by Martin Sklar
Today that tradition continues not only at the Magic Kingdom, but in all the Disneyland style parks around the world—Disneyland Paris; Hong Kong Disneyland; and, on a limited basis, Tokyo Disneyland. First, at opening, names of the original designers and builders are included. Then, on retirement, recognition is made of park operators and Imagineering designers who represent only “the highest level of service, respect, and achievement”—determined jointly by individual park management and Imagineering leaders.
On a personal note: my name as an “original creator” appears on windows in the Magic Kingdom, Disneyland Paris, and Hong Kong Disneyland. When I retired on Disneyland’s fifth-fourth birthday, July 17, 2009, the park unveiled a window in my honor on the second story of the City Hall building in Town Square. It reads as follows:
ID SOMNIATE—ID FACITE MAIN STREET
COLLEGE OF ARTS & SCIENCES EST. 1852
Martin A. Sklar
• Dean •
Inspiring the Dreamers and Doers of Tomorrow
I’ll mention two facts: first, the window selected is part of the office I once occupied in City Hall. And second, my name is spelled correctly.
Another nomenclature issue involved the names of the resort hotels planned for Walt Disney World. The early plans had listed the hotels’ styles: Polynesian, Asian, Venetian, Persian, Contemporary. For the latter, John Hench and I recommended a “real name.” In an elaborate graphics presentation, reflecting the location on the shores of Bay Lake, we pitched the name “Tempo Bay” to Roy. He listened intently, and let John describe why the name Tempo, together with the graphics we proposed, conveyed the sleek design style of the hotel. When we completed our presentation, Roy spoke for the first time. “What’s wrong with Contemporary?” he asked. And four decades later, there’s still nothing wrong with the name of this 690-room resort on the shores of Bay Lake.
The creation of the Contemporary also provided two of the most dramatic stories in the development of Walt Disney World. The first occurred when two architects from the Welton Becket firm, who were doing the hotel’s working drawings, asked for a meeting with John Hench. They told him they would resign if Disney insisted on running the monorail trains through the center of the hotel. John was shocked; after all, the hotel’s distinguishing feature was the monorail system and the service it offered carrying guests to the Magic Kingdom and other Disney hotels. The threat evaporated quickly when Hench wrote “We resign” on a piece of paper and asked the architects to sign it; suddenly they changed their minds.
The second was Roy Disney’s decision to buy out the interest of U.S. Steel in the two original hotels, the Contemporary and the Polynesian. The fact is that Walt and Roy Disney did not like having partners in projects. Disney had purchased ABC’s interest in Disneyland in the 1950s, and Western Printing’s investment in the 1960s. U.S. Steel’s foothold in the Disney properties was tied to a unique system it had pioneered for building the rooms in the Florida hotels. They were constructed in an off-site factory, fully equipped with all furnishings, trucked to the construction site, lifted by crane, and “slid” into place like a chest of drawers. While the one-of-a-kind building system worked, the two-of-a-kind decision-making related to issues of operating the hotels proved to be less effective. Not long after opening, Disney became the sole owner of the two resorts.
* * * * * * * * * *
There was one other name that Roy insisted on establishing. While the early materials, and even the earliest highway signs, indicated the project’s name as Disney World, Roy passionately went to bat for including his brother’s full name. Thus, it became Walt Disney World.
* * * * * * * * * *
One of my favorite stories during the years of secrecy about Project X was told by Donn Tatum. Prior to the 1965 press conference, Walt wanted one more look at the property. He was accompanied by several of the top Disney executives—all of whom were warned to wear hats, and even to paste on some added facial hair, if possible: there were already rumors that Disney was the land buyer. The Disney group spent one night in Orlando, using assumed names at the hotel. At dinner, the waitress kept eyeing Walt, and of course he noticed her penetrating glances. Finally, as the meal was concluding, the waitress approached their table, looked right at Walt, and burst out with, “You look like Walt Disney!” Clearly offended, Walt shot back: “What do you mean I look like Walt Disney? I am Walt Disney!” And to prove it, he showed the waitress his California driver’s license.
