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Part of Orlando's evident lack of a psychological core comes from the fact that the area has never had any control over the bonanza that has given it definition. In 1967, Walt Disney persuaded the Florida legislature to give him absolute power over his newly purchased domain in the form of a government of his own, seated on the Disney property, with its own fire department, taxation authority and building codes. As a courtesy every year, Disney issues to the surrounding counties an official communication called the "State of Our World" address, which spells out the theme park's plans. The only people allowed to vote in elections affecting the entire Disney property, officially christened the Reedy Creek Improvement District, are its landowners, which means Disney and a handful of others chosen by the company. "They could build a nuclear plant out there, and there'd be nothing we could do about it," Commissioner Donegan says.
Disneydom is used to such hyperbole. Company officials say it's the price the firm pays for being the big man in town -- the largest taxpayer ($23 million a year), the largest employer (33,000 workers) and the largest contributor to Florida's tourism industry. In sum, it is the lure for 60% of the 40 million tourists who dump more than $26 billion into the state economy every year. To charges that Disney is dangerously omnipotent, Disney executive Nunis has a firm retort: "But what have we done wrong? When we came, this was a community that was dying because young people were leaving. Today you name an industry and it now exists in central Florida."
Nonetheless, the county has begun to chafe at Disney's power. In 1988, Orange County commissioners threatened to challenge the company's self- governing status after Disney announced that it would double the number of hotel rooms it owns inside the park area, add a convention center, a six- nightclub Pleasure Island with a 10-screen movie theater, and a water park. Disney was locking up all the tourists on its property, the commissioners complained. Disney settled in the summer of 1989 by agreeing to pay the county . $14 million to help defray the costs of widening roads off the park site. In exchange the commissioners agreed not to challenge Disney's dominion for seven more years.
Everyone seemed happy with the deal until Disney shortly thereafter announced its plan for the '90s: seven more hotels, 29 new attractions, 19,000 more employees and a fourth amusement park. There were cries of betrayal from downtown Orlando. Then the dispute between Disney and the county took yet another turn.
Every year the state of Florida allows regional governments to sell a limited amount of tax-exempt bonds to finance local projects. Last January $57.7 million worth of this funding became available to governments in central Florida on a first-come, first-serve basis. Despite an announcement 25 years earlier that the use of such money for private projects is "repugnant to us," Disney has regularly stood in line for the offerings. This time the company was at the front of the line: it took all $57.7 million to upgrade the Disney World sewer system, just when Orange County wanted the funding to build low-income housing.