It’s probably best to confess up front that I wanted children mostly so I could go to Disneyland all the time and not seem really weird. But my Disney crush was not a straight-on sort of journey, and certainly not how I expected to explain my geolocation on Planet Earth to strangers.
See, in my youth, I was mighty sore at Disney. I blamed the entertainment behemoth for the “Cinderella Syndrome” — the conviction that Prince Charming is out there, eager to rescue the dainty damsel in distress lurking within (but only if we’re pretty and pure of heart, but mostly, pretty.).
This storyline is what my (very old school) parents envisioned for my life. When I said I was going to college, thunder clapped, lightning flashed and panic ensued. The nearby secretarial school was proffered as a far more sensible option.
Anyway, Cinderella wasn’t exactly Disney’s fault: “Cendrillon” was penned by Charles Perrault in 1697, drawing on fairy tales told and retold probably for centuries, as well as by the historical place of women in society. Disney’s “Cinderella” and “Snow White” and “Sleeping Beauty” — save me Prince! — were the highly artistic products of their times.
And then, something happened. Times changed.
There was Belle, the feisty bookworm in “Beauty and the Beast.” And Jasmine, the princess who would not be pushed around in “Aladdin.” Pocahontas pointed out the savagery in European colonizers; Mulan, the kick-butt warrior, defeated the Huns with smarts, not brawn; Rapunzel’s optimism and curiosity couldn’t be stifled by Mother Gothel’s suffocating narcissism (and the golden-haired one taught us self-defense-by-frying-pan to boot). Tiana understood that wishes come true only if you work hard enough to get them, and a brave and independent Moana bucked expectations to save her people.
Suddenly, these Disney princesses were bona fide feminist role models! This provided the justification needed to indulge the 5-year-old lurking deep within. See, like most every other kid in America in the 1960s, I lived for Sunday nights and “Disney’s Wonderful World of Color.” Castle! Fireworks! Tinkerbell! Then Walt himself in what might be the best infomercials ever made….
“This is what we call New Orleans Square,” Walt said in one episode, waving a majestic hand over a scale model of same.
“And over here, we have a special attraction. We call it the Blue Bayou Lagoon. People are going to get on a boat here, ride through the lagoon, and then when they get around here, we’re going to take them down a waterfall and take them back into the past, into the days of the pirates.”
Oh. My. Gawd. I, like kids everywhere, quaked with ravenous, unbridled desire. I beseeched my parents please, please, for the love of all that is good in the world, please! take us to Disneyland. But, alas, I was 25 when I finally took myself to Disneyland for the very first time.
It was the late 1980s. The old Disneyland sign lorded over Harbor Boulevard. I parked my 1984 Mazda GLC on the lot that is now California Adventure, bought a ticket at an actual booth manned by an actual person, passed through the turnstiles…
And that thing happened.
Call it pixie dust, projection, illusion, artifice — who really cares? Years fall away. You have permission to be a kid again. Bands march down Main Street, barbershop quartets harmonize, Mickey Mouse hugs you, thrill rides do a far better job than primal scream therapy and are much more fun. This, truly, is some sort of magic.
And it’s why some 28 million people visit the Disneyland resort every year, and why Disney is the largest private employer in Orange County (with some 32,000 workers), and why it’s able to contribute more than $16 billion to Southern California’s economy (yes, that’s according to Disney’s own study, but it was done by Oxford Economics, a respected and reputable operation).
The city of Burbank passed on this vision (thank you, Burbank, for thinking small and assuming the proposed “Mickey Mouse Park” would usher in a carny atmosphere and unsavory crowd!), and its loss has been Orange County’s gain.
Disney paved the way, literally, for Orange County’s transformation. It was one of the first huge swaths of farmland to be repurposed for a more urban use, something soon to spread to Irvine, Costa Mesa, Huntington Beach, and, well, just about everyplace really, as strawberry fields gave way to housing developments and shopping malls.
It’s how we tell people where we live. When your town’s name doesn’t ring a bell, and then you try “Orange County” and still get a perplexed look, and then try “between Los Angeles and San Diego” and they’re still confused, you finally say, “Near Disneyland!” and their faces brighten with recognition. On a recent trip to Botswana and South Africa, I toted bags of Mickey ears to give to children. They were snapped up in seconds.
Not that all this is necessary a politically good thing. Complaints about Disney’s outsized sway over Anaheim city government are about as old as Disneyland itself. A recent FBI probe described a secretive cabal that pulled the city’s strings — with a rep from “Company A,” aka Disney, among them.
The city gives too much to Disney, critics say (Anaheim agreed to foot the bill for up to $200 million in infrastructure improvements when Disney built California Adventure; the Mickey & Friends Parking Structure cost the city $108 million, electrical improvements cost $17.6 million and a pedestrian bridge cost $3.6 million, city officials told us when we looked at corporate subsidies in California).
There are complaints over details in the $1.9 billion DisneylandForward expansion plan, which is slated to bring myriad new themed lands (based on Avatar, Frozen, Zootopia, etc.) to Anaheim.
And folks carp that the fun family day Walt originally envisioned has become exorbitantly and prohibitively expensive — easily totaling $1,000 a day for a family of four (if they want a Park Hopper and, uh, food). I bought my first mid-level annual pass during Disneyland’s 50th anniversary in 2005, shortly before my first baby came home. It cost $179, if memory and a Google archive search serve. I let our mid-level Magic Keys expire this year when the price rose to $1,374. Each.
Does Disney owe us affordable options? There are lower-priced days and discounts here and there for the Deals Mavens amongst us, but, in the end, Disney is a for-profit corporation, not a charity. Its business may be selling good cheer, but its mission is to make money; that’s what for-profit corporations do. And judging by the crowds these last few years, prices might not yet be high enough to curb ridiculously high demand.
We’ll be going back for Disneyland’s 70th, but probably not until the Christmas decorations go up (and probably with Costco SoCal tickets, if they’re still available). Til then, I’ll fervently hope to win the Lottery, and that Disney brings a show back to the Hyperion Theater in California Adventure. Seeing “Aladdin” with eldest on my lap, and her exclamation of “Mom! This is so fun!” remains one of my most treasured memories.
I’m eager to see what the next few decades bring. Maybe we’ll re-up those Magic Keys. As Walt said in “World of Color:”
“Anything’s possible at Disneyland.”
