 The holding area, as
with the successive
portions of the
attraction, could
accommodate up to
162 guests. Prior to the
opening of the blue
doors, a host or
hostess would notify
guests that their flight
took place "sometime
in the future," when
travel to and from the
moon was an
everyday adventure.
Guests were also
urged to bring along
all their personal
belongings, including their imaginations. Then the automatic doors swung open and
guests were channeled around the corner and into one of the Mission Control
observation platform's three viewing tiers.
Mission Control, as depicted here, 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 nonsense was Mr. Tom Morrow, director of
operations. He stood behind a bank of computer panels which conveniently
concealed a 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.
VISIT THE OMNILUXE WDW SOUNDS ARCHIVE TO HEAR
MR. TOM MORROW ADDRESS FLIGHT TO THE MOON VISITORS
Morrow, whose voice resonated with all the authoritative timbre of ethnocentric
white male America, 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 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.
VISIT THE OMNILUXE WDW SOUNDS ARCHIVE TO HEAR
THE MOON HOST SAY A FEW WORDS
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 laserbeam (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.
When Flight to the Moon closed in early 1975 for a quick conversion to Mission To
Mars (which opened that June), it underwent so few substantive changes that it could
have fairly been called the same attraction. Aside from some new cosmetic
treatments, name changes and, of course, a change in destination, Mission To Mars
was frighteningly identical to its predecessor. Even its replacement, Alien Encounter,
did nothing to erase the sensation of moving through the same rooms in the same
predictable pattern. The main difference is that Mission To Mars remained
entertaining in an "I can't believe this is still open" way. Alien Encounter somehow
fails to spark even that modest a level of bemusement, merely taking up space
without even sending you into it.
Extra-Fun Flight to the Moon Facts
* 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.
* Flight to the Moon was a "D Ticket" ride, as was its successor. Remember, D is
only one letter away from E. This attraction was a real contender for a top-drawer
slot.
* 92 remained the lucky flight number long after the destination was switched to the
red planet.
* Among the many other Flight to the Moon elements passed on to Mission To Mars
were two voices. Mr. Tom Morrow's voice (George Walsh) was passed on to Mr.
Johnson. The moon host's voice, that of Peter Renoudet, was the same as that of
Third Officer Collins. The albatross, by the way, did not speak. Otherwise the count
would be surely be up to three.
* One arguably significant change that resulted from the Mission To Mars update
was that a woman finally found her way to a seat in Mission Control. No doubt the
other flight controllers found it pleasant to have someone making coffee right there in
the room.
* Mr. Tom Morrow lives on, as anyone who's ridden the Tomorrowland Transit
Authority has probably noticed. He is paged by name on the speakers over the
Carousel of Progress section of track.
* No matter what the astronauts tell you, you should not stare at the sun.
|
By most accounts,
the push to open Walt
Disney World on time
could not compete
with the chaos
surrounding
Disneyland's opening
in July 1955. The
Florida work was
largely the product of
individuals who
already knew the drill
and were determined
not to repeat key
mistakes. But one
Disneyland oversight
was replicated to an
arguably greater
extent at WDW, and that was the slim state of
Tomorrowland on opening day.