Lagoon - Part 3: Biergarten of Eden

June 29, 2020 by Dave Gottwald

As I’ve looked at, Lagoon has many of the familiar trappings of any American theme or amusement park. But it’s not all cheese and stereotypes. Just in time for the 2019 season during which I visited, Lagoon added a German Biergarten area which rivals anything you’d find at a Disney park.

There is no entrance to the area off the main Midway per say. But the boundary of the Biergarten is marked by this prominent structure selling beer and food to go.

The Lagoon Biergarten was meticulously designed and skilfully executed for the park by Salt Lake City’s Coel Studio. Although the way its footprint is situated doesn’t allow for true immersion (the Roller Coaster roars by right next door with nothing but a wood fence in between), this is a solid investment for the park and a most welcome direction for Lagoon to take.

Coel partnered with Wyoming architect Dan Stalker on the themed buildings in a Bavarian style and engaged with EPG for the landscape design. Have a look at the process work and photography at Coel Studio’s project page and their Instagram.

The masterplan is well-plotted and appropriately cinematic. The portion facing the park’s Midway is wide open and inviting.

Walking clockwise (which research suggests most guests in public spaces circulate) you come to a tall clock tower structure with a large archway entrance.

Directly ahead is the interior courtyard space.

The team at Coel working with Dan Stalker Architecture certainly did their thematic homework. This approach to a “weenie” or visual magnet is cribbed directly from the Disney playbook. Here the vantage, scale, and orientation resembles the approach down Main Street U.S.A. to Sleeping Beauty’s Castle.

To the left is additional outdoor seating, with better cover from inclement weather than what is available in the larger, more open front areas of the biergarten.

To the right is the center of the space, anchored by an ornate fountain. The overall approach to the area is large, connected interior spaces diversified and visually parsed by a conglomeration of façades. This suggests structures erected by different proprietors over time instead of designed together. Disney first used this approach with Main Street U.S.A. and then later with the original Fantasyland renovation in the early 1980s. You now find it all their parks. It’s been especially common since the 1990s for new retail and dining complexes, like I’ve found in Michigan and also Wisconsin.

I was impressed by the central water fountain with its wrought iron and gilded elements.

German heraldry is combined with more cute animal iconography. At the top is a golden lion toasting a beer stein in its paw. This is the kind of rigorous detail which is par for the course for Disney, but usually dismissed as unnecessary expense by smaller operations.

The carved blackletter typography pays tribute to Lagoon’s 1886 opening and also the 2019 debut of the biergarten. Wonderful detail, and subtle enough that I almost didn’t see it.

Epcot’s Germany pavilion, 2007. — Epcot’s *Germany* pavilion, 2007.

Of course, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the Germany pavilion or “mini-land” in World Showcase at Walt Disney World’s Epcot park. The area also has its very own biergarten restaurant, though it is strictly an indoor experience and a venue for live entertainment.

The German Biergarten model, which Disney and Lagoon are both trafficking in, is popular in many regions of the United States, particularly in the Midwest. Frankenmuth, Michigan is one such romanticized “European” town that takes authentic the German roots of the region and has transformed itself into a tourist destination through thematic design.

Moving inside, some of the signage is just terrific. I was pleased to discover that according to Coel Studio, Lagoon’s in-house staff was responsible for fabrication of these pieces. The typography is appropriate with quality wood routing and hand painting.

The interior dining space houses two of the largest kitchens in the park. There are 60 total beers on tap, 20 of which are unique. Like Disney and Universal have done in recent years, the menus are flat screen panel displays with appropriately themed graphics and typography.

The simple themed chandeliers are charming and low key, augmented by sunlight streaming down from skylights. The Coel team paid as much attention to the interior details as the outside.

The themed approach to restroom iconography likely did not originate with Disney, but they do it very well and Coel has delivered a version of that approach here at Lagoon.

The typography is consistent all over the complex, manufactured with contemporary substrates when required, but still with Old World touches like the rusted and weathered metal seen here.

There are some subtle elements throughout, like this small bit of stained glass.

One thing which is not as subtle, however, is the biergarten logomark. In fact, I think it’s employed to loudly and frequently. One can hardly blame Coel Studio, as they are a branding consultancy who have a number of brewery clients.

Looking down, it’s even on the manhole cover.

And it’s on every bench and trash can. Although a bit over-logo’d, the Lagoon Biergarten is some top notch thematic design that was meticulously planned and executed on the level that one would expect from Disney or any of the bigger players. I was pleasantly surprised to find this hidden gem at Lagoon (and its beer!) and I hope the park looks to similar design investments in the future.

Oh, and that logo ain’t so bad at all. I even bought the t-shirt.

Lagoon - Part 2: Time-Worn Tropes

June 15, 2020 by Dave Gottwald

Utah’s Lagoon is certainly a charming park with a lot of genuine history. It’s kept up well, wonderfully landscaped, and staged at a real human scale. Cool, well-shaded, with a variety of things to see and do (even a water park). Yet I’d like to highlight some of its more interesting tropes, both good and bad, and comment on the most recent ways it has tried to compete with the likes of Disney and Universal.

I do want to first call attention to Lagoon’s wicked cool park map. This graphic is reproduced on the paper guidemap you’re handed at the front gate, and also mounted at poster size at various locations inside. The graphic style of textured, yet flat, digital illustrations is very contemporary. And although the scale of the grounds is distorted by this representation, it doesn’t get hokey like the more hyperbolic Cedar Fair maps.

The one thing that the park map doesn’t resonate with at all, however, are the disparate themes found within. I’ve already described the primary Midway area, so now I’ll look at some of the other motifs found at Lagoon.

Lagoon’s “Frontierland”

What’s an American theme park without a “Frontier Old Wild West” land of some kind? Actually, like the Ghost Town at Knott’s Berry Farm in Southern California, as well Greenfield Village at The Henry Ford and even Frontier Trail at Cedar Point, there are actual structures of historical significance here.

And like all those other places, the staging of them at Lagoon’s Pioneer Village is problematic and confusing. I’ve even found this to be true at actual museums.

This dedication plaque near the entrance to the area demonstrates what I’m talking about rather well. Indeed, Horace and Ethel Sorensen did found the village in 1938 near Salt Lake City. The couple intended it to be the same sort of open-air, “living history” museum as Colonial Williamsburg, which John D. Rockefeller Jr had begun restoring about ten years prior.

Lagoon bought the village and its half-dozen structures—lock, stock, and barrel—in 1975 from The National Society of the Sons of Utah Pioneers. As such, Pioneer Village is quite like Walter Knott’s relocated Ghost Town assemblage, which began in 1940 when Knott purchased his first antique structures from actual western towns such as Prescott, Arizona. Though you won’t find any mention of the 1975 purchase and relocation on the above plague or anywhere else that I could find at Lagoon.

The entrance signage for Pioneer Village is set in Louis Minott’s ever-misapplied Davida (1965) which is a Victorian phototype revival that is so very, very not “Old West.” It’s a common face which I also found at Lakeside Park in Denver at a Mexican food stand.

