minute from the pre-opening VIP celebration, sets the tone for 1982’s EPCOT Center: The Opening Celebration - Disney’s attempt to showcase it’s newest, biggest and most expensive park, as well as explain to a skeptical public what it’s all about.

Disney had it’s work cut out for it marketing their new undertaking. As noted in my previous article, the world had been hearing about Walt Disney’s great unfinished project, the Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow, since before his death in 1966. Since then, Walt Disney World had been operating to great success, and planning a living model “city of the future” had fallen by the wayside. In it’s place, Disney instead decided to build a second theme park within it’s Florida property, albeit one that would be aimed at a more mature audience than either the Magic Kingdom or Disneyland. Resembling a sort of permanent world’s fair, EPCOT Center was to be focused on examining real-world issues and starting conversations about the future of the human race - a far less whimsical theme than they’d ever attempted before. But how to present this concept to the world? The route Disney chose is an interesting one - to state plainly that the new park was in fact the true culmination of their founder’s last and greatest dream. At best, one could suggest that branding EPCOT Center as Walt’s baby was somewhat problematic, and at worst say that it was an outright lie. Nevertheless, Disney’s marketing machine proudly rolled out images of a sun-drenched Spaceship Earth (the 18-story geosphere that serves as the park’s central icon - it’s castle, if you will)(and no, I will not refer to it as “that giant golf ball”) with proclamations that “Walt Disney’s EPCOT Center” would be opening soon, heralding the early beginning of the 21st century.

Say cheese! Now get back to work...

Disney’s difficult and specific task is set out in their hour-long Opening Celebration special, transmitted October 23rd, 1982 - 21 days after the official opening day, but the evening before it’s splashy dedication ceremony. Following the introduction described above, the show dives right into it’s complicated mission statement - in song form, no less! Backed by the gleaming and freshly flowered entrance plaza, Danny Kaye, arms spread wide, belts out a show-stopper entitled “Hooray for the 21st Century.” All about history being made before your eyes, and making numerous mentions of “the culmination … of one man’s imagination,” the number does some heavy lifting in relating Walt’s original “city of tomorrow” concept to the freshly-minted park previewed on-screen. Intercut with generous footage of concept art, Imagineers at work, and construction crews working feverishly to get everything completed in time (it wouldn’t be a Disney theme park if everything was quite ready for opening, after all,) it also contains a number of spoken-word asides in which Kaye specifically spells out much of what Disney wanted to emphasize about EPCOT Center. Disney has Kaye throw all of their cards on the table with the following proclamation:

“Just so there’s no confusion: EPCOT Center is located in the center of EPCOT. And EPCOT Center is made up of two parts, which is Future World and The World Showcase. It's 2.5 miles from The Magic Kingdom, which is also part of EPCOT, which is what the entire 2,700 acre area known as the Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow, or EPCOT, or Walt Disney World is called - hehe ... just so there's no confusion!"

So there you have it - Disney enlists a beloved celebrity to break the news that Walt’s E.P.C.O.T. already exists to a national viewing audience - half as a state of mind, half as the already-functioning “Vacation Kingdom” in which their new park, EPCOT Center, is located at the center of. Even 35 years after the fact, this zig-zagging bit of spin gives me a headache.

I want YOU to listen to me sing a lot!

Following this dizzying start, Kaye is seen walking across an expanse of lawn (EPCOT Center’s numerous lawn and garden spaces resembling nothing less than an extremely well-maintained college campus) under the shadow of Spaceship Earth. He’s soon joined by astronaut Alan Shepard, and the two settle upon a bench to discuss mankind’s possible future out in space. This special is wasting no time in getting into the nitty-gritty of EPCOT’s futurism. After Shepard says farewell, his spot on the bench is immediately filled by 7 year-old Drew Barrymore (“one of the first actresses to meet E.T. personally, and a national delight,” Kaye informs us,) decked out in pink Osh-Kosh overalls and matching hair-ribbons. After some “adorable” back-and-forth about what it’ll be like to live in the future (Kaye: “In the future, you might be going to Mars high school!” Barrymore: “Do they give homework?”,) we are treated to another musical interlude, this song all about Future World - and the hopes and dreams of the past that can be played out in the future.

The cuteness!

Like many of the montages in this special, clips from several different pavilions and attractions are shown all at once, without context as to what we’re being shown. However, unlike 1971’s Grand Opening of Walt Disney World (where previews of Magic Kingdom’s attractions were sidelined for variety show-style musical routines,) Disney’s goal here is to portray the concepts of EPCOT Center, rather than preview it’s rides specifically.

We have a T-Rex!

