Theme Parks & Themed Entertainment

Ruminations – No Cigarette Sponsors Here, Either

Racing may be the nation’s fasting growing spectator sports. But Roger has a look at one particular event that you won’t find at a track near you…

Published

20 years ago

September 16, 2004

Roger Colton

Now in a good year, I’d be sending this report from the field from the sagebrush somewhere north of Reno. Yes, the fastest racing event on the planet (okay, about 100 feet above the ground), the Reno National Championship Air Races is once again taking to the skies. Hundreds of thousands of folks will be making the pilgrimage up the 395 to Stead Field. But, as interesting a tale that event will offer to be told, you won’t find it here.

What you will find, instead, is a tale that mixes Hollywood eccentricities, San Francisco socialites and Nevada’s historical Comstock Lode. So roll the dice and check out what comes along!

Patient readers of this space may recall that my first visit to the Silver State came in the summer of 1959. I was likely all of seven months old at the time, having crossed the country in a new Renault station wagon on an odyssey from New York escorted by my parents and a plush tiger named “Remley”, in homage to the drummer, Frankie Remley from the “Phil Harris – Alice Faye” radio show (discs of those shows in MP3 form can be found here — some funny stuff!).

Now Nevada has always been what you would call “rustic” once you left the bigger cities of Las Vegas, Reno or other boomtowns. That was true in 1959, and still remains true today. Part of that lure attracted writer Arthur Miller, along with many other folks. Well, that and easy residency requirements for divorce. Through the Thirties and into the Sixties, it was common for dude ranches to do double duty as divorcee’s-to-be spent their six weeks out of the spotlight to meet the legal requirements. Miller did just that in 1956, but spent his time in a rented shack near Pyramid Lake, some fifty miles northeast of Reno.

That time provided him with the inspiration for the story that ultimately became the screenplay for “The Misfits“(1961). One day during his stay, Miller went (according to the book, “The Story of The Misfits“, by James Goode) out of simple boredom, along with a new friend to visit another shack while one of the previous occupants collected some pots and pans she had left behind during he stay. Miller encountered the new tenant – a woman from the East, also in Nevada for her divorce — and her two friends, ostensibly “cowboys”. His encounter with these folks led to his story and screenplay.

The summer of 1960 saw the production crew and cast for the film come to Reno to shoot the project in the same locations Miller had seen four years earlier. Director John Huston along with his crew and cast of Clark Gable, Marilyn Monroe, Montgomery Clift, Eli Wallach and Thelma Ritter, all spent from mid-July into mid-October on locations all over northern Nevada. John Huston often spent as much time gambling as he did directing, and the problems with Marilyn Monroe were the stuff of legends as she proved just how difficult an actress can be on location. Late arrivals on the set were a daily travail she forced the rest of the team to live through. But the tale being told in today’s little effort here involves one of the diversions John Huston took advantage of to ignore those and other problems for a short while.

One of the films locations was the tiny town of Dayton, along the Carson River, east of the State Capital, Carson City. Back then, it wasn’t much; today it still isn’t much. The “glory days” of this town had gone by in the late 1870’s when it was one of several locations where the ores from the Comstock mines were processed at various mills along the river. But as the ores played out, the mills closed one by one and the town’s residents largely went elsewhere. A railroad line along the river heading south into the heart of the state did little to help, even when the big boom came in Tonopah after the turn of the Twentieth Century.

So, when “The Misfits” came to town, it was a real boost. It may have been only for a few weeks, but it put the town back on the map as a minor tourist destination. The bigger attraction then and still today is Virginia City, up the Six-Mile Canyon on the slopes of Mount Davidson. And it was there that John Houston found himself on Labor Day, September 5, 1960.

Telling it from the perspective of someone who was actually on hand as a witness, James Goode relates the full tale of that day in a chapter entitled “Instead of burning sand, there was junk”. I’m sharing that with you because he tells it better than I ever could by interpreting the various accounts.

September 5 – Over a hundred years ago, the United States Army reasoned that the camel was a natural instrument for carrying supplies and troops around the deserts of the great Southwest, and imported a number of them, stationing them as such removed spots as Dayton, Nevada (where a stone camel barn may still be seen), and the Baldwin Hills in Los Angeles. There was even a camel race in the streets of Virginia City, just above Dayton, in 1866, if you have any faith in the historical-promotional studies of Lucius Beebe’s Territorial Enterprise. The U.S. Army, however, did not take into account that you must love a camel to do anything with it, and it is hard to love a camel, unless it is the only thing within miles – as it is for an Arab.