As I’ve documented at Cedar Point, Kings Island, and elsewhere, after the first Arrow log flume ride debuted at Six Flags Over Texas in 1963 (El Aserradero “The Sawmill” is still operating) they started popping up all across the country, then the world. If you’ve got a “Western” or “Frontier” area at your favorite local park—and even if you don’t—the ride is a standard trope.

I thought it was odd that the Lagoon model, installed in 1976, is eponymously just “Log Flume.” But it looks like there were over two dozen equivalents of an Untitled album for the Arrow flume ride at one point. Another couple handfuls exist abroad called, accurately, “Flume Ride.”

Around the corner, a path winds to the very rear edge of the Lagoon property. The park faces east and backs up to the foothills at the base of the Wasatch Range, which is quite picturesque. But it also offers a sense of true remoteness, something that you can’t get at a bermed park like Disneyland which is surrounded by suburbia.

Hong Kong Disneyland on Lantau Island, 2008.

Actually, that was one of the most remarkable things about the Disney park in Hong Kong which I visited back in 2008. There the Main Street USA and Sleeping Beauty Castle are dwarfed by the lush mountains of Lantau Island, with Discovery Bay and peaks like Lai Pik Shan in the distance. Being used to the California original, it was oddly off-putting at first. But over the course of the week I spent there, I really grew to appreciate the setting.

And that same charm of a kind of “real-life matte painting” is present here at Lagoon. You can really see how much the natural topography adds to the verisimilitude of the “Rattlesnake Grub” shack.

Some nice prop vignettes here of the Six Flags / Cedar Fair variety. This is something I’ve commented on at length for years and Lagoon is handling it rather well, more on the subtle side of things. In fact, this is the only such staged display of propping that I came across at the park.

And perhaps that’s because this is the newest themed area at Lagoon. The Rattlesnake Plaza expansion behind Pioneer Village was added to the park in 1997. It’s the home of (naturally) the aforementioned Rattlesnake Grub as well as Rattlesnake Rapids, a standard river rapids ride. Everything from the logo marquee above to the level of theming indicates a nineties-level attention to what has been working for Disney and Universal.

It’s a smaller river rapids ride than the more substantial ones at Cedar Fair parks. More like what I found at Valleyfair in Minnesota.

Here in Rattlesnake Plaza, it’s evident that everything is newly built. It looks themed and it’s meant to look themed.

Walking back in the Pioneer Village area, the lines start to blur again. Old and new, relocated and constructed, historical and themed, all whipped into a single frappé.

Old? New? Relocated? Custom built? It’s the same problem I had on Cedar Point’s Frontier Trail. And I’d argue that the rugged landscaping and natural backdrop makes this even more difficult to discern.

Some of these buildings, I can’t even tell the origin. Is this from the original Pioneer Village dating back to the 1930s? It houses a circus memorabilia museum, so the “Big Top” aesthetic fits. But the building is clearly quite old. Maybe this is thematic design from an earlier era.

No clue about this one. Just looks like a repainted house.

A Moment of Surrealism

Just around the bend, I found this structure which is clearly of vintage condition and was moved from the original Pioneer Village. However, as I got closer I noticed that the interior had been hollowed out.

Welcome to The Twilight Zone, Lagoon edition. What was once an antique building has been gutted, painted black with an exposed ceiling structure which resembles an Urban Outfitters location. The retail checkout in the center of the room appears to be floating in space; in the void. This reminded me a lot of the false front work on the classic Star Trek episode “Spectre of the Gun” which I commented on when I was discussing Deadwood, South Dakota.

The trimmings make me think of the interior design faux-folksiness of the Cracker Barrel chain.

Just My Cup of Tea

As I wandered through the grounds looking at some of the less-themed and more standard amusement fair elements, I can across a Disney-flashback if there ever was one, the Tipsey Tea Cups. Curiously the graphics and typography on the entrance signage resemble the 2010 Disney/Tim Burton live-action Alice in Wonderland adaptation rather than the company’s 1951 animated one which I saw being aped rather directly at Enchanted Forest in Oregon to the point of potential legal action. After all, Disney has proved itself to be zealously litigious in the past.

I was surprised to later learn that the “teacups ride” is actually a standard genre at all kinds of amusement parks all over the world, so Lagoon is innocent as far as I’m concerned with regards to attraction plagiarism.

Mad Tea Party at Disneyland, 2007. — **Mad Tea Party** at Disneyland, 2007.

From my cursory research, it’s unclear if Disneyland’s Mad Tea Party (1955) as developed by Arrow is the true predecessor to all of these other rides, or simply a refinement of an earlier amusement concept.

Theme Park Orientalism

Lastly for this post, I’d like to highlight a common enough sight at American parks—the somewhat stereotypical representation of Asian design and architectural forms. This pagoda and the surrounding gardens are home to one Jumping Dragon ride.

Let’s run down the list. Dragon? Check. Although he doesn’t appear to be “jumping.” A variant of “Wonton” or “Chopstick” lettering, which many in the Asian-American community have a problem and design commentators have gotten hip by declaring racist unless actually ”enjoyed” by Asian businesses? Check again. Lagoon might be able to get away with it, but this kind of typographic treatment has certainly gotten big companies into trouble before.

Faux-imperial statuary? Check.

Wrought iron fencing with faux-imperial graphic symbols? Check.

Japanese stone lanterns (these particular Tōrō are Kasuga-dōrō), because what is the difference between gardens in China, Japan, and other parts of East Asia anyway? Check.

Oh, and everything painted fire engine red, including the electrical boxes? Check, and mate.

At the complete opposite north end of Lagoon park, I found Samurai. This spinner ride’s queue even has its own Torii gate.

Look, I can’t very fairly single out Lagoon for this. They’re far from the only park sporting the Wonton Look™. I grew up going to Six Flags Magic Mountain with its Ninja (the park calls it “The Black Belt of Coasters,” I’m not kidding), one of only three Arrow suspended models left operating in the United States.

The surrounding themed area, which has been at Magic Mountain since opening day in 1971, is called Samurai Summit and sports all the expected trimmings that we’re seeing here at Lagoon. Tatsu, a Bolliger & Mabillard flying coaster, was added to that California park in 2006. At least that’s a Japanese word which has multiple authentic meanings (though I bet they’re leaning into “dragon”).

The lanscaping and cartoonish “exotisism” here at Lagoon is just like what I found at Worlds of Fun, which has an entire themed Asia area. Not surprisingly, it dates from the same period as Magic Mountain’s Samurai Summit (early 1970s), and you generally don’t see this kind of stuff past the 1980s (Ninja opened in 1988). Spending time at Worlds of Fun—and having a look back at the marketing used for the park’s opening and in its early years—prompted me to ask, “Can theming be racist?” and I still don’t have an answer. I think it still deserves discussion.

Continued in Part 3.

Lagoon - Part 1: Lagoony Tunes.

February 15, 2020 by Dave Gottwald

The Continuation - Summer 2019

In June of 2019 I embarked on a second research roadtrip, this time through the American Southwest. I had not visited Las Vegas to document thematic design in some ten years, and I was also eager to see several of the wonderous National Parks scattered throughout the state Utah. Along the way I found some unexpected surprises—bits of theming here and there that has prompted some new thinking for me about the mythical American Old West.

Route from Idaho to Phoenix, Arizona. Map data: Ⓒ Google.

