Disneyland - Sweeping the Main Gate

In 1985, I worked several shifts as a sweeper at the Park's main entrance or Main Gate.

Long before Disney Walks and California Adventures and such, this area was a sunny gateway from the vast Disneyland parking lot to the Magic Kingdom.

There was also a large display of General Motors vehicles that were being given away as part of the Park's 30th anniversary celebration.



The famed "Gift Giver Extraordinaire" pumped out plush toys, free passes and even free GM cars to lucky guests at intervals ending in 30, 300, 3000, 30,000, etc. My own mother, bless her, won a large plush Mickey that year when visiting the Park. (Not quite a 1985 Pontiac Fiero, but I think the plush Mickey almost certainly had more headroom).

Today we venture back to the 1985 celebration and see Disneyland's own "honorary mayor," Jack Lindquist hosting a promotional ad for the Park.

As for me, I got to meander along the display of cars and check them out while doing my normal sweeping rounds. Before that display went up, Main Gate was a bit of a wasteland as far as a sweeping assignment. You would cruise in the entrance gate and cover the main courtyard (at the foot of the famous Mickey Mouse floral display below the Main Street Station of the Disneyland Railroad). It was obviously important to keep this area in top shape, since it was literally Disneyland's "front porch" and the first thing guests saw as they entered the Park.

But once a sweeper ventured outside the gates, it was hot, with some sparse shade from the planter trees and the Monorail track.

My territory ranged from the Kennel Club at the east side, all the way across the main entrance, to the picnic area, restrooms and lockers at the west side of the entrance. I remember the Disneyland Hotel tram had a stopped there at the west side, just below the Monorail track. A recorded loop would remind guests, that the area was for the Disneyland Hotel tram only, in a variety of languages, including Japanese. That recorded announcement got into your soul, I believe, if you worked more than three Main Gate sweeping shifts in a row---much like the famous "Remain seated please..." recording over at the Matterhorn.

I swear these messages would play in my head as I drifted to sleep when I got home from work.
Sometimes they still do.

It was great to meet and greet guests at the Main Entrance. On day shifts, you would see them coming into the Park, excited and full of expectations. Closing shifts would reveal the tattered, bedraggled masses, toting Mickey balloons, large lollipops, sleeping children, making their way to the parking lot trams and (hopefully) to their vehicles in the 100+ acre parking lot ahead of them. They were still generally in good moods---even after a full day at the Park.

Guest interaction made being a Cast Member something more than a minimum job in which you spent your day hunting for cigarette butts and popcorn with a pan and broom, or endlessly circling a jungle or a Storybookland as an attraction host. It made it clear you were part of a show. It made each day different. It got the endorphins flowing. It hooked me and kept me hooked, from the day I first met a Cast Member (as a small child) until I became one. That interaction is the two-way connection that turns a trip to a theme park into something much deeper and richer---one small moment at a time.

I truly hope and pray that each of you are able to enjoy a positive interaction with a Disney cast member many times over. For you Cast Members, my prayer is the same.

---Mike

Disneyland - Banana Ball

In 1986, I believe, I saw a flier announcing the "Banana Ball" while sitting in the break area upstairs behind the Adventure/Frontier offices.

The Westside used to sponsor an off-site party at the Orange County Fairgrounds which involved tent rental, large amounts of beer, and a large number of Cast Members from across the Park.

It was absolutely famous among Cast Members of the era, for reasons most of us are unable to remember (doh!).

Any sort of jungle or tropical-related dress was welcomed. I recall many hats with vegetation sprouting from them and leis and coconuts aplenty adorning most of the attendees.

It was our own not-so-secret, secret get away from the strictures of a summer schedule at the Park. No management. No unruly guests. No rotations.

Just us.

Oh, and there was beer.

I would liken it to a Westside Mardi Gras.

The Banana Ball was shut down years later. Probably for good reason---Disney did not want to even accidentally be associated with such an event, if for liability insurance reasons alone---not to mention the extreme potential for bad press.

