Worlds of Fun - Part 1: A Tale of Two Gates

July 24, 2019 by Dave Gottwald

Worlds of Fun, located in Kansas City, Missouri, was something of a destination of convenience. I had purchased an annual pass for all the Cedar Fair parks for my planned multi-day trips to Cedar Point and Kings Island, and I was looking for other parks owned by the chain which I could factor into my return drive.

To that list I added Michigan’s Adventure and Valleyfair just outside Minneapolis. Worlds of Fun also happened to be close enough along my way, and allowed me stop by Walt Disney’s childhood home of Marceline, Missouri as I came into town.

Again, my approach is to visit these places “fresh” and to not do much in the way of research ahead of time. All I knew was that the park opened in the early seventies, had geographic themes, and was scooped up by Cedar Fair in the mid-nineties.

Worlds of Fun, satellite view. Click for link. Map data: Ⓒ Google.

As evident in this satellite image, Worlds of Fun is lushly landscaped, and I found this to be one of the park’s strengths, both as visual charm and as relieve from the summer humidity of Kansas City. The park was designed by Southern California firm R. Duell & Associates, who also developed Six Flags Over Texas, the Great America parks for Marriott, and many other such developments.

What would another Cedar Fair park be without a hyperbolic map design? As usual, proportion (particularly the heights of various attractions) is played fast and loose. The park also appears to be far less lush than it actually is.

Worlds of Fun 1973 souvenir park map poster.

Contrast that with the delectable illustration style of the park’s maps from the early years. So rich you can almost taste it. And so green! The orientation of this representation is also very, very different from today’s park maps (something I’ll get into).

Worlds of Fun original hot air balloon marketing.

Know What I Mean, Verne?

Worlds of Fun was the brainchild of Lamar Hunt (noted professional sports icon, founder and owner of the Kansas City Chiefs and his business partner Jack Stedman. The meta-theme for the park upon opening was the epic motion picture Around the World in 80 Days (1956) which was adapted from the 1873 Jules Verne novel of the same name. The plot that drives the film is a wager between a rich Victorian Englishman, Phileas Fogg, and four fellow members of his private club that he can circumnavigate the globe in eighty days. Despite my love of Verne (especially Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea and its 1954 Disney film adaptation) this struck me as odd. I’d never seen this film—in fact, I’d barely even heard of it. But apparently it was nominated for eight Academy Awards and won five, including Best Picture. Since the park opened in 1973, some fifteen years after the win, this must have felt like a safe bet by the park’s investors and designers; most opening day guests would surely remember the film.

The original logo for Worlds of Fun features a hot air balloon, as Fogg begins his journey by departing from Paris in one. Since no such balloon appears in Verne’s source novel, this iconic usage links the park explicitly to the Oscar-winning film adaptation.

We chose the large, multicolored ascension balloon for our symbol because it represents fun, adventure and travel reminiscent of the movie, Around the World in 80 Days. These are the things we want Worlds of Fun to represent. — Jack Steadman, 1971.

Worlds of Fun original logomark.

If the typeface here feels super early seventies, well it is. And if it further reminds you of The Partridge Family (1970–74), then good eye. The custom lettering for the original Worlds of Fun wordmark is based on the same Art Nouveau script used for the titles of that show: Kalligraphia. Although first cut in 1902 by German type founder Otto Weisert, Kalligraphia experienced a huge revival when it was converted to phototypesetting in the mid-sixties.

The Partridge Family opening title card, 1970. — *The Partridge Family* opening title card, 1970.

That’s why even today we associate this script with hippies, Woodstock, and, well that Partridge Family titles sequence. Many of those German Art Nouveau faces came back in a big way in the phototype era, and have communicated the seventies ever since. The wordmark for a nineties television take on the decade, That 70s Show, was set in another such face designed by Otto Weisert: Arnold Boecklin.

Making an Entrance

As I approached Worlds of Fun from the parking lot, I was struck by the overall grandeur and compelling design of the entry plaza. It felt brand new, and in fact, it was. When I visited the park in July of 2017, this new gate structure had just been unveiled for the season. The entire plaza and its buildings were executed by Bleck & Bleck Architects of Libertyville, Illinois. The firm had already designed several projects for Six Flags Great America in their home state prior to being hired by Worlds of Fun.

Old Billingsgate Market. Bill Rand/flickr. — Old Billingsgate Market. *Bill Rand/flickr*.

What’s surprising to me is that the design actually reinforces the park’s original theme; the opening setting for Around the World in 80 Days is London. As the firm notes on their website:

The entrance gate’s design was inspired by European architecture that followed the industrial revolution. We took cues from London’s Billingsgate Market, designed in the Italianate style in 1875 by City architect Sir Horace Jones.

I also loved the large iconic hot air balloon statue placed prominently in the center of the entry plaza. This was a smart marketing move, as Bleck & Bleck explain that “a colorful new hot air balloon structure provides the perfect backdrop for your first social media image of the day.”

In the early years, a similar (much less detailed) balloon once stood as guests approached the Worlds of Fun parking lot in their cars. So despite the park’s name being rendered in the more generic Cedar Fair chain style, this is still a wonderful touch and an appropriate nod to the park’s history.

Right after walking through the new plaza and gate, however, there are immediate thematic collisions. Something doesn’t quite feel right. In fact, “Plaza Gifts” used to be a more nondescript arcade before being repurposed as a convenient souvenir stop on your way out of the park after a long day.

Worlds of Fun 1997 souvenir park map poster.

This is because since opening day in 1973 until the late nineties, Worlds of Fun had two park entrances, shown here in the bottom left and right corners of this map. The original main park entrance plaza, lower right, was served by trams from the parking lot. The secondary “back” entrance, lower left, was accessed on foot. It was secondary in consideration, and thus secondary in design and presentation. Just a back door, a quick way to get to the parking lot (and avoid potentially long lines for the tram).

Worlds of Fun, original primary park entrance.

Americana Plaza

Worlds of Fun opened with the following lands suggesting locations visited in Around the World in 80 Days: Americana, Europa, Orient, Africa, and Scandinavia. As the park was designed by Randall Duell and his team, these lands are organized around his Duell Loop model, with backstage areas located in the middle.

A sub-area was added to Americana in 1976 called “Bicentennial Square.” Two seasons later “Aerodrome” followed, also an addition to Americana. This became "Pandamonium!" in 1987, then a decade later was transformed into Berenstain Bear Country. The bears only lasted three seasons, until this part of Americana became Camp Snoopy for the 2001 season after Cedar Fair purchased the park. It was subsequently fleshed out and expanded as Planet Snoopy a decade later.

The primary park entrance in 1973 was at Americana, being that you “began” your global tour here in the United States, and then “navigated” to other more exotic locales. The geography of the rest of the original park layout roughly makes sense, as Africa is the furthest from this main entrance.

Vintage postcard, S.S. Henrietta (1973–1998). — Vintage postcard, *S.S. Henrietta* (1973–1998).

The ticket booths for Worlds of Fun at this main entrance sat just outside one of the park’s three ships (all of which have since been removed). Two of these ships were actually constructed by MGM and used in film productions—Cotton Blossom, a sternwheel paddle boat built for Show Boat (1951), and Victrix, a full scale four-masted schooner best remembered from All the Brothers Were Valiant (1953). Both were purchased at a backlot auction in 1971 along with other props used in the theming of Worlds of Fun.

I thought this was strange, as Around the World in 80 Days was produced by United Artists, not MGM. But I guess they weren’t selling off anything interesting that year. Thus this third ship, the S.S. Henrietta, is only a copy of the ship which UA built for the film. And it’s a very loose interpretation at that.

Promotional still for Around the World in 80 Days. — Promotional still for *Around the World in 80 Days*.

Here is the Henrietta as it appeared in the film.

Vintage postcard, original Americana main park entrance (1973–1998). — Vintage postcard, original *Americana* main park entrance (1973–1998).

