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For more than 100 years, amusement parks have brought no-frills thrills to families in search of a good time at a reasonable cost. But by the early % 1950s, these Coney Islands of the Mind were crumbling along with the cities they served. Then Disney, who had already revolutionized the movie business with his Mickey Mouse short films and feature-length cartoons, conceived a new show-biz hybrid called the theme park. No rickety roller coasters, no sucker- fleecing games of chance, no sideshow tawdriness for Uncle Walt. At his place every path would be as spotless as Formica; every doorway would be scaled to just above kid-size; every "attraction" (not ride) would be sweet enough for "guests" (not customers) of all ages to enjoy, a little. By creating an outdoor family entertainment to complement his family films, Disney might even do something for the fissuring American family unit, while promoting his own movie product. Disneyland was capitalism with a human face --or a smiling rodent's--and its grand opening was set for July 17, 1955.
Even the mastermind recalled it as "Black Sunday." Everything went wrong. The glut of visitors turned the Santa Ana Freeway into a seven-mile parking lot. Refreshment stands ran out of food and drink for the nearly 30,000 invited guests and thousands more ticket counterfeiters who stormed the gates. Rides broke down almost immediately. A gas leak forced the shuttering of Fantasyland. The day's corrosive heat sent women's spiked heels sinking into the asphalt on Main Street. Nor was this a debacle to be covered over with Tinker Bell dust; the whole sorry spectacle was broadcast on a live TV special co-hosted by Ronald Reagan. WALT'S DREAM A NIGHTMARE, proclaimed the Los Angeles Tidings.
But Walt, who had sunk his fortune into this $17 million mousehole, was not done wheeling and dreaming. Disney's name, the most trusted in the movie business, reassured visitors. By Labor Day the park had already greeted its millionth paying guest, and after a year the attendance was 3.8 million. Last August, Disneyland recorded its 250 millionth admission. "We were the first theme park," says Frank Wells, Disney's president and chief operating officer. "With the vision of Walt Disney, we brought the standards of the park, our courtesy and cleanliness, to new levels, and we built it on an unprecedented scale. And it's not like a film that you go to only once; you can enjoy the rides a second or third time. All in all, it's a terrific premise for a business."
And, economically, a premise fraught with risk. A souped-up amusement park, Six Flags over Texas, and its spin-offs in Georgia, New Jersey and California have flourished, but many others have floundered. Freedomland U.S.A., a theme park in the Bronx, N.Y., devoted to American history and shaped like a map of the U.S., opened in 1960 and closed four years later at a loss of $20 million. Houston's Hanna-Barbera Land, a pizazzy play park for children, closed last September after two years. Half a dozen theme attractions, from Stars Hall of Fame to Circus World, have failed within the shadow of Walt Disney World.