Binderama60for60

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So much goodness and the longest of the series!

Today is Mickey Mouse’s 97th Birthday. To many of you, that’s trivia. To others, like me, it’s a big thing.

Back in 1928, the cartoon short “Steamboat Willie” premiered in movie theaters. I honestly never enjoyed watching (and especially listening to) that thing, but it was what put Walt Disney on the world stage. From there, he, along with his brother Roy, forged through decades of business and creative ventures, along with a few financial scrapes and certain doom. Walt’s been dead for almost 60 years and yet his name still gets emblazoned on some amazing new places and things every day.

Anyway, in 1988, I worked on what is my all-time favorite gig: Mickey’s 60th Birthday at Walt Disney World. It was special in many ways, impacting the lives of thousands, including my own. I’ll get to that.

A Lifetime

While this post contains a lot of spirited recollections from those days, what’s vital to share up top is that my Disney experience laid the groundwork for so much that came after.

Every Disney newbie starts with training, a relatively short program called Traditions. There’s a whole Disney University that offers lots of follow-on courses as one matriculates through the system. (I’m hoping that a number of those instructors emeriti—who’ve become authors and keynoters themselves—will read this post. To them I say, forgive me for several of the passages to come, though some of you were complicit. I’m looking at you Chuck Simikian, Jake Poore, Mike Donnelly, et al.)

What’s more, every day at WDW the teachings of Traditions are reenforced on the job, whether on the front lines or in a back office. Even the scruffiest, most cynical of the bunch (I’m right here!) inspired empathy and positivity in others, all in service of the guest experience. It’s a tradition, a mission, but not a cult. But if you were to join a cult, Walt’s would be a good place to sip the Kool-Aid and chase it with a whiff of the Pixie Dust.

Though I spent only three years at WDW, the lessons I learned are with me whenever I engage with customer service–on the daily. I am a stickler for good customer (and audience) experiences and will call out service both good and bad.

As for my creative and, I certainly aspired to (but rarely rose to) Disney-level experiences. I carried with me the absolute reverence for purpose, investment and planning. These are simple words. But of course, in the real world outside of Disney, that triad is a rarity.

Spoiler

There is a lot of well-intentioned dereliction in this post, and some tangential debauchery, lots of beer, a night in jail, and a lot of good people. Yes, goodness abounds!

A few weeks back I shared this 60|60 post as the backstory of my love for the place, my earliest days as an intern and the massive influence it’s had on my career, friendships and life.

Here’s about where left off…

In spring 1986, after a semester interning at WDW in operations on Main Street USA, I did a May session up at JMU in Virginia. Then I drove back south 13 hours to the apartment I’d rented with friends in Lake Buena Vista. It would become known as Club 433.

The place was raging when I pulled in that night, a party spilling outside into the parking lot. Cool.
What wasn’t cool is that my roommates–i’m looking at you, Steve Watson–had done nothing to furnish the place in the month I was gone. No beds, no couch, no TV, no nothing. Just a whole lot of nothing and beer. Okay. That’s also the night I met Matt Palmer for the first time. I’m gonna save my Matt stories for a later post. December 7.

So, six guys from all over, living in a two-bedroom southwest of Orlando (with no furniture) and working at Disney. Our lifeguard roomie worked early mornings, our custodial friend had the day shift at Epcot, and the rest of us mostly worked nights on Main Street.

The only constant: beer. Pretty much every night, one of us would be released from work around 11, just as the evening’s last parade was stepping off. Their job was to get a 12-pack (or four) of Busch at one of the 7-Elevens along 535 and meet back at the apartment.

Then we’d walk around the complex–which housed all the kids from the international Epcot Fellowship program–carrying beer like attache cases. Is this the Canada party? What are the Brits and Mexican kids up to? The Moroccans are killing it tonight. Repeat.

This is the time in one’s life when you should be learning about boundaries and limits, finding direction. Noted.

Names to drop here: Tom Eberts, Alison Swanson, Jennifer Campbell, John Rogers, Bill Brett. More, I’m sure. Feel free to tag others that I’m remiss in including.

Opportunity

Somewhere around July of that summer, I got tapped to join the marketing office planning WDW’s 15th Anniversary event, thanks to my spirit guide Janis Petrie from the college program.

Here’s another revelation about scribing this 60|60 series: I’ve come to understand and fully appreciate how certain people and very specific moments and decisions craft a life. This wasn’t meant to be a paean to Janis, but there you go. Thanks, Janis!

For the 15th gig, I reported to an actual office Monday through Friday, wearing a tie and pants. This is when folks like Eric Hartness, Ken Kreafle and Gary McKechnie enter the picture. The first two months we were there, nothing happened. We sat around, went to lunch, sat around some more and went home. After happy hour.