The closest we get to a straight-ahead preview is when country singer Roy Clark is recruited to give a quick rundown of the trio of attractions featured in the Kraft-sponsored Land pavilion (the Listen to the Land boat ride, Kitchen Kabaret animatronic revue, and a dull-as-paint film titled Symbiosis,) before serenading a boat-full of backup singers to a twangy rendition of “This Land is Your Land.” Clark is also introduced to Dr. Carl Hodges, director of the environmental research lab at the University of Arizona and consultant to the agriculture-based pavilion, who regales viewers with a brief summary of all the under-utilized foodstuffs available on Earth that could aid in vanquishing world hunger. Clark replies by asking the “Doc” if it’s possible to grow an olive with the martini already inside. Yuk yuk.

Roy Clark and the Mom-Jeans Gang

The tone of this program is somewhat more serious than previous specials (Kaye and Clark’s rib-ticklers notwithstanding,) but that’s not to say that it’s without it’s fair share of whimsy - far from it, actually. While Mickey, Goofy and their pals are nowhere to be seen (something that would be utterly unthinkable to today’s Disney company,) Kaye and Barrymore are briefly introduced to EPCOT’s pair of specially-created mascots, the jolly ginger-bearded Dreamfinder and his little purple dragon, Figment. Though their attraction, Journey Into Imagination, wouldn't be open until early the next year (Imagineers, led by living legend Tony Baxter, couldn’t quite get the complex attraction working in time for opening day, natch,) we are given a taste of the fanciful attraction which would go on to be one of the most popular, if not the single most popular, attraction in the park (before it was unceremoniously removed in 1998.)

35 Years and still moving t-shirts, baby!

We're also introduced to a talking robot named SICO (pronounced ‘say-ko’, like the watch,) who is seen trundling through the Communicore pavilion (the “Comm” was supposed to stand for COMMunity or COMMunication, but the pavilion is mostly recalled for it's look at COMputers) and flirting with another talking automaton, the fondly remembered SMRT-1 (pronounced ‘smart one’ - geddit?) A brief excerpt:

      “Hi cutie ...” SICO blurps as he rolls up to the squat purple SMRT-1, “do you live around here?”
      “Sure do!” SMRT-1 chirps back, “Work here, too! Right in the Communicore!”
      “Wow. Isn’t that kind of a big job for such a little robot?” SICO intones, condescendingly.
      “I take a very short lunch hour.” SMRT-1 zings back.

After more of this robotic “Hepburn and Tracy” banter, our look at Future World is wrapped up with a montage showcasing the “computer magic” used to run the park. This brief sequence, accompanied by a memorably sprightly synthesizer score, is absolutely wonderful. A blur of blinking lights, spinning dials, speeding monorail trains and gleaming EPCOT Center buildings, it was later isolated and ran during commercial breaks on The Disney Channel, enchanting a generation of ‘80s kids who had no idea it originally came from a television special (I've linked it here, in case you don't want to sit through the entire special.)

SMRT-1 Joins the growing list of robots alleging harassment by SICO

Next up is a look at the back-half of the park, the food-and-drink-heavy World Showcase. In what I can only describe as an astoundingly good bit of camera work on the part of the TV crew, the shot pans along with Danny Kaye as he departs Future World, Spaceship Earth already tiny behind him, and approaches the World Showcase lagoon. From this viewpoint, the lagoon (and the park itself) seems to stretch on for miles. In no other film, video or photographic record have I seen the incredible scale of EPCOT captured as well as it was in this one incidental shot, so I couldn’t help but mention it here.

Where's the bathroom!?

Anyhow, Kaye introduces several of the young members of Disney’s International Fellowship Program in a silly pre-recorded bit where they mistake him for a baggage-handler at Orlando International Airport. Naturally this features a tie-in with Eastern Airlines, the now-defunct “official airline of Walt Disney World.” Another musical number, extolling the virtues of the “world showcase of the fellowship of man” follows, in which quick scenes are presented of the various nation-pavilions (Mexico, China, Germany, Italy, Japan, the US, France, the United Kingdom and Canada - Morocco and Norway are still a few years off,) along with an appearance by the “World Showcase Dolls.” These original walk-around characters, essentially scaled-up, big-headed “dollies” decked out in the traditional dress of multiple countries, were adapted from similar characters that featured on floats in Magic Kingdom’s bicentennial parade a few years earlier. While I can go along with just about any of the eccentricities from EPCOT’s early years, these dead-eyed giants are just a tad too creepy for me. I’d say future guests were better off being photographed with “Kimono Minnie” and “Royal Mountie Pooh.”