And here’s what was built for Worlds of Fun.

Vintage postcard, original Americana plaza. — Vintage postcard, original *Americana* plaza.

Upon having their tickets taken and either cruising around or directly across the deck of the S.S. Henrietta via two planked walkways, guests originally encountered Americana Plaza. From the promotional and souvenir literature I’ve tracked down online, the idea was for guests to experience an early twentieth century Kansas City. From a 1973 Worlds of Fun brochure:

Your journey begins as you cross the gangplank of the S.S. Henrietta, Jules Vern’s [sic] famous steamship from “Around the World in 80 Days.” From there you’ll travel back in time to the rambunctious frontier and the gaslight gaiety of old Kansas City.

Because of the removal of the S.S. Henrietta and the Americana entry in 1998, guest orientation to the plaza today is essentially backwards. It’s sort of like only being able to walk down Main Street USA in reverse. As such, I really had no idea what I was actually looking at, emerging from behind the Cinnabon location pictured at the far left from the Orient area.

The architectural details appear to have been futzed with too, and sport garish paint schemes that scream “late nineties outlet mall.” I couldn’t find any historical documentation for the plaza being called “Front Street” so this is likely a newer designation.

At the park’s primary information booth I was able to chat it up with some young cast members about the changes to Worlds of Fun over the years, and the attractions which have been retired.

Worlds of Fun park guide maps, 1998 season (top) and 1999 season (bottom).

Among the things I learned was that the original entrance plaza area was converted for the 1999 season into the queue and grounds for a gasoline go-kart ride, Grand Prix Raceway. This lasted until 2013, and the following year a Mondial Windseeker swing ride called Steelhawk opened in its place (having been relocated from Knott’s Berry Farm after two incidents forced its closure).

This standalone Coca-Cola location was built in 2014 approximately where the S.S. Henrietta used to be. It was formerly the ticketing location for the Grand Prix Raceway which utilized some of the Henrietta’s original framing. These last remains of the ship were bulldozed completely to make room for Coke.

All of this is to say that the park’s layout is confounding for today’s guests. The S.S. Henrietta and Americana Plaza were designed to set the stage for a tour around the world (in about 8 hours), but now we come in through the back door and start in Scandinavia (which wasn’t even visited in Around the World in 80 Days) with options to head into Africa or Orient. Americana gets encountered last, and is now the “back” of the park. It’s quite a jumble. I’ll detailed these other themed areas next.

Continued in Part 2.

The "Real" Main Street U.S.A.

June 13, 2019 by Dave Gottwald

Marceline is a small town in northern Missouri some 90 miles from Kansas City with a population of less than 2,500 people. Initially this stop was not on my itinerary, but then I saw that it was pretty much directly between Valleyfair in Minnesota (where I had just left) and Worlds of Fun (where I was headed). A bit of a rural excursion off the interstate, but worth it I thought. Worth it because this is where Walt Disney lived with his family between the ages of four and nine.

So what? Well it’s quite possible that Walt overstated the influence of Marceline (nostalgic, rose-colored glasses and all), but he talked about his time there a great deal. In a letter to the town’s newspaper in 1938 he claimed, “To tell the truth, more things of importance happened to me in Marceline than have happened since—or are likely to in the future.”

Marceline in 1905. Missouri Historical Society. — Marceline in 1905. *Missouri Historical Society.*

What and Where is Main Street?

Brian Burnes, Robert W. Butler, and Dan Viets note in their Walt Disney's Missouri: The Roots of a Creative Genius (2002):

Wherever you look in Walt Disney’s art there are echoes of Marceline, from Disney’s tremendous affection for small-town, turn-of-the-century life to the boyhood experiences that were echoed and in expanded in his animated cartoons. In fact, Disney’s concept of what it means to be an American was directly inspired by those five seminal years of his childhood. In the pre-television years of this century, millions around the globe got their impressions of America from our movies. And when they saw Walt Disney’s movies, they were getting a huge dose of Marceline, Missouri.

Cinematic and Americana influence aside, however, the greatest impression Marceline made on Walt Disney was spatial. And that impression has spread across the world as part of the thematic design of the Disney Parks, from Paris to Hong Kong.

Marceline, satellite view. Click for link. Map data: Ⓒ Google.

“Main Street” as a concept developed after the Civil War and looks a bit different depending on which part of the United States you’re in. Marceline in particular is typical of one model that became extremely common during the 1890s–1910s, especially from the Midwest through the Great Plains to the Rockies. And this model is a cornerstone of American identity. As historian and cultural geographer Richard V. Francaviglia asserts in Main Street Revisited: Time, Space and Image Building in Small-town America (1996):

As it evolved in time and space, Main Street became the commercial and social heart of the American small town; as it developed in our collective thought, Main Street became an integral part of American culture. Because many people left small towns in the early to mid-twentieth century, these places became repositories of memories.

What Francaviglia is on about is that because daily life since the turn of the twentieth century has changed so dramatically, Main Street (as it was designed then) continues to be a source of nostalgia in American culture. It is a romantic place, a simple place, a safe place—as well as a slower place. A place before the automobile and highways and traffic and smartphones and fast food and even faster lives.

Vintage postcard of Marceline, probably around the time that Walt left.

Marceline was founded in 1887 by the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway. The Disney family only lived in the town for a relatively short period of time, arriving in April 1906 and leaving for Kansas City in the summer of 1911. The primary downtown drag actually wasn’t called “Main Street” but rather Kansas Avenue.

Many of the buildings I found look very much the same as those times. This vantage is nearly identical to the postcard above. Both feature the Zurcher Building to the right.

Le Musée du Disney

A few blocks away off to the side of downtown is the Walt Disney Hometown Museum. Unfortunately I was passing through town on a Sunday in the early evening, and it had already closed. The museum is housed in the town’s former Santa Fe Railroad Depot which has been meticulously restored. It had been vacant since about 1975, and when the museum began organizing in 1998, the city was in their seventh year of trying to raise the money to buy it. The railroad wanted to tear it down, but thanks in no small part to four generous locals, it was saved. The Walt Disney Hometown Museum subsequently opened in 2001.

It’s an appropriate site, not only because this served as both the Marceline port of entry and departure for young Walt, but also because it reflects his lifelong love of trains (which became an integral component of the Disney theme park model).

The entrance area is paved with bricks presumably paid for by museum donors.

Members of the Disney family contributed funds, and most of the items in the museum’s collection were provided by the family of Ruth Flora Disney Beecher, Walt's younger sister (1903–1995). More than 3,000 individual artifacts, actually.

Although part of me wishes I had arrived early enough in the day to visit the museum, the other part is grateful for exploring Marceline without the benefit (or coloring) of interpretation. I can only assume a museum such as this is quite hagiographic, and no doubt also filled with apocryphal accounts of things which “inspired” Walt or “provided the basis” for such and such in his creative works. For example, I later read that longtime Marceline resident Rush Johnson once claimed that a slag pile on the Disney family farm was the source for Disneyland’s Matterhorn. Not likely!

Ripley, Believe it or Not

A few steps from the museum is Ripley Park at the northeast end of downtown. A nearby sign reads:

In 1898, the Santa Fe Railway donated land in the center of the city for a park. Walt Disney played in this very park as a child and would later name the first steam engine installed in his Disneyland Resort the E.P. Ripley. As a tribute to our railroad history, the park features both a steam engine and caboose.

Thus the name E. P. Ripley is noteworthy to both Disneyland and American railroad history. Edward Payson Ripley (1845–1920) became president of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway in 1895 and held the position for over a quarter of a century. The company sponsored the Santa Fe & Disneyland Railroad from opening day until 1974; Santa Fe was then dropped from the attraction name.

