Iconic status secure as Disneyland reaches 50 Mickey Mouse empire thrives on nostalgia

May 22, 2005|Kathleen Sharp, Globe Correspondent

SANTA BARBARA, Calif. -- Once upon a time, brothers Walt and Roy Disney started a business producing filmed cartoons. For years, the company grew in size and popularity. At one point, the brothers decided to turn an idea into a $17 million amusement park in Orange County, replete with an idealized Main Street and a utopian Tomorrowland.

When the two brothers opened Disneyland on July 17, 1955, 28,000 visitors were greeted by traffic jams, oppressive heat, and dry drinking fountains. It was such an awful experience, the brothers called it Black Sunday.

But today, two generations and 50 years later, a half-billion people have made their pilgrimage to this commercial mecca, transforming a 160-acre development in Anaheim that was once orange groves into an American cultural icon, with clones in Florida, Tokyo, France, and one opening soon in Hong Kong.

''To many people, idealism in America is still expressed by Disney," said William Warner, a professor of English who teaches on media culture at the University of California at Santa Barbara. ''The Main Street, as based on the small town of his early life and [Frontierland], reflecting the pastoral romance of the Old West, are done in an upbeat and optimistic way and engage the American wish to return to something more primal and authentic."

Not surprisingly, Disney officials are more blunt. ''Disneyland has become a national treasure. It's a tradition that's been passed from one generation to the next, almost like the tooth fairy," said Duncan Wardle, a vice president of Disneyland Resorts.

To underscore that point, Walt Disney Co. this month kicked off an 18-month-long celebration of its golden anniversary, drawing crowds not only of children, but nostalgic grown-ups as well. Visitors stood in lines to try the new rides like Buzz Lightyear's Astro Blasters and buy commemorative merchandise such as gold-colored mouse ears. Traditionally, the park sells 80 percent of its mouse ears to children, and 20 percent to adults. But at the kickoff week, adults bought 80 percent of the ears, and depleted the supply, said Wardle.

Depending on whom you talk to, Disneyland is either a safe escape for a conflict-ridden world or an opiate for the unthinking, unimaginative masses.

''Every time I see the Matterhorn [ride], I can't help but think of childhood memories," said Karen Rohde, a suburban mother of two. ''I used to visit Disneyland as a girl, and I still feel its magic."

Charles Wolfe, professor of film studies at UC-Santa Barbara, sees it differently. ''Disney's merchandising culture has constrained and limited the imagination, not only of children, but of the public in general."

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