I just remember it was fun, a little crazy and filled with people I knew and loved from the Park.
I can't seem to find my Banana Ball '86 t-shirt. Darn.

To all the West-siders who put on quite a party back in the mid-80s---Cheers!

---Mike

Dinseyland - A Few Favorite Spots for Taking a Break

There are plenty of places around the Park to enjoy some quiet relaxation, set apart from the maddening crowd.
I offer three for your consideration.

First: Thunder Trail.

Located between the exit of Big Thunder and the entrance to Thunder Ranch BBQ, this area is usually quite peaceful most any time of day, no matter the number of folks inside the Park.
The quietude is routinely interrupted by the screeching trains of Big Thunder and the spirited call of coyotes, but the ambiance is tranquil nonetheless.
Go ahead. Lean against the wood railing along the little lake.
Gaze up at the old tunnel across the lake where the little mine trains of Rainbow Ridge headed out for a tour of Rainbow Caverns and Nature's Wonderland.
Sit on a bench and watch Big Thunder's trains come around the final turn into Dinosaur Gap.
Watch the Mark Twain round the bend, bell ringing and steam whistle announcing its arrival at the Frontier Landing.
Enjoy some shade (and some personal space!).

Next: Carnation Plaza Gardens.

You can still grab an umbrella table here, tucked up near the western wall of Sleeping Beauty's Castle.
If there is no performance occurring on the Plaza Gardens stage, this area usually has plenty of seats, peace and quiet.
Of course, you'll have to truck in your own food and drink, since there is no longer a food service location at Plaza Gardens.
But you can get a cushioned seat in the shade, without a very large crowd crushing in on you.
You can gaze out at the Castle or up at the Matterhorn, or across the wooden bridge to the Hub. If you need a restroom, there's one just inside the access tunnel that leads to Rancho de Zocalo Restaurant.
Put your feet up.
Ah.
If you listen carefully, you can hear Snow White singing from her wishing well to the east.
It's also hard to miss Harold's roars emanating from the icy tunnels of the Matterhorn.

Third: Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln.

Hot?
Tired?
Had it?
Head to the Main Street Opera House and the air conditioned comfort of Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln and the Disneyland exhibit in the front lobby.
The show itself is well done and timeless.
But there is also seating in the nice, cool lobby area and several great exhibits to look at, including a Disney art gallery where you will see some of Kevin Kidney's work on display currently.
Indeed, even if you choose to forego a visit with the Great Emancipator, your time in the lobby will be well worth it.
You can also meander next door to the Mad Hatter and try on some goofy hats or mouse ears.
Once you've cooled down a bit and relaxed, you can stride back out into Town Square and renew your journey through the (original) Magic Kingdom.

Stay refreshed, my friends!

---Mike

Disneyland - Wally Boag

There is one experience I have had in life that I will forever cherish.
I saw Wally Boag perform at the Golden Horseshoe before he retired.
My family and I sat in the front row of tables and Wally came on stage as Pecos Bill.
He squirted us with his squirt gun and I will never forget how it seemed like he would spit out teeth FOREVER!
Wally was a part of the true Disneyland magic, and performed continuously in what remains one of the longest running live performance shows of all time!
He was a master of pantomime, sight gags AND fast talking one liners, all wrapped up into one person.
You can see glimpses of Wally on Youtube, so this is one memory of mine that we can all experience together! Of course, seeing him perform live was a treat that simply cannot translate through video, but you sure get the picture.
Wally, thanks for the laughs!

---Mike

Disneyland - Old Co-Workers

Let us take a look at some pictures from old co-workers past.

First off: Sam.

What a loafer.
Never saw him on the dock or on a boat, but he was always hanging out around Jungle.
Ran a head shop in south Orange County for a while.
Kept to himself, mostly.
He described himself as a "people person" nonetheless.
Also fancied himself a "thigh man," whatever that means.
Never wore a name tag (bad show).
Never said a word.
Still, he'd go out on a limb for you (sometimes, twice a week).
Kinda creepy to hang out with during lunch.