The locomotive on display dates back to 1911. Atchison Topeka & Santa Fe bought it in 1928, and it received the number 2546. When decommissioned, the company donated it to the City of Marceline. Its public display in the park was dedicated in the last weeks of 1955, the year Disneyland opened.

The Disney brothers visit Marceline, 1956.

The very next year, brothers Walt and Roy visited Marceline and were received warmly by the town’s residents on the Fourth of July. Walt had previously returned to Marceline ten years prior, although many who have written about Disneyland’s origins don’t appear to be aware of it and presume his only recollections of the town were from childhood. He was observed taking handheld motion picture footage, and likely took still photographs as well.

Walt’s last visit to Marceline was in October of 1960, but he visited Kansas City twice more (May 1963 and October 1966) before his death.

Before the Disney brothers 1956 visit, the city added “Disneyland R.R.” to its paint job in honor of the Marceline / Santa Fe / Disneyland connection. The town owes its very existence to the railroad, after all.

I wasn’t able to find any information about the Santa Fe caboose which is also on display in the park.

A commemorative plaque notes the locomotive’s origin.

“Main Street USA”

After seeing the museum site and the park, I made my way downtown. As it was a Sunday, Marceline was completely deserted. Not even parked cars. Pretty much every business was closed. This, combined with the setting sun and then magic hour, gave things an eerie Twilight Zone kind of vibe.

The only thing the city appears to have done in the way marketing the Disney connection is to rename Kansas Avenue “Main Street USA” and install new street signs with Mickey Mouse ears up and down the drag. They’re small and inconspicuous; if I wasn’t looking for them I’m not sure I would have noticed.

Various business have adopted the new name and amended their addresses accordingly.

Kansas Avenue was bare dirt during the years the Disney family lived in Marceline. Like many such downtowns, in the rainy months the street turned into a disgusting river of mud and horse manure.

Kansas Avenue is bricked with pavers, 1912.

Brick paving was not added to portions of downtown until the year after Walt moved to Kansas City.

Reality, Fantasy, and Memory

I won’t lie—as I continued to poke around, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. The “Disney Version” has (for so many Americans) taken the place of the “Real” Main Street, so I too came expecting the mental images I had been primed with from years of visiting Disneyland as a child. At the very least I had anticipated some nostalgic restoration efforts, like countless small towns across the country have remodeled their own Main Streets to better reflect these popular expectations.

Main Street USA at Disneyland, 2007. — *Main Street USA* at Disneyland, 2007.

There’s very little actual Marceline DNA at the Disney Parks. Where the “Disney Version” lives is actually in Walt’s imagination—not even in his memory—as expressed by a number of designers who he had working on the project; men like Marvin Davis, Harper Goff, and John Hench. Yet Walt’s motivation wasn’t purely artistic. It was also psychological. In As Seen on TV: The Visual Culture of Everyday Life in the 1950s, professor of art history and American studies Karal Ann R. Marling describes his thinking:

To make a model—in the case of Disneyland, to recreate the Marceline, Missouri, of a turn-of-the-century boyhood—was to return to those happy, bygone times as a competent adult. To make a model was to construct or reconstruct one’s own biography. To make a model of an ideal past was to reject an imperfect present.

Forced perspective on Main Street USA, Disneyland, 2007. — Forced perspective on *Main Street USA*, Disneyland, 2007.

To realize this “model of an ideal past,” Main Street USA was famously designed using forced perspective. This is an art direction technique used in building movie sets in which structures get smaller as they get taller, making them feel larger than they actually are. The first floor of Disneyland’s Main Street is 7/8th life-size, the second is 5/8th, and the third story is approximately 1/2 scale.

Yet what we have at Marceline today is the imperfect present, as well as the town’s imperfect past. Many—if not most—of the buildings had vacancies, boarded up windows, dilapidated fronts. But there are a few historic gems that are managing to hang on.

The Allen Hotel Building (1906) sits across the street from the Zurcher Building. When Walt lived in Marceline, the hotel was upstairs and Murray’s Department Store was on the first floor, where his mother Flora often took him. The hotel is long gone (and the second story appears to be in pretty bad shape), but Murray’s continues on as consignment story. There is also now a cafe on the corner.

Hotel Marceline storefront at Disneyland, 2007.

While there are no structures directly resembling the Allen Hotel Building at any Disney Park, there is a tribute to Marceline’s boarding past at the original Disneyland. Tucked off Main Street USA on intersecting East Center Street (around the corner from the Market House) is the “Hotel Marceline” where ambient dialog of hotel guests can be heard from the second story window. I can’t help but think that the large, gray brickwork is perhaps a reference to the Allen Hotel. There are no other bricks like this on Main Street.

I’m not sure of the vintage of Marceline’s “post clock” or “street clock.” Although they were common throughout the United States after the Civil War, in more recent years companies have offered reproductions to small towns as nostalgic “sweeteners” for their renovated and Disneyfied Main Street districts.

The Uptown Theatre dates to well after Walt left town. A man named A.B. Canwell purchased the property in 1927 and three years later the theatre opened along with the Canwell Apartments upstairs.

Some cool neon featuring Deco Modern lettering which was very popular in 1930s.

There are a few signs around Marceline which point out Disney connections. For reasons unknown to me, the titles are set in Serpentine which dates to the early seventies and is commonly used in science fiction films and on men’s hygiene products.

As the sign notes, during their mid-century visit, Walt and Roy screened their Civil War adventure The Great Locomotive Chase (1956). Disney was quoted in the press as telling the packed house, “I lived in Marceline. My best memories are the years that I spent here. You children are lucky to live here.” On July 14, 1998, the Walt Disney Company returned to Marceline and premiered The Spirit of Mickey (1998) at the Uptown. Each child was given a nifty commemorative ticket and the movie was shown for free.

Unfortunately the theater was closed in 2014. A non-profit assumed ownership in 2016 with plans to reopen, but so far no progress has been made.

The Main Street Cinema at Disneyland, 2007.

Walt did see his very first motion picture in Marceline, either at the opera house (which burned down in the fifties) or the Aerodrome which opened in town during those years. He once recalled that the film was a silent picture about the life of Jesus Christ, and although we have no confirmation, based on the release date it was probably either The Passion Play (French, 1903) or The Birth, the Life and the Death of Christ (Italian, 1906).

The Main Street Cinema at Disneyland is a tribute to these early moviehouses.

I found a few buildings in Marceline that may have been movie theaters at one time or another. This one actually has similar proportions to the Main Street Cinema above, along with a long, flat marquee element.

The striped awnings pictured here were common during the first half of the twentieth century, and that’s one design element which has indeed been carried over to the Disney Main Street USA model.

The Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World, 2007.

Despite the awnings, on the second Main Street USA at Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom, all the design elements are even further removed from Marceline. In particular, both scale and voice were dialed up to hyperbolic levels. “Small Town Americana” was morphed and mutated into “Grand Victoriana.”

Marceline only has a few remaining lighted signs, neon or otherwise. The Pepsi-Cola logo on display dates to before the 1940s, but I can’t be sure if it’s original or a reproduction.

There are a good deal more signs hanging from the buildings on the Main Street USA at the Disney Parks. Naturally, there’s no neon giving the setting of 1910 or so.

I was surprised by the amount of brick in Marceline. The Disney Parks feature lots of wood paneling (or faux wood—fiberglass is actually used in construction) mixed in with brick work on their Main Streets. I couldn’t find sign of any business on the ground floor. Sadly the windows on the second floor have all been ‘bricked in.’

The other thing which surprised me overall were the proportions. Most of the buildings along Marceline’s downtown drag were long. Conversely, the Disney Parks cram many narrower structures together. This single grouping on the southeast side of the street came the closest to the visual density of the Disney Main Street USA.

On this single northeast block of Main Street USA there are ten individual facades.

Conversely, this was the most visually dense and diverse block in Marceline. Half of it unoccupied.

