Sentimental Paleontology: Late Lamented Haunted Mansion Effects

Well, we're into September now, and you know what that means.

“Halloween creep” is getting to be as bad as Christmas creep, but this year I actually don't mind. I, along with about 90% of the people I know, have been basically done with summer since approximately mid-July. Bring on the pumpkins, I say.* And what better way to kick off Halloween Season at the Disneyland Dilettante then with a look at the Haunted Mansion, and particularly aspects of it that are, shall we say, no longer with us?

And boy howdy, are there ever a lot of them. Plenty of attractions have been upgraded and retooled over the years, but I think I can safely say that no other attraction has undergone anywhere near as much piecemeal turnover—adding, subtracting, and/or replacing individual show elements as opposed to whole scenes—as the Mansion. There are probably several reasons why this should be. The supernatural subject matter lends itself to many different kinds of effects, which practically beg to be upgraded as technology improves. It's a modular sort of spectacle, in which swapping out one ghost for another doesn't meaningfully alter the ride's sense of narrative flow. And it has a devoted fanbase always ready to scour every inch for surprises, meaning that any tinkering is bound to be noticed.

The upshot is that sometimes a fragment of the Haunted Mansion just...goes away, usually with little to no fanfare, never to be seen again in this life. But they say that nothing is truly dead as long as its name is still spoken...**

Sentimental Paleontology: The Other Space

Let's not lose perspective: the Tomorrowland Problem is old. You could make a case for it being as old as Disneyland itself—we all know that Tomorrowland was the one area that was severely skimped on back in 1955 due to time and budget shortfalls, and what was there was so immediately dated that the land received a major upgrade before the park turned five. What we don't acknowledge as often is that said major upgrade already represented a partial departure from the themes of science, technology, and realistic futurism in favor of a dose of pure fantasy. The Submarine Voyage—a celebration of technological achievements allowing humanity to explore parts of the world that were previously completely inaccessible—was also a veritable showcase of popular myths about the ocean, presented as though they were as real as the coral reefs.

And honestly...I have trouble figuring out why. This early in the game, the Imagineers could hardly have been running short of futuristic inspiration. Did they think a realistic undersea voyage was too boring? If so, why create the Submarine Voyage to begin with? If, on the the other hand, the fantasy material was included due to the attraction's location on the boundary between Tomorrowland and Fantasyland, why don't we see more crossover content in other boundary attractions that debuted in this era?

Moreover, several years down the line, the “World on the Move” Tomorrowland makeover would have been the perfect opportunity to refine the Submarine Voyage into something more on-point. But instead, the Imagineers doubled down on the fantasy by adding live mermaid performers to the Lagoon. That experiment didn't last, for reasons that vary depending upon who's telling the story,* but the overall point is that this ride has been part of Tomorrowland almost since the beginning, and its most fantastic aspect was immediately established as its most iconic.

They've never really known what to do with Tomorrowland.

The mythical aquatic singing sirens...of the future!

Sentimental Paleontology: Legends of Frontierland

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Disneyland is primarily a locals' park. Management may not like it—they might prefer a scenario where they can keep selling the same old thing to a new batch of rubes every week instead of constantly racking their brains trying to keep an experienced and therefore discerning crowd entertained—but it is what it is. If you ask me, it's for the best. Without the need to impress repeat visitors, would we have gotten the Indiana Jones Adventure with its three potential “treasures” and unpredictable vehicle motion? Without those picky Annual Passholders making up such a large percentage of the crowd, would there be any incentive to keep changing up the parades, fireworks, and live entertainment? If the average guest didn't know where the good off-property restaurants were, would Management bother to ensure quality food options inside the park(s)?

And sometimes, that drive to keep the locals enthralled produces results that are just plain...well, enthralling. Pure magic. In the summer of 2014, they achieved just that, and in perhaps the unlikeliest of ways, with a temporary attraction called Legends of Frontierland.

Sentimental Paleontology: Twilight Zone Tower of Terror

Well, here we are. The Great California Adventure Mistake of 2017 is live, with reports of a queue stretching all the way to the park's entrance.

Within five minutes of opening.

Every day so far.

Dammit, people. Why are you rewarding them for this? That thing should have opened to the sound of crickets, and not the kind that asks you to recycle your beverage containers.

Dude. This is actually a pin.

Nuts to y'all. I'm going to reminisce about what we lost.

Sentimental Paleontology: Buckets Aloft

For over twenty years, this chalet structure has loomed, off-limits to guests and virtually unused, over the western end of Fantasyland:

However, it seems it won't for much longer. The news recently broke that the park had obtained a permit to demolish it. (Confusingly, the outer wall has been repainted even more recently...but there are several possible reasons for that.) Its removal will finally close the curtain on the long career of the Skyway.

It's a good time to reminisce.

But here we hit a snag. The Skyway was an odd sort of attraction by Disneyland standards—no characters or story, only incidental theming. There wasn't even any recorded narration the way there usually was and is with sightseeing/transportation rides such as the Disneyland Railroad, Viewliner, or Monorail. The whole concept of the Skyway was so straightforward—take a one-way trip from Fantasyland to Tomorrowland or vice-versa, and get a bird's-eye view of both in the process—that there may not be much anyone can add.

I'll do my best anyway.