As before during the summer of 2017, my intrepid travel companion was the ever creative and hilarious David Janssen, Jr.—an artist, designer, and educator who currently teaches in the Fine Arts Department at Washington State University as an instructor in 2D Foundations. Our ultimate goal was to reach Phoenix, Arizona and tour Frank Lloyd Wright’s Taliesin West studio retreat.

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

The Fun Spot of Utah

Our first stop, however, was Utah’s premiere amusement park / quasi-theme park, Lagoon. Located just north of Salt Lake City in Farmington, Utah, Lagoon has a long history dating back to the 1880s. As such the park has the same sort of layered charm as Cedar Point which dates from roughly the same period. Era upon era has been built upon and over, augmented, and expanded.

Lagoon opened to the public on July 12, 1896 and was billed as a destination resort featuring “Bowling, [an] Elegant Dancing Pavilion, Fine Music, A Shady Bowery, and Good Restaurants.” Just like the trolley parks which sprouted up all across the United States in the first couple decades of the twentieth century, Lagoon was the brainchild of a railroad magnate—Simon Bamberger, the fourth Governor of Utah—who wanted to increase passenger traffic on his lines.

Vintage postcard, Shoot the Chutes. — Vintage postcard, **Shoot the Chutes**.

The park’s first thrill ride attraction, a typical “Shoot the Chutes” water voyage, opened for the last season of the 19th century. The following summer, swimming and boating were permitted for the first time in the small lake which is Lagoon’s namesake.

This early map shows the small scale of the Lagoon park in its first few decades. The park’s very first roller coaster, the Scenic Railway, is indicated here as the “Double Eight” in reference to its double figure-eight track layout with a height of 40 feet.

Vintage photograph, Scenic Railway, 1907. — Vintage photograph, **Scenic Railway**, 1907.

The attraction was built for the 1907 season adjacent to the Shoot the Chutes. By the early 1920s it had been demolished. There’s a nice short documentary online about the ride.

By mid-century, Lagoon had expanded considerably and added numerous Midway-type rides, games, and concessions. This once quiet bathing and boating retreat had morphed into a full-blown amusement park.

A Lushly Landscaped Midway

The central spine of the Lagoon park is a typical Midway. However, unlike the wide concrete jungles found at Cedar Point or Kings Island, the Midway area here is narrow, resplendent, and full of mature trees. They provide a cool canopy in spite of the summer sun, and also add scale to the various structures.

Lagoon’s Midway has all the classics you’d expect, like a this carousel which was built in 1893. It was installed in the park for the 1906 season, and as such is Lagoon’s oldest standing attraction. A blaze on the Midway in 1953 threatened to destroy it, but it was saved by firefighters dousing it continuously with water. In 2003 the Lagoon carousel was lovingly restored for its 110th birthday.

It’s not a traditional American Midway without some carnival-style games. These are spaced along both sides of the span, and are styled in the expected Theme Park Gingerbread motif.

Just like at Cedar Point and many other parks featuring midways, a sky gondola ride hangs overhead. Lagoon’s Sky Ride was added in 1974 and is the much smaller, open air feet-dangle of the ski lift variety nearly identical to the Sky Glider at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk, rather than the more substantial, closed-cabin Von Roll model.

Travelling over the Midway at about two and a half miles per hour some 60 feet in the air made for a calm seven minute journey from one end to the other. It was so nifty we rode it roundtrip (though you do have to exit and queue up again to reboard). And just like the trees, the Sky Ride provides an intimate sense of scale for this portion of the park.

The Wild Kingdom Train opened for the 1967 season as the “Animaland Train” and follows a route of about a third of a mile around Lagoon’s namesake lake and fountains, and through a tunnel to the Wild Kingdom Zoo area, which is actually the state's second largest.

The train depot is a mixture of Theme Park Gingerbread and a Frontier Old West look, decked out in patriotic red, white, and blue with mustard yellow accents—just like the locomotive and cars of the Wild Kingdom Train itself.

I have to wonder if this 24" narrow gauge steam railroad, the Sky Ride, and other additions which came to Lagoon in the late 1960s and early 70s were an attempt to import the popular trappings of Disneyland. Just like what happened at Cedar Point during the same period, parks with long histories began to adapt in response to Disney slowly and successfully rewriting the script of audience expectations for amusement parks nationwide.

Lagoon’s namesake lake, in which swimming is no longer permitted.

“Lagoon-A-Beach”

Which is fine, because there’s a complete water park area right in the middle of Lagoon called Lagoon-A-Beach. Prior to the late 1980s, this part of the park was the location of a massive swimming pool. The waterpark initially opened with a additional, separate gate admission, but has since been folded into a single price for all.

In the grand Disney tradition, the name of the waterpark area is a cheesy wordplay on Laguna Beach, California (which is quite near to where I grew up, actually).

Lagoon lacks separation and transition between its various themed areas, so you can see the ten slides of Lagoon-A-Beach towering overhead from many different settings. Just like at Cedar Fair parks which have internal water park areas—such as Valleyfair—this is a visual intrusion which disrupts scale and staging throughout Lagoon’s landscaping as a whole.

The Creative Director for Lagoon-A-Beach appears to be Captain Obvious. Here we have the infamous “Easter Island Heads” from the monolithic human figures scattered about Rapa Nui National Park known as Moai. If the designers had only waited a couple of decades, they would have known that the heads have hidden bodies buried in the ground beneath. Moai are a common trope at water parks.

Also common are volcanos, as they make excellent water features. Castaways-style suspension bridges fashioned from shipwrecked wood and rope are also expected in such settings. Nothing surprising here, all decently executed, but of course nothing on the scale of a Disney or Universal water park.

Just a Simple “Roller Coaster”

Lagoon has a real vintage treasure creeping and crawling out into its main parking lot area—the fourth oldest wooden coaster in the United States (sixth in the world)—plainly called Roller Coaster.

Vintage postcard, Roller Coaster. — Vintage postcard, **Roller Coaster**.

Sometimes advertised in decades past as the “Giant Roller Coaster,” and known affectionately by locals as the “White Roller Coaster,” the ride is actually only 62 feet tall at the first drop. It was designed by the legendary John Miller and opened at Lagoon for the 1921 season. Damaged by the same 1953 fire which threatened the park’s carousel, it was rebuilt and has been restored more than once since.

Much like the rest of the park itself, Lagoon’s Roller Coaster has a layered aesthetic that shows the passage of time. The ride is from the 1920s, yet the queue and station suggest the popular Art Deco stylings of the 30s and 40s, as I saw at Lakeside Park in Denver two years before.

It’s all part of the historical personality of a park as old as Lagoon, though the grounds are not immune to some of the more tacky tropes of the amusement park industry as seen at Cedar Fair and Six Flags, as well as the more detailed and immersive thematic cues of leaders such as Disney and Universal.

Continued in Part 2.

One Enchanted Afternoon.

November 25, 2019 by Dave Gottwald

During the summer of 2018, I took a break from site documentation for the most part. But on a drive down to California and back, I managed to fit in a small and humble attraction that I’d wanted to see for years—Enchanted Forest in Turner, Oregon (just south of Salem).