Danny Kaye flees the Valley of the Dolls

Following a quick look at The American Adventure (the “host nation” of the World Showcase and a massive Animatronic and large-format film extravaganza that has surprisingly never received the attention it deserves,) Kaye touches base with Roots author Alex Haley. Haley, who’s encountered while randomly standing in the middle of the promenade, shows off a model of the Equatorial Africa pavilion “coming next year." It would’ve featured performers and cuisines from several African nations, as well as something referred to as a “sound safari.” This exhibit, along with other promised pavilions such as Spain and Israel, sadly never came to be. Perhaps it’s just as well in this case since, following the opening of Animal Kingdom in 1998, any other representation of an African township likely would've paled in comparison.

Anyone wanna play with my model? Hellooo?

Singer and apparent Aqua Net addict Marie Osmond then treats us to some behind-the-scenes footage of Disney film crews hauling their Circle-Vision cameras throughout China, as they are granted access to many never-before-caught-on-western-film locations (such as Beijing’s Forbidden City) for the Wonders of China presentation. But not before we are treated to yet another musical number!

Ch-Ch-Ch-China!

Osmond belts out a medley of songs that begins with Tim Hardin’s “Sing a Simple Song of Freedom” (or as she sings it, “Freeeeheeeheeeheeheeheeeeeeheeedom”) and just gets brassier from there. Though the program is stuffed with songs, this in the only one that I felt was out of place, or at least served little purpose beyond a bit of “variety show” distraction. It’s almost as if World Showcase’s purpose (to give a small sampling of other cultures - not, as cynics have suggested, to replace actual world travel) was much simpler to get across than that of Future World, and so this portion of the show had to be padded out more. I guess it should be no surprise at this point that this special was produced by Smith-Hemion Productions, who were behind 1971’s Grand Opening of Walt Disney World and several far worse Disney specials we’ll get around to in the future (and, as I failed to point out in that article, they were also the production company behind the beyond-infamous Star Wars Holiday Special from 1978 - yep, that's right.) All things considered, then, this combination of Disney's aspirations of futurism and Smith-Hemion's more frivolous tendencies result in what may be their best partnership.

A little bit country? Now that's a country I'd like to visit - am I right fellas? Huh? 

As night falls on EPCOT Center, Danny Kaye returns to his park bench below a now colorfully illuminated Spaceship Earth, for a discussion with author and journalist Eric Sevareid. Sevareid takes the opportunity to read an excerpt from his touching memorial to Walt Disney, originally read as part of his CBS newscast on December 15, 1966 (“He was an original - not just an American original, but an original, period. He was a happy accident, one of the happiest this century has experienced…”) to further tie the ghost of Walt to this massive new enterprise. Sevareid continues with his observations of EPCOT Center itself, noting that it’s “designed as information, instruction and inspiration … a permanent, tangible monument to real life and humanity.” These may be the best and most succinct words I’ve heard used to describe the magnificent achievement Disney managed to create within it’s swampy municipality.

Entertain, Inform, and Inspire

In our third and final article on EPCOT Center, we’ll take a look at the legacy this wholly unique place has left, and how it’s successes and failures lead Disney (and perhaps popular culture itself) into unexpected new directions. Until then, as Danny Kaye conducts the All-American College Band and the West Point Choir in a stirring medley of “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee” and “This Is My Country” against the shimmering backdrop of the Fountain of Nations, let us look back in admiration at the creation of a place so forward-looking that once, however briefly, held enough mythic power to begin the 21st century 18 years ahead of schedule.

A Whole New World II (One Little Spark: EPCOT Pt. 1)

What started as a typical “TV Detour” entry has rapidly grown out of control. So rather than write out the world's-longest review of an old television special (which probably doesn’t deserve all that many words,) I’ve instead decided to break my article out into 3 separate entries, going through some general background and random thoughts on EPCOT, it’s opening and it’s legacy (which deserves many more and far better words than I could ever muster.) So, as always, my advance apologies. Now let’s take our cue from the EPCOT attractions of old, and take a look back at where we’ve been, where we are, and a look into the future world.

