By Khevin Barnes
After our recent monsoon rains here in Vail, my Internet was knocked out and I began a three day saga of trying to communicate with a big corporation while being shuttled between a variety of young, inexperienced “technicians” reading from a script on a computer in some foreign country who really had no training in how to solve my problem. Frustrating? You bet. But big corporations have a grip over the “little people” of the world that is hard to break. The exasperation I sometimes feel is akin to small explosions rattling in my brain while challenging my patience.
A case in point: My faceoff with one of the largest, most admired and benevolent corporations on the planet. The Walt Disney Company.
When You Wish Upon a Star
I want to begin this mouse tale by telling you that Walt Disney the man (not the company) has been an inspiration and a hero of mine for as long as I can remember. This story begins on a day long ago in Anaheim, California when a second grader at Walt Disney Elementary school was summoned into the cafeteria, along with 200 other young classmates. The year was 1957, and the new school was a tribute to the man who, just a few miles away, had created a wondrous theme park that was destined to change the way the world experienced creativity and imagination.
The boy sat cross-legged on the cafeteria floor, gazing with excitement at the painted murals on the walls. They were all there; Pluto, Mickey, Goofy, Donald Duck and his favorite, the hookah–smoking caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland.
Without warning the main door to the cafeteria burst open and a dozen white-satin costumed musicians marched in playing the Mickey Mouse Club anthem, followed by a grinning, mustached magician of a man by the name of Walt Disney. Nobody knew it at the time of course, but the life of that little boy was suddenly and inescapably changed forever.
I know this to be true because I was that boy.
I was assigned to my seat, just behind the driver on the first of 10 busses that were taking the entire student body on a surprise visit to Disneyland for the day, all expenses paid. Walt danced through the door of the big bus and without a word, he slipped into the seat beside me and for the fifteen minute drive to the Disney Park I had the privilege of chatting a bit with the man himself. To this day I have absolutely no idea of the words we exchanged since, in all of my excitement, I felt as though my brain had been overtaken by all seven of the Disney dwarfs.
By the time I was twelve I had decided that the life of a stage magician was for me. I liked to tell stories, just as Walt did, and I loved fantasy and nature–the result of watching the Walt Disney “True Life Adventures” stories on our black and white television. I performed for thirty years as “Dr. Wilderness”, incorporating the Walt Disney style and philosophy into several thousand school assemblies, fairs and special events. I worked in Disneyland for a year in 1972 and in later years performed at Disney corporate events outside the park.
Finally, at the age of 59, as a tribute to the man who had inspired a large portion of my own life, I gathered together all of the stories I had about Walt and created a speaking program for adults. “The Disney Lecture” was an educational talk that I donated to senior centers, designed to teach and inspire others through the history, stories and life-lessons of Walt Disney. The name I used for my primary website was a simple one; “Disney Lecture.com”.
Caught in a Corporate Mousetrap
It wasn’t long before I received an official looking letter in the mail. It was to be the first of fifteen letters, along with a dozen phone messages from J. Andrew Coombs, the corporate lawyer representing the Walt Disney Company.
Mr. Coombs demanded that I delete my web site and relinquish the web name and URL address to his law office or the Walt Disney Company would take me to court for no less than $100,000 for each “infraction” they felt I had committed.
Corporate frustration was about to become a daily occurrence in my life. Mr. Coombs suggested that by speaking about Walt Disney I would inadvertently cause people to think that I was part of the organization. I didn’t have a problem with that line of thought, so I immediately placed a disclaimer on the first page of my site, clearly explaining that I had no connection to the company, but was speaking as an admirer of the man, and as a historian.
I did understand the concern of the Disney lawyers, searching for ticket resellers or producers of counterfeit products, many of whom had been stopped by lawsuits, but my program was donated to senior centers. I had nothing to sell. And I couldn’t help but wonder, if he were still alive, what would Walt say?
But Walt Disney died in 1966 and the company has changed dramatically since that day—not always for the better, some would argue. In fact, the company of today is a far cry from the company Walt envisioned. After all, the original E.P.C.O.T. was Walt’s passionate final plan just before he died, to build an “Experimental Prototype Community Of Tomorrow”, where people lived and worked and enjoyed all the wonders of the modern age. Within months after Walt’s death however, the plans for his futuristic community, the crowning creation of his life, were scrapped for another theme park. Nobody had Walt’s imagination.
In my statement to the arbitrator that was overseeing the case I explained that I hadn’t figured out how to describe my speaking program without actually using the word “Lecture” to indicate the format or the word “Disney” to denote the subject. It all seemed so simple. Can you imagine someone speaking historically about Abraham Lincoln without saying his name?
In the end, and after many months, I lost my case. I transferred my web name over to Mr. Coombs and his staff and never again spoke of Walt in a formal setting. Despite feeling like I was lost in a bureaucratic fantasyland, I hold no grudges. Walt Disney, the man will always be a hero of mine as he holds a place of honor and inspiration in my own life. As for the Disney Corporation; it’s clear to me that with the loss of their director and chief “Imagineer”, they had no choice but to lose just a bit of their magic as well.
There are still millions of children in the world who know nothing of Mr. Coombs and his legal methods or the unyielding power of corporate dogma, who like me, will always believe in our hero’s.
The bigger things get, the more complicated they become. Those three days of trying to get my Internet up and running here in Vail were evidence of that. But in the end, like a scattering of “fairy dust”, the Disney legacy is too expansive to hold back or to tie down. It’s no longer just a company or a trademark. Children the world over are its custodians, and through their imaginations we can always return to a simpler place; a kinder place, where big companies and little people unite, and dreams really can come true.
Khevin Barnes spent 40 years performing family magic shows as “Dr. Wilderness” with environmental and natural history themes. He credits Walt Disney for the inspiration that led him to his work. www.Drwilderness.com.