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

When they call it a forest, they’re really not kidding. The entire property is extremely (and charmingly) wooded. From this satellite view you can’t see a single structure save for the parking lot. In a sense, the forest is what makes the experience “enchanted” on some level. Unlike most theme parks, you don’t need an earthen berm to block out the rest of the world—the woods and elevation shift uphill take care of it.

Which was interesting to me, because Enchanted Forest is literally right off Interstate 5 as it winds up into Salem, Oregon. Like, yards from the freeway.

Enchanted Forest 2018 souvenir park map poster.

Enchanted Forest is the brainchild of one Roger Tofte, a typical American ‘backyard dreamer’ who was inspired by the roadside attractions he saw driving around the country on family vacations in the early 1960s and thought, why not in Oregon? His family was more skeptical. As his wife Mavis later admitted in her book Enchanted Forest and Its Family, “At first, none of us took Roger very seriously. After all, he had started so many other projects that didn’t get off the ground.”

It certainly took long enough, but Roger kept at it and eventually his dream came true. The hillside plot of land along Interstate 5 near Turner was first secured in 1964, and the park finally opened in 1971 after some seven years of intermittent construction.

The core theme of Enchanted Forest—fairy tales—is far from unique. In fact, the park is part of a larger subgenre of such amusement parks that were built all across the United States in the twentieth century, from the famous Children’s Fairyland in Oakland, California (1950) to Storybook Land in Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey (1955). With the notable exception of Fairyland (which Walt supposedly visited during his research), most of these parks were established in the aftermath of Disneyland’s runaway success and leveraged fantasy stories that were comfortably in the public domain.

As such, coming after Disneyland, much of the design vernacular of these parks could be construed as somewhat derivative. These hand routed signs of Gothic script are straight out of Fantasyland.

Similarly, the architectural cues are along the lines of the ‘Ye Olde Gingerbread Village’ look, albeit less detailed than at a Disney park.

Storybook Lane

The entire park is constructed on a hillside, and there is somewhat of an assumed (but not strictly prescribed) one-way route—almost like a variation on the Duell Loop. There are a handful of themed areas, the first of which is Storybook Lane.

Immediately through the entry gates and up to the right is the “Coffee Cottage.” This seems like a smart move, as I saw a line of parents eager to fortify themselves for the twisting journey ahead. The building is clearly newer than most of the other structures nearby, but is still rendered with a similar ‘rustic charm.’

What would a fantasy landscape be like without a grand medieval castle?

Although much, much smaller than the Disney version, the technique of forced perspective is still employed. And granted, this is a park for very, very young children; to a toddler, this must look huge.

Although there’s nothing preventing you from wandering through Enchanted Forest in any manner you choose, signs encourage guests to proceed through Storybook Lane first.

One of the most popular tropes at these fairy tale themed parks is Humpty Dumpty. The original large figure was completed in 1968, three years before Enchanted Forest opened, but was damaged and replaced by a new figure in the summer of 2014.

“Mary Had a Little Lamb” makes an appearance further up the path.

And next we have the famous Alice of Lewis Carroll (again thankfully in the public domain).

What surprised me is that the character designs on display don’t resemble the famed John Tenniel illustrations from the first edition of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (1865). Note the look of Alice and the Mad Hatter here.

Alice in Wonderland attraction at Disneyland, 2008. — **Alice in Wonderland** attraction at Disneyland, 2008.

Rather they look pretty much like the depictions from the 1951 Disney film Alice in Wonderland.

Here’s the Cheshire Cat at Enchanted Forest.

And the Disney film version. I’m curious as to how the Tufte family hasn’t gotten into legal trouble with Disney over this; maybe it’s because they’re a relatively small-time operation.

Following Alice is another story which Disney has adapted, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). The lighting was too low inside the cottage for a good photo, but the characters do not as closely resemble the Disney film. This sign, however, looks just like what you’d find in Fantasyland at a Disney park.

Here at Enchanted Forest, though, you can walk into the Witch’s Head and then ride down a slide.

Just when parents are getting a bit tired, signs point everyone further up the hill.

Tofteville Western Town

Tofteville was constructed for the park’s second season in 1972. This area is basically the Frontierland section of Enchanted Forest, but more a more rustic and dirty version of the Old West motif as seen in the Ghost Town at Knott’s Berry Farm.

The buildings all have an intention wonkiness to them, and the floorboards creek charmingly as you walk along the planked sidewalks.

Because this park was essentially assembled by Roger Tofte’s family and friends, it often feels like the set of a children’s television show on local cable access. Everything is painted simply; doors are windows are from the local hardware store.

But there’s also an attempt on some of the structures to weather and olden them. Here none of the beams are sanded or finished, and the rooflines are covered in thick moss.

The mixture is odd. Again, it’s one part children’s television set, one part roadside attraction, and one part Knott’s Ghost Town.

The earlier pictures make the area seem larger than it is. In this shot you can clearly see how narrow the street is and how short each block runs.

Here’s a trope I’ve seen before—grave markers with humorous rhymes.

Aren’t they cute?

Cute gravestones at Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion. QuietKid/Flickr. — Cute gravestones at Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion. *QuietKid/Flickr.*

At first I thought Enchanted Forest was riffing on the famous gravestones at the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland and other Disney parks.

Grave marker with humorous rhyme at Knott’s Berry Farm, 2007.

But then I remembered that this is a tradition you can find at many other parks. I do not know if the graveyard of puns at Knott's Berry Farm predates the original Haunted Mansion (1969), but the Ghost Town at that park certainly does—it’s been evolving since the 1940s.

The Wagon Wheel Opera House appeared to be the most finished structure in Tofteville. Inside was a combination of dining and retail space.

Great examples of hand painted type throughout, like this Clarendon.

Or this Tuscan.

Here is a mixture of slab serif types.

Just like at many other Old West “ghost towns” that I’ve visited, there are some actual antique artifacts on display throughout.

The one end of Tofteville terminates at a red barn.

Walking through, there’s a sign urging you on…

…around the corner to a house which appears to be falling apart. The Haunted House opened during the 1975 season, and, unlike the Disney park Haunted Mansions which opened in 1969 and 1971, ‘looks the part.’

When presented with the original concept art for a haunted house attraction at Disneyland back in the 1950s, Walt famously remarked that he didn’t want the exterior to look scary and run down—he wanted it pristine, like the rest of the park. Marty Sklar quotes him as saying "Don't worry about it. We'll take care of the outside; the ghosts will take care of the inside."

Here at Enchanted Forest, the look is more traditionally decrepit. Curiously, when it came time to design Phantom Manor for Disneyland Paris, the designers chose to also go more spookily obvious, so that the idea of the house being haunted would better telegraph across multiple languages and cultures.

The park’s Haunted House was charming, and also, at times, genuinely scary. As I exited, I noticed some masonry and black wrought ironwork which reminded me of the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland with its New Orleans Square trappings. Coincidence?

Having a log flume ride is a requisite trope for an American theme park, large or small, and Enchanted Forest finally added one in 1997 after many years of in-house development. I found the Big Timber Log Ride to be themed appropriately, and actually quite fun.

Most surprising was the roller coaster element leading to the ride’s finale. After traveling along the hillside in the flume, the logs latch onto a regular chain lift and go into a dive before climbing back to reengage with the flume for one last big drop.