You may not realize this, but the 21st century began not with a countdown to midnight at the tail-end of 1999, amidst a minor panic over the impending Y2K doomsday. No, it actually began in October of 1982 - or at least that’s what The Walt Disney Company once purported to be the case. 35 Years ago, Disney unveiled their biggest and riskiest venture to date (it feels like I say that a lot, however it may be more true here than one realizes,) with the opening of EPCOT Center, their first theme park without a castle. To further differentiate it from it’s Fantasyland brethren, at the time of opening it also sported no thrill rides, no costumed Disney characters, and readily-available alcohol and fine dining. Massive beyond even the scale of the outsized Magic Kingdom just a monorail ride away, here was something completely unique, for Disney and indeed the entire world - mature, educational, thematically dense, entertaining, inspirational - a spectacle beyond all else that celebrated the achievements of humanity by looking back at where we’ve been and forward to where we could be headed in the future. Those lucky enough to visit this city on a hill in it’s original iteration left inspired and in awe of what they’d experienced - at least when all the rides were working. And yet there was (and still is, to a lesser extent) a vocal minority who felt that what they were given was a blasphemy to the name of Disney; for them, what had been created was not what had been promised.

The man with a plan (sort of)

For those who don’t know the whole tangled history of EPCOT Center (later to be shortened to simply ‘Epcot’ - more about that in Pt. 3,) let’s go back to the early 1960s. Walt Disney was known not to be one for repeating past successes, and therefore had little interest in creating a “Disneyland 2.” This was despite the wishes of others within the company, as well as parades of representatives from across the United States (and abroad) who wanted a repeat of the financial windfall that had befallen Anaheim for their own cities. However, since the opening of his “little park surrounded by a railroad,” one thing had gnawed away at Walt’s mind: the glut of cheap, tacky gift shops and motels that had quickly set up shop just steps away from his Southern California wonderland. Added to his perception of the physical and societal deterioration occurring in America’s cities (at least from his increasingly conservative point-of-view,) Walt had a spark of inspiration: why not turn the Disney company’s resources toward a loftier goal than simple entertainment - that of creating a fully-functioning city? He immersed himself in writings about city planning (such as Ebenezer Howard’s 1898 work Garden Cities of To-morrow,) and set his Imagineers to work creating concepts for a self-contained city, utilizing the lessons learned about urban design and land management from building and operating Disneyland. Walt was over the moon for the idea of creating a fully-functional “city of tomorrow,” a company-owned community employing the newest ideas for construction, mass-transit and experimental technologies. Planned as a “living model” more than an autonomous municipality (the roughly worked-out idea being that the residents would rotate in and out on a tenant basis,) he soon hit upon the perfect acronym for his vision: E.P.C.O.T. - the Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow.

Harbor Boulevard in Anaheim, soon after Disneyland's opening

The entire conception of what would become Walt Disney World was based almost solely upon Walt’s burgeoning plans for E.P.C.O.T. Disney sought to purchase as much land as possible within their chosen site outside Orlando, both to accommodate all future plans for the city and it’s neighboring "industrial section," and to leave intrusions from the outside world as far away as possible. While the desired land was being procured, Walt worked feverishly with his Imagineers at WED Enterprises, creating further plans and concepts for E.P.C.O.T., as well as for the massive undertaking necessary in turning the miles of Floridian swamp into usable land. That the Disney World property would include a new theme park, the Magic Kingdom, as part of the deal was a foregone conclusion - but Walt left the design and planning of the park to a team of (more than) capable Imagineers, focusing his energy on E.P.C.O.T.

Soon, the cat was out of the bag that it was Disney that had discreetly bought up so much land. A few hastily-arranged press conferences followed, in which Walt revealed that they were planning a vast entertainment complex with a “city of the future” within. He even went to the trouble of having a 25-minute presentation film made, showcasing the concept art for “The Disney World project,” as well as his plans for E.P.C.O.T. (two versions were actually made - one for showing to the public and one made for possible corporate partners - which you can watch here - since Walt felt the project would require assistance from other US industries.) Wowed by artist Herb Ryman’s evocative paintings of a futuristic, radially-designed city with a multi-story resort hotel at it's center, many in the press and the public naturally couldn’t wait to see what the beloved company and it’s head wizard would come up with. Unfortunately for them, Walt went and died before any serious work began on his “city of tomorrow.” The E.P.C.O.T. film turned out to be the very last filmed appearance of the world-renowned storyteller.

The paining that haunted a company for decades

Walt Disney Productions, a ship sailing through uncharted waters, was now suddenly without it’s captain. With no completed map left to follow, it was left to brother Roy and the Imagineers to decide what course should be taken. While work ploughed ahead to finish “Phase 1,” work on Walt’s E.P.C.O.T. concept was pushed aside. Following the opening of “The Vacation Kingdom,” work slowly picked back up on the Community of Tomorrow. Before long, the realization came that without Walt’s guidance (and ability to sweet-talk other corporations into sharing their ideas and technologies) there was no realistic way to make his not-fully-thought-out dream come to life as originally planned. Quietly, the “city of tomorrow” concept was allowed to die.