How the enlisted camel drivers felt about it is recorded in an 1857 song, supposedly unearthed by the erudite Enterprise.

“I’ve rid on mean ‘gators in Floridy’s swamps,
Catamounts, bull calfs, and mule critters too,
But each one is a saint to a camel which ain’t
Good for nothin’ but eatin’ and spittin’ at you.”

The Enterprise yearned to bring camels back to Virginia City and sponsored a camel race to be held today, Labor Day, on a 5/8-mile course in the street in front of the county courthouse, in Virginia City. They were offering the winning rider a chalice of Arabian crystal, surmounted by a Comstock silver lid and a silver miniature camel.

Several months earlier, the San FranciscoChronicle and the Phoenix ( Arizona) Gazette had decided to enter camels in the race, and obtained two camels from San Francisco’s Fleishacker Zoo. The Indio ( California) Junior Chamber of Commerce, which has access to local camels, also announced an entry. Casting about for a rider, the Chronicle asked Billy Pearson, ex-jockey and San Francisco dealer in pre-Columbian art, if he would ride. He would, but only against friend Huston. Huston applied for and got the seat on the Phoenix camel. Neither had ever ridden a camel before, nor did they rehearse.

The events today began with a champagne party in the bar at the Reno airport, followed by a ride to Virginia City in Bill Harrah’s fleet of antique automobiles. Huston’s car, a 1914 American Underslung, expired on the Geiger grade going up to the race, and Herb Caen, the Chronicle columnist, said later that Huston shot it in the radiator and took a bus.

In Virginia City there was a parade, with Shriners in Arabian silk trousers bringing up the rear. Then Huston and Pearson dashed for the liquor storeroom of the Sharon House to change into riding clothes. Herb Caen, Pearson’s handler, stuffed Billy into his old racing silks, a derby, and a red kerchief, and Charles Mapes, Jr., Huston’s valet for the occasion, handed John his costume. It began with some ancient and beautiful English riding breeches, and whatever effect these may have had was immediately destroyed by tennis shoes, a mauve shirt, Alice McIntyre’s silk handkerchief, a Faubus-for-President button, and Frank Taylor’s hat, a sennit straw number with a Madras band. Taylor didn’t want to give up his hat, which had been the first and last of a marque at Brooks Brothers, but refusing Huston would have been tantamount to refusing a match to an Olympic torch-bearer.

Huston chided Pearson, who looked apprehensive; “Remember Chantilly. Stop crying. Keep a stiff upper lip. We ride or we don’t get out of town.” Caen: “He can’t smile, for Christ’s sake. He’s seen his camel.” Nancy Camp, Miss Chronicle Camel Keeper from San Francisco, in an abbreviated Gay Nineties costume, gave each of them a drink and they went off to the stables at the finish line to look at their mounts.

Casey Baldwin, director of the Fleishacker Zoo, who had loaned the camels, was trying vainly to get saddles and muzzles on the two beasts. Huston’s, a five-year-old Bactrian (two-humps) cow name Old Heenan, had never been ridden but was fairly tractable. The sight of Pearson’s camel only inspired despair. It was a fifty-year-old dromedary (one hump) named Izmir (Izzy) Kufte that had been retired from all activity twenty three years before. A camel is one of God’s unloveliest creatures anyway, but this was one moth-and-rat-eaten, and there was no visible place where a man might cling. In desperation, Baldwin had wrapped an old tennis net around and around Izzy’s midriff and Pearson was invited to hang on to the net during the race.

The Indio entry, a hot unmilked fifteen-year-old female Bactrian named Sheba, or Deglan Noor, was tethered at the starting line. All of the camels, and Pearson, were in a hydrophobic rage, the camels poking their obscene tongues through the leather muzzles, revealing horrible long yellow teeth, and swinging their insanely quick necks around in attempts to bite their riders. Lucius Beebe and Charles Clegg lined up the camels, which were getting up and down endlessly on their splayed legs, in total fury.