I thought the park’s wordmark as embossed on the front of each log was a nice touch (just like you see at Knott’s Berry Farm).

At the opposite end of Tofteville from the Haunted House is Fort Fearless, which contains attractions like a small shooting gallery.

All the lettering is lovingly hand painted.

From here Enchanted Forest transforms into a series of tightly plotted narrow streets and tunnel overpasses. The effect of spatial compression is comforting, and also drives guests onward, discouraging them from turning back to re-navigate Tofteville back down through Storybook Lane to the park entrance.

There are no signs indicating the streets are one-way only, but the spatial cues are strong. This is how the same area looks facing the opposite direction, towards Tofteville.

Oregon’s Matterhorn

As at many parks I’ve visited, the tunnel moments allow for spatial and visual transitions between different themed areas, much like the zooming iris of a camera in an old movie. Up ahead appears to be a kind of European fantasy landscape; even the hardscape has changed to a cobbled brick-like treatment.

This medieval script clearly indicates I’ve left the Old West behind.

The Ice Mountain Bobsleds opened in 1982, again, after a long gestation period in-house. One luxury of a small, family-owned and operated park is that project can be designed in an iterative fashion for years.

The queue building / ride station is trimmed in light Germanic-Swiss chateau theming.

The unique trains of the Ice Mountain Bobsleds. Roller Coaster Philosophy/Flickr. — The unique trains of the **Ice Mountain Bobsleds**. *Roller Coaster Philosophy/Flickr*.

As for the ride vehicles, I’ve never been in anything quite like this—trains of three pods in which you are completely enclosed in a plexiglass bubble (but with holes for breathing). I felt a bit claustrophobic as we climbed the lift hill, but once the ride got up to speed it was so fun I didn’t think about it again.

Matterhorn Bobsleds at Disneyland, 2008. — **Matterhorn Bobsleds** at Disneyland, 2008.

Quite obviously, Enchanted Forest is trafficking in the popularity of Disneyland’s classic Matterhorn Bobsleds attraction which has been thrilling and delighting guests since 1959.

I don’t usually post POV ride footage unless the attraction in question is extinct, but the experience of the Ice Mountain Bobsleds is so unique that you really have to “ride” it to understand it.

The logo graphic for the Ice Mountain Bobsleds is unique as well. Stylistically, it strikes me as both dated and timeless all at once. Which shouldn’t be possible, really. Someone obviously had a lot of fun with Corel Draw. I liked it so much I bought the t-shirt in the gift shop.

Old World Village

Continuing along the path after the bobsleds ride, more details of the Old World Village area start to emerge. The bobsleds opened first, and then this themed area followed, opening in two stages during the 1980s. Initially called the “English Village” with a decidedly Shakespearean flavor, the project was broadened to a more pan-European approach (to allow for even more folklore and fairy tales).

Challenge of Mondor was added in 2006, and is the park’s latest attraction. The entrance is tucked off the main path and features a scaled-down “building within a building.” I had to cringe at the attraction title sign, though, which uses the readymade go-to of faux medievalists and renaissance fair designers everywhere—Delphin, designed by Georg Trump in 1951 for the Weber foundry (frequently found online as an early 90s knock-off called “Dauphin”).

Inside the Challenge of Mondor. Roller Coaster Philosophy/Flickr. — Inside the **Challenge of Mondor**. *Roller Coaster Philosophy/Flickr.*

The attraction is part of an ever-growing ilk of interactive dark rides; sort of a combination of a shooting gallery experience and a traditional conveyance, like Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin or Toy Story Midway Mania! at multiple Disney parks.

One review for the Portland Mercury called it a “Dungeons & Dragons Nerdgasm” which seems just about right. The story isn’t based on any existing IP; the park created their own—to help rescue “Ooglies” from “Draco” and his army of dragons. The ride was fun, surprisingly elaborate and detailed for such a (relatively) small budget, and checked all the right fantasy lore boxes.

It Takes a Village

As I walked on, the settings around me became even more village-like. And things felt very familiar…where had I seen all this before?

Still from Pinocchio (1940). Ⓒ Disney. — Still from *Pinocchio* (1940). Ⓒ Disney.

Well, this portion of the Old World Village area at Enchanted Forest is a near-perfect lift of the small Italian township where Mastro Geppetto has his workshop in Disney’s Pinocchio (1940).

Pinocchio area in Fantasyland at Disneyland, 2008. — Pinocchio area in *Fantasyland* at Disneyland, 2008.

Disney presents the environments of Pinocchio at several of their Magic Kingdom-style parks around the world, and of course because the company’s artists designed the film, the imagineers working on the theme parks have access to a wealth of source material from concept paintings to storyboards.

The original Fantasyland area wasn’t built with this level of cinematic detail in 1955—mostly because Walt simply ran out of money. A medieval fair concept tied to Sleeping Beauty’s Castle was substituted, with banners, flags and bunting—essentially decorated sheds which housed each of the land’s dark rides.

Pinocchio’s Daring Journey at Tokyo Disneyland, 2008. — **Pinocchio’s Daring Journey** at Tokyo Disneyland, 2008.

A “New Fantasyland” opened at Disneyland on May 25, 1983 which was more deeply tied to the various animated films represented. Thus the area around Pinocchio’s Daring Journey—a brand new attraction—felt authentic to the movie. This dark ride was developed concurrently for Anaheim’s “New Fantasyland” as well as for Tokyo Disneyland, which opened a month earlier.

Pleasure Island Candies at Tokyo Disneyland, 2008.

Unique to the Tokyo park is a candy store named for Pleasure Island in Pinocchio, which is also rendered in the Italian “Old World Village” style.

Pinocchio Village Haus at the Magic Kingdom, 2007.

The “New Fantasyland” also included a Pinocchio-themed restaurant called Village Haus (which is now the Beauty and the Beast-themed Red Rose Taverne), which was based on the Pinocchio Village Haus at Walt Disney’s World Magic Kingdom (and is still there today).

Pinocchio area in Fantasyland at Disneyland Paris, 2008. — Pinocchio area in *Fantasyland* at Disneyland Paris, 2008.

The most evocative interpretation of the village designs in Pinocchio is at Disneyland Paris. Unlike Disneyland, the Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World, and Tokyo Disneyland, the Fantasyland at this park was designed from the start to be deeply stylized in the manner of the represented animated classics.

One of the reasons for this is with audiences drawn primarily from a dozen or more cultures throughout Europe, it was thought that each nationality deserved a distinct ‘slice’ of Fantasyland—England is represented by Peter Pan (1953) and Alice in Wonderland, France proudly claims Sleeping Beauty (1959) and Beauty and the Beast (1991), Italy gets Pinocchio, and so on.

Yet where Enchanted Forest takes the prize for theming is in the immersive nature of their village design. Sure, the detail lavished upon the areas at the Disney parks as seen above far exceeds the fit and finish here at this small mom-and-pop outfit, but I’d argue that the experience—at least spatially—is better than any of those other Pinocchio representations, because you walk through the village in the exact same manner as shown in the film. As a guest, you follow the point of view of the camera.

Here is the guest’s point of view at the Old World Village.

And here is the camera’s POV in the film.

