Hidden Mickey Adventures 1

by Nancy Temple Rodrigue

  September, 1962

  ”Come in.” The little bell on Walt’s door had chimed. The doorbell sounded like it belonged on a girl’s bicycle rather than on the private apartment of one of the most famous men in the world.

  A blond-headed man popped his face around the corner. “You ready to go to the studio, Walt? You have that promo for the Pirate attraction today.” When there was no response, he stepped further into the room. Once he saw the look on his boss’s face, he became worried. “You okay, Walt?”

  Sitting on the sofa bed, Walt pulled his gaze away from the small kitchenette across the room. His voice was quiet as he turned to his right-hand man. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little distracted today.”

  “Anything wrong? You were pretty sick for a couple of days. We were worried about you. That’s why the doctor asked me to ride over to the Studio with you today.”

  “No, no.” Walt waved off the concern that was obvious in the man’s voice. “Not wrong, exactly. Just a strange dream, delusion, hallucination. Gosh I still don’t know what to call it…I had it again while I was out of it.” Walt broke off, staring into the distance as he thought back to 1940 when he had first had that vision.

  “Musta been some dream.”

  “Yeah, it was.” Walt gave him a crooked smile, “You were in it, now that I think about it.”

  The blond man turned back from the entry door, his hand gripping the knob. “I was? Good guy or bad guy?”

  Coming up behind him, Walt affectionately slapped him in the shoulder. “Oh, you’re always a good guy.” He paused as if considering whether or not to tell any more of the story. Thinking it might be good for a laugh, Walt decided to continue. “As a matter of fact,” he said as they slowly went down the stairs behind the Fire Station that led to the backstage area of Main Street, “you and Wolf were in charge of all of my affairs after I died.”

  “Really? Wow, that’s something!”

  “Yeah, you put into play this huge treasure hunt I had set up so I’d be remembered. It was…it was quite involved.” Walt momentarily stared off into space. ‘Involved’ seemed such an inadequate word to describe all he had seen.

  The blond haired man gave his boss a friendly pat on the arm, bringing him back to the present. “Oh, you don’t need a treasure hunt to be remembered, Walt. You’ll live forever.”

  Walt didn’t reply as they got into the waiting car his doctor had also insisted on calling for him. Walt wasn’t thinking about driving just then anyway. He was thinking of the phrase ‘live forever’ and the way the mysterious blond man had woven throughout his vision. Walt’s attention came back to the present at the next words of his aide. “Take us to the studio, Daniel, if you would. We’re a little bit late.”

  “Right away, sir. Afternoon, Mister Disney.”

  “Afternoon, Mister Crain.” Walt’s response was unthinking, automatic, but his eyes suddenly widened.

  If the studio chauffer wondered why Mister Disney’s startled gaze shot up to the rearview mirror after he returned the greeting, he knew better than to ask.

  Walt sat off to the side on the set of his promo, waiting quietly until he was needed. His forgotten script hung loosely from his hands. The vision he had seen again while he was sick was still strong in his mind as he watched people come and go, readying the cameras and the lights and setting the props in place. One of his long-time employees came and sat down beside him. “H…how are you today, W...Walt?”

  The dream faded a little as he turned with a smile. “Jeremy! I was hoping you’d be here. How’s everything?”

  “G…good, thanks. Anything new and exciting going on, Walt?”

  Walt rubbed the back of his neck. I could use a massage right about now, but that’s neither new nor exciting. “You mean besides New Orleans Square, the Jungle Cruise, the Haunted Mansion, Mineral King, Aspen, Niagara Falls, and the World’s Fair in New York? Naw, not much.”

  “Oh, good.” Jeremy gave a silent chuckle. “J..Just as long as you’re not overworked. Say, they’re al…almost ready for you on the set. It’ll be an easy day today. I heard you were sick for a few days. Glad you’re better.”

  Walt gave the security guard a good-natured look-over. “You know, Jeremy, with your good looks, you should be in front of that camera instead of my ugly mug. I could make you an honorary Mousekateer or an ambassador! How does that sound? Then I wouldn’t have to do these things.”