Not wanting to let the idea of Walt’s final project fizzle out completely, his disciples were left to ponder what other possibilities could be used to bring some kind of workable concept to life. Many ideas were bandied about, the most sensible being splitting the “city” into a pair of separate world’s fair-style districts within the Florida property: one an international shopping and cultural center, the other a futuristic campus for scientific discussion and technological education. Faced with few corporate sponsors and even fewer foreign governments willing to participate in the separate ventures (especially now that a “city of the future” was nowhere to be seen,) one day Imagineer John Hench (with assistance from Marty Sklar, at least according to him) pushed the models for the “World Showcase” and the “Future World Center” together. From this point on, work began in earnest on what was soon dubbed EPCOT Center - the thought being that this new “theme center” would be the focal point to learn about various humanistic topics, celebrate world cultures, and to discuss projects related to “the spirit of EPCOT” already in place around property.

Early concept for World Showcase - adjacent to the Seven Seas Lagoon

In doing this, Disney, which had been alluding to Walt’s city as a project "in the works" for years, slyly made the somewhat incredible declaration that Walt Disney World - the entire 43 square-mile property - was itself EPCOT. That’s right folks - that painting you remember seeing, with the gleaming tower sticking up from an enclosed city-center, has already existed as a mostly undeveloped-looking woodland you whiz by on your way to the Magic Kingdom’s parking lot! While it’s certainly true that many of the advancements and practices put into use at Disney World are ones that would be utilized in a “city of tomorrow” - beyond the use of the monorail system as viable mass-transit, there was a pneumatic-tube trash collection system that evacuates all waste to a central clean-burning energy plant, and underground “utilidors” that run beneath the Magic Kingdom (allowing for speedy cast member transport, as well as easy access to utility services.) These, however, are mostly out-of-view infrastructural elements that serve the opposite purpose of a "model city."

For better or for worse, the reality was that by the late 1970s attempting to create a real working “city of the future” made far less sense (and undoubtedly fewer cents) than creating a second theme park under the Florida sun. But my goodness, what a park they made. We’ll get to EPCOT Center as built in the next article.

EPCOT Center entrance plaza concept art

Before we close, however, let’s attempt to address the $64,000 question: could Walt Disney’s E.P.C.O.T. have worked? It’s a complicated question, really. Do I personally think he could’ve gotten it built? Yes. If any one man could’ve made it happen - and I think only one man could’ve - it was Walt Disney. I imagine the finished cityscape would’ve differed significantly from the well-known concept painting and subsequent model made for display in the Carousel of Progress post-show (which can now be seen on the Magic Kingdom’s PeopleMover attraction, by the way.) On the other hand, that Walt was counting on the participation of several different major companies, not just for sponsorship but actual participation in a sort of “American industry think-tank,” seems naïve. It’s extremely unlikely (to put it mildly) that, in a capitalist society, a bunch of corporations would freely and gladly share their plans and most high-profile R&D projects with the rest of the world (including a steady stream of curious tourists,) when their very life-blood depends on keeping their “latest thing” under wraps as long as possible.

The bigger question, though, is would it have worked? Not even thinking about whether or not the “model city” could’ve been expanded or copied to any real-world townships, I feel that the answer is a resounding No. The thing that always seems to be left out whenever fans bemoan that the Disney company “never realized Walt’s dream” of a utopian city is the all-important human factor. In theory, a clean and technologically advanced city, in which everyone works toward a singular goal of maintaining and improving the community would be a great thing. Co-operative neighborhoods and towns have proven to work well in many areas, so why couldn’t it in this case? The whole problem is the fact that E.P.C.O.T. would’ve been a city owned by a corporation, in which residents are merely “passing through” for a year or so. Packing up one’s entire life and family, just to have the opportunity to spend a blink-and-it’s-gone year within Walt’s futuristic city is really asking a lot. Hell, the whole idea of short-time residency arose solely for the reason that it would prevent anyone from having the power to vote, therefore removing the possibility of residents challenging the company’s  - and by extension, Walt’s - ideas on how things should be run.

Building the future

It seems one would’ve had to have sacrificed some easily taken-for-granted freedoms just for this privilege. One of the points alluded to in Walt’s “E.P.C.O.T. film” was that all of your “modern conveniences” would be regularly upgraded and replaced, to better showcase the continuing advancements and ingenuity of American industry. That sounds okay, but just imagine coming home from work one day to find that all of your appliances, or your furniture, or your wallpaper (none of which you own, by the way) has been switched out with all new, all unfamiliar items. What if you really liked your old toaster, and didn’t want a different one? Beyond material goods, what about spiritual matters? The film also makes mention that the city would contain a number of “churches” in addition to housing and commerce. What sort of churches? How many? Should Uncle Walt and his Wasp cohorts be trusted to populate the small city with enough locations to cover all denominations? Will there be more than a token synagogue? A single mosque? I’m not a person of faith myself, but if I was I couldn’t imagine being without proper access to a place of worship for a year.