So much for disguises and secrecy. Not long after, on October 24, 1965, in a banner headline across its entire front page, the Orlando Sentinel trumpeted: “We Say: ‘Mystery’ Industry Is Disney.” And on October 25, the Orlando Evening Star, in front page capital letters one and one-half inches high, screamed, “DISNEY IS HERE!”
With support from writer Randy Bright, who would later play a key role in developing the original pavilions for Epcot, and my favorite film and narration editor at the Studio, Jim Love, we created the most important film presentation communicating the Disney vision for the property. It accompanied a wonderful, detailed model of the resort area—the Magic Kingdom and the five hotel designs located on the master plan. It was created by the storied Model Shop at WED, and was forty feet across and 625 square feet in size. It was a signature piece of work, and (as I will explain shortly) it was to enjoy a long and important life.
On April 30, 1969, Disney demonstrated for the first time in Florida the versatility, experience, and talent of its various divisions:
The Disneyland Operations staff, which handled all the complex logistics, including renting the Parkwood Cinema in Orlando for the film and press conference featuring Roy Disney and Florida governor Claude Kirk; erecting a tent to display the Phase One model; buying out the entire Ramada Inn in nearby Ocoee for a week to house and feed the media, and serve as the starting point for bus tours of the construction site four miles to the west; and providing the Disneyland staff, including tour guides/hostesses to narrate the site tours.
The construction team, which created the passable dirt roads providing access for the progression of buses filled with eager-eyed media; Florida state, county, and city officials; industry guests; and VIPs.
The corporate leaders of Walt Disney Productions, presenters, and media stars for the day: Roy Disney, Card Walker, Donn Tatum, Joe Fowler, and Joe Potter. Dick Irvine represented WED, and Dick Nunis led the Operating staff.
WED. The Imagineers created all the materials for the presentation: the film; the heroic 625-square-foot model that became the star of photo opportunities with all the Disney and Florida officials; reproductions of all the key artwork depicting the overall project, key attractions in the Magic Kingdom, the Monorail system, and the hotel concepts.
On a recent visit to the Walt Disney Archives at the Walt Disney Studios in Burbank, I was amused to read the estimated numbers of newsmen and dignitaries attending the announcement events of April 30. One report indicated two hundred, another six hundred, and one local Florida daily called it 1,977. In fact, the last may have been the total for the week; there were various levels of invitations, notably for “officials, dignitaries, and VIPs.”
But the superlatives from the media drew my attention most. Ormund Powers reported in the Orlando Star, “Every major newspaper, wire service, television network, and magazine in the United States, as well as many foreign publications, were at today’s Disney presentation on Phase One—a presentation in its way as colorful in detail as the unbelievable plans for Walt Disney World.”
The Titusville Star Advocate wrote: “The greatest tourist attraction in the country and possibly the world, that has [the] promise of making Central Florida a ‘pleasure mecca,’ was unveiled today by Walt Disney officials. Larry Vickers in the Lakeland Ledger quoted a “sage observer” enthusing: “This is what God would have done if he’d had the money!”
But perhaps it was left for Governor Kirk, “visibly impressed,” according to the Tampa Tribune, to put the event in
perspective. John Frasca, Tribune staff writer, included this statement in his story: “Kirk said he ‘didn’t take’ the U.S. vice presidency because he wanted to be in Florida ‘for this great day.’”
* * * * * * * * * *
All the materials created for the April 30, 1969, press event had a huge residual value. On January 10, 1970, we opened the Walt Disney World Preview Center in Lake Buena Vista, just off Interstate 4 and State Road 535. The centerpiece of the preview was the model and the film I had written. In the twenty-one months that it operated before closing on September 30, 1971, the Preview Center attracted 1,332,927 visitors—demonstrating the extraordinary interest in the project. Out-of-state tourists represented 59 percent of the visitors, with Michigan, New York, Ohio, and Illinois residents leading the way.