Next, are three from my sweeper days.
Piper was a dutiful sweeper and always had a smile. Unlike Sam, she was a people person who liked people for people's sake.
Don, on the other hand, was a fabulous "over the line" softball player. He had a great eye and could place the ball exactly where it needed to go during OTL tournaments. A master of Main Street restrooms, he once threatened to make a sweater from certain hair he swept up from the floor. Gack.
Finally, Curt. A true artist and comic rolled up into one. He had a Fantasyland shift in the summer of 1985. Raybans, perfect form with the pan and broom, and a winning sense of humor.
Went on to have his own TV show.

I'll keep the rest of pictures in the trunk for now, but I'm not afraid to use them if I have to!

Thank goodness for Disney Polaroid pictures!

I'll bet none will surface of a certain sweeper named Mike (circa 1984-85)!

---Adieu, for now!

---Mike

Disneyland - Jungle Break Area Blues

One thing has remained the same between my Jungle days of old and my most recent stint on the attraction last year: the break area.

It is at the end of a little corridor behind the old stage of the Tahitian Terrace and the Aladdin show. It consists of a few discarded chairs, a trash can or two, a computer terminal (for accessing the Cast Deployment System - "CDS"), and a walkway next to a railing next to the Jungle boat storage area. You can see the storage area to your right as you round the final bend of the river just past Trader Sam. Two large doors swing open to allow access to the back area. When they open, if you look hard enough and believe strongly enough, several skippers at various stages of ennui will appear, lounging for their break on old chairs or leaning on the railing.

Hey. It was our break area.
Not perfect, but a small oasis in the Jungle.
You bumped there from your rotation. Perhaps you literally ran from there to the Inn Between and back in order to get a quick drink or snack. Perhaps you hit the vending machines located near the "dancing natives" in the access alley behind Main Street.
You would share a quick hello with fellow skippers.
"Any good boats today?"
"Nah. Pretty dead."
"Is that because of your sorry spiel?"
"Shut up. Your last boatload looked like the cast of a George Romero flick."
"Really? The last laugh I heard from one of your boats was YOU laughing at your own jokes."
"Yeah, thanks. Last night I had a great group. They loved me!"
"It's nice when relatives come to the Park, ain't it?"
"Jerk."
"Novice."
"Weasel."
"Rookie."
"Rookie? I've been on this attraction for six months straight! I hear natives chanting in my head at night!"
"Six months? Rookie."
"How long have you been on the Jungle?"
"Well...I started in 1987..."
Shocked silence.
Of course, there are a couple of old skippers who have truly been on the Jungle since the 1980s. If you should see Randy or an old foreman named Gerry on the dock, dust them off because they have literally been working the attraction for more than a quarter century.
Talk about old jokes!

Anyway...

The break area is not glamorous, but it suits its purpose.
There you find a few quiet moments during your shift.
You actually get off your feet for a while (heck, between skippering the boat and working the dock, you are on foot for 6-7 hours per shift! No wonder I lost all that weight when I returned. I might have to publish a book: "The Jungle Cruise Diet."---I'll let you know).
Most breaks consisted of a diet Coke and bad vending machine fare.
With the advent of cell phones, most skippers sat and texted or played games. Back in the '80s, we would while away the time by teasing each other or playing practical jokes. Most such hijinks are strictly verboten in today's Disneyland.
Ah, workers' compensation and the Labor Code, such grand enhancements to the modern workplace.
No more cups of water poured down the back.
No more cigarette loads (tiny sticks of white gunpowder strategically inserted into fellow cast member's smokes when they weren't looking).
No lying in wait as a group for the next guy coming off on break (man, we scared the hell out of so many skippers!).
Not so much psychological warfare between skippers (good natured, but devastating nonetheless).
Nope.
That is not to say the banter died completely.
We still would try to joke around a bit.
But in today's workplace---shackled by political correctness, "hostile work environment" claims, the dangers of a joke being misunderstood or taken wrongly, etc., some of the fun simply had to go to the wayside.
The real fun typically started off site, after one's shift, at "Charley Brown's" or "Acapulco" or the pub or wherever.
This is a family blog, so we will leave the off-site shenanigans for another venue, perhaps.