Additionally, the running assumption was that the residents of E.P.C.O.T. would mostly be working somewhere within the Disney World property - either for Disney (at the theme park, the resort hotels, within E.P.C.O.T. itself or elsewhere) or for one of the partnering corporations in the adjacent “industrial section.” The thought behind this was that everyone living in the city would all have a stake in keeping it vibrant and well maintained. So right off the bat, anyone who wanted to live within E.P.C.O.T. would almost have to be an employee of Disney, or at least one of the other participating companies on-site (though, as noted earlier, it’s unlikely that there would’ve been many willing companies taking part anyway.) The entire set-up of the proposed city, in which PeopleMovers would transport workers from the “residential sections” to their places of work or to a central monorail station for transport elsewhere on property, is based on a worker-centric “company town” concept. Sure, the single-family households proposed for the edges of the city all featured garages (all roads were in a “perimeter configuration,” leaving pedestrian paths centralized - no need to worry about little Jimmy getting run over while playing outside,) but it seems unlikely that anyone would want to pack up and move away from their current homes, presumably already close to their places of work, if they’d have to commute further to get to an off-site job for a year. It also seems unlikely that Disney, the ultimate decider of who would be suitable to live within their city, would select non-employees over those who work for them (and ultimately would have the company’s best interest in mind, since it would affect their own well-being.)

Walt Disney World Preview Center Hostesses, c. 1970

Here we get to another, somewhat more disturbing notion. You see, in the real world, people are messy. They can be unreliable, do stupid things, make decisions based on greed and endanger themselves and others. While I do feel (believe it or not) that humanity, as a whole, is good and honest, and wants to move toward a better future, it doesn’t always act like it; humanity stumbles just as often as it soars. Since the opening of Disneyland, Disney was known for hiring not only the best and brightest young workforce for it’s public face, but also the most beautiful. If we’re being honest, Disney’s hiring practices by the late ‘60s and early ‘70s would likely be illegal today. The company byline was hiring for roles, rather than simply filling positions, hiring freckled redheads for Frontierland and tall blondes for Tomorrowland, for example. Why then would we expect their methods for selecting “suitable residents” for their “city of tomorrow” to be any different? How would the selection process have gone, exactly?

Assuming that more than a lot of people would’ve been willing to drop their lives and send in an application (or whatever) for residency within E.P.C.O.T., how far would the qualifications have gone? Would Walt or his colleagues have looked at income? At criminal histories? At library records? Would they have considered how physically attractive you or your family appeared to them? Would residence selections (and, while we’re thinking about it, specific housing placement) be determined at random, or by some secret social or economic factor? Or by race? At best it would be like an HOA gone mad, and (not to sound too sensational) at worst like a dictatorship. Any residency or home ownership contract obviously has to go through one or more systems of approval, but at what point does weeding out someone's idea of an “undesirable element” go too far? And who would give a business, and more specifically the head of a corporation, that kind of power, no matter how well-meaning or benevolent he may appear? What the hell would give him the right?

We could discuss the pro’s and con’s of a Disney-controlled metropolis indefinitely (well, at least I could,) but it’s all a moot point anyhow. For now let’s leave the past behind us, and tune in next time for a look at the "present" of October 1982, and the opening celebration of the wondrous achievement a Walt-less Disney made instead of a "city of the future." Hooray for the 21st century!

The Jungle Book

Welcome to the jungle, we’ve got Bears and Snakes. That’s right - in honor of this luminous Diwali, let’s take a brief break from TV reviews and look back to a fondly-remembered fan favorite, 1967’s The Jungle Book.

Just like the Coppertone ads!

Adapting Rudyard Kipling’s collection of Mowgli stories (published in 1894,) original screenwriter Bill Peet chose to keep the story and tone of the script close to Kipling’s original adventure yarn. His changes mostly involved cleaning up the structure (so that Mowgli’s return to the “man village” came at the end of the film) and adding the character of King Louie - a domineering, threatening figure in his draft. Walt Disney, however, had other plans. Having taken a “hand’s-off” approach while tending to other projects around the company, Walt was disappointed with the studio's previous pair of animated films (1961’s One Hundred and One Dalmatians and 1963’s The Sword in the Stone,) and therefore decided to be more directly involved with their latest effort. Walt’s first order of business was to demand that the story be lightened up, as he felt the script was too dark a film for family audiences. Peet, a longtime “storyman” who’d worked on Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Fantasia, Dumbo, The Three Caballeros, So Dear to My Heart and many others, refused to make the changes Walt insisted on. He pointed out the studio’s legacy of films featuring dark elements that balanced out the light ones; imagine, for example, a Snow White without her flight through the forest or an evil Queen. Walt, however, put his foot down. Peet walked, leaving the studio for good.