  Jeremy smiled at the boss. He and Walt always got on well. Walt never made fun of his stuttering. In fact, his boss always acted as if he never even noticed it. “Well, I would, W…Walt, except for one little problem that I have.” He held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart from each other.

  “Problem? You, Jeremy?” Walt pretended to be shocked. “Why, everyone thinks you’re just perfect.”

  “Yeah, hard to believe, huh? I t…try to hide it, but it’s always there.”

  “And what problem would that be?”

  Jeremy gave him a big grin. “I…I’m shy!”

  Walt gave a hearty laugh and slapped Jeremy on the shoulder. “Well, we’ll have to work on that. Say, where’s your friend, John Michaels? I need him to build something for my train at Carolwood.”

  Walt didn’t think Jeremy heard him because the studio guard had a sappy look on his face and was now smiling at a beautiful brunette who approached Walt. There was a clipboard in her hand on which she was slowly making notations. “We’re ready for you to take your place, Walt. Hey there, Jeremy.” Her grin was almost, but not quite, timid, her blue eyes sparkled. “Are we still on for tonight?”

  “Absolutely, Dana. I’m looking forward to it. I was going to pick you up around six if that’s a good time for you.”

  He was rewarded with a slow wink and devastating smile.

  As the long legs sauntered off, Walt got up from his chair and nudged Jeremy. “Say, how come you don’t stutter around her?”

  Jeremy looked back from admiring the view of Dana leaving. “I…I’m not sure. Never thought about it. Maybe she scares it out of me.”

  With remnants of his dream still floating around in his mind, Walt gave Jeremy a parting, mysterious smile. “Well, you’d better hang onto that one, then. A man can always use a woman who scares him a little.” Walt took a step away and then turned back to the security guard. “Say. Jeremy, let me ask you something. I didn’t want to say anything in front of her, but didn’t Dana used to work in Ink and Paint? I thought I had seen her in The Nunnery.”

  “Why, I’m shocked, W..Walt! That’s No-Man’s Land. What were you doing there?” Jeremy gave a short laugh. It was common knowledge that Walt preferred to have women work at the detail-oriented Ink and Paint Department to color in the animation cels that would then be taken to be shot for whatever feature they were for. The Nunnery was a small break area between the Paint Room and the offices in which the women worked. In an effort to keep distractions down to a minimum, Walt had declared the break area to be for women only—hence the nickname The Nunnery.

  Walt waved off Jeremy’s question. Everyone knew Walt went where he wanted whenever he wanted to go there—including The Nunnery. “It just surprised me that an Ink and Painter would switch to working on the sound stages.”

  “I, uh, I think they’re waiting for you now, Walt.” Jeremy glanced nervously at the set, not wanting to get Dana in trouble if Walt wasn’t happy with her shifting to a different department.

  “Let them wait.”

  Knowing now he was expected to say something, Jeremy reluctantly answered his boss. “Okay, Dana had been in a car accident and it messed up her right hand pretty bad. I don’t know if you noticed how difficult it was for her to write.” He broke off, hoping Walt got the point.

  He had. A look of compassion crossed over Walt’s face. He knew the women were proud of their work. It must have greatly bothered Dana to lose her position. “Gosh, that’s terrible. Thanks for telling me.”

  “No problem, W…Walt. I’ll send John over w
hen I find him. I think he’s working with the foreman in New Orleans Square today. Not sure, though. I’ll have to tell him right away. He’s getting married soon.”

  “To Margaret?”

  Jeremy looked a little surprised. “W…why, yes. I didn’t know you knew her.”

  In actuality, Walt didn’t know Margaret. But, how do you explain about people you don’t know but saw in the depths of a long, rambling vision? Walt gave a small grunt and shook off the images that were always right there in front of him. “Anyway, getting back to John, yeah, send him over when he can make it. He does beautiful work. Has he ever thought about running his own company?”

  “Every day.”

  When he saw Dana head back to get him, a grin covered Walt’s face. “Uh oh, here comes the boss. I’d better get to work. See you later, Jeremy.”

