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Mission Control was a vaguely convincing room full of
instruments and video screens manned by a crew of eight animatronic figures - all
men, of course, because this was not monkey business and women could be put to
much better use sewing spacesuits. The men sedately monitored a range of activities
(in NASA footage) and took notes. As Bruce Gordon and Dave Mumford note in their
fantastic book, Disneyland - The Nickel Tour, the fact that Flight To The Moon was
presented by Disney as being "scientifically accurate" did not necessarily make for
great fun.
Presiding over this somber
affair was Mr. Tom Morrow, director of operations. He stood behind a
bank of computer panels which conveniently concealed an inhumanly
mechanical lower torso that allowed him to spin around handily in response
to "hearing" an attraction host or hostess beckon him by name. Once
introduced, he directed his attention to the group of guests waiting for a
little pre-flight entertainment.
Morrow, whose voice resonated with the
same authoritative timbre of
white male America that characterized the majority of Disney's Tomorrowland
attractions, welcomed guests to the room and proceeded to explain just
what the very serious-looking equipment was all about. He referenced assorted
projects, among them Spaceport (a Disneyland throwback), a ship being prepared for
a two and one-half year trip to Mars (foreshadowing!) and a rolling spacecraft returning to earth at
17,000 miles an hour. Then an emergency situation developed on runway 12, where
- oh, of all the
crazy things - a
dizzy albatross
came in for a
hazardous
landing and sent
the entire
operations crew
into a panic. The
host or hostess
broke back in at
this point to prod
Morrow about a
Saturn series
rocket being sent
out an a
prospecting
voyage to the
asteroid belt. Guests were able to watch the rocket undergo first stage separation.
Then an image of the Flight 92 vehicle on the launch pad was presented on the big
screen. Morrow wished everyone a pleasant flight and guests were directed out of
the Mission Control area to their rocket vehicle around the corner.
No attempt was made, incidentally, to account for the fact that the hike from the
command center to the launch pad spanned a distance of approximately 25 feet. This
was one of the credibility gaps that was to be filled in by the previously
recommended personal supply of imagination.
During the short jaunt, guests passed by a window looking out onto the rocket
refueling station. In the adjacent hallway they were directed into one of two
opposing rockets. The circular seating sections of each rocket consisted of four rows
rising up from the recessed center of the room. In that center area was a circular
screen, parallel to the floor, enclosed behind a black railing. The room was split in
two by twin stairwells that led down to the center of the room. High up on the blue
cabin walls were two horizontal screens on opposite sides of the room. Another
circular screen was situated on the ceiling. 162 guests could fit into the rocket. Once
everyone was close to settled, a host or hostess would assure guests that the cabin
would remain temperature-controlled and then issue the normal protocols about not
smoking during the flight and how to exit when it was over. Then the Captain was
summoned, and he made a brief welcoming announcement before take-off.
The subsequent final countdown was brief, and almost immediately the cabin and
its contents shook from the force of the launch. A thunderous rumble emanated from
below the seats as the craft shot into the sky at full velocity. After a few moments of
confusion, the noise subsided and the seat bottoms underwent a quick level
adjustment which simulated a reduction in gravity*. The captain's voice came back
over the speakers to notify passengers that they had passed "maximum flight dynamic
pressure," but were still under traffic control - which would hopefully prevent
collisions with any space junk drifting in the atmosphere. At 1,000 feet per second, the
craft passed near a weather satellite, one of many images to be seen on the cabin's
viewing screens during the flight. As the moon drew closer, the captain announced
that the ship was clear of traffic and that guests would soon be treated to both partial
weightlessness ("no floating about the cabin, please") and a live telecast from the
workers on a moon base.
Within seconds the cabin's middle screens lit up with a view of several astronauts
on the lunar surface. One of the astronauts - strangely enough blessed with the same
impeccable vocal dynamics as every other man in the space program - addressed
guests directly and welcomed them to the moon.
He explained how his bulky suit was successfully engineered to keep him alive and
temperature-controlled in the absolute vacuum of space. Without his face plate, he
cheerfully stated, his "blood would literally boil." Gesturing toward his moon base in
the distance, he mentioned that most of the facility had to be built below the surface
for protection against radiation and meteorites. But the moon had its advantages, he
proclaimed. Among them, the fact that gravity here was one-sixth of that on earth -
which begged a demonstration. In an extraordinary display of recklessness, the
moon host and two members of his team engaged in a round of "Toss The
Astronaut." He quickly amended the levity of the stunt by pointing out just how easy it
would have been to rip one of the suits. "And that," he elaborated, "would be the
end."
Running low on air, the half-wit entered his laboratory for a fresh supply. In these
cramped quarters he said that, compared to his spacesuit, the trailer-sized compound
felt "like a mansion." He then bid guests farewell and the Captain resumed his
spoken narration of the flight.
The next phase of the trip took the spacecraft near the moon's surface, which could
be viewed through the cabin's lower screen. The Captain explained how the many
craters were formed by both meteorites and volcanic activity. Passing over the top of
the aforementioned moon base, guests saw its crew issuing a "Bon Voyage" signal
via laser beam (probably at great risk to everyone aboard). Moments later the craft
moved over to the dark side of the moon, which the Captain stated had been a
mystery for centuries as it always faced away from earth. Little surprise that it turned
out to look exactly like the other side.
Passing back over to the illuminated surface, the Captain directed everyone's
attention to the sun. Viewed through special filters and telescopic lenses on the
middle screens, guests saw sun spots (cool, dark patches - only 7,000 degrees) and
"incandescent gases bursting from the sun's ring." As he jovially contemplated how
all life would come to an abrupt end should the sun suddenly burn up, the spacecraft
was struck by a shower of meteoroids. This sent the entire cabin into an apocalyptic
shaking fit as sirens blared and lights flashed. Incredibly, the ship emerged without
any real damage - but the chaos nonetheless prompted a quick return to Earth. Within
moments the craft underwent "terminal deceleration" and was sitting safely on the
landing pad.