Even architectural details like this second-story bridge passage are in the film…

…right here. The result is an intimacy that none of the other “villages” from Pinocchio at the Disney parks have been able to replicate.

Although the signage all over Enchanted Forest is well executed, the bits and pieces in and around Old World Village are probably the best.

The typefaces are appropriate, and the wood routing work is terrific.

It’s wonderful to see, as the (well designed) signage at the Disney and Universal parks is increasingly rendered in fiberglass.

Sign after sign, and they’re all lovely.

The inclusion of Arthurian icon Merlin indicates we might be leaving Italy.

Walking downward, the Italian vibe of Old World Village (which was Phase II of the project) gives way to a more Shakespearean English flavor (which was Phase I). This view is looking back, up the hill.

Along this final span, the elements are purely Fantasyland castle in styling.

It was disappointing to see this printed sign (with terribly awkward drop shadow) after all those fantastic wood samples. But a “Free Water Show”… what could this be?

Interior of the Fantasy Fountains water show. Roller Coaster Philosophy/Flickr. — Interior of the **Fantasy Fountains** water show. *Roller Coaster Philosophy/Flickr.*

As I soon learned, the Fantasy Fountains is perhaps the park’s most famous attraction, and the one remembered the most fondly by adults who saw it as children. This charming water fountain and light show set to music is housed within the Jolly Roger theater which is themed as an English pub. No beer here though, but there are snacks and beverages.

This second phase of the Old World Village opened in 1988, and is generically medieval / English / fantasy / storybook in appearance.

If you’ve been following the park’s loop in a one-way direction clockwise from the start of Storybook Lane, all of this as you return to the entrance is a nice bookending.

Again, there’s nothing to prevent you from walking the park in the opposite direction (counter-clockwise), in which case you’d enter this castle archway and come to the Fantasy Fountains first. But I think the park was designed—with strong spatial cues—to be run in the other direction. I suppose locals mix it up, but as a first-time visitor, I’m glad I followed the “Start at the Castle” sign at the entry to Storybook Lane.

In conclusion, Enchanted Forest is a charming and simple park; inexpensive, quiet, and geared for very young children. The Tofte family has done their absolute best over the years in managing the place and adding well-considered additions as time and money have allowed. It’s amazing to me that with a fraction of the resources, Enchanted Forest offers a more immersive way to relive one of Disney’s most iconic animated films than even the imagineers have been able to do with everything at their disposal.

It might just be true, what’s often said: art thrives on restrictions.

Harper / Collins.

October 14, 2019 by Dave Gottwald

After leaving Denver, I headed north for my final thematic destination on this 2017 summer road trip. Earlier I had stopped by Marceline, Missouri to investigate the roots of Disneyland’s Main Street USA. But as it turns out, right along my route was yet another town with perhaps even more legitimate design connections—Fort Collins.

Old Town District, Fort Collins, satellite view. Click for link. Map data: Ⓒ Google.

Fort Collins is the fourth largest city in Colorado, about fifty miles north of Denver. Although it’s grown into a sprawling college town, home of Colorado State University, Fort Collins was founded as a U.S. Army outpost during the Civil War, and later became a bustling freight hub for the Union Pacific and Burlington Northern Santa Fe railroads by the 1870s. My interest, however, is that Fort Collins is where Disney artist Harper Goff was born in 1911. Thus this post’s title is a pun on Harper Goff and Fort Collins as a tribute to one of my favorite publishers.

Goff went to school at the Chouinard Art Institute in Los Angeles and went on to be a commercial illustrator in New York for a time but returned to Southern California to work as a set designer and art director at Warner Bros. After a chance encounter in a London shop in 1951, Walt Disney and Harper Goff bonded over their mutual love of model railroading, and not long after Walt hired him after he had left Warners for a time. Today Goff is still best remembered for designing Captain Nemo’s Nautilus submarine and its interiors for Disney’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954)—the famed look and feel of which is a foundational element of today’s steampunk aesthetic.

Harper Goff’s honorary window in Adventureland, Disneyland, 2008. — Harper Goff’s honorary window in *Adventureland*, Disneyland, 2008.

The Second Imagineer

Goff was one of the very first studio personnel whom Walt Disney handpicked to work on the Disneyland project. In 1951 Goff, along with others, developed concept art for Walt’s initial idea, a sixteen-acre park adjacent to the company property in Burbank. Before the final site in Anaheim had even been selected for what became Disneyland, Walt had him travelling around the country doing field research at amusement parks and fairs. Jeff Kurti in Walt Disney's Imagineering Legends and the Genesis of the Disney Theme Park (2008) called him “The Second Imagineer” after Walt Disney himself.

At Disneyland, Goff designed the interiors for the Golden Horseshoe saloon in Frontierland (which he cribbed directly from his work on 1953’s Calamity Jane for Warner Bros) and was the art director for the entire Adventureland area, including the detailed planning required for the Jungle Cruise attraction.

Unlike other Disney Legends who have tributes painted on the windows of Main Street USA, Goff’s window is above the Adventureland Bazaar. It advertises him offering banjo lessons as he played the instrument in the Firehouse Five Plus Two, a Dixieland jazz group which also featured fellow animator (and train enthusiast) Ward Kimball.

Vintage photograph, Larimer County Courthouse.

Collins Connection: Disneyland’s City Hall

Harper Goff’s other notable contribution to Disneyland’s design was his work on Main Street USA, in which he drew upon his childhood memories of Fort Collins. As Goff elaborated in an interview for the Winter 1992–1993 issue of The "E" Ticket magazine:

I was born in that little town…Fort Collins, Colorado. My dad owned a newspaper there, the Fort Collins Express Courier, and I grew up there. It was a very prosperous town. We had banks that looked like banks, you know, and there was a Victorian city hall. I was born in 1911 and these buildings were around when I was a kid. When I started working on Main Street, I had photographs of Fort Collins taken. I showed them to Walt and he liked them very much. Disneyland's City Hall was copied from Fort Collins…so was the Bank building and some of the others.

The structure in question which was the basis for Disneyland City Hall is, by all accounts, the Larimer County Courthouse. The large brick building was actually the third courthouse built (Fort Collins is currently on their fifth, dedicated in 2000). It opened in 1888 and was demolished in 1957 upon the inauguration of its replacement. There are several great photographs of the courthouse which you can view at the Fort Collins History Connection, an online collaboration between the Fort Collins Museum of Discovery and the Poudre River Public Library District.

I took the above photograph from a very low vantage to emphasize what Disneyland City Hall looks like to a small child; this is likely how Harper Goff remembered the Larimer County Courthouse in Fort Collins from his youth, towering over him.

Vintage postcard, Larimer County Courthouse.

Goff’s choice of words in the interview, “copied from Fort Collins,” is somewhat misleading, although I’m sure he probably meant it. Clearly there is some inspiration, but it’s pretty loose. For one thing, the courthouse is several order of magnitudes larger. And the materials are vastly different—the courthouse is nearly all red brick with a gray roof.

Belvedere and cupola, Larimer County Courthouse.

If Harper remembered anything from his childhood that he wished to bring to Disneyland, it was clearly the towering belvedere and cupola combination above the front entrance.