Clegg fired the starting pistol shortly before the camels died of rage. Huston’s camel headed like a shot toward the stable on the other side of the finish line, outrunning the horses that were meant to lead the race. Pearson’s crazed camel went in all directions, through the crowd, up, over, and around parked cars, mashing in the trunk of a new Lincoln, narrowly missed a six-year-old girl, and then headed for the open door of Piper’s Opera House, a city block from the prescribed course. Pearson clung like a fly to the hide of a mad elephant, ducking under the hump to miss the doorway of Piper’s, and managed to get off the camel in the lobby of the opera house. He sat for some twenty minutes afterward in a catatonic trance on a windowsill, hugging his knees and crying.

The Indio rider had been thrown at the very start, and Deglan Noor crushed several people against cars in his path, but injured no one. Huston was a clear winner by 234 lengths, and beamed for the photographers as he rode across the finish line, hair flying in the wind. Frank Taylor said that Huston looked like the sign from the George C. Tilyou Steeplechase ride at Coney Island as he swung into the stables.

Huston was brought to the judge’s stand, and asked to say a few words for a national ABC radio show. He said that Old Heenan was the damndest camel he had ever ridden, that he owed the victory to his deep understanding of the camel, and to his handler, Charles Mapes, Jr., and that this was the penultimate moment of his racing life.

The announcer interrupted: “He’s been in training many months…”
Huston: “Many years.”
Announcer: “Many years, pardon me.”
Huston: “All of my life, in fact.”
Announcer: “What kind of a feeling is it up there on the back of a camel, John?”
Huston: “Well, it’s uh, there’s uh, you’re living when you’re up there, there’s no question about that. You know you’re alive. It has it’s ups and downs, but so has life itself.”
Announcer: “How true. I don’t know whether he ought to be the director or the comedian in this movie he’s making. John, how did you get on? Our view was blocked. I didn’t see the start.”
Huston: “How did I get on the camel? Well, the way a jockey is put onto a horse. I was given a leg up. I asked a girl if she’d give me a leg up before the start, but she looked rather shocked, so the job was turned over to someone else… a man.”
Announcer: “And your friend, Pearson?”
Huston: ” Well, he gave his horse, his camel, a lovely ride over several parked cars, a few widows and orphans… there are babies in arms still scattered over these historic hillsides, bloodied. Actually, it’s a scene of carnage, owing entirely to Billy’s mismanagement of his camel… He’s just not, just not camelwise…”
Pearson (seizing the microphone): “My camel was a ***.”
Announcer: “That summarizes the race…”
Huston: “He’s lacking in camel lore.”
Announcer: “Incidentally, how did you ever get across the finish line?”
Huston: “Well, what a question? How do you think I won the race without crossing the finish line?”
Announcer: “Well, the only thing I know is that the Chronicle sponsored this event. You were a Chronicle rider, I understand.”
Huston: “Not at all.”
Announcer: “There was a Chronicle camel and the judges, two of the judges, came from San Francisco…”
Huston: “Your misinformation in unfathomable. No, indeed, I represent the PhoenixGazette. All the Chronicle people are my mortal enemies. I’m polite to them but it was a Chronicle man that just took that shot at me. Herb Caen lost his girl to me at…”
Announcer: “It was just before the race, wasn’t it?”
Huston: “Just shortly before the race. My relations with San Francisco and particularly the Chronicle are at a very low ebb indeed.”
Pearson: “It was a foul start.”
Huston: “Anything to do with camels is foul.”
Announcer: “Thank you, John Huston.”

September 6 – While Huston and Pearson recreated the race at a victory banquet at the Sharon House yesterday, Marilyn Monroe was flying back to Reno. Shooting resumed this morning in the saloon at Dayton.”

Astute readers may recall that I mentioned this event two weeks ago. Well, the 2004 Virginia City Camel Races are now history as are the days of filming “The Misfits” in the Silver State. A search for the results of this year’s race is ongoing, but I’m sure that “a good time was had by all”.

Speaking of a good time, yes that promised saloon excursion tale is coming along nicely. It just needed some first hand research to follow up on a finer pint, eh point, or three. Look for it coming along, soon…

I know I’ve been pushing the American Red Cross for your consideration at the end of my last few columns. I’m doing it again today. There are one heck of a lot of people they continue to help on a daily basis all over the world, but especially in Florida and right now. If you can share something, now is a really good time to do so. ’nuff said!

