Westward Ho!
Or How We Learned to Love the Past as the Future and Stop Worrying About It?
Oh, the sound of wailing at the end of all things Frontierland…
If you haven’t heard, Disneyland is making some changes again. Read all about it, here from Fab News over on Micechat. Part of adding Star Wars to the Park, with some long-term closures of various attractions and areas about Frontierland as a galaxy, far, far away comes to Anaheim.
With all of this at hand, I decided to give a bit of thought as to how the Frontier or the American West came to be of such interest that it got a substantial part of real estate dedicated to it when Disneyland opened.
For the sake of discussion, let us say that the American West came to be almost anything west of the Allegeheny Mountains and east of the Pacific Ocean. Fascination with it came along in American popular culture long ago. For the temporally impaired, this interest goes back to the pre-Revolutionary war era. Back when tales of what lay unexplored in the West were the stuff of dreams. When men like Daniel Boone carried popular imaginations along with them on their explorations.
In today’s era of instant gratification via Google Street View, it may be hard for many to imagine that you actually had to travel over the next hill to see for yourself what lay ahead of you. There was no preview of what was around that next bend in the river. For more than a few folks, that kind of adventure was a siren’s call waiting to be answered. If there was nothing to keep you tied to a place, you could pick up and go.
Some of the first Western tales that caught imaginations were those of writers such as James Fenimore Cooper as far back as the 1820’s. Dime Novels and Penny Dreadfuls of the 1850’s and later were full of the stuff that readers longed to know; fictional or not. Tales of wide open spaces, man versus nature or civilization versus the wild men of the prairies and plains made for sales.
Fascination did not stop with the printed word. Folks in the East and across the Atlantic rushed to see various Wild West shows, as early as 1872 with Ned Buntline in Chicago. Bringing the West and all of it’s excitement to civilization? Oh, yes… profitable! Consider that W.F. Cody organized his own show in 1883 and it played until 1913. And he was far from alone.
Western tales also came into some of the earliest motion pictures produced in this country.”The Great Train Robbery” was a smash hit with audiences. At the time, Edwin S. Potter’s revolutionary telling of the story wowed audiences every where it was showed. (It was as much of a game change for the day as “Star Wars” would become in the summer of 1977.) The Western film became a staple. Cowboys like “Bronco” Billy Anderson, Tom Mix, Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers and The Lone Ranger were the heroes of their day on screen and on radio.
Now, I know, thanks to a bit of ancestry, that life out West was not adventure every day. It was hard and it was boring. Men and women did what they had to do because their options were very limited. For example, when my great-great-grandfather turned to his oldest son at the age of 12 and informed him that it was time for him to make his own way in the world, choices were few. Living in central Nevada did not offer much, especially for the son of shop/saloon keeper in a boom town gone bust.
Somehow, my great-grandfather convinced some ranch owner out in the Pine Valley to hire him on as vaquero. With cattle and horses to tend, he spent the next eight years of his life on the back of a horse. Work was life. You wore the same clothes day in, day out. Same slouch hat and coat. If it got cold, and you had an extra shirt or pair of pants, you wore them too. As a hired hand, there was a bunk house and food, but it was nothing special. Life out West? Dull, dusty and downright dull.
I have been out to the Pine Valley a number of times. Sure, it has its charms. Some beautiful vistas. But at the end of my day, I could get back into the air-conditioned car and drive off to my motel room in the big city. My great-grandfather and his fellow hands? Pretty much, they stayed where they worked.
Lucky for me, the opportunity to see what railroading was all about ended life on the range. And opened another chapter. Railroading also was the stuff of dime novels, plenty of tales of exciting trips over the pass to deliver the goods.
When television came along, the Western was an established genre that audiences enjoyed and wanted more of. Popular shows like “Gunsmoke” and “Have Gun, Will Travel” were just the thing. “Gunsmoke” had been a favorite on radio for many years before making the change to television. From 1952 to 1975, it kept audiences regaled with tales from the West. With 635 episodes, it remains the longest-running television program. Westerns also helped bring color televisions to many homes. For example, NBC (with parent RCA selling the color sets) went into color in a big way with shows such as “Bonanza” and another series from Desilu Studios, with a somewhat interesting series of stories, set along the lines of “Wagon Train to the stars”.
So, should it have been much of a surprise that when Disneyland opened in 1955, a good amount of space in the new park was devoted to the American West and was called, Frontierland. If you look at the attractions of the area as it developed, it is interesting to note that most of them dealt with transportation. The Stage Coach, the Conestoga Wagon, the Mule Pack Train, the Santa Fe & Disneyland Railroad, the sternwheel steamboat Mark Twain, the Davy Crockett Keel Boats, the Indian Canoes, the Tom Sawyer’s Island River Rafts, the Natures Wonderland Railroad… All on the move; bringing guests out into the wild and unknown of days gone by. Safely inside the berm, in what only a few years before had been untamed orange groves.