  “Here, you go, Mister Disney. You’ll need one of these if you’re going to walk around in here.”

  “Thanks, Russell.” Walt accepted the hard hat, replacing his comfortable fedora with it. The worn wool hat was unceremoniously crushed into his sweater pocket as he tried to decide which way to go.

  When the foreman walked off and left him to his own devices, Walt looked around the huge excavation site. He was excited about his walk-through Haunted Mansion attraction—even though there were still many differing ideas on what should be included, both inside and outside the building. For some reason he couldn’t understand, the developers were not that excited about his “Museum of the Weird Restaurant” that he wanted to build next to the mansion. He had already gotten his way on how the exterior would look, though. It had been proposed as a run-down antebellum mansion with tall weeds and dead trees decorating the grimy exterior. The boss had finally put his foot down and insisted on a pristine white building. “We’ll take care of the outside and let the ghosts take care of the inside.” Walt’s firm decision had ended that debate. Now the Imagineers were going back and forth on whether the scenes should be scary or funny. The mock-ups they had made in their WED Enterprises studio had been significantly frightening enough that the nightly cleaning crew—who had walked in on the effects that were still running late one night—quit and told them to clean their own studios.

  Still chuckling over that incident, Walt spied the person he wanted to talk to. “John!” he called over to the young, wavy-haired blond man consulting a set of blueprints.

  Looking up, John was surprised to see it was Walt Disney himself who was waving him over. Getting a nod of an okay from the foreman, John set the prints down on a plank that spanned two sawhorses. His mind in a whirl, he carefully walked over the assorted steel rebar and electrical pipes that had already been laid out. His soft brown eyes seemed curious as he greeted the boss. “How are you today, Walt?”

  “I’m good, thanks. Say, I was just talking to your friend Jeremy. He probably hasn’t had time to call you yet.”

  John gave a friendly smile at the mention of his popular friend. Everyone knew Jeremy. “No, I haven’t heard from him in awhile. He’s probably busy with Dana, I’m sure.”

  “Well, I wanted to ask you about this little project I have in mind for my train back home….”

  Nodding as Walt mentioned his favorite hobby, John wondered why the boss suddenly stopped talking and walked over to a stack of gray plastic pipe. It had been unloaded off to the side while it waited to be installed. Watching, he was curious when Walt picked up a smaller length of what looked like a six-inch diameter pipe and began to study it closely. Walt next reached into his pocket, pulled out his car keys, and dropped them into the open end of the thick pipe. When the keys hit the secured end cap, Walt then lightly shook the pipe, carefully listening to the effect.

  “Umm, working on some new sound effects, Walt?” John could only venture a guess as he came up next to Walt.

  “What?” Walt’s eyes seemed far away when he turned to face the construction worker. Recovering quickly, he gave a small, awkward grin. “Oh, no. I was just…I just….” I just recognized that this was the capsule all the clues had been buried in… When Walt realized he had stopped mid-sentence, he held out the gray pipe he still held in his hands. “What is this, exactly?”

  “That’s the latest thing in electrical pipe. This stuff is great and it’s supposed to last forever. It’s called PVC conduit. Comes in all sizes and shapes. Whatever size is needed for the electricians running wires through it. What you’re holding there is a conduit. And these are the pipe connectors.” John pointed to a different stack off to the side. “And those are the end caps, like the one already on the pipe you’re holding. When the pipe is gray—like this batch—it’s electrical conduit. When it’s white, it’s used as underground water pipe. The electricians will use glue to hold the connectors and caps firmly in place, once they’re set.” He wasn’t sure how much more of an explanation was needed when Walt just continued to stare at the short length in his hand, already having retrieved his keys from it. “Uh, did you want to keep that?” John shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

  Walt handed it back to him, and smiled self-consciously. “No, no. Thanks for the information. You’re a General Contractor, aren’t you?”

  That surprised John. He hadn’t thought he had mentioned his goal to anyone on the job. “Well, I’m studying to become one,” he answered slowly. “I have to know all the trades to be qualified to get my license. And that’s what I appreciate about working here at Disneyland. I get to work in every trade.”