Theme Parks & Themed Entertainment

Disney and Macy’s 90-Year Thanksgiving Day Parade Partnership: From Mickey’s First Balloon to Minnie’s Big Debut

Published

1 day ago

November 15, 2024

Jim Hill

Now, folks, if you’re like me, Thanksgiving just wouldn’t be the same without a coffee, a cozy seat, and Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on the TV. And if you’re really like me, you’re watching for one thing: Disney balloons floating down 34th Street. Ever wondered how Mickey, Donald, and soon Minnie Mouse found their way into this beloved New York tradition? Well, grab your popcorn because we’re diving into nearly 90 years of Disney’s partnership with Macy’s.

The Very First Parade and the Early Days of Balloons

The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade goes way back to 1924, but if you can believe it, balloons weren’t part of the festivities until 1927. That first lineup included Felix the Cat, a dragon, and a toy soldier, all towering above the crowds. Back then, Macy’s had a pretty wild idea to end the parade: they would let the balloons drift off into the sky, free as birds. But this wasn’t just Macy’s feeling generous. Each balloon had a message attached, offering a $100 reward (about $1,800 in today’s dollars) for anyone who returned it to the flagship store on 34th Street.

And here’s where it gets interesting. This tradition carried on for a few years, right up until 1932, when Felix the Cat almost took down a plane flying over New York City! Imagine that—you’re flying into LaGuardia, and suddenly, there’s a 60-foot balloon drifting toward your wing. Needless to say, that was the end of Macy’s “fly away” stunt, and from then on, the balloons have stayed firmly grounded after the parade ends.

1934: Mickey Mouse Floats In, and Disney Joins the Parade

It was 1934 when Mickey Mouse finally made his grand debut in the Macy’s parade. Rumor has it Walt Disney himself collaborated with Macy’s on the design, and by today’s standards, that first Mickey balloon was a bit of a rough cut. This early Mickey had a hotdog-shaped body, and those oversized ears gave him a slightly lopsided look. But no one seemed to mind. Mickey was there, larger than life, floating down the streets of New York, and the crowd loved him.

Mickey wasn’t alone that year. He was joined by Pluto, Horace Horsecollar, and even the Big Bad Wolf and Practical Pig from The Three Little Pigs, making it a full Disney lineup for the first time. Back then, Disney wasn’t yet the entertainment powerhouse we know today, so for Walt, getting these characters in the parade meant making a deal. Macy’s required its star logo to be featured on each Disney balloon—a small concession that set the stage for Disney’s long-standing presence in the parade.

Donald Duck in Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade – Donaldism

Duck Joins and Towers Over Mickey

A year later, in 1935, Macy’s introduced Donald Duck to the lineup, and here’s where things got interesting. Mickey may have been the first Disney character to float through the parade, but Donald made a huge splash—literally. His balloon was an enormous 60 feet tall and 65 feet long, towering over Mickey’s 40-foot frame. Donald quickly became a fan favorite, appearing in the lineup for several years before being retired.

Fast-forward a few decades, and Donald was back for a special appearance in 1984 to celebrate his 50th birthday. Macy’s dug the balloon out of storage, re-inflated it, and sent Donald down 34th Street once again, bringing a bit of nostalgia to the holiday crowd.

A Somber Parade in 2001

Now, one of my most memorable trips to the parade was in 2001, just weeks after the 9/11 attacks. Nancy and I, along with our friends, headed down to New York, and the mood was something I’ll never forget. We watched the start of the parade from Central Park West, but before that, we went to the Museum of Natural History the night before to see the balloons being inflated. They were covered in massive cargo nets, with sandbags holding them down. It’s surreal to see these enormous balloons anchored down before they’re set free.

That year, security was intense, with police lining the streets, and then-Mayor Rudy Giuliani rode on the Big Apple float to roaring applause. People cheered his name, waving and shouting as he passed. It felt like the entire city had turned out to show their resilience. Even amidst all the heightened security and tension, seeing those balloons—brought a bit of joy back to the city.

Balloon Prep: From New Jersey’s MetLife Stadium to California’s D23 Expo

Each year before the parade, Macy’s holds a rehearsal event known as Balloon Fest at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey. This is where handlers get their first crack at guiding the balloons, practicing with their parade masters, and learning the ropes—literally. It’s an entire production unto itself, with dozens of people rehearsing to make sure these enormous inflatables glide smoothly down the streets of New York on parade day.

