Van recalls his first meeting with Walt Disney, in 1954, about a new project of Walt's called Disneyland.

It was a day that changed my life. It was the day I met Walt Disney.

It was in August of 1954 and I received a call from C.V. Wood. After the usual pleasantries, he told me that he was no longer with Stanford Research, but was now working for Walt Disney as vice president of something called “Disneyland”.

I asked him, “What the hell is Disneyland?”

“Why don’t you drop out to my office and I’ll tell you about it,” was his reply. We made a date.

You may ask, “Who is C.V. Wood?” To explain, I’ll have to go way back to 1941 and World War II.

C.V. Wood and I worked together for four years in Fort Worth, Texas. He was director of Industrial Engineering at the Consolidated Vultee Aircraft Corporation, and I was in charge of training. From deep in the heart of Texas, I’d gone overseas as a training specialist with the Army in England and Germany, and he’d gone west to eventually join the Stanford Research group. Our careers had occasionally crossed paths during that ten-year period, and I’d recently worked for him on a consulting job with a company which made the Whirlpool Brassiere – an interesting job.

The appointment with Wood was at four. I left my office on Wilshire Boulevard and headed out on the Hollywood Freeway to the Barham Boulevard off-ramp, and then down Riverside Drive to Buena Vista Street. At the entrance to Walt Disney Productions, a guard checked my name on a clipboard and passed me through.

Following the guard’s instructions, I parked in the visitor’s lot and set off on foot down Snow White Lane, past Dopey Drive, until I came to Mickey Mouse Avenue and the studio’s three-story Animation Building. I walked down a hallway where the walls were decorated with Disney memorabilia and finally found Wood’s secretary, who escorted me right into his office.

Always gracious, Wood got up to shake hands and then returned to a relaxed position behind his desk. Skipping the small talk, he launched directly into an enthusiastic description of how thing called Disneyland had landed him at the Disney Studio.

Woody has always been a bundle of energy wrapped in a deceptively laid-back personality. Without moving his stockinged feet from the desk top, he told me how he had come to Walt Disney from Stanford Research.

“Walt was thinking about his little Mickey Mouse Park he wanted to build across from the Studio when an architect friend suggested that he have Stanford Research do a study about the location.”

Wood was so animated that he got up and walked around. “Walt and his brother Roy liked the study, and we were enthusiastic about Walt’s dreams. Walt is a wonderful guy, Van, and this studio is nothing like any place you or I have ever worked. It’s like a family, and Walt treats me like a son.” He laughed when he said, “Roy hired me as a vice president and general manager, and when I told Walt, he said, “That doesn’t leave much room for advancement.”

Woody started taking off with his story. “We have FOUR MILLION DOLLARS to build this place called Disneyland down in Anaheim.” Since that time I’ve heard other figures told about the original financing. But for me, in 1954, four million bucks seemed like all the money in the world…and that’s the way I heard it.

He was just warming up about this thing called Disneyland when a dapper-looking fellow in a sport shirt entered the office and plopped down into a chair.

Without any introduction, I knew I was sitting next to Walt Disney.

With his stockinged feet still on the desk, Wood introduced me to Walt Disney. We shook hands.

I’ll always remember that handshake. Somehow I’d imagined that Walt Disney would have the soft, delicate hands of an artist drawing Mickey Mouse. But my hand met the firm grip of a man who had grown up doing hard farm labor and working for his father in construction.

I had been trained that when “The Big Boss” dropped in on a lesser boss, I should politely get the hell out. But as I stood, Woody waved me back to my seat.

Disney smoked a cigarette while I was dying for one, but I was afraid to light up. He talked about the problem of explaining Disneyland to some people at the studio…and even to his own wife.

Continued in "Window on Main Street"!

Van recalls the first time he trained new Disneyland employees about how to become "cast members".

Thursday, May 26, 1955, was a historic day for me and my Disneyland career.

It was the morning for me to present the orientation program for the people who would operate Disneyland on opening day, July 17. Assembled in a training program which had been converted from two upstairs bedroom was a jury of executives who could hang me at sunset.

We had “Disneyized” that old White House in every way we could. This was homey…not sanitized.

Walt’s brother Roy Disney was the brilliant financial genius who raised the money for Walt’s dreams. And he would be the final judge for this training program for a theme park.

He was right there in the front row, seated next to the vice president of the Bank of America and key executives from Eastman Kodak, Swift and Company, and others.

Wood was there, sitting next to Card Walker, vice president of Disney Marketing, and Donn Tatum, vice president for Legal Affairs.

In addition, I’d made certain I had some supporting friends in the group. I could count on Jack Sayers, Fred Schumacher, and Dorothy Manes to nod, smile, or laugh at the right points.

And Dick was there to make it a two-man show. Although he was young, he had a personality that exuded confidence.

Our visual aids were primitive by modern standards. We had beautiful cards which were about two by four feet in size. We had one carousel slide projector, and I had a large flannel board which was a piece of felt stapled to a large board. We used little pie-shaped cards with a bit of Velcro on the back to make them stick to the flannel.

To loosen up the group—and me, too—I asked everyone to stand up, tell their names, and where they were born. It was fun because no one in the group had been born in Anaheim and not many were native Californians, either. Roy Disney was a good participant and made it easy for the other top executives. Dick’s birthplace of Cedartown, Georgia, got a laugh, and when Jack Sayers mentioned his birthplace of Fairbanks, Alaska, people turned around to see if he was an Eskimo.

After the group relaxed a bit, I introduced Dick who gave a slide presentation of an artist’s renderings of what Disneyland would be. He may have been worried along with me, but it didn’t show. He brought these slides to life, and made a confident, motivational presentation. I was proud of him.

After Dick wound up his pitch, I moved over to my flannel board to describe the team work involved in the existing Disney enterprises of movies, TV, comic books, and merchandise, as well as pointing out the record number of Oscar awards and other Disney milestones and pioneering landmarks. Each of these activities was depicted on a round visual aid on round cardboard which looked like pie plates.

I gave the group a stand-up break and then prepared to present what would become forever Disneyland’s basic policy for serving those who would come to Walt’s dream park. I was worried more about this presentation than any I’d ever done before, or since, and the fear was justified.

In this group were men who had invested their careers and millions of dollars in what the experts predicted would be a financial failure. Money was not just a problem—it was a constant crisis.

I presented the first of our cards which depicted a dream castle with blocks showing Disney traditions of Art, Music, Adventure, and Fantasy. And then I pointed out that the entire history of Walt’s life had been to entertain and educate—a tradition of family entertainment. And now, as Walt’s twenty-year dream was to open in a few weeks, we at Disneyland were going to follow that tradition. And the theme of our joint effort would be: WE’LL CREATE HAPPINESS.

It was a risky approach, but that group of executives bought the idea. The thousands of people whom we would train bought the concept. Most important, Walt liked it. We still use the theme more than 30 years later. It is important enough in my history, and the history of the company, to deserve the background for the approach.

Continued in "Window on Main Street"!