After World War II, Americans looked to pop culture for distraction. And they found it in the West, with tales of the wide open spaces, with clearly defined heroes and villains. White hats versus black hats took up where Americans versus Nazi’s or Jap’s had been all too real. Stories where the good guy triumphed, rode off into the sunset, with or without the girl, searching for a place to settle down and call home. These were the tonic plenty of folks could see their way to enjoy.
Things changed when the space race began. In the era of mutually assured destruction by Cold War enemies via long range missiles and bombers, stories changed there setting from the Wild West to outer space. The good guys may not have worn white hats and space monsters replaced the bad guys in the black hats. Ray guns replaced six-shooter pistols, but the stories still told of a wide open galaxy, where there was always treasure waiting to be discovered on the next planet along the Milky Way.
While Frontierland may have lost some of it’s allure to guests as pop culture changed, Disneyland did not change a great deal over the years along the Rivers of America. The Painted Desert gave way to Big Thunder Mountain as thrill rides became the rage at theme parks.
While some folks would like to give George Lucas credit for changing the cinematic world by taking audiences to a galaxy, far, far way in the summer of 1977. But the story that came on screen was very similar to what was told in previous films such as “The Magnificent Seven“. Which it’s self, was a retelling of the Japanese film, “Seven Samurai“. People searching for redemption in their own way, became unlikely heroes, doing what was best for the greater good.
With “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” bringing audiences back to theaters and with the Disney company acquisition of Lucasfilm (and it’s empire of intellectual properties), changing a good part of Frontierland into a Star Wars land in Anaheim is somewhat a no-brainer. Sure, Disney needs to come up with something to match Universal’s Harry Potter additions in both Florida and California. Taking guests on that journey to a part of the galaxy, far, far away is just the thing to capitalize on audience love of the film franchise.
I won’t spin up the crystal ball for a look ahead, but rather offer a glimpse back today. Into the era when the wide open spaces and adventure ahead was the wild, wild West. Where bad guys and Indians waited to trap the unsuspecting settlers, coming in search of better than what they left behind.
While some of us may still have our coon skin caps at the ready, more are ready for “lightspeed to Endor” as Captain Rex, used to say. Maybe we can still make the trip to join them and take another spin around the Rivers of America in the same visit.
See you out there on the trail…
Time and the Machines
I have indeed been very lucky. With Time and Machines, I have been able to connect.
For there have been more than a few moments when I was able to experience a direct connection to the past. And the past was that of my family; people who came before I did by a good number of years.
Yes, the railroad will loom large in this tale. Be it the place or the people, the railroad plays a part.
A good start came in the fall of 1980. Having finished my first full year of employment at AAA, I decided to head off on an adventure. The first time that I was solo, visiting places I had never been. But there was a moment on a September evening, aboard Amtrak’s “San Francisco Zephyr” when it was about to depart Sparks, Nevada; continuing on its journey to Chicago. In that moment, I was making my first ride east of Sparks. And I was about to follow the same route my great-grandfather made countless times in his career as a locomotive engineer from Sparks to Carlin. It was pretty simple stuff, but pretty heady. And it was indeed special. I knew it then and was filled with excitement. So much that I don’t think I slept at all that night.
Now in years since, I have made many trips east of Sparks, with friends and solo by automobile. Oddly enough, I have not made the same trip again by rail. There always lies hope of it. But I have visited many locations along the way that my grandfather and his family members visited during their years in the Silver State. Some of those were to places where I know family had been. Palisade, Nevada, for example. Today, it is pretty much a siding on the railroad. A cemetery overlooks what had once been a town site. Here is a view from the Barriger Library of what the town and surrounding area looked like sometime in the 1930’s. (This gallery offers more images from the same collection.)
All of the structures seen are gone today and have been for a number of years. Since discovering this image, I have found a great deal more information that links members of my family to both the standard gauge railroad (the Southern Pacific) and the narrow gauge railroad (the Eureka and Palisade) seen, not to mention businesses and properties in and about Palisade.
Standing in about the same spot as the photo shows, again, it did not take a great deal to connect with those people at the moments their lives were experienced here.
Starting in the mid-1970’s through the late 1990’s, I volunteered at a railway museum between San Francisco and Sacramento. You name it, I did it. Steam, diesel and electric trains. Track work, restoration projects, train crew with and without passengers, ticket sales, gift shop sales… it never seemed to end. On the Museum’s demonstration railway and then the adjacent former mainline railway the Museum eventually acquired, it was bringing history back to life that offered some of the most satisfying moments.