Main Streets Around the World

According to my research, The Zurcher Building is the only structure which can be directly dusted for fingerprints at Disneyland. It was built in 1892, with the second floor added in 1903, the year Zurcher Jewelers began occupying the place. They stayed for sixty years.

The Zurcher Building was the inspiration for Coke Corner at the northwest end of Main Street USA. Note that the original in Marceline still has a large Coca-Cola mural painted alongside it, and it also sits on a northwest corner. Obviously the Disney Version is much embellished and far more fanciful than its distant Marceline cousin.

Another nearly identical building called Main Street Sweets exists halfway around the world at Hong Kong Disneyland (2005). This is the first and only time that Main Street USA from the original Disneyland has been duplicated, most likely for cost-saving. Each and every facade is nearly identical to its twin in Anaheim, although there were small aesthetic changes made for context. For example, the “Penny Arcade” was renamed “Centennial Hall” because the site of the Hong Kong park is called “Penny’s Bay.” The street is also covered entirely in brick pavers, whereas at Disneyland only the sidewalks are bricked.

Casey’s Corner at The Magic Kingdom (1971) is something quite different altogether, although the sponsor is still Coca-Cola. In fact, it looks rather like a large house.

Walt Disney World opened in Orlando, Florida five years after Walt Disney died, but preliminary design work for it began before he passed away. The Magic Kingdom park is based on the layout of the original Disneyland with improvements in mostly organization and landscaping. This second Main Street USA is more broadly Victorian in design, and much larger than the one at Disneyland. Many of the same designers worked on both parks, though Walt’s Marceline memories seem to have been set aside.

Like Hong Kong’s clone of the Anaheim original, the Casey’s Corner at Disneyland Paris (1992) is based on the one at Walt Disney World. But the rest of that park’s Main Street is lavishly unique.

It’s easily the most elaborately themed and detailed of all the Disney Parks. With so much world-class art and architecture spread across Europe, the designers felt they had to go to greater lengths to create immersive environments. Initially the plan was for a streetscape themed to the 1920s, but this was discarded in favor of the more broadly Victorian look of the Magic Kingdom. The French associate the romance of America with the bustle of business, so this Main Street USA features large billboards and other advertising graphics which are unique to this park.

It’s about as visually far removed from Marceline, Missouri as you can possibly get.

So yes, the original Main Street USA at Disneyland is based somewhat on Walt Disney’s childhood memories of the four years he lived in Marceline. Perhaps “inspired” is the better word—again the Zurcher Building is the only structure which Walt or any of his designers claimed to have given a direct nod to. And with the exception of Hong Kong’s near copy, each further iteration of the Main Street USA model gets further and further away from the source. What’s funny is that source isn’t even Marceline. While Marvin Davis oversaw the master plan for Main Street USA with Walt Disney’s personal input, the majority of the actual design work fell to studio artist Harper Goff and his own childhood memories of growing up in Ft. Collins, Colorado.

I’ll get around to detailing this Colorado connection in a future post. But before I leave town, there’s one more stop to make.

A Dream, a Tree, and a Barn

When I pulled off at the Top of Iowa Welcome Center, I picked up a tri-fold brochure on Marceline (“Where Walt Found the Magic”) which lists the number one Disney attraction in town as The Dreaming Tree and Walt’s Barn (the Walt Disney Hometown Museum was #4).

So after taking all my photos in and around downtown, I drove out to the edge of Marceline to see what all the hype was about. There was a clearing and a wide path of grass leading off the road to what looked like a farm property. Halfway down this path was a large—though rather young looking—tree. The sign posted in front of the tree (corrected for grammar, punctuation and capitalization) reads as follows:

The Son of Dreaming Tree
This Dreaming Tree Sapling was planted September 2004 by Bradford Disney Lund and Walt Disney World Ambassadors Sara Spike, Juan Aviles, and Christopher Stewart who brought Soil from the Magic Kingdom and water from the Rivers of America to be added to the soil on the Disney Farm for the planting ceremony.

The original 125 year-old Dreaming Tree fell during a windstorm in 2015; the newer sapling standing here now came from a seed harvested from the original cottonwood which once stood some 30 feet away.

The mystique is that (again, likely apocryphal territory here) young Walt used to sit under it and daydream. The Walt Disney Hometown Museum calls the site “a magical location where Walt first learned to draw, write and dream.” In a sense, this kind of reverential treatment is no different than medieval pilgrims who travelled to see a splinter of the “True Cross.” Now the only thing left is a splinter “related” to the original splinter.

Continuing forward down the path, there is a bare, dark wood picket fence to the left. And several more signs along the way which tell the story of the Disney family’s time in the area:

Coming to Marceline
Elias purchased 45 acres in Marceline from his brother Robert at a price of $125 an acre, promising installment payments with money he was to receive for houses in Chicago that Flora had designed and he had built. In the spring of 1906, the Disney family packed up their belongings and moved to Missouri.

And then another a bit further on:

Walt Disney was the age of four when his family moved from Chicago to a forty-acre farm in Marceline. Walt quickly learned to love farm life, and the old barn became his and his younger sister Ruth’s favorite place to play.

The barn provided Walt with his first show business experience when he produced a “barn circus” and charged the neighborhood kids a dime admission. When his audience discovered the circus consisted of a goat, a pig, and the family dog and cat dressed in Ruth’s doll clothes. they protested. Hearing the commotion, Walt’s mother Flora promptly ordered Walt to refund the admission with this admonishment: “If you deliver more than your audience expects—they will never be disappointed.” It’s a lesson Walt took to heart.

The path through the woods then gives way to a small clearing, with a final sign just a ways apart from a barn appearing to be from the turn of the century, but in remarkable condition for how old it looks:

The Happy Place
In 1950 Walt recreated the barn from Marceline at his home in California and used it as his personal workshop. It became his “Happy Place” and became the birthplace of “Disney Imagineering.”

There aren’t any other signs outside. So, this is the barn from California then?

As it turns out, nope. Inside there are some additional signs, and a small binder that tells the story of “Walt’s Barn” in the format of a children’s storybook. The story concludes:

Back on Walt’s boyhood farm, the old barn had been removed. Friends and neighbors got together and built a new barn to celebrate Walt’s 100th birthday. After a long tie, the barn arrived home again.

And in smaller print and more detail, presumably for the grown-ups:

The saga of Walt’s bars completed a full circle on September 22, 2001. As a part of the celebration of his 100th birthday, the townsfolk of Marceline, which has a population of 2,500, built a replica of the original barn on the farm once owned by the Disney family. Long ago, the first barn disappeared, perhaps because it was used as firewood during the Great Depression. As a fitting tribute, the humble little red barn finally came home from its long journey through the life and times of a small town farm boy who became a genuine American original: Walter Elias Disney.

Visitors are encouraged to leave notes, signatures, and otherwise write on the inside of the barn. Thankfully, I didn’t find anything disrespectful in a public restroom wall kind of way.

Along with the interpretive signage and book, there are a few props to complete the “old farm look” such as a wooden barrel, wagon, and some tools. The floor is bare gravel.

Travels in Hyperreality

Now, there’s a couple things going on here. And just like Main Street USA’s relationship to Walt’s boyhood years spent in Marceline, it gets a bit muddy. What we have is what French philosopher Jean Baudrillard in his seminal Simulacra and Simulation described as a “breakdown in the referential chain.”

The chain goes something like this: There was once a barn in Missouri. Walt Disney remembered that barn from his childhood, and then he built a barn in his backyard in California for his Carolwood Pacific Railroad. He used the structure as a workshop, and referred to it as his “happy place.” That barn—to him, to Walt—was the barn from his youth. But it was only based on his memories, some forty years on. He didn’t have any photos. No blueprints or drawings. He just remembered it, and he built it.