Bastard from a basket!

If Walt wanted a bright, chipper film, he certainly got one. Despite a few instances of what can best be described as “light peril,” Disney’s Jungle Book goes down like a sugary soft drink that’s lost it’s fizz. The new script by Larry Clemmons, Walt’s hand-picked replacement for the departed Peet, is as entertaining as it is boiler-plate.

That’s not to say The Jungle Book is a bad movie, of course, just not a great one. There’s much to like, including the performance of it’s voice-cast. Notably, it's here that we first see Disney filling it’s cast with well-known celebrity voices, a practice that would become only too prevalent in the coming years. Though not appearing until more than a third of the way into the film, Phil Harris’ Baloo the Bear steals the whole show - and with good reason. Cast after meeting Walt at a party, the comedian brings a great amount of warmth to Mowgli's mentoring “Papa Bear," like a big cuddly Falstaff. Not to be outdone, musician Louis Prima brings his crazed stage persona to the role of Orangutan King Louie, scat-singing his way through “I Wanna’ Be Like You” with manic abandon (his Curly Howard-like “N’yaar-Raar” growl halfway through the song makes me chuckle every time.) British actor George Sanders makes a late-film impression as the villainous Tiger Shere Khan, whose strong chin was modeled after the actor's own features. Some old friends are here as well, such as Sebastian Cabot playing the Panther Bagheera (the calm center of the film,) and Sterling Holloway, whose sing-song vocal brings a squeamish pedophile-like quality to his performance as the Snake, Kaa. Filling out the cast is the director’s son, Bruce Reitherman, as young Mowgli, and Clint Howard as the little Elephant son of Colonel Hathi (voiced by J. Pat O’Malley.)


You want a popsicle? My tree's full of popsicles.

Upon this most recent viewing, I couldn’t help but notice that all of the “sophisticated” animals - Bagheera, Shere Khan, the Elephants and the Wolves - were all portrayed with British accents. Perhaps a nod to the Imperial rule of Kipling’s time in India, it’s contrasted to the American voices given to such free-wheeling characters as Baloo and King Louie. It’s also noteworthy (if that’s the word) that not a single voice - including that of Mowgli - is provided by an Indian actor (or even given an Indian accent.) Heck, this makes 1994’s The Lion King (with it’s handful of African-American actors amongst the main cast) sound downright progressive in comparison!


Baloo's happy ending.

Many people credit The Jungle Book for it’s lively music, and for the most part I find the songs - penned by Walt’s go-to team of Robert and Richard Sherman - enjoyable, if not especially memorable. The exception is the Phil Harris-sung “Bare Necessities,” which is the real standout. Remarkably this memorable number is the only song not written for the film by the Sherman brothers, but by Terry Gilkyson, who also penned the half-awful title song for The Three Lives of Thomasina - and who was removed from the project along with Bill Peet for writing music that was “too dark” for Walt’s liking. On the other end of the spectrum is the lousy “That’s What Friends Are For,” sung in the film by a foursome of Vultures said to be modeled after The Beatles. If the animators were going for a parody of the “fab four,” however, they ended up with characters that appeared closer to a sitcom’s idea of what a mop-topped “British invasion” group looks like (if you’ve ever seen the the episode of Gilligan’s Island featuring a fake band called The Mosquitos, you’ve got the picture.) The song itself, however, sounds like straight-up barbershop, so I’m really not sure what the filmmakers were going for - ‘cause what they got was crap.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night...

I’d like to make special mention of the score written by George Bruns, whose work for Disney earned him four Academy Award nominations (unfortunately not this film.) Bruns’ use of gently-bowed strings and low woodwinds help to create a brooding sense of mystery that is sadly lacking from the rest of the production. If there are any fans of Exotica music reading (think Tiki bars rather than World Music,) I can’t recommend a listen to Bruns’ album Moonlight Time in Old Hawaii enough. Recorded as one of his many side projects (George Bruns and the Hawaiian Strings,) the album is one of the most evocative examples of the genre I’ve encountered, bettering more popular titles by artists like Martin Denny and Arthur Lyman. Sadly, the album never seems to have made it to CD or digital, so I’ve provided a link to a remastered recording of the original LP in the title (kindly provided by my favorite blogger, FoxxFur.)