* * * * * * * * * *
Less than twenty-four hours after the closing of the Preview Center, on October 1, 1971, the most important visitor in the history of the state of Florida (notwithstanding the arrival of Ponce de Leon in 1515, in search of the Fountain of Youth) walked through the turnstiles to enter the Magic Kingdom. Mr. and Mrs. William Windsor, Jr., and their two sons, ages three and one, of Lakeland, Florida, were the very first guests. Unlike the Spanish explorer (who was not expected), the Windsors were part of a shockingly small attendance of only 10,422 visitors on that day. The numbers were a far cry from the planning and predictions of the Orange County, Florida, government.
Earlier that year, in January, the Orlando Sentinel quoted Ralph Poe, vice chairman of the county’s traffic commission: “Sure, we’re going to have a tourist problem, a traffic problem, law enforcement problem… But I’ll tell you this—we know what to expect… Sure, when how many people turn up for the opening—half a million, a million?—we can expect traffic jams and delays.”
It seemed as though everyone from Jacksonville to Miami was watching the reported trickle of cars on Interstate 4—everyone but the Disney team. “We’re not disappointed by the turnout,” the Atlanta Constitution quoted Donn Tatum, president of Walt Disney Productions, remarking. “It’s just what we want.”
“There’s a reason we open a new park in October—the kids are back in school, and it’s the slowest month of the year,” explained Jack Lindquist. “It’s a great time to train our staff—we call it a ‘soft opening.’” We saved the ‘Grand Opening’ for the end of the month, for maximum marketing impact—including the ninety-minute television special that aired on NBC on October 29, and starred Julie Andrews, Bob Hope, Glen Campbell, Jonathan Winters, and Buddy Hackett.
On October 25, with the third Florida governor in six years, Reubin Askew, looking on, Roy Disney read the dedication plaque I had written to mimic Walt’s Disneyland dedication:
Walt Disney World is a tribute to the philosophy and life of Walter Elias Disney…and to the talents, the dedication, and the loyalty of the entire Disney organization that made Walt Disney’s dream come true. May Walt Disney World bring Joy and Inspiration and New Knowledge to all who come to this happy place…A Magic Kingdom where the young at heart of all ages can laugh and play and learn—together.
By November, on the day after Thanksgiving, traffic on Interstate 4 was bumper-to-bumper for twelve miles, from the city of Orlando to Walt Disney World. By the end of year one, through September 30, 1972, 10.7 million visitors had made the Magic Kingdom the most visited theme park in the world.
One of the earliest national media recognitions of Walt Disney World’s success was reported by David Brinkley, then the anchor of NBC’s Nightly News (and later, the news dean of ABC News). Reporting on the “new town” Disney had created in Central Florida, Brinkley called it “the most imaginative and effective urban planning in America”—totally outside what he called “the Mickey Mouse amusement park.” He concluded his report with this comment: “After Disney’s people take over the big cities, we’ll talk about bringing them to Washington!”
“TELL IBM TO GO TO HELL!”
Jack Lindquist and I were in Armonk, New York, for yet another meeting with IBM. We—Jack the marketing guru, me pitching the show—had pulled out all the stops. Meeting with executives in New York and California, we tried to convince “Big Blue” to sponsor Spaceship Earth, the key communications theme pavilion at the entrance to Epcot Center, already in construction as the 1970s came to a close. We had worked all the angles: CEO to CEO, because IBM’s Frank Cary and Disney’s Card Walker had been classmates at UCLA; and a special reading of the story concept by author Ray Bradbury, whose lyrical prose—written more as a descriptive short story than narrative for a ride-through experience—seemed to fascinate the IBMers.
On this day at IBM’s corporate headquarters in upstate New York, our contacts at IBM gave us the word. We can’t “officially” tell you, but on Monday, Mr. Cary will send Mr. Walker a letter declining to become an Epcot sponsor.