Once one enters the junior executive ranks, or junior-junior-junior executive ranks, no more do you roam endlessly into the morning, 12-pack in hand. Instead, you go to happy hour at one of the hotels in Hotel Plaza, which surrounded the Sun Bank building, where my “office” was.

Good, cheap beer and free food. It’s the kind of food that people my age liked: free.

My fave was the Laughing Kookabura–the Kook–at the Palace Hotel. They did taco bars and carving stations and had a punch card for sampling every one of their 99 beers. The Plaza Hotel was more disco, but they had a lovely buffet of crudité. Didn’t care for the Hilton or the Viscount.

Eventually, we got our assignment for the 15th: to arrange for the airlift and housing of 10,000 media people (producers, writers, editors, talent, etc.) to be at Disney for three days in early October, 1986. Invitations went out, RSVPs returned. Essentially, we were a phone bank. Every day was spent on the phone with those who would attend, helping them make arrangements.

Because a few of us in the office were hoping to get into media and creative work, some convos went on longer than others. And because we were calling from Disney, even the coldest of the bunch would thaw and offer advice.

It was good for the Rolodex. (Google “Rolodex.” While you’re at it, ask your Gran about a time when you had to dial a 9 to get an outside line. And for good measure, look up the term Telex; I got to chat with people in Moscow late at night because of my killer typing skills. I might have become a Russian asset?)

Fun side note, my Dad was one of the invitees, being a magazine editor. He attended with Mom.

It was a big to-do, the largest media event in WDW’s history. They had Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson and Jimmy Buffett and piles of shrimp and lobster. Everyone in the office was invited to the parties; it was like having the caddies to the pool in “Caddyshack.”

When the party was over, a few of us aspired to stay in marketing afterward. Yeah, no. We had to find somewhere else to go. Since it was in the middle of a school semester, I elected to stay at Disney and was invited to train for Guest Relations.

MK Guest Relations

As hourly jobs go, GR carried some prestige: you got to sport a brass-plated brooch identifying you as a tour guide or host, pinned to a jaunty blue and plaid ensemble. The girls carried riding crops and wore equestrian helmets. Yeah, Walt had a thing (or maybe I’m imagining that). Our chief task though was to man the counter in City Hall. We handed out maps, helped guests get oriented, sold stamps, mailed postcards and occasionally dealt with unhappy guests.

Side note: There was a rule of honor amongst my roomie tribes back then: If you can’t get three hours of sleep before a shift, don’t even bother. So I’ll admit there were some morning shifts where I was running on pure adrenaline and nicotine. I was way-overcompensating and it paid off. Colleagues heaped praise on me for my energy, my way with guests, my Disney spirit. Seriously, I was killing it.

GR is where empathy and tact are key, along with Disney knowledge and and fortitude. People are at their best and worst when visiting Disney. It can be overwhelming for some. This is when I came to appreciate the maxim, “be kind because you don’t know what other people are going through.” It might not be that they’re grieving over something, but that they feel lost, frustrated, hapless. We all do at times, and it’s nice to be met with kindness. The other maxim, hospitality-specific: “We work while others play.” Truth.

We heard stories and pleas all the time. It was up to us to assist when we could or console when we couldn’t. Sick kid? Ok, we can make that better. You had a bad spot for the parade? That’s unfortunate. That’s a thing about Disney and other “fantasy” destinations: people let their guard down and think they’re protected, insulated. We were trained never to say “I’m sorry” for an inconvenience; really, it’s not our fault that you didn’t plan or pay attention.

The other thing I learned that I carry to this day: when something goes wrong, you can do more than just correct or compensate for it. You can turn that unfortunate moment into a precious memory. It doesn’t take much. And even to a cynic like me, it feels really good.

Another summer. Another flophouse. And the pokey.

The following summer, 1987, I roomed with another bunch of guys at a place on Kirkman, Summerfield Apartments. Once again, we all worked different shifts, so the only time most of us were together was on Wednesday nights when we’d throw parties following nickel-beer at Rosie O’Grady’s downtown. The parties grew bigger every week and the police began showing up. Proud.

By August, we were getting too popular. One Wednesday night, the police nearly broke down the door, looking for under-age drinkers. Instead, they found an Orlando Sentinel newspaper vending machine in one of the bedrooms.

Oh yeah…that.

Let me explain. A few weeks earlier, a friend and I might have allegedly dared each other to do something risky, something that might get us into trouble. We were still technically in college, so we figured, if we got caught, it wouldn’t go on our “permanent record.” We weren’t looking to do any damage or hurt anyone, just couple of madcaps running a bit of caper late at night. My partner’s name might rhyme with Spike Connelly. Allegedly.