Dance monkey, dance!

A favorite film for many, that The Jungle Book is held in such high regard by the general public while similar, concurrent efforts from the studio are looked down on, is a bit mystifying. While not great films, both The Sword in the Stone and 1973’s Robin Hood are funnier, for example. The solidifying of The Jungle Book’s reputation as a “Disney Classic” can be traced back to it’s original release, when 99% of the (largely-positive) reviews all made mention of Walt Disney’s recent death - and were likely carried on the goodwill of the beloved filmmaker’s passing. Over the years, besides being praised for it’s character design and music, the biggest point of discussion regarding the film is that is it was “THE LAST MOVIE WALT DISNEY MADE” - or, more accurately, the last film released that Walt was involved in - or, even more accurately, the last animated movie he was involved in (the actual last film Walt involved himself in was The Happiest Millionaire, but that period-musical is far less perpetually marketable than a talking animal picture.) For me, though, The Jungle Book sits comfortably amidst a period of Disney animation that I like to call the “Saturday morning cartoon” era, when visual spectacle and artistic ambition took a backseat to budget. Partially due to the disappointing returns of 1959’s Sleeping Beauty, as well as the continued cash-drain of both Disneyland and the burgeoning “Florida Project,” the introduction of the time and money-saving xerography process seemed to dictate the overall direction the studio would take for the next two decades.


KHAAAAAAAANNNN!!!!

Perhaps no other individual can best be singled-out as central to the animation studio’s artistic leveling-off than director Wolfgang Reitherman - one of Walt’s so-called “nine old men.” An animator with the company since 1934, “Woolie” rose through the ranks and was promoted to chief animation director, starting with One Hundred and One Dalmatians. Under his direction, the studio’s output became safer, blander, and (mostly) more cost-effective. So afraid of artistic risk was Reitherman that he became a champion of re-using animation; all of the examples of “traced-over” sequences found in The Jungle Book, Robin Hood, The Rescuers and others came as a direct result of Reitherman’s belief that the Disney artists follow what had worked before. Apparently he thought the contemporary animators (many of whom had been at the studio for years) were incapable of animating a Wolf-cub’s walk cycle (having them trace over animation of Dalmatian puppies,) or that Maid Marian should dance exactly like Snow White did in 1937. The infuriating thing about this is that re-drawing the same animation was not only artistically stifling, but also more time-consuming than coming up with new drawings (per interviews with long-time animator Floyd Norman.) The great irony here, of course, is that the more Disney tried to “do it like the past,” the further and further they got away from the artistic heights of their “golden age.”

So next time a girl gives you the play,
just remember my rhyme and get the hell away

In all honesty, it’s easy to hang the lazy re-use of animation solely on Reitherman’s shoulders; however to place full responsibility for the studio’s downward spiral on him may be scapegoating. Financial pressures from both within and without the company put a lot of strain on the animation unit, and frankly it’s a minor miracle that the company kept the department running and producing films at all. The bigger disappointment for me is the “make it safe” attitude of Walt Disney himself. By this late point in his life, Walt was a long way from the dynamic young filmmaker who rallied a ragtag group of artists into creating a feature-length animated movie against incredible odds, or who was willing to gamble his company’s financial well-being on an experimental film set to classical music. Walt’s instruction to the Shermans to give their music a “lightness, a ‘Disney’ touch” is as startling as it is disappointing, indicating a man who’d grown to accept the fact that his signature has been bastardized into a corporate logo. No longer focused on the output of his studio, the very bedrock upon which his company was built, Walt’s vision had by this point shifted from visual entertainment to something else. Walt had his dwindling eye set on a goal far loftier than cartoons, or films, or even theme parks - something that would prove to be both revolutionary and ultimately impossible.

TV Detour #4 - The Grand Opening of Walt Disney World

Imagine, if you will, turning on your television set and encountering the following: slow, contemplative images of the sun rising above large, majestic clouds. The gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar serves as a serene sonic backdrop to slowly-panning shots of the morning sky, languidly giving way to sweeping views of tranquil woods and grasslands. After a few moments, the velvety voice of Country singer Glen Campbell gently joins in, singing the poetic lyrics of "Today Is Mine," a forgotten little ballad from his 1971 album The Last Time I Saw Her:

     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.

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!”

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.

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.)

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?

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…

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.

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!”?

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.”

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.

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.

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.

The world is a carousel of colors...