To the poor old Jungle break area and the skippers sitting there right this moment: Cheers!!

For those of you who did not enjoy your trip with me today, the address and telephone number of our complaint department is right over there on the wall to our right as we approach the dock. Feel free to comment there as often as you wish. (You Jungle Cruise lovers know exactly what I'm talking about---if not, take a look at the writing on the wall over there the next time you come to the end of a cruise through the Jungle).

Now it's time to say goodbye to all our company.

Bye.

---Mike

Disneyland - Martinis over New Orleans Square

If you do not know about Club 33, you are reading the wrong blog.

If you've never been there, my sincere regrets, but allow me to share a few choice moments from one of my visits.

I made it to the Club as a guest when a court reporting firm my law firm used told us that they had a membership and could get us in whenever we wanted because we were good customers.

I took them up on it as often as I could.

On at least one such occasion, we were seated at a table by the window that overlooked the Cafe Orleans, Haunted Mansion and the Frontierland train station.

I ordered a Ketel One martini (up and dirty, thank you, with three olives) and perused the menu. The food I ordered is not important.

The drink.

The drink came to me on a platter.
A bright young gentleman in a Club 33 waiter's costume gently lifted it from platter to a cocktail napkin on the table to my right.
The classically-shaped glass glistened with condensation.
It had been chilled perfectly.
The contents of the glass sparkled like Monterey Bay.
The olives sat almost frozen in the translucent, syrupy vodka.
They were skewered with a clear, plastic "toothpick" that looked as though it had come straight out of Superman's Fortress of Solitude.
As the waiter left, I was alone with my thoughts for a moment.
Here I was, a guest in Club 33.
The decor was perfect---think Haunted Mansion for the living.
The tablecloth was white (of course).
All my other Disneyland experiences flashed before me: the sun, the colors, the Mickey Mouse balloons, the smell of Pirates of the Caribbean, the exhaust of Jungle boats, the whirl of teacups, the scrape of pan and broom after a cigarette butt, you get the picture.
None came near the bliss of lifting that frosty glass and raising a toast to Walt.
The salty sip of olive juice and the cool bite of vodka mingled in my brain with the view from the window.
I looked down on this area of New Orleans Square that I had so often seen from below.
Yet I still felt a part of it.
I still felt the "Disneyland-ishness" of it all.
All those times in crowded lines, amid screaming children, or dumping trash (or scooping elephant poop), or waving a flashlight at a throng, they all crystallized like the flakes of ice in my Martini.
Here was a moment at Disneyland I never thought I'd see: a cool drink in an elegant venue right in the middle of the Park!
Let me tell you, Jungleteers, THAT was worth the price of admission.
Here's to Club 33!
More importantly, here's to Disneyland!
Many happy returns!

---Mike

Disneyland - In the crowd

You've been in a crowd before.

Ever tried to control one?

With a pink plastic-coned flashlight?

And a Mickey Mouse nametag?

It is an experience feared by many and savored by a few.

Today's post is a brief reflection on guest control duty---and times spent as a guest, too.
Fireworks.
Parades.
Fantasmic.
World of Color (okay, it's at DCA, but it helps paint the picture).

As a guest, you surely have found yourself in the middle of a mass of people, each staking out their square foot of space in the hope of getting a VIP view of Tinkerbell or of Mickey fighting off Maleficent.
You have been gently coaxed and herded into specially roped off seating areas and firmly guided out of walkways in the middle of which you have vainly tried to plant yourself.
You have seen the scurrying cast members strategically stationed about you, smiling and waving their plastic batons or coned flashlights: "Right this way, folks! Please keep to your right, this is a walkway only!"