It was a late Friday morning. As we rode toward New York City, Jack had an inspiration. “Let’s call Ed Block at AT&T and see if we can meet with him this afternoon.” In the days before cell phones, we stopped at a local watering hole. Jack called, and when Ed Block said, “Come on up,” we were on our way.
In our sales effort, we had been playing both ends against the middle, attempting to pit IBM against AT&T all along. Now, armed with our new unofficial knowledge about IBM, we entered the office of AT&T’s executive vice president of marketing. Jack went straight to the point. “Ed, IBM just told us they will give us the word on their sponsorship on Monday. This is your last chance to beat them to the punch!”
“Tell IBM to go to hell,” Ed responded. “We’re in!”
Without corporate sponsors, there would be no Epcot at Walt Disney World. Fortunately, our timing was excellent. Walt Disney World was a big success: attendance passed thirteen million in the Magic Kingdom by 1980, indicating the potential for “spreading the audience” with a second park. As well, the World’s Fair identification concept was still alive in corporate America—albeit on its last legs. There was a great deal of media coverage in the early days of Epcot referring to a “permanent World’s Fair.” Our experience in working with major companies at the New York World’s Fair in the 1960s had paid big dividends.
Card Walker’s 1974 telephone call and challenging question, “What are we going to do about Epcot?” was the beginning of a long and winding journey to create only the third Disney park anywhere in the world. More importantly, it would be the first non-Magic Kingdom park. We were certainly aware of the objective to complement and not compete with the Magic Kingdom. That was the key to extending guests’ length of stay on the Walt Disney World property and to building on “The Vacation Kingdom of the World” resort theme.
Eight years later, on October 24, 1982, Card read the words on the Epcot Center Dedication Plaque that I had cowritten with Erwin Okun, Disney’s vice president of Public Affairs.
In retrospect, I can clearly identify four principal segments in the development of the Epcot Center that we unveiled in October 1982:
Deciding what to do.
Creating the concept and convincing Disney management to fund it.
Selling it to corporate and international sponsors.
Building it.
DECIDING WHAT TO DO
It was easy to know where to begin; we had Walt’s comments at the 1965 Florida Press Conference, the twenty-four-minute film I had written (including Walt’s four or five minutes of narration), and the secret work of a variety of consultants researching state statutes, federal legislation, government department policies, and interesting new developments around the world. However, most of the latter work was quite literally secret. To this day, to my knowledge, the body of material compiled by the research team for Walt’s Epcot Community has never been available to the public or to researchers. However, the major finding of this important work, as it related to land planning and development of the property, had been incorporated into the legislation passed by the Florida State Legislature in 1967, establishi
ng the Reedy Creek Improvement District as the governmental agency with jurisdiction over the Walt Disney World property.
Initially, we determined that “the Epcot idea” was much bigger than one company’s internal personnel, no matter how talented, could accomplish. We needed to pick our “sweet spots,” and broaden our base of creative contributors, finding talent and ideas from a variety of fields and a diversity of backgrounds.
We launched our effort by creating a series of conferences, initiated to support the marketing and conceptual development of Epcot Center. The program was split into two primary objectives:
Marketing
To introduce the concept of the Epcot Center project to top level executives from business, government, foundation, and academic communities.
To begin a dialogue with these leaders and to stimulate their interest in corporate sponsorship of the project.
Concept Development
To solicit an exchange of ideas among experts regarding the topical issues Epcot should explore, and the stories it should “communicate.”
To identify experts who would serve as official advisors throughout the conceptual development of the project.
We called these meetings Epcot Future Technology Conferences. The first was titled “Concurrent Forums in Agriculture/Food Production and Energy.” It was held at Walt Disney World on May 15 and 16, 1976, bringing together forty individuals from industry, academia, and government in the fields of energy and agriculture. In addition to Disney’s Donn Tatum and Card Walker, author and futurist Ray Bradbury gave the verbal charge. Forum panel moderators included Dr. Daniel Aldrich, chancellor of the University of California at Irvine and highly respected in agricultural circles.