A
host or hostess directed guests to exit the cabin through the doors
opposite those through which they had entered. Depending on which
cabin they were seated in, they would re-enter Tomorrowland via a pathway
facing Cinderella Castle and the Hub, or through a hallway spilling them
out into the land's main drag, just north of the attraction's
entrance. With that, their moon trip was complete.
* This probably made Flight To The Moon the first theme park attraction to
enhance the guest experience in such a butt-centric way, paving the road ahead
for plenty of 3-D movie seat tricks.
ADDITIONAL
NOTES ON PART I
Unlike Disneyland's version of the attraction, Flight to the Moon never had a
sponsor in Florida. McDonnell-Douglas, who had linked up with the show in
California, later hosted WDW's Mission To Mars for a five year period.
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Part II - Mission To Mars
Flight To The Moon had
debuted in California two years before NASA achieved its first manned lunar landing
in 1969. It was the product of a decade where the ambitions of the US
space program had been pinned on the successful arrival of Americans on the moon; a goal made concrete by President Kennedy in a 1961 speech. So
in the late 1960s, the country was right in the middle of moon fever.
By 1974, however, things had changed. With NASA's last manned mission to
the moon having taken place in 1972 - and with further 1970s lunar missions
destined to be cancelled - WED Enterprises sensed the need to refit Flight To The
Moon with something that spoke both to the more immediate realities of space
science (such as Skylab and the in-development Viking Program) and a somewhat more
fantastic projection for the future than manned moon bases. Thus was born
the concept for a Flight To The Moon update that would take Magic Kingdom visitors
on a Mars fly-by. The resulting attraction, Mission To Mars, debuted in
Disneyland on March 21, 1975
Florida's version opened June 7 of the same year (Flight To The Moon had closed
a few months prior). The changes introduced at that time were arguably
scant enough that it could have been called a simple makeover. Aside from some new cosmetic
treatments, new films, name changes and, of course, a change in destination, Mission To Mars
was at first glance nearly identical to its predecessor.
Some of the specific changes:
- A remake of the entrance
and holding area with new signs, wall colors and photographs. The Flight # changed from 92 to 295.
- The introduction of a woman to one of the seats in Mission Control*.
- The replacement of Mr.
Morrow with Mr. Johnson. Johnson had the same voice,
that of George Walsh, as Mr. Morrow. Johnson, however, was more hip to
the jive than Morrow. Instead of a button down shirt and necktie, he
rocked a (usually) red turtleneck sweater beneath his lab coat. He also had a
luxuriant head of hair and a moustache of a style seen infrequently
on anyone other than Burt Reynolds, Rip Taylor or porn stars. It's possible that he
lived down the street from the Carousel of Progress family.
- Most of the film footage shown in the cabins had to be changed. There
was no base on mars from which a host could transmit a video signal, so the
images came from probes launched from guests' rocket. So while the moon
host was gone, his voice (that of Peter Renoudet) remained as that of a
now-unseen guide, "Third Officer Collins."
Some things that could easily have changed but didn't:
- The albatross continued tripping the emergency system.
- Meteoroid showers still panicked every departure and prompted hasty returns to
the launch pad.
I have no specific childhood
memories of Flight To The Moon that I can truly distinguish from Mission
To Mars. My earliest recollections of either attraction are the
albatross setting off the alarms in Mission Control and of the seats
"popping" in the flight cabins. As a six-year-old I don't think I
believed I was actually traveling into space, but I did find
the experience to be
slightly intense - or at
least noisy. Over time it just became more and more silly. By the
late 1980s Mission To Mars was so hopelessly dated that
I appreciated it on a whole new level, by which I mean
its camp value had become evident. Watching cast members interact with Mr. Johnson
during the pre-show became the best part of the attraction for its sheer absurdity. It
wasn't unusual, during the attraction's final years, for them to pitch alternate questions
to which he would respond with, "of course, just a moment." My favorite, which
I only heard once and have to paraphrase, was "Excuse me, Mr. Johnson, but since no
one came here for a lesson in aviculture
could you please take the pictures of the bird off the screens and get
back to something space-related?"
When plans for
a new Tomorrowland were revealed to Magic Kingdom guests in 1991 as part
of a modified Walt Disney Story post-show display, it was clear
from Alien Encounter concept art that it was intended to take Mission To
Mars' place. There wasn't any resistance; Mission To
Mars had definitely run its course and no
one would argue otherwise. The only part of this that caused fans of
the original Magic Kingdom any grief was that Alien Encounter became symptomatic
of Tomorrowland having lost its way. While parts of Tomorrowland
took on a retro look and feel in 1994, more of it was left in a
kind of midway state of existence that suggested the makeover money had run
out. Alien Encounter went in a different direction altogether
(a blend of humor and horror that was not particularly funny
or scary in the final analysis). Mission To Mars, in
retrospect, was more entertaining because it had a distinctly "I can't believe
this is still open" aura to it, whereas Alien Encounter provoked something
more of an "I can't believe this is what they came up with"
response.
I have more images, audio
and video to roll out from both Flight To The Moon and Mission To
Mars, but as of January 2010 I'm still recovering lost data from a
computer crash and will have to come back to these fine attractions at a
later date.
* The
guy who sat there before her, Joe Newton,
was reassigned to a clerical position after being found asleep at his console
(in December 1974) when he was supposed to be tracking Soyuz 16. So from 1975 to 1993, if you needed a
hard copy of revised SOPs hauled from NASA administration to site operations at the launch pad,
"Yawning Joe" Newton was your man.
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