You sense at some point that the chaos about you has an odd rhythm or flow, almost a structure.
Your eyebrow raises and you think (in your best Haunted Mansion Paul Frees "Ghost Host" voice inside your head), "I am surrounded by 20,000 people, in the middle of Main Street, with no windows and no doors."
Talk about a "chilling challenge."
You are in a Disney flash mob.
This is almost anarchy.
Worse yet, as the parade/fireworks/show time nears, the crowd gets agitated and restless all around you.
People who have sat for two hours to get a good spot become like raving chihuahuas protecting the laps of their masters from anyone who approaches---you know the type.
The folks who wander up at 9:23 p.m. and wonder why there aren't any places left for them and their six children to see the fireworks.
The persons who feign ignorance of all language and Western customs and boldly step under the rope to stand directly in front of you.
The people with sharp and rude elbows who worm in on your patch of personal space, blissfully ignorant of your slowly boiling irritation.
Those with tall hats, or simply tall in stature, who appear at the last moment and slip in front of you to take in the fireworks---which now appear to you like sparklers erupting from someone's head.
The dads in front of you who suddenly shoulder their twelve-year-olds "so they can see the fireworks"---"There, honey, can you see now?"
The people who step on your fingers while you sit on the curb or ground.
"Oh, sorry. Didn't see you there."
Really?
What, does Disneyland make me invisible?
Sure, it's the Magic Kingdom, but...
...I'M RIGHT FRICKIN' IN FRONT OF YOU!!
Oh.
No.
That cold sticky dampness can only mean someone has spilled their Coke on you.
Honestly?
You know, they have LIDS for those things!
"Sorry."
Sometimes you feel like Steve "Neil Page" Martin stuck in that hotel room with John "Del O. Griffith" Candy in "Planes, Trains & Automobiles."
The underwear in the sink.
The six pack that exploded on the bed.
The Cracker Jacks in the sheets.
The slow boil.

Then there's the kids.
Charming, polite, quiet and innocent.
Yeah...those ones are sitting on the OTHER side of the street.

You seem to always be stuck with Damien, Omen II, and his little sister Gehenna (and their parents).

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! NOOOOOOOO!!! I want POPCORN."

"Mommy can't get you popcorn, sweetie, there's too many people and we'll lose our spot."

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! BWAAAAAAAAAAAAA! IWANTPOPCORN! IWANTPOPCORN!"

"Damien, Mommy has some Goldfish. Do you want some Goldfish?"

"HIAYAHAYAHHHHHH, NOOOOOOOOOO, GAAAAAAAAAAA-------I WANT POPCORN!!"

"Here, have some Go-Gurt from this morning."

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. WAAAAHAAAAWAAA!! POPCORN! POPCORN! POPCORN!"

"Damien get off the ground, you're kicking the nice man. Mommy will give you some of her Coke."

"PPPPPPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPCORRRNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!"

(The Father) "You want Daddy to hold you?"

"NNNOOOOOOOOO!!! POPPPPPCOOOORRRRRNNNNN!!!! BWAAAAHHHH!!!"

(The Mother) "Damien, let Daddy hold you."

"WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!@#$!!!"

"Here, Mommy has gum, do you want gum?"

"NNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!! WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!"

(Gehenna) "Damien got snot on me from crying!!!! WAAHHHHAHHAHHAH!!!!"

"Oh, Damien, now you've upset Gehenna!! Do you want Daddy to go get you both popcorn?"

You know how it generally plays out from here. (Is there ANYONE left on earth who can say no to a child? I mean, besides me).

I digress.

Where was I?

Oh, the crowd.

Guest Control (which is but a single consonant sound away from "Pest Control") involved tactfully and tactically inserting oneself into the foregoing situation, with the hope, goal and intent of getting people who are at the end of their collective theme park ropes to actually listen to you and move, sit or stand where you need them to move, sit or stand---while keeping them happy, or at least keeping them from killing each other.

Try it sometime.

Then, try doing it with courtesy.

Disney Cast Members are a special breed.

Indeed, the Flashlight is mightier than the sword, especially when wielded at the Hub by a seasoned veteran of Guest Control.