In 2015, Macy’s took the balloon show on the road, bringing their Buzz Lightyear balloon out to California for the D23 Expo. I was lucky enough to be there, and watching Buzz get inflated piece by piece in the Anaheim Convention Center parking lot was something to behold. Each section was filled with helium in stages, and when they got around to Buzz’s lower half, well, there were more than a few gas-related jokes from the crowd.

These balloons seem to have a personality all their own, and seeing one like Buzz come to life up close—even outside of New York—had all the excitement and anticipation of the real deal.

Mickey’s Comeback as a Bandleader and Sailor Mickey

After a long hiatus, Mickey Mouse made his return to the Macy’s parade in 2000, this time sporting a new bandleader outfit. Nine years later, in 2009, Sailor Mickey joined the lineup, promoting Disney Cruise Line with a nautical twist. Over the past two decades, Disney has continued to enchant parade-goers with characters like Buzz Lightyear in 2008 and Olaf from Frozen in 2017. These balloons keep Disney’s iconic characters front and center, drawing in both longtime fans and new viewers.

But ever wonder what happens to the balloons after they reach the end of 34th Street? They don’t just disappear. Each balloon is carefully deflated, rolled up like a massive piece of laundry, and packed into storage bins. From there, they’re carted back through the Lincoln Tunnel to Macy’s Parade Studio in New Jersey, where they await their next flight.

Macy’s Disney Celebration at Hollywood Studios

In 1992, Macy’s took the spirit of the parade down to Disney-MGM Studios in Orlando. After that year’s parade, several balloons—including Santa Goofy, Kermit the Frog, and Betty Boop—were transported to Hollywood Studios, re-inflated, and anchored along New York Street as part of a holiday display. Visitors could walk through this “Macy’s New York Christmas” setup and see the balloons up close, right in the middle of the park. While this display only ran for one season, it paved the way for the Osborne Family Spectacle of Dancing Lights, which became a holiday staple at the park for years to come.

Minnie Mouse’s Long-Awaited Debut in 2024

This year, Minnie Mouse will finally join the parade, making her long-overdue debut. Macy’s is rolling out the red carpet for Minnie’s arrival with special pop-up shops across the country, where fans can find exclusive Minnie ears, blown-glass ornaments, T-shirts, and more to celebrate her first appearance in the Thanksgiving Day Parade.

For those lucky enough to catch the parade this year, you’ll see Minnie take her first float down 34th Street, decked out in her iconic red bow and polka-dot dress. Macy’s and Disney are also unveiling a new Disney Cruise Line float honoring all eight ships, including the latest, the Disney Treasure.

As always, I’ll be watching from my favorite chair, coffee in hand, as Minnie makes her grand entrance. The 98th annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade airs live on NBC, and it’s a tradition you won’t want to miss—whether you’re on 34th Street or tuning in from home.

Theme Parks & Themed Entertainment

Disney’s Forgotten Halloween Event: The Original Little Monsters on Main Street

Published

2 months ago

September 22, 2024

Jim Hill

When most Disney fans think of Halloween in the parks, they immediately picture Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party at Walt Disney World or the Oogie Boogie Bash at Disneyland Resort. But before those events took over as the must-attend spooky celebrations, there was a little-known event at Disneyland called Little Monsters on Main Street. And its origins? Well, they go all the way back to the 1980s, during a time when America was gripped by fear—the Satanic Panic.

You see, back in the mid-1980s, parents were terrified that Halloween had become dangerous. Urban legends about drug-laced candy or razor blades hidden in apples were widespread, and many parents felt they couldn’t let their kids out of sight for even a moment. Halloween, which was once a carefree evening of trick-or-treating in the neighborhood, had suddenly become a night filled with anxiety.

This is where Disneyland’s Little Monsters on Main Street came in.

The Origins of Little Monsters on Main Street

Back in 1989, the Disneyland Community Action Team—later known as the VoluntEARS—decided to create a safe, nostalgic Halloween experience for Cast Members and their families. Many schools in the Anaheim area were struggling to provide basic school supplies to students, and the VoluntEARS saw an opportunity to combine a safe Halloween with a charitable cause. Thus, Little Monsters on Main Street was born.