Walt’s Carolwood Barn at Griffith Park. aloha75/Flickr. — Walt’s Carolwood Barn at Griffith Park. *aloha75/Flickr.*

In a sense, it’s completely imaginary. Years after Walt Disney passed away, his daughter Diane Disney Miller recognized the importance of this backyard barn and saved it before escrow on the property closed and it was transferred to new owners. That barn has been open to the public since 1999 in Griffith Park, in the Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles, and is maintained by the Carolwood Foundation.

As the signage here in Marceline indicates, in 2001 folks in town “built a replica of the original barn on the farm once owned by the Disney family.” But they didn’t. Because the structure they used for reference was the one Walt built in his backyard. Which has no actual connection to whatever barn once existed on this farmland, except in Walt’s mind. Granted, it’s not red like the Carolwood barn. It’s been built and finished to look “old timey.” To look “authentic.” To look like it belonged on this farm property, circa 1906–1911.

Which brings us to Baudrillard’s concern. He called things like Walt’s Barn “simulacra,” by which he meant a copy for which no original exists. Exactly like Main Street USA (and much of thematic design). Along with others such as Umberto Eco, Baudrillard argued that this “original-less copy” is a truth in its own right. He called it the hyperreal.

More on this later. Next stop: Worlds of Fun!

Welcome to Iowa!

June 09, 2019 by Dave Gottwald

Sometimes I come across random bits of theming while I’m travelling. Sites which weren’t on my agenda that I just stumble into. Thematic design is so widespread at this point that it’s no longer confined to theme parks, the hospitality industry, or dining and retail. The genre now includes… visitor centers.

Top of Iowa Welcome Center complex, satellite view. Click for link. Map data: Ⓒ Google.

The Top of Iowa Welcome Center is on the outer edge of Northwood, the first city across the state line from Minnesota. The complex appears much more sprawling in this satellite view than the view from I-35.

But then I spied this massive water tower and sign advertising a casino, so I pulled off.

And I’m glad I did! Honoring the state’s agricultural roots in the the heart of the Corn Belt, “Top of Iowa” is designed as a massive red barn. There are some modernist touches, as well as a more contemporary, industrial-grade roof treatment, but this is still a thematic structure. A child could identify it from “The Farmer in the Dell.”

Barns inside of barns! This was a kind of Matryoshka (Russian nesting dolls) experience. A large red barn with smaller red barns inside. These smaller ones were more traditional, paneled wood with the requisite white X’s and trims. The interior walls of the large barn were stained yet unpainted. It was all sort of surreal.

One of the inner barns was labeled, incongruously for the region, the “Coffee Shoppe.” I saw this at my prior stop, Valleyfair, so maybe the New England-style colonial spelling is more prevalent in the Midwest than I thought? The smallest of the nested barns I found was the small U.S. mailbox on the reception desk. Quite cute.

But the barn motif didn’t end at the visitors center. Across the parking lot, the Diamond Jo Casino continues the theme, and adds to it.

Wisely, the designers positioned the casino’s red barn structure at the corner of the complex which is closest to the Top of Iowa Welcome Center barn. Diamond Jo’s barn is more traditional, just like the smaller ones nested inside the visitors center—red paneled wood with white trimmings. I particularly like the faux address of 777 for jackpot.

The rest of the casino complex is vaguely designed as a loose collage of Western Frontier forms. I was impressed with the attention to detail paid to the layout (casino theming can be rather hit or miss). Much like the work Disney does, the multi-building facility appears to have been cobbled together organically over time, rather than designed and constructed in place. There is a diversity of architectural styles, roof treatments, materials, and a wealth of faux aging, distress, and rust.

The “Big Wheel Bar” even features a working water wheel.

I was disappointed that I had to press on and couldn’t spend time exploring the interior spaces of the Diamond Jo. But I’m glad I stopped, if only for a moment. You never know what kind of thematic design you’re going to run into on the interstate.

Next Stop: Missouri.

Who's the Fairest of Them All?

June 05, 2019 by Dave Gottwald

As with all the thematic destinations I have visited and written about so far, I try to limit my research before arrival. I don’t look at the site on google maps, and I don’t read up on any history which might be new to me. I might not even go to the website or, in the case of a theme park, look at the park’s map or attraction list. I want to go in fresh.

In the case of Valleyfair this led to a similar experience I had at Michigan’s Adventure. I was somewhat underwhelmed. The park was much smaller than I had assumed it would be, and the grounds weren’t even organized into clearly defined themed areas or lands. In short, this was not the park I thought it would be.

Valleyfair, satellite view. Click for link. Map data: Ⓒ Google.

A “Fairway”

Valleyfair is some 25 miles to the southwest of downtown Minneapolis, Minnesota, in a town called Shakopee. The park opened on May 25, 1976, just a few days before Six Flags Great America in Gurnee, Illinois. The property is long and narrowish, sprawling east-west alongside Minnesota State Highway 101, so it feels orientated almost like a golf course fairway. There is no hub-and-spoke or Duell Loop navigation, just a meandering path to the back (west) of the park and back again.

In typical hyperbolic Cedar Fair style, the map above exaggerates the soaring heights of four major coasters—High Roller (1976), Excalibur (1989), Wild Thing (1996), and Renegade (2007). Corkscrew (1980) is rendered here in diminished scale; the ride is actually 15 feet taller than High Roller, but you can barely make it out in this illustration.

Excelsior

From 1925 to 1973, the Twin Cities had their very own Coney Island-style amusement park called Excelsior which was founded by Fred W. Pearce, a noted designer and builder of wooden roller coasters. After Excelsior was closed and subsequently demolished by the Pierce family at the end of the 1973 season, son Fred Pierce Jr. approached local venture capitalists and developers Walt Wittmer and David Sherman about building a new park on a different plot of land in nearby Shakopee.

Construction began in August of 1974 and the park opened two years later. Parts of Excelsior Amusement Park were transplanted to the new site, including its historic carousel. Thus Valleyfair is essentially Excelsior’s descendent.

Vintage Valleyfair souvenir park map posters.

I was surprised at how difficult it was to track down older park map posters of Valleyfair online. These are pretty poor quality images, but it’s clear that the park was far more lushly wooded and landscaped during its earlier years. The map on the left must be from before 1980, as there is no Corkscrew yet in the park. The map on the right is after, as the Corkscrew is visible just to the right of the middle portion.

Valleyfair original wordmark.

The Fair in Cedar Fair

Much like Kings Island, Valleyfair sought to traffic in the “Medieval Fantasy” aesthetic employed by the iconic Disneyland with their wordmark. I’m not quite sure about the exclamation point, which makes you want to shout! the park’s name. The original version from the 1970s has forked “flags” on the swashes of the ‘V’ and ‘f’ which remind me of a snake’s tongue.

Cedar Fair original wordmark.

At the end of the park’s third operating season, Valleyfair was purchased by Cedar Point in September 1978. Ironically this was to stave off buyout threats from the likes of Taft (Kings Island and Kings Dominion) and Marriott (the two Great America parks). Valleyfair’s acquisition is the origin of the resulting parent company’s name Cedar Fair which was formed in 1983. Because of this connection, I assumed that the park would be somewhat more remarkable than what I actually found.

Valleyfair entertainment venue, sometime in the early eighties.

Sometimes the (!) is used with the logo, and sometimes it’s not. Other times throughout the park’s history the lettering hasn’t been consistent, as seen on the stage above.

Valleyfair refined wordmark.

At some point in the 1990s, Valleyfair streamlined their mark and removed the forks on the swashes. It’s a cool mark, yet unlike at Kings Island, I unfortunately couldn’t find it honored on any merchandise. Yet it exists in various guises throughout the park, sometimes with forks, sometimes without.

In 2007, Cedar Fair corporate developed a consistent system of park logos and deployed them across all their properties, giving them a common typeface DNA just like the Six Flags chain.

Examples from the Cedar Fair parks wordmark system.