Though all of the design details on the Disneyland City Hall version are wildly different, that thing sure made an impression on young Harper. The width of the tower seems about right in proportion to the rest of the building, though the height and stature of the cupola has been reduced. The plot thickens, however. Disney historian Jim Korkis asserts that the designers actually referenced a photograph of the Bay County Courthouse in Bay City Michigan, but I have the book he mentions and I couldn’t find the relevant image inside. Have a look at that courthouse (built 1868) yourself and compare.

Collins Connection: Disneyland’s Firehouse

The Larimer County Courthouse is long since gone, but I used my afternoon in Fort Collins to explore what other design connections there might be.

The aforementioned Fort Collins History Connection maintains a page on “Old Town and Disneyland's Main Street USA” and they note how historian Richard V. Francaviglia visited the Fort Collins archives when he was conducting research for his book Main Street Revisited: Time, Space, and Image Building in Small-Town America (1996) which I have referenced before and consider a cherished source.

Goff was vague in his recollection of what other designs he borrowed from his Colorado upbringing—”the Bank building and some of the others”—so I decided to poke around the Old Town District and see for myself. As it turns out, there is another bell tower structure similar to the one Harper remembered from the Larimer County Courthouse still in Fort Collins today, at the town’s former firehouse.

Overlay of vintage photograph of Fort Collins firehouse on current structure.

Curiously, the footprint of the building is sort of a mirror image of what it used to be. This early 1900s photograph shows that there once a building to the left, and nothing to the right, of the original firehouse. Today this is reverse; the building has been added on at the right, and the lot to the left is vacant.

I went inside the building, which now is fittingly home to a wonderful independent bookstore, and inquired about any design connections to Disneyland. One of the older staff members mentioned that “this firehouse was inspiration for the one at Disneyland.” A customer in the store suggested that even the look of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle at that park was linked the firehouse. Finally one other staff member said, no, but the firehouse’s tower design contributed to the City Hall at Disneyland (as noted above, inspired by the Larimer County Courthouse instead).

This is a common thing with local folklore, and gets repeated in the press from time to time. Even the Fort Collins Historical Society offered conflicting accounts when I stopped by and asked about Harper Goff and any Fort Collins connections to Disneyland. Because besides interviews with Goff himself, we don’t have much.

Here’s the Disneyland version, which doesn’t look anything like the firehouse in Fort Collins. Perhaps Harper Goff was simply interested in the rectangular orientation of the facades.

Looking closer, there is indeed a small tower on the left side of the building. Over the decades it’s been almost completely obscured by trees.

Vintage postcard, Town Square of Main Street USA, Disneyland. Ⓒ Disney Enterprises, Inc. — Vintage postcard, Town Square of *Main Street USA*, Disneyland. Ⓒ Disney Enterprises, Inc.

During the park’s early years, none of those trees existed. In this postcard view, you can clearly see the tower of the firehouse building.

Hong Kong Disneyland Fire Department, 2008.

All the features are much more accessible at Hong Kong Disneyland. Most of the Main Street USA area there is a near 1:1 copy of the original Disneyland park. In Hong Kong the trees have not fully grown in yet and the Jungle Cruise at that park does not sit directly behind the firehouse, so there is no dense foliage around the back of the building either.

The second Main Street USA firehouse at Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom seems to have even greater Fort Collins lineage—both from the Larimer County Courthouse and the town’s former firehouse. The company is named Engine Co. 71 after the opening year of the Florida resort, 1971.

Just look at that tower! I was browsing through the Fort Collins History Connection database, and lo and behold, the roof feature at the top is practically identical to that of one Hottel House on 215 South College, which was built in the 1890s and demolished in 1962.

But by the time the Magic Kingdom was in full creative development, Harper Goff had moved on. During that time he returned to live action Hollywood, providing production design work for such films as Fantastic Voyage (1966), in which he managed to fuse the concept of a submarine with a Detroit automobile, and Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971), where his steampunk visions of cast iron pipes and brass were turned fanciful. It was to be his final film credit. Goff later returned to work for Disney in the late 1970s as a conceptual consultant on the EPCOT project’s World Showcase and continued to do work for the company off and on until his death in 1993.

Magic Kingdom City Hall, Walt Disney World. Roller Coaster Philosophy/Flickr. — Magic Kingdom **City Hall**, Walt Disney World. *Roller Coaster Philosophy/Flickr.*

Disney artists such as Collin Campbell, Paul Hartley, and Dorothea Redmond are credited with the concept art for the Magic Kingdom’s Main Street USA. The approach to that park is larger, more elaborately Victorian, and more urban. It’s more Kansas City than Marceline or Fort Collins. The Magic Kingdom’s City Hall is easily twice the size or more of the Disneyland original, and adds a clock to its belvedere tower and cupola. It’s unclear how much these designers consulted with the original Disneyland concept renderings by Harper Goff and others, but I suspect with at least the Engine Co. 71 they did.

Collins Connection: Disneyland’s Bank Building

Goff specifically mentions “the bank” in his 1992 interview. And indeed, there appear to be many building blocks in the Old Town District of Fort Collins which look similar to the bank building on the east side of Main Street USA as you enter Town Square at Disneyland.

Vintage Bank of America brochure for Disneyland. Ⓒ Disney Enterprises, Inc.

According to Bank of America, who hosted the location from 1955 until mid-1993, “located on Main Street stood a fully functioning Bank of America branch. Bank associates dressed in turn-of-the-century clothing and even offered money orders printed only for the Disneyland branch.” The bank was one of the very few in the United States during those years to be open on Sundays and holidays because the branch basically kept Disneyland’s hours. With the tellers departing in 1993 and the spread of ATMs, by 2001 the location was used for Annual Passport processing. Since 2009, it’s been the location of The Disney Gallery and its attached retail space.

In the park’s early years the building appears to have been more monochromatic and realistic; basically, more like the structures I found in Fort Collins.

Bank of Main Street at Disneyland, 2008. — **Bank of Main Street** at Disneyland, 2008.

All of the building facades along Disneyland’s Main Street USA have been extensively altered and retrofitted over the decades. Typically, paint color schemes have gotten more saturated, and decor more lavish. Main Street USA looks far more “theme park” than it did in the early years. But looking at older photos, I could definitely see the Fort Collins connection.

Yet that’s the thing. America’s actual historic districts and main streets and old towns look far more “theme park” today too. This was an essential point that Francaviglia was making in his investigation Main Street Revisited: Time, Space, and Image Building in Small-Town America—that the historic preservation and downtown revitalization movements that began in the 1970s and continue to today take their design cues from the public’s expectations for nostalgia. Which comes from theme parks, beginning with Disneyland.

Fort Collins even has a new Downtown Plan for their Old Town Historic District which the city adopted in the spring of 2017, amending and updating their original revitalization efforts which began in 1989. The District itself dates back to the late seventies.

Collins in Context

Harper Goff was certainly not the only one who was channeling childhood nostalgia while working on the Disneyland project. As Disney Imagineer David Mumford wrote in a 1992 letter to Jack and Leon Janzen, publishers of The “E” Ticket magazine, many designers worked on Main Street USA:

It seems little has been documented on the design development of Main Street at Disneyland…it is difficult to attribute Main Street’s design to just one person…Main Street is actually a typical representation of a Walt Disney Imagineering project, since it represents a collaborative effort by many creative people.