A few of them come to mind. The first was in the early 1980’s, on an early morning getting a steam locomotive ready for the days operation. Again a connection, as here I was doing much the same tasks as my great-grandfather had some 80 years earlier when he had been a young locomotive fireman with the Southern Pacific. I knew that I was proud of him for what he had done back then; and I hoped that he would have been proud of me carrying on, doing what he had all those years ago. (He had passed away over a dozen years before, but he lived his life as a railroader. So much so that he carried his railroad watch for reference, even though he had not used it for many years in railroad service. That watch is deservedly treasured by another grandson named for him.) A later chance meeting led to a connection with another retired locomotive engineer who had worked with my grandfather, in the late 1940’s after World War II, when he was starting his railroad career. He had some good stories to share from those years.
The second moment came in the mid-1990’s towards the end of a long day. The group I was part of had been out on the railroad doing work on the track, getting a little used line ready for a special passenger excursion as part of an upcoming convention of railway museums. I was running a diesel locomotive on a train carrying everyone back from the work site to the museum. As the train rumbled along at the mighty speed of 15 miles per hour, I was again connected to the past as I was doing what my great-grandfather had.
When I graduated high school in the summer of 1977, a career on the railroad looked promising. Along the way, other things got in the way and I never did make that job choice. I look back at times and wish I had. Part of me understands, but then reality comes along and reminds me I would have been laid off during the recession of the 1980’s and probably would have been soured against the industry. While I still have an interest in railroading today, the experiences of the railway museum and private railroad car operations have offered some fantastic times with some truly amazing people.
That is where the third moment comes into play. One of those days as a steam locomotive fireman, I had the pleasure of firing for a gentleman who had not only been a locomotive engineer but who had actually run the locomotive we were on that day in service on the Western Pacific. We didn’t go very far or very fast that day, but for him it had to have been a trip back in time. And I was glad I was able to share it with him.
We do not always get such opportunities. All of these moments are the kind of memories worth having. Special they are and I am glad to have been in the right place at the right time. With the people and the machines that made them happen.
Would you believe…
As odd as it might seem, I have not set foot in a Disney theme park since May of 2015.
And even more interesting, is the fact that I am okay with that.
Yes, I was an Annual Passholder. Disneyland Premium, to be specific. It expired in early December and I struggled to decide if I should renew it or not.
Part of me kind of leaned toward the Nostalgic side of the coin. Lots of great memories of visits with family and friends over many years of having an AP. I still see the value of one and will likely get one again at some point in the future.
But after having paid for one (on a monthly payment plan) and not making use of it, I could not see continuing to pour money from my pocket into Disney’s.
I have mixed feelings about the expansion of a Star Wars land in the Anaheim parks. I get that the company wants to exploit interest in the newly acquired franchise by bringing it from theaters into theme parks. I think they could do better by creating a new theme park that focuses on the universe that is Star Wars. Something in a gate all its own, something perhaps not even located near Katela Avenue and Harbor Blvd. Why tax the overcrowded infrastructure there with something designed to bring more people and more cars there? With Disneyland reaching capacity more often than it ever used to, going for something new somewhere else makes far too much sense from this corner of the Internet.
Not to mention Florida, where the company does have plenty of space for expansion. Why not an all Star Wars gate somewhere on property? It is no secret that the Boy Wizard is stealing customers there (and will shortly do so in California). A theme park from a galaxy, far, far away seems just the thing to compete.
Yet… It is moments for me such as walking through the turnstiles at Disneyland, only to have a train arrive at the Main Street station; drawing guests aboard for that Grand Circle Tour of Walt Disney’s Magic Kingdom. It is the start of a great adventure for the day ahead. And it only gets better as the day goes along.
Perhaps what makes it special is that it is not something that I experience every day. It is not the usual, not the same thrill experienced catching the train into work five days a week. And there is nothing wrong with that.
Even Walt did not spend all his time at the Park. With the apartment above the Firehouse or if the apartment above New Orleans Square had been completed, they were places for the occasional visit. Maybe a chance to get away from everything outside the berm. Now that I can understand. But you can’t hide from life that way. It goes on outside no matter what we might like.
If I never went to a Disney theme park again, my life would not be over. I have great memories to look back upon; photos and videos to enjoy; souvenirs to tie special moments to a particular visit – but all with family and friends. That is the real treasure. What Walt wanted us to take away most.
Works for me.
Humbug!
Ah, in my heck of the woods, it just would not be the holidays without this sign.
And therein lies the tale!
In the mid 1960’s my family moved into a new home in Mountain View, California. On San Rafael Avenue, just off the US-101 Freeway. A nice four bedroom, two bath tract house with a two-car garage, a living room, family room with a master bedroom suite. And it included a space that could be developed as an extra room or covered patio.