  Walt dusted his hands off on his slacks, leaving behind two white smears. He seemed unsure what to do next. With a final stare at the gray pipe, he raised his hand in a good-bye for John. “Thanks again. Oh, by the way, congratulations on your upcoming marriage.”

  As Walt carefully made his way back to the exit gate of the Haunted Mansion construction site, John just stood there staring at the retreating figure, his head slowly shaking side to side. Odd interview aside, it never ceased to amaze him how the boss seemed to know everything about everyone. It was then he realized Walt hadn’t finished telling him what was needed for his train. Glancing up when the foreman came over to him, he gave Russell the I-have-no-idea-what-that-was-about look. John figured Walt would contact him again when he was wanted.

  Walt leaned against the railing on the drawbridge of Sleeping Beauty Castle, facing the water and lost in thought. “It all started with a moose.” His mumble was unheard by anyone as his eyes followed a black-masked white swan that sedately swam in the green water of the moat below. But before the beautiful bird could disappear under the arched passageway, it looked up at the man and gave a loud hiss. Suddenly flapping its wings, it came halfway out of the water, straight at Walt and startled him. Eyes wide, he whispered, “Rose?” as the swan sat back into the water, settled her ruffled feathers and, with a few strong kicks, placidly swam out of his sight. Heart pounding, he shook his head as he clutched a small, black leather book in his hand, his knuckles white.

  As he stood there lost in his thoughts, a tour guide, dressed in her trademark plaid outfit, walked by, as she led her group into the Castle. She was in the middle of reciting the story of the Sleeping Beauty. At the sound of her pleasant voice, he remembered to turn his head away. With an easy tug, he pulled the brim of his fedora a little lower on his forehead to help hide his identity. There was so much going through his mind right then that he didn’t want to be recognized or disturbed. Under normal circumstances, he would love to meet the guests and even sign a few autographs. However, these were not normal circumstances for Walt.

  Even though many days had passed since he had gotten over his illness, the images of the fever-induced vision were still strong. He was remembering glimpses he had gotten of his Disneyland in what apparently was to be the future—his future, if he understood it correctly. There were some different rides than what were in Disneyland now, some attractions that had been removed or changed, and he had gotten the impression that there may have been another whole Park where the parking lot was
situated. Wish I had seen more of that. He let out a small grunt. Maybe I can catch another fever or something to bring it back….

  With a chuckle at that nonsense, he made a couple of notations about the Haunted Mansion in the notebook he still held in his hand. When he closed the cover and was ready to slip it back in his pocket, he found himself staring at the black leather. His fingers slowly traced a pattern over the soft front. If he had been asked at that exact moment what he was doing, he wouldn’t have been able to explain. Then it suddenly hit him with a sharp intake of breath. This was my diary in that vision.

  “Is everything all right, Walt?” A low, deep voice seemed to have materialized out of thin air next to him.

  Startled by the unexpected intrusion, Walt fumbled. Eyes wide, as if in slow motion, his hands suddenly lost their grip. The little book arced upward and then began to freefall. A dark hand instantly shot out and caught the diary before it had a chance to land in the water below. “Thanks,” Walt mumbled, impressed by the quick reflexes. “I’d be lost without this little book.”

  The journal was handed back to its owner. “Glad I was here. Is there anything you need, Walt?”

  “No, no, I’m good. Thanks, Wolf.” Walt tried to keep from staring into the deep blue eyes of the security guard. “Is everything all right in the Park?”

  As Wolf turned his head toward Main Street, eyes constantly moving, his silver-tipped black hair brushed the collar of his uniform. He was the only man in the Park allowed to have his hair that long. For Wolf, people—even Walt—made exceptions. “All’s quiet today. No problems to report.”

  Walt gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Glad to hear it.” His attention drifted off. Aware of the man who waited quietly next to him, Walt had a sudden request. “Say, Wolf, walk with me over to Tomorrowland, will you? I want to check something.”

  With a silent nod, Wolf complied, slightly curious to see what was wanted of him.