Nearly all the wordmarks are drawn on an arc or path in one way or another, and the key unifying element is a small triangular flag used for the dot on all lowercase i’s. Granted, this isn’t a branding blog, but Valleyfair is now the fourth Cedar Fair park which I’ve visited on this trip, and I thought it was time to mention it.

Amusement Park or Theme Park?

Some two years before he passed away in 2018, David Sherman was quoted in an interview with the Valleyfair official blog as noting that the creative development of Valleyfair was protracted:

It took us four years from concept to reality. As we toured around we knew that this was a smaller park and we wouldn’t have enough money to change themes, so we went for a turn of the century - family get together theme.

By “change themes” I take it that Mr. Sherman means they thought that the development of separate themed areas or lands within the park was cost prohibitive. What he then calls a “turn of the century - family get together theme” appears to be what I call “Amusement Park-ness” comprised of various forms of Victorian Gingerbread architecture as I’ve seen elsewhere across the country.

Because of this, I’m reluctant to call Valleyfair a theme park at all. Kings Island and the Great America parks were developed as theme parks from day one. Cedar Point was a traditional seaside resort that eventually evolved to include themed areas and lands due to competition from the Disney model.

But Valleyfair was designed as an amusement park, and for the most part it remains one. Most of the opening day attractions were variations upon standard carnival rides.

Classic amusement park offerings are also represented, such as this version of the Shoot the Chute model called The Wave. What I found curious, however, is that the queue / load building and flume trough is stylistically more turn of the century—it not only operates like an original Shoot the Chute as was once found at places like Coney Island’s Luna Park, it looks like one too. Other such rides at Cedar Point or at the Six Flags parks often have their own unique theming (Cedar Point goes for the Old West) and do not directly reference the historical form of the ride.

The flagship attraction at Valleyfair’s opening in 1976 was High Roller. It’s a modest experience by today’s standards, but in the seventies—after rides like Kings Island’s Racer (1972) reignited the country’s love affair with wooden roller coasters and ushered in a renaissance of the form—70 feet in height and a top speed of 50mph were notable stats. This out and back coaster continued to be a top draw well into the 1980s, but I personally found it to be entirely too rough around the edges (older woodies don’t age very well).

Again, the contours of the superstructure, the white painted boards, the flapping red flags, the roar of the trains going by…the wooden roller coaster is like its own form of nostalgic American architecture, just as surely as Victorian, Art & Crafts, or Googie.

All of this suggests to me that if Valleyfair could be considered a kind of theme park, then its theme is the American amusement park itself, much like Cincinnati’s Coney Island was resurrected at Kings Island as its own themed area. Yet there are still bits of Disneyland scattered about. Somehow by the 1970s, for any aesthetic credibility in the public’s eye, there had to be. But haphazard in presentation.

Here a village square “post clock” or “street clock” (originating in Victorian England and becoming more commonplace in the eastern United States after the Civil War) sits all by itself, with no Main Street U.S.A. to give it any architectural context. It was literally sprouting from the sidewalk next to a bench and a trash can. There’s no nostalgic anchor for its presence.

No park built in the 1970s would be complete without an Arrow Corkscrew model. Valleyfair’s Corkscrew was added in 1980 as the park’s second coaster, and it was the state of Minnesota’s only true outdoor steel coaster until the mid-nineties.

Like High Roller, its ride appeal has faded in the decades since. However, this Arrow model is unique in that it’s the only Corkscrew the company built which contains an upward helix (banked spiral) as the final element. Other than that, it’s essentially the same coaster I rode at Cedar Point.

I’m not sure what to make of the queue station. It looks like a Five Guys burger joint. At least at Cedar Point I had bits of architectural DNA to go on. The ride dates to 1980, and maybe there’s a bit of that here.

The Mysterious Park Logo, here in its refined (but pre-rebranded) form atop Valleyfair’s Power Tower.

Standard Fare at the Fair

As I’ve travelled around the United States looking at various theme parks, the design taxonomy and genealogy of various elements has become more apparent. Depending on the region, there’s a pseudo-Victorian Country Ranch Home aesthetic at work. Eateries and retail outlets are fashioned as quasi-domestic spaces, sometimes clearly “down home” houses and sometimes merely “house-like.”

Valleyfair is replete with these kinds of structures all throughout the park; they’re not confined to any one district or land, as Valleyfair doesn’t feature individually themed areas. As such, just like the lone post clock, they stand out. But because there’s at least more than one of them, if you spend a day at the park, they eventually add up to a kind of “themishness.”

Fried chicken is an amusement park/theme park staple. Here the architecture is more “ranch-like” than “house-like.” Columns and trim.

Town Square Theater at the Magic Kingdom, 2007.

These (admittedly less detailed) Victorian stylings are similar to buildings found at the Disney parks’ Main Street districts, particularly at Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom.

Here is a French-style copper mansard roof, which reminds me of the New Orleans themed areas I’ve visited. Maybe because the outlet is selling French fries, a designer thought this was an appropriate motif? The name “Northwoods Grill,” however, is pure Midwest.

This isn’t the first “Subway-as-Barnhouse” that I’ve seen, and it probably won’t be the last.

Same goes for “Grandma’s Panda Express Cottage.” This is nearly identical to the outlet which I saw at Cedar Point in the Frontier Trail area, just smaller. The fake brick chimneys are a nice touch.

What’s disappointing is that when parks like Great America or Valleyfair opened, they featured home-grown eateries. As a result, such restaurants’ offerings were often more thematically specific. But once larger chains like Six Flags and Cedar Fair began gobbling up such parks in the 1980s and 90s, national food franchises were introduced as a cost cutting measure. Today these franchises are the rule rather than the exception at many parks across the country. So you get rather stark design incongruencies—Chinese fast food being served in a country home like this.

There are also couple of midway games areas in opposite corners of Valleyfair. The design at this one is unremarkable.

But at the other end of the park, the midway presentation is more detailed. And flags! There were more flags at Valleyfair than at perhaps any other theme park I can think of. Which in hindsight kind of makes sense, given the park’s original wordmark.

The Grandest Bandstands

I’m not sure why this is, but a key component of the Theme Park Victorian Gingerbread design language is the use of the bandstand form. They show up at parks as guest services / information desks, ticketing booths, shops, game areas, and food outlets.

Like so much else at Valleyfair, these structures are at opposite ends of the park, with no thematic areas to anchor or further define them. More than once I was reminded of a model railroad set, with a kit of parts. I imagined the design team which developed Valleyfair simply reaching into this metaphorical box and placing all the expected trappings (and Disneyesque touches) willy-nilly on the tabletop.

And flags. Plenty of flags!

File Under Random

Here’s one out of nowhere—an Art Deco-era movie house. Great design, but no comment on its inclusion.

I don’t know what to make of this one, either. Sort of a Versailles-type building with obvious false fronts (you can see the flat mansard roof clearly has nothing behind it). It’s obvious, REAL FAKE, like the kind of backlot presentation you’d find at Universal Studios. But it’s apropos of nothing, and there’s no context for it on either side of the building. It looked to be a private meeting space of some kind. With more flags!

Back on Track(s)

Valleyfair has its own narrow gauge railroad just like the Disneyland standard I’ve found at Cedar Point, Kings Island, and elsewhere. The Minnesota River Valley Railroad doesn’t circle the park, but completes its circuit through about a third of it, with only part of the route on the perimeter.

The train ride was not added to Valleyfair until 1990, which explains why the route is not well integrated into the park’s layout. It has a nice tunnel feature however.

The gauge is unusual: 2 foot 6 inch, smaller than the 3 foot type common to Disneyland, Cedar Point, and many other parks. 2' 6" is more popular at zoos throughout the United States, though it’s the same gauge as was used for the Disneyland attraction Mine Train Through Nature's Wonderland (1956–1977).