It all comes down to:

• Tone of voice.
• Authority.
• Clear body language.
• Stance.
• Smile.
• Firm footing.
• Iron will.
• Grit.
• Determination.
• Impeccable timing.
• Delicate statesmanship.
• A keen eye.
• The ability to anticipate a situation.
• A sense of humor.
• A visible costume that helps distinguish you from the crowd.
• A voice that carries without being entirely irritating.
• Eye contact.
• Warmth---FIRM warmth, but warmth nonetheless.
• Coned flashlight.

I will leave you with that for now.
Please keep this area clear. This is a walkway. If you want to watch the fireworks, you will need to move under the rope.
The fireworks start at 9:25 p.m., but get here EARLY.
No, you cannot have my nametag.
Sure, I'll take your picture.
If you have a clear view of the Castle, you should see everything just fine.
Sorry, we can't have you sit there, this is an emergency walkway that we must keep clear. There is excellent viewing in the street.
What's that, sir? The popcorn cart?
It's at the southern end of the Hub there and you'd better hurry!
Sounds like Damien over there sure wants some...

---Mike

Disney World---Polynesian Pool Pining...

Today's post is dedicated to pining for our times at Disney's "other" theme park in Florida, and, more specifically, the Polynesian Resort.
Even more specifically, I pine for the Volcano Pool and its white sand beach overlooking the Seven Seas Lagoon and the majestic Cinderella's Castle.
These photographs from our last trip (alas two long years ago) pre-date the global economic collapse. The five of us were able to fly east. We checked into the Polynesian in mid-June 2008. A dig through the Jungle is 101 archives will turn up a report from our trip back then. Happily, we received an unexpected upgrade to a Concierge level room as part of the Year of A Million Dreams promotion or something like that.

This meant wine, cheese and beer in the evening and free cereal and coffee in the mornings. It meant a lagoon view room in the Hawaii longhouse. It meant a short walk to the Volcano Pool.For an Adventureland and Tiki fan like me, the Polynesian and its grounds are a true paradise.

Hawaii is nice, but last I checked it has no FastPasses and is utterly devoid of any semblance of a Disney theme park. There is no Monorail on any of Hawaii's islands that can whisk you to EPCOT or the Magic Kingdom. Such a luxury can only be found at the Polynesian, nestled as it is near the Transportation and Ticket Center ("TTC") and also along the Magic Kingdom Monorail track.But the Volcano pool is its own mini destination. It shimmers with crystal blue waters along its own white sand beach. It has a water slide that goes through a volcano. It is a dream for swimmers young and old alike---but especially five and ten year old daughters and a 13-ish son. When the Florida heat and humidity took it out of you by mid-day, the Volcano pool was a Monorail ride away, where you could splash, hot and tired, into a cool, tropical dream come true.

Oh. And it has the Barefoot Bar.

A Mai Tai with a float of 151, please. Keep the change.

Dear Volcano Pool:

I miss you.
Wish I were there.
With an umbrella firmly planted in the pineapple wedge at the edge of my drink.
Write if you get a chance.
Better yet, just wave.

Fondly,

Mike

And to close out today's post, here is a shot of a humidified former skipper, lost in a far off corner of an Animal Kingdom in 2008.
A flash of photographic proof that you can take the skipper out of the jungle, but you'll never get the jungle out of the skipper.
Nice outfit.
Heck, all it needs is a name tag and a boat.

Stay fabulous, readers (or at least stay awake),

---Mike

Disneyland - Jungle Cruise - A telegram from Mike

Jungle is 101 fans!

Stop.

This is Mike.

Stop.

Happy to report, still alive.

Stop.

Presently held in small hut.

Stop.

Natives outside dance continuously in a circle.

Stop.

Have to go to the bathroom. (Not me, the natives.)

Stop.

Promise to post something substantive soon.

Stop.

Must get past Schweitzer Falls and the piranha first.

Stop.

Oh. Trader Sam says hi.

Stop.

Stopped by his village cafe for lunch. Prices have gone way up.

Stop.

He wanted to charge me an arm and a leg.

Stop.

Please, somebody make me stop.

Love you all.

Miss you.

Wish you were here. This hut's lonely and those natives' incessant war chant is starting to drive me a bit wacky---er, um, wackier.

---Mike