This event was not open to the general public. Only Disneyland Cast Members could purchase tickets, which were initially priced at just $5 each. Cast Members could bring their kids—but only as many as were listed as dependents with HR. And even then, the park put a cap on attendance: the first event was limited to just 1,000 children.

A Unique Halloween Experience

Little Monsters on Main Street wasn’t just another Halloween party. It was designed to give kids a safe, fun environment to enjoy trick-or-treating, much like the good old days. On Halloween night in 1989, kids in costume wandered through Disneyland with their pillowcases, visiting 20 different trick-or-treat stations. They also had the chance to ride a few of their favorite Fantasyland attractions, all after the park had closed to the general public.

The event was run entirely by the VoluntEARS—about 200 of them—who built and set up all the trick-or-treat stations themselves. They arrived at Disneyland before the park closed and, as soon as the last guest exited, they began setting up stations across Main Street, Adventureland, Frontierland, Fantasyland, and Tomorrowland. The event ran from 7:30 to 9:30 p.m., and by the time the last pillowcase-wielding kid left, the VoluntEARS cleaned everything up, making sure the park was ready for the next day’s operations.

It wasn’t just candy and rides, though. The event featured unique entertainment, like a Masquerade Parade down Main Street, U.S.A., where kids could show off their costumes. And get this—Disneyland even rigged up a Cast Member dressed as a witch to fly from the top of the Matterhorn to Frontierland on the same wire that Tinker Bell uses during the fireworks. Talk about a magical Halloween experience!

The Haunted Mansion “Tip-Toe” Tour

Perhaps one of the most memorable parts of Little Monsters on Main Street was the special “tip-toe tour” of the Haunted Mansion. Now, Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion can be a pretty scary attraction for younger kids, so during this event, Disney left the doors to the Stretching Room and Portrait Gallery wide open. This allowed kids to walk through and peek at the Haunted Mansion’s spooky interiors without actually having to board the Doom Buggies. For those brave enough to ride, they could, of course, take the full trip through the Haunted Mansion—or they could take the “chicken exit” and leave, no harm done.

Growing Success and a Bigger Event

Thanks to the event’s early success, Little Monsters on Main Street grew in size. By 1991, the attendance cap had been raised to 2,000 kids, and Disneyland added more activities like magic shows and hayrides. They also extended the event’s hours, allowing kids to enjoy the festivities until 10:30 p.m.

In 2002, the event moved over to Disney California Adventure, where it could accommodate even more kids—up to 5,000 in its later years. The name was also shortened to just Little Monsters, since it was no longer held on Main Street. This safe, family-friendly Halloween event continued for several more years, with the last mention of Little Monsters appearing in the Disneyland employee newsletter in 2008. Though some Cast Members recall the event continuing until 2012, it eventually made way for Disney’s more public-facing Halloween events.

From Little Monsters to Mickey’s Not-So-Scary and Oogie Boogie Bash

Starting in the early 2000s, Disney began realizing the potential of Halloween-themed after-hours events for the general public. These early versions of Mickey’s Halloween Party and Mickey’s Halloween Treat eventually evolved into today’s Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party and Oogie Boogie Bash. Unfortunately, this also marked the end of the intimate, Cast Member-exclusive Little Monsters event, but it paved the way for the large-scale Halloween celebrations we know and love today.

While it’s bittersweet to see Little Monsters on Main Street fade into Disney history, its legacy lives on through these modern Halloween parties. And even though Cast Members now receive discounted tickets to Mickey’s Not-So-Scary and Oogie Boogie Bash, the special charm of an event created specifically for Disney’s employees and their families remains something worth remembering.

**The Merch: A Piece of Little Monsters History**

For Disney collectors, the exclusive merchandise created for Little Monsters on Main Street is still out there. You can find pins, name tags, and themed pillowcases on sites like eBay. One of the coolest collectibles is a 1997 cloisonné pin set featuring Huey, Dewey, and Louie dressed as characters from Hercules. Other sets paid tribute to the Main Street Electrical Parade and Pocahontas, while the pillowcases were uniquely designed for each year of the event.

While Little Monsters on Main Street may be gone, it’s a fascinating piece of Disneyland history that played a huge role in shaping the Halloween celebrations we enjoy at Disney parks today.

Want to hear more behind-the-scenes stories like this? Be sure to check out I Want That Too, where Lauren and I dive deep into the history behind Disney’s most beloved attractions, events, and of course, merchandise!