Waterworld

Valleyfair’s waterpark area (called Soak City since 2008, consistent with similar areas at other Cedar Fair parks) is fully integrated into the main park with no separate gate or admission charge. I’d only seen this once before at California’s Great America, but I’m sure other parks offer this.

The waterpark began gradually, with Panic Falls opening first in 1983. More attractions were added, and the area became Whitewater Country Waterpark in 1992. This incremental development has created some bizarre visual juxtapositions over the years with waterslides snaking in, out, and over walkways which are outside the waterpark area.

Westworld

Again, probably the most common thematic element at any American theme park (or even amusement park) is the Old West. Kept alive through the Western genre on film and television throughout the 20th century, the thematic Old West has little connection to the real, historical American West. It’s more real to us—well over a century removed from that era—than the real thing will ever be.

Like everything else at Valleyfair, this saloon feels like it fell from the sky fully formed, and has no themed area around it to provide context. Chickie & Pete’s is a regional chain headquartered in Pennsylvania which I also found at Cedar Point, so they likely have a deal with Cedar Fair as a whole. I was unable to find out when this saloon structure dates to, however, so I don’t know if this is another example of corporate cannibalizing an older, more unique eatery.

Another trope that comes part and parcel with the Old West is the “Old Time” photo studio in which guests are provided with historical clothing for their family portraiture to recreate the experience of a 19th century daguerreotype studio. Prints are often available in grayscale and sepia for extra authenticity.

One design faux pax here is the use of “Olde” which is a colonial spelling common to New England but not widely used in the West (much like “Shoppe”). Not to mention the garish and anachronistic type treatment on the sign.

Typography fares better at the entrance to the adjacent wooden roller coaster Renegade which was added to Valleyfair in 2007. This is why I’m unsure how long the saloon structure has been in the park; perhaps it was part of this expansion.

This sign appears to be set in Ashwood Condensed which is part of the Walden Font Co. Wild West Press Collection. I recognize the face because I’ve used the collection in my own exhibit design work before.

Renegade was my favorite coaster at Valleyfair, and I rode it a total of eight times. Its layout is a considered combination of both an out and back and twister model. But what really heightened the experience for me was the (relatively impressive) attention to design detail.

The queue area winds through the middle of the coaster layout, giving those waiting multiple views of the trains racing by and building anticipation to ride. All the wood is appropriately distressed and aged, the metal fixtures rusted. And I really appreciated that no two signs carried the same 19th century wood typeface. Here is one form of slab serif.

And here is another. It’s the small details like this which Disney’s designers excel at, and which I rarely see at Cedar Fair parks. It was especially surprising at one as sparsely themed as Valleyfair.

Many contemporary coasters offer a souvenir ride photo experience, and here at the Renegade a daguerreotype studio setting is quite appropriate.

Decently rendered wood type, and hand-painted at that.

Unfortunately this red brush script has more in common with The Partridge Family (1970–1974) than the Old West. But at least they tried.

There are a couple other structures around the Renegade which make an attempt to be “Western” but Victorian elements are also thrown into the blender. Again, I don’t know if they predate the addition of the wooden coaster or not.

Rapid(s) Fire

The river rapids ride Thunder Canyon was added at the back of the park nearby back in 1987, and it carries a loose Old West theme, so these other elements like the Saloon, “Olde Time” Photo Shop and General Store might very well date back to then. I haven’t been able to confirm this either way.

This is a very standard type of attraction that became wildly popular as it was added in one variation or another to parks all over the United States. The first Thunder Canyon had opened at Cedar Point the year before, and this sibling is modeled after it, though it’s much smaller.

Some river rapids rides are richly themed (Grizzly River Run at Disney California Adventure or Kali River Rapids at Disney Animal Kingdom) and some have practically no theming at all (Grand Rapids at Michigan’s Adventure). Valleyfair’s Thunder Canyon is somewhere in the middle.

Many of these types of river rapids have opportunities for onlookers to shoot water at guests as they ride by. Once nice thematic touch is that here these water guns are fashioned to look like antique cannons. I realize this is more Pirates of the Caribbean than Frontierland, but (again) at least they tried.

Medieval Times

Next to Thunder Canyon at the far back of Valleyfair lies something I didn’t expect at all—a rollercoaster called Excalibur with a sword in the stone to match. The lettering is admittedly pretty sloppy, but the sword is wicked cool (and looked quite sharp). Beyond the entrance there isn’t any theming to speak of.

Excalibur was built for the park by the now-defunct Arrow Dynamics in 1989, and just like their Gemini for Cedar Point (1978), the coaster is a unique hybrid of steel tubular tracks atop a traditional wooden frame.

It was a fun ride, but quite short. And, at the far back of the park, completely vacant. It almost felt abandoned.

Yikes! While this mistake is more common at small town Thai restaurants, here we have Adrian Frutiger’s infamous Ondine. Although reminiscent 15th century Italian humanist lettering, his design is actually based on Arabic calligraphic forms. Ondine ("wave" in French) is quite a sad typographic story, as the face is abused and misused all over the place, rarely if ever found leveraging its original Middle Eastern heritage. And here that hard, long drop shadow makes the eyes bleed.

At first glance I thought the coaster’s station was nondescript. But then I looked closer, and the shape of the roof actually has an appropriate medieval tent look.

Ondine yet again, sans drop shadow, and with (oddly) appropriate flourishes.

I wished to conclude my observations with Excalibur because although I think (and the park’s founders have stated for the record) that the overall theme of Valleyfair as designed and opened in 1976 is the turn of the century America amusement park itself—exemplified by the High Roller, pictured above—I think there’s another view here.

The original wordmark lettering, carnival atmosphere, and omnipresent red triangular flags fluttering in the breeze makes me think that the “fair” in Valleyfair might mean “Faire” as in “Renaissance Faire” or “Medieval Faire.” Yet I was unable to find any sources supporting this (online or otherwise).

It’s sort of a lost opportunity, like the failure of Cedar Fair to market Valleyfair’s original wordmark on nostalgic merchandise like they do for their other parks. The irony, of course, is that this logo is still in use in various contexts throughout Valleyfair. Conversely, I couldn’t find the original Kings Island lettering in use inside that park, but they sold it on all kinds of souvenirs.

Perhaps if Cedar Fair decides to reinvest in some thematic design at their Valleyfair park, they might decide to capitalize on this (admittedly on my part, hypothetical) connection, and turn up the volume on some medieval elements throughout, maybe by formally parsing the park into themed lands. Certainly the popularity of the Game of Thrones HBO series and other recent fantasy films suggest that the public has an appetite for castles, knights on horseback, and fire-breathing dragons.

Up in the Nor' Woods.

May 12, 2019 by Dave Gottwald

From Gurnee, Illinois I headed up to the Northwoods of Wisconsin to stay the night with some old friends before continuing on to Valleyfair just outside Minneapolis, Minnesota.

I had been to Minocqua once before back in 2005, where my friend’s family has a cabin on a small private lake. The town bills itself as Nature's Original Water Park™ (yes, some local business association or tourist office actually trademarked it). Which makes some sense, as the crown jewel of their regional identity is the Min-Aqua Bats Water Ski Club. The club dates back to 1950 and claims to be the oldest continually running amateur water ski show in the United States.

Bunyan Breakfast

I saw the Min-Aquabats show in 2005, and it was really neat. This time though I wanted to return to what I think is the coolest local spot in the area—Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty.

After back-to-back theme parks, it was nice for a change of pace to take in a good ol’ fashioned American roadside attraction, much like South Dakota’s Wall Drug which I posted about some time back.

Vintage postcard, Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty.

The giant lumberjack Paul Bunyan and his blue ox, Babe, are famous figures in American folklore. Many places claim to have birthed him:

Maine - Bangor
Michigan - Oscoda, Ossineke, St. Ignace
Minnesota - Akeley, Bemidji, Brainerd
Wisconsin - Eau Claire, Stevens Point, Wausau

Given his iconic status, Bunyan is honored by several roadside attractions. Perhaps the most famous is in Bemidji, Minnesota. Paul even has a cameo in the Coen brothers’ 1996 film Fargo (though the statue depicted does not actually exist).