Sentimental Paleontology: Our Musical Heritage of the Past

So Halloween is over now. You know what that means. Cue the army of mall Santas.

I'm not quite ready to go full eggnog myself. I want to try to ease into the Christmas-themed posts here, so I'll start tangential: What was the first attraction at Disneyland to be made over into an alternate version for the Christmas season? I guess in part it depends on what you mean by “alternate version of the attraction.” Specially designed Christmas parades at Disneyland go all the way back to 1957...but I wouldn't consider “the parade” to be an attraction per se. There have been many different parades in Disneyland's history, of which the Christmas ones are just a few. Our current iteration, A Christmas Fantasy, is not Soundsational! or any other “regular” parade with tinsel added to the floats; it has its own completely separate floats. So it's not an alternate version of the attraction so much as an alternate attraction.

But neither did seasonal attraction overlays begin during the much-maligned Pressler era. “it's a small world” was actually the second participant in a Disneyland tradition that goes back over thirty years—more than half the park's existence. So what was the first?

Just a little show in the back corner of the park called...the Country Bear Jamboree.

Sentimental Paleontology: These Were Snowflakes

Once upon a time, Monsanto was the good guy. Hard as it may be to believe in an age where they are perhaps best known for inventing scary Frankenfood crops and then suing small family farms out of existence for the crime of happening to be located downwind of them, there was a time when they were mostly associated with neat stuff. Astroturf, for instance. “Space Age” fabrics. And, most dramatically of all, Disneyland attractions. Monsanto sponsored no fewer than four Tomorrowland attractions at various points during the park's first fifteen years.

Most fans have heard of the House of the Future, that marvelous 100% synthetic dwelling (located where Pixie Hollow is today) that had to be dismantled with blowtorches because the wrecking ball bounced right off it. Fewer have heard of Fashions and Fabrics Through the Ages, a much less ambitious exhibit that didn't last long. It was located right next to the Hall of Chemistry, which was actually the first Monsanto attraction, going right back to Opening Day. The two neighbors closed in September 1966—the chemical engineering giant had bigger and better plans for the building they occupied. On August 5, 1967, there debuted something special. Something amazing. An actual ride, this time, instead of the mere walk-throughs the company had sponsored before.

It was once my favorite ride. It was also the first ride I lost.

Sentimental Paleontology: Pop! Went the Weasel

Tomorrowland is a mess. This much is a largely agreed-upon fact in the Disneyland fan community. Saint Walt's Utopian Dream of the Future has Lost Its Way and become a ghastly mishmash of attractions with vague technology, science-fiction/fantasy, and even cartoon themes—mostly from IPs Disney has purchased, as opposed to creating in-house. It's probably true that the area is more inconsistent than ever before, but if we're completely honest with ourselves...we have to admit that “theme confusion” in Tomorrowland is nothing new. It arguably goes right back to Opening Day, when budget shortfalls forced Walt to fill Tomorrowland with corporate sponsors who had much more to say about what they were doing in the present than about what they would do in the future. But those exhibits at least had a scientific or technological bent that worked with the area.

So let's try a different approach. What was the last major Tomorrowland attraction to be straightforwardly futuristic rather than taking a sideways leap into science-fantasy or sillier? I think you could make a case for Space Mountain, which debuted in 1977.* It is first and foremost a roller coaster (in the dark!), but it appears to take place in a setting where people hop into tiny rockets and go zooming around the asteroids for fun. That's fanciful, but it's at the harder end of the science-fiction scale. Personal spacecraft launching from a space station are a believable future technology.

But even by the time Space Mountain made the scene, Tomorrowland already hosted a ride that had nothing to do with the future or outer space or science or technology.** That ride was America Sings, a brief history in four acts (plus an introduction and an epilogue) of American music as demonstrated by audio-animatronic cartoon animal characters. Described so brusquely, it almost sounds like a parody of Disney attractions, like the sort of thing that would be featured in an episode of The Simpsons lampooning the whole institution, while those in the know would be aware that all of those individual elements could be found in abundance throughout Disneyland, but never all in the same attraction.

But they were all in the same attraction. America Sings was sort of a distillation of Disney park tropes of its era. It was installed in 1974, timed for synergy with the upcoming American Bicentennial. But why in Tomorrowland? Even as a young child, I realized how weird this was. Why not, say, Main Street, which already had patriotism as a major theme?

The Kinds of Things You Can Expect

This is just a quick rundown of some of the categories of posts I will make as this blog continues. You'll see these in post titles as well as tags.

• After-Action Report: In which I review something currently at Disneyland. Not necessarily something brand-new, but something you could go see for yourself.

• Armchair Imagineering: In which I pretend I have any decision-making power over what gets built at Disneyland. Less obliquely, Armchair Imagineering is my term for something that most hardcore fans of the theme parks do from time to time, which is coming up with my own ideas for rides, shows, parades, shops, restaurants, and anything else that might be installed there.

• Imagineering Theory: In which I offer guidelines for people wanting to try their own hand at Armchair Imagineering. This category is probably me at my most pretentious.

• Kidnap the Magic: In which I describe a creative means of replicating that distinctive Disneyland vibe right in the comfort of your own home, garage, and/or yard.

• Sentimental Paleontology: In which I gush over something I miss from Disneyland's past.

That's all I can think of for now, but I'll probably come up with others. I have a lot of thoughts about Disneyland, after all.