My mother is fond of recalling the five years we lived there as being in a Charlie Brown cartoon. Plenty of families with young children. Many servicemen making use of their GI benefits to afford the homes in this tract. And plenty of employment opportunities as Silicon Valley was in it’s early days, with NASA’s Ames Research Center and the Moffet Naval Air Station just across the freeway.
I don’t recall the exact year, but the Christmas season came and some of the neighbors organized a home decorating contest. Just like the one shown in A Charlie Brown Christmas. And the goal was to have every home decorated. To make the neighborhood a holiday destination; a must-see.
Now my dad didn’t exactly have a lot of free time to spend on a project like this. During the week, he was working for ACME Steel producing steel strapping and other packing materials. His commute was a tough one, making the trip from Mountain View to South San Francisco five days a week. With four children at the time, weekends tended to be hectic with occasional visits to grandparents in San Francisco’s Seacliff. There was not a lot of extra time to spend on an effort, not to mention paying for the electricity it would entail.
I don’t know what pushed him in this direction, but he got out a piece of plywood, and painted it plain white. In an olde English script, laid out by hand, the word “Humbug” came to life. When finished, this sign adorned that two-car garage, in defiance to the rest of the neighborhood.
It was an instant hit with some of the neighbors. The organizers of the contest, they were less than amused. One neighbor I never recall seeing or hearing from any time. This may have contributed to that.
In 1970, we moved to a new home in Walnut Creek, where my parents still live today. And just as it did all those years ago, the “Humbug” sign still takes it’s place of honor every Christmas season, above the two-car garage. It’s become a tradition. So much so that when a few years ago, he was late in putting it up, folks in the neighborhood were concerned he was okay. He’s even known by some as the “Humbug” Man.
One of my brothers has taken over the duty of putting the sign in place now, My dad is over 80 and while doing okay, he has been through enough misadventures that involve ladders. So this is a good thing that someone else takes over the responsibility.
It’s been almost 50 Christmases since the sign came to be. The lettering has changed a bit over the years and the lights are still single good sized bulbs. No LED’s or icicle lights added. Traditions, after all.
So, there you have it. The tale of the “Humbug” sign.
Let me leave you with the words of Ebeneezer Scrooge, from the pen of Charles Dickens, that inspired it:
“A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!” cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge’s nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.
“Bah!” said Scrooge, “Humbug!”
He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this nephew of Scrooge’s, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.
“Christmas a humbug, uncle!” said Scrooge’s nephew. “You don’t mean that, I am sure.”
“I do,” said Scrooge. “Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You’re poor enough.”
“Come, then,” returned the nephew gaily. “What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You’re rich enough.”
Scrooge having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said “Bah!” again; and followed it up with “Humbug.”
Back to the printed page.
In many ways, I am right back where I started. Writing, that is…
Over the years, I have been lucky enough to have written for school newspapers, newsletters, press releases, online columns and of course, right here on this very blog.
It’s been a bit of a throw back moment for me in the last few weeks as I have taken time to compose a few items for the Bulletin, published at the Dickens Fair. Published in a style that definitely steps back in time. Printed on a pair of vintage printing presses, using movable type. All laid by hand and lovingly crafted for passers by at the Fair.
A hobby of mine – okay one of many – is to look for information on my ancestors, using various newspaper databases found online. In particular, I find myself searching through newspapers from the Silver State, dating back as far as my family or people sharing the same surnames found themselves in Nevada. I tend to be amazed at these people coming west to find a life there. The years since have taken me out to visit some of the places these folks lived in. And to be honest, there was not a lot then and there is even less now in some of those places. If you had nothing else but friends and family, I guess you did what you could to survive. No organized support beyond those people. You either made good or you moved on in search of something better.
As an example, let me share the tale of Jonathan Sandon Walker. Born in Bootle, in Cumbria in the northwest of England in 1842, he was one of nine, possibly ten children. He went on to be apprenticed to two trades. That of the stone mason and the brewer. I do not know what led him from England to the Americas, but he came to New York in 1869. From there he made his way to Grass Valley, here in California. A short time later, he was in Eureka, Nevada were silver-lead ore had been discovered as early as 1864. Using his brewing experience, Jonathan ran a series of saloons around the district including at Eureka and Mineral Hill. He was not particularly successful. I believe these “businesses” were little more than tents, as he was burned out and flooded out several times.
But reading the various local newspapers of the day, I get an idea of life in that part of Nevada. Indeed, rugged, but full of amusing incidents as well as tragedies and moments of joy.
Taking more than a bit of inspiration from those early editions, it has been a pleasure writing a column and occasional stories for the Bulletin.
And who knows? Maybe 2016 will find me filling these pages more often. One can only hope…