Vintage postcard, Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty, Wisconsin Dells location.

The original Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty opened just to the south in Wisconsin Dells in 1958. The Minocqua location followed in 1961. The Dells Shanty was made famous by their “Lumberjack Show” which still runs today. As their website describes:

The Dells Lumberjack Show features events such as the standing block chop, axe throw, spring board chop, obstacle pole, hot saw, log roll, and many more performed by professional lumberjacks, medalists and athletes.

Camp Style

Both Shanty restaurants feature an all-you-can eat “camp style” breakfast in which shared portions are served to long tables of various parties of diners. In 2005 I ate this breakfast, and it was terrific. For this second visit, I arrived after the menu had shifted to lunch for the day.

While the metatheme here is the myth of Paul Bunyan the giant lumberjack, design-wise the dining areas are a cross between a frontier log cabin and a traditional North Woods hunting lodge. This is a common motif from Maine to across the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest—any heavily forested area, really.

Like many common American themes, there are requisite trappings to this setting: metal camping coffee cups (typically painted a solid color with white spackling), metal dishes, red and white checkered table coverings, and bench seating. Typical Western / frontier props include hurricane-style kerosene lamps, assorted tool and rifles, and mounted hunting trophies.

The raftered ceilings are also filled with numerous props—a trope I detailed while at Six Flags Great America. Lots of taxidermied fish (real or otherwise). And there are small skylight areas that brighten up the dining rooms.

This postcard from the early 1970s shows how little Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty has changed over the years. Given how many such mid-century roadside attractions and restaurants have been heavily remodeled or even completely destroyed, the Shanty is a thematic time capsule.

Some dining areas are more densely filled with props and decoration than others, including fake trees. This reminded me quite a bit of the Clearman’s restaurants in Southern California, which carry a similar theme (albeit with fake snow on their roofs year-round). I wonder if, like Clearman’s, the Shanty is decked out in special decor for the holiday season.

One subtle feature I thought quite clever is that the closer you get to the kitchen entrance, the more cooking props (basins, pots and pans, etc) show up hung from the rafters. The vibe is like a mining camp.

Part of the main dining are completely over the top, however. There’s a complete horse wagon here hanging mere feet from diners heads! Thank goodness Wisconsin is not traditionally earthquake country; this would not likely fly in California.

Enter (and Exit) Through the Gift Shop

Attractions and restaurants such as this probably garner a good portion of their income from the gift shop and (like the Shanty has) a bakery. This is a small owner-operator tradition that was latter corporatized by chains like Cracker Barrel which has nearly 650 locations across the United States. There are also smaller, regional chain examples like Van de Kamps.

The idea here is to present the merchandise exactly as the propping is staged throughout the restaurant, so you feel like you’re “buying a piece” of the place. All the expected kitsch is present. And yes, I’ll admit I bought a couple t-shirts.

Northern Exposure

Although I really liked the overall thematic design of Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty, I think it had one major thing going against it. The restaurant was overlit. So for a few of my photographs, I decided to play with my exposure settings. These were further enhanced digitally. I think the Shanty is much more dramatic and interesting when lit this way.

High contrast, oversaturated photography is not usually my thing. But I really like the mood present in these shots.

There’s something about the blown-out brights which heighten the sense of gas lighting as opposed to electricity. And I love the drama of the trophy buck head in silhouette. North Woods noir?

Minocqua Theming v. 1.0: Euro-Town

After a couple nights, I headed out from my friend’s family cabin and spent some time photographing the downtown area before leaving for Minnesota. It would appear that Minocqua underwent the same kinds of aesthetic changes throughout the middle of the twentieth century that many other similar sized Midwestern towns did. In order to capitalize on their various European immigrant histories, they took a cue from Disneyland and ‘sweetened’ these associations, providing cultural tourist draw in the form of dining, retail, and entertainment.

Many of these themed buildings clearly date to the 1950s and 60s, just like I found in Frankenmuth, Michigan. Some have been retrofitted over the years. It’s especially easy to spot the seventies creeping in, in the form of dark shingles.

This step panoramic of a single block is a typical example of what I found—a somewhat generic-yet-Germanic presentation.

There are also restored brick buildings which appear much older, some of them turn of the century. Many feature augmentation of one kind or another, like this shop which clearly added the A-frame roof to the first story to “Alpinize” the structure. But the level above belongs to the Victorian era.

This postcard appears to be from the late sixties or early seventies based on the automobiles in the shot, which makes me wonder about the age of some of thematic elements I found. Perhaps some came later, in the 1980s and even the 90s.

The “Clock Tower Centre” feels very late-seventies or early eighties, again based on other examples I’ve seen throughout the country. I know Carter was big on wearing sweaters and turning the heat down to save energy…did he have a similar mandate to install wide, dark roof shingles on everything?

This block was composed of mostly older brick buildings, with less thematic alteration.

Except for Otto’s Beer & Brat Garden, which is rocking the Ski Lodge vibe. I found the mounted barrel curious. How is anyone supposed to access that? It seems like an unwise place to store surplus beer.

Their website doesn’t reveal anything about the history of the place or even the date it opened. But based on the exterior and the interior (I had eaten here back in 2005) I’d guess the mid-sixties.

Fudge! Looks to be as popular here in Wisconsin as it is in Michigan. I saw similar fudge shops—with nearly identical typography—when I visited both Mackinaw City and nearby Mackinac Island.

Again, just like at themed Euro-towns like Michican’s Frankenmuth, I found lots of great hand lettered (routed and/or hand painted) blackletter typography. The serif treatments on the upper lines suggests anywhere from the 1950s–1970s.

Wonderful wrought iron as well, just like I found in Two Rivers, Wisconsin.

Minocqua Theming v. 2.0: Disneyland, Wisconsin

But one particular block of downtown Minocqua really got my attention. This was not only theming in the Disneyesque tradition, but it was of a much, much newer vintage. I’d say late 1990s to early 2000s, much like the Mackinaw Crossings shopping development I had described earlier.

This is the Main Street U.S.A. approach, straight out of central casting (so to speak), crossed with a kind of Old West Frontier Town design that I saw in Deadwood, South Dakota.

I realize that the developers wanted to find a way to drawing attention for their Gaslight Square Shoppes indoor mall, but in the context of the rest of Minocqua, it’s very odd indeed.

The “shoppes” don’t represent the oldest buildings in town (original brick structures which date to the early twentieth century) nor the oldest theme (that’s the European stylings added around mid-century which portray nineteenth century settlements). Rather they depict a setting somewhat in between. But paradoxically, Gaslight Square Shoppes appears to be the newest actual development in Minocqua.

Gaslight Square Shoppes interior. Minocqua Area Chamber of Commerce. — Gaslight Square Shoppes interior. *Minocqua Area Chamber of Commerce*.

The mall’s website claims the theme is the 1920s and draws from St. Louis, Missouri. But that doesn’t jive with the architecture in my opinion. I do regret that I didn’t take a few moments to venture inside, as the retail spaces on the first floor are “indoor for outdoor” and resemble city streets. This place needs a casino!

The intersection block has been painted with a large mural that suggests faux storefront balconies and signage. It’s a bit cheesy, sure, but at a distance (from across the street) I kind of liked it. I just wish the lettering wasn’t so clumsy.

I finished my visit to Minocqua with a stop at their “Welcome to” sign on the edge of town. Every settlement of a particular size throughout the United States has one of these, and they’re always from different aesthetic eras. By the typography, wood carving, and paint colors, I’d say this is anywhere from the mid-seventies to the mid-eighties.

Well, farewell to “The Island City.” Next stop: Valleyfair!