Mumford mentions Dick Irvine, Marvin Davis, Wade Rubottom, Harry McAfee, Harvey Gillette, and Sam McKim as having worked on designs with the participation Walt Disney. Also of note:

These men were assisted by Harry Webster, who seemed to have a natural ability for drawing American Gothic and Victorian details. Harry went on to work with Randall Duell on Six Flag Theme Parks, but was “borrowed back” by WED to design the France pavilion for World Showcase at EPCOT Center.

Mumford also confirms Goff’s story about Fort Collins, and repeats the matter of City Hall:

An effort has been made to find some of the reference material used to inspire each of the Main Street buildings. For example, Main Street’s City Hall is based on a building in Harper Goff’s home town of Fort Collins, Colorado.

But he also notes that many other disparate childhood memories of Americana were likely at play:

Imagineering legend Sam McKim recalls how the designs relied on a vintage book of photographs of turn-of-the-century Sonoma, California. But in tracking down this book from the studio library, I have found no direct references to Disneyland’s Main Street buildings. Perhaps like Walt, all the gentlemen working on the project had some Main Street roots from their home town that they brought to the design.

So although I did find elements here and there around Fort Collins that influenced Harper Goff’s concept renderings for Main Street USA besides the City Hall, FIre Department, and Bank of Main Street building, I have to consider all the other memories of the other designers (and any photo reference they may have used) as part of the mix. Main Street is a melange; saying it’s based only on Walt’s childhood in Marceline and Goff’s days in Fort Collins makes for nice promotional copy, but it’s a shortcut to the truth.

Yet given that, I found several general turn-of-the-century Victorian architectural threads here in Fort Collins which connect to Main Street USA. And that’s probably because while Walt was channeling the “small town-ness” of his boyhood in Missouri, the more interesting designs to ape off are in larger, more prosperous, much more locally influential towns like Fort Collins.

The kind folks at the Fort Collins Historical Society really urged me to check out the former Linden Hotel which began as the Poudre Valley Bank in 1882. This is one of the few buildings in Old Town which commanded the ‘corner presence’ often found at the Main Streets of the Disney parks. The upper floors were private offices when I visited but are to be converted into four luxury apartments as part of the city’s new Downtown Plan.

The stonework and brownstoning in the Old Town District were quite impressive, and also far more Western in orientation than the Mid Western structures of Marceline. Fort Collins felt like Denver, like Flagstaff, like Salt Lake City, like Billings.

As part of the efforts begun in 1989, a single block of Linden Street between Walnut Street and East Mountain Avenue was at some point closed to automobile traffic and converted into a pedestrian promenade.

The trim here in the upper right feels like what Disney’s people were going for when designing Main Street USA. And again, these features are not so much specific to Fort Collins and Harper Goff’s memories of it, but rather typical of towns more prosperous and populous than Marceline at the turn of the century.

The Miller Block dates back to 1888 (as proudly proclaimed by the sign, which may or may not be original), and I got some pretty strong Disneyland vibes off of it, especially the details along the roofline.

Like so many other buildings in the Old Town District, the Miller Block carries colorful trims which are less period accurate and more Disney-esque authentic.

The labeling and dating of the various blocks can be problematic. Some are actually over 100 years old, while others have been added as part of “restoration” efforts.

Perhaps the lettering here is authentic and has simply been repainted over the years; it’s just impossible to tell from the street. On Disney’s Main Street USA there is no such labeling, but one thing that thematic design leverages often to establish feelings of place and community are faux proprietorships. I’ve seen this at plenty other theme parks as well.

Main Street USA, Disneyland, 2008. — *Main Street USA*, Disneyland, 2008.

Neither Marceline Nor Fort Collins

After visiting both towns, I’ve come to realize that neither can really be dusted for fingerprints with regards to the design of Disneyland’s Main Street USA. There are echoes and ghosts and approximations, for sure. But no true one-to-one comparisons to be made (unless we count the roof feature from the Hottel House which somehow ended up on Engine Co. 71 at the Magic Kingdom). The Larimer County Courthouse / Disneyland City Hall is the most frequently cited, but even that is something of a stretch.

For one, the Disney model includes many more architectural aspects of domesticity. At both Marceline and Fort Collins, all the blocks are part of a twentieth century “urban core” consisting of banks, hotels, various businesses, and perhaps a couple restaurants or a saloon or two. At the Disney parks, bits of “houses” crop up in between and around the other facades, reinforcing a communal sense of “town-ness.”

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

All of Main Street’s architectural residents are much leaner as well. In Marceline the blocks were subdivided into maybe four or five side by side structures; in Fort Collins many of the blocks were a single building long. On Disney’s Main Street USA, so many are like the building above—wide enough only for a single proprietor and storefront entrance.

And the roof treatments! These appear to be flights of fancy; none to be found in either Walt or Harper’s Missouri and Colorado memories. As I mentioned earlier when looking at the Miller Block, a notable exception is the wrought iron railings on that building and others currently standing in Fort Collins which clearly served as inspiration for all the similar iron work on Main Street USA. There are no such features in Marceline, Missouri.

As for the use of awnings on nearly every window, it’s possible this was more common in both towns at the turn of the century, given the lack of electric fans or air conditioning. But awnings on the upper floors in Marceline and Fort Collins today are largely a thing of the past.

Much is made of the corner-facing structures at the end of each block on Main Street USA. The primary walk between the train station and the castle hub, which runs south to north, is bisected at the midpoint by the narrower Center Street. Thus there is an East and West Center street, and all the corners of each are given a commanding presence. Conversely, there are only a couple moments of “corner-ness” in Marceline and Fort Collins (notably the former Linden Hotel at the latter).

I have no idea where the design of the Disneyland Opera House came from; some sources say Sam McKim, others Marvin Davis, still others Dale Hennesy. But there’s certainly nothing like it in Marceline or Fort Collins. It should be noted that Harper Goff’s earliest concept drawings for the Town Square end of Main Street USA were more frontier and Old West rustic, as opposed to Victorian Gingerbread.

Documenting both the Marceline of Walt Disney’s youth and the Fort Collins of Harper Goff’s gave me more insight into how Disneyland’s Main Street USA model wasn’t designed rather than how it was. It’s part of company lore at this point, and both towns like to play up the connection to drive tourism (although I’d argue that Fort Collins could do even more on the ground, so to speak). But it’s mostly mythology.

At Fort Collins, the most direct link is of course that oft-mentioned Larimer County Courthouse, which has long since been demolished. And there are hints at the firehouse for sure that wound up in the DNA of both the Main Street USA areas at Disneyland and the Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World. But as someone cataloging visual evidence would say, it’s all anecdotal in the details, and largely apocryphal in the bigger picture.

Finally Finished

This concludes the documentation of my five weeks of travel during the summer months of 2017. Between processing my photographs, designing custom graphics and maps, and (of course) the writing, it certainly took way longer than I expected. But I’m glad I got it all down in proper order.

Going forward I have a few notes from 2018 and then I’ll begin posts on this blog detailing site documentation from my three weeks of travel during the summer of 2019.

Onward.