Theme Parks & Themed Entertainment

The Story of Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party: From One Night to a Halloween Family Tradition

Published

2 months ago

September 7, 2024

Jim Hill

The spooky season is already in full swing at Disney parks on both coasts. On August 9th, the first of 38 Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party (MNSSHP) nights for 2024 kicked off at Florida’s Magic Kingdom. Meanwhile, over at Disney California Adventure, the Oogie Boogie Bash began on August 23rd and is completely sold out across its 27 dates this year.

Looking back, it’s incredible to think about how these Halloween-themed events have grown. But for Disney, the idea of charging guests for Halloween fun wasn’t always a given. In fact, when the very first Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party debuted on October 31, 1995, it was a modest one-night-only affair. Compare that to the near month-long festivities we see today, and it’s clear that Disney’s approach to Halloween has evolved considerably.

A Not-So-Scary Beginning

I was fortunate enough to attend that very first MNSSHP back in 1995, along with my then 18-month-old daughter Alice and her mom, Michelle. Tickets were a mere $16.95 (I know, can you imagine?), and we pushed Alice around in her sturdy Emmaljunga stroller—Swedish-built and about the size of a small car. Cast Members, charmed by her cuteness, absolutely loaded us up with candy. By the end of the night, we had about 30 pounds of fun-sized candy bars, making that push up to the monorail a bit more challenging.

Mickey’s Halloween Treat 1996 – Photo: Disney

This Halloween event was Disney’s response to the growing popularity of Universal Studios Florida’s own Halloween hard ticket event, which started in 1991 as “Fright Nights” before being rebranded as “Halloween Horror Nights” the following year. Universal’s gamble on a horror-themed experience helped salvage what had been a shaky opening for their park, and by 1993, Halloween Horror Nights was a seven-night event, with ticket prices climbing as high as $35. Universal had stumbled upon a goldmine, and Disney took notice.

A Different Approach

Now, here’s where Disney’s unique strategy comes into play. While Universal embraced the gory, scare-filled world of horror, Disney knew that wasn’t their brand. Instead of competing directly with blood and jump-scares, Disney leaned into what they did best: creating magical, family-friendly experiences.

Thus, Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party was born. The focus was on fun and whimsy, not fear. Families could bring their small children without worrying about them being terrified by a chainsaw-wielding maniac around the next corner. This event wasn’t just a Halloween party—it was an extension of the Disney magic that guests had come to expect from the parks.

Disney had some experience with seasonal after-hours events, most notably Mickey’s Very Merry Christmas Party, which had started in 1983. But the Halloween party was different, as the Magic Kingdom wasn’t yet decked out in Halloween decor the way it is today. Disney had to create a spooky (but not too spooky) atmosphere using temporary props, fog machines, and, of course, lots of candy.

A key addition to that first event? The debut of the Headless Horseman, who made his eerie appearance in Liberty Square, riding a massive black Percheron. It wasn’t as elaborate as the Boo-to-You Parade we see today, but it marked the beginning of a beloved Disney Halloween tradition.

A Modest Start but a Big Future

That first MNSSHP in 1995 was seen as a trial run. As Disney World spokesman Greg Albrecht told the Orlando Sentinel, “If it’s successful, we’ll do it again.” And while attendance was sparse that night, there was clearly potential. By 1997, the event expanded to two nights, and by 1999, Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party had grown into a multi-night celebration with a full-fledged parade. Today, in 2024, it’s a staple of the fall season at Walt Disney World, offering 38 nights of trick-or-treating, character meet-and-greets, and special entertainment.

Universal’s Influence

It’s interesting to reflect on how Disney’s Halloween event might never have existed without the competition from Universal. Just as “The Wizarding World of Harry Potter” forced Disney to step up their game with “Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge,” Universal’s success with Halloween Horror Nights likely spurred Disney into action with MNSSHP. The friendly rivalry between the two parks has continually pushed both to offer more to their guests, and we’re all better off because of it.

So the next time you find yourself trick-or-treating through the Magic Kingdom, watching the Headless Horseman gallop by, or marveling at the seasonal fireworks, take a moment to appreciate how this delightful tradition came to be—all thanks to a little competition and Disney’s commitment to creating not-so-scary magic.

For more Disney history and behind-the-scenes stories, check out the latest episodes of the I Want That Too podcast on the Jim Hill Media network.