Anyway, so there’s this machine sitting in the apartment and I’m the only roommate who’d ID’ed himself. I get cuffed, hauled to the 33rd Street jail, strip-searched, locked in a holding cell with one guy tripping balls and two others trying to get their attempted-armed-robbery stories straight. Thanks to my Brother Tim the lawyer in Virginia, I got out the next morning. None of the roommates had a clue I’d been arrested and been absent all night. I’m looking at you, Bob Bates.

PSA: Theft isn’t cool. You do the crime, you do the time. Bad decisions have consequences, unless they work out in your favor. If you’re going to be intentionally stupid, do it early in life. Fun fact: Newspaper vending machines are worth exactly $301, making their theft a felony by a dollar…according to the OPD.

It gets more complicated.

I returned to JMU for my final semester and graduation in December. The thing was, I had to stand trial in Orlando the following February. Once again, with a little help from some friends, I got a six-month quasi-internship with General Motors, doing PR at their attraction at EPCOT.

Like I said earlier, life unfolds in tiny moments and decisions.

General Motors

I hope I don’t offend when I say this: this was the worst job I have ever had. The role was to walk the Transcenter, a collection of GM-centric tech exhibits. We’d engage with guests, offering insights and answering questions. There were also a half-dozen cars in a showroom-like setting for guests to explore.

I knew nothing about cars, had no interest in cars and had little capacity to learn about cars. Plus, this was GM during their “Roger & Me” phase. My boss was actually in a scene of the film confronting Michael Moore at the Detroit HQ. Oh, and when I purchased a Honda Civic halfway through my stint, my parking privileges are revoked.

Other names to drop here. So shout out to my GM-colleagues Barb Wilhelm, Terry Theis and Matt Schulte. For this series, I’m calling out folks with whom I still have connection, however thin.

Roommates during these dark days were Paul Buss and Brad Moore. We lived in the Fountains off Kirkman, a stone’s throw from the scene of my arrest. Our Christmas parties were pretty lit. They’re both empty-nesters now. Note to their sons: your dads were once cool. I know.

Oh, and thanks to my Brother Timbo, the charges against me were dismissed in February. But I still had months to serve on my GM gig.

More Opportunity

Through Janis, I met more Disney legends-in-the-making. I mentioned Jody Carbiener and her husband-to-be John Dreyer in my earlier 60|60 Disney post. Their friendship and generosity made a big difference in my Disney experience. Jody had been the WDW Ambassador when I was interning and then she moved into PR. John ran the press office for WDW. (They both went on to illustrious Disney careers in California.)

Those connection led to my role on Mickey’s 60th extravaganza. Like I said, it remains the pinnacle of projects in my portfolio–for scope, team, purpose, execution and learning.

Anyway, she and I became fast friends. Kyle Shields was our other office mate. He and Krissy got married a few years later; I was in the wedding. Their twins just graduated college.

Mickey’s 60th

Here was the idea: to celebrate the icon/logo/brand’s birthday, WDW would bring 5,000 disadvantaged children from around the world to WDW for an epic, three-day party. Disneyland would do likewise. 100 cities were identified to attend the WDW party, including plenty of major US markets, as well as internationals like Berlin, Sao Paolo, Mexico City, Tokyo, Beijing, Sydney and even Moscow.

The mayors of each city were enlisted to select and escort 10-500 kids of their choosing to bring to the party. The criteria was up to them: the children might be from homeless or foster programs, food banks, shelters or hospitals. They might also be high-achievers. (Yes, there was some frauding too, sadly.)

For three months, Krissy, Kyle and I occupied a makeshift office well off-property and beyond rigid oversight. The walls were covered with charts and logistics stuff, the desks lined with phones. We also had tons of merch and big boxes for shipping swag to the kids beforehand.

As for happy houring, now that I’d been elevated to a junior-junior executive, we would hit the classy places in Winter Park on Fridays and maybe a few other days. It was a long way from Nickel Beer and the Big Bamboo in Kissimmee. And the Kook was still a destination.

Spokesmanshipping

No publicity was planned for the 60th, I was told. The purpose wasn’t to get ink but to just do good, without recognition. The ink will come, in other ways. A few weeks out, though, press releases and media kits were distributed broadly. I was too junior to know anything about that. But I was tapped to be a spokesperson for the event. Even as I went about my logistics role, I was fielding calls from newspapers and TV stations, going live on drive-time radio around the country (and a few internationally). I liked it.

And apparently, it like me. I used those skills to evolve the next steps in my career at Universal and beyond. Still use them today.

The Perfect Event

We heard feedback from mayors and chaperones, about kids sleeping in a bed for the first time, getting to choose what to watch on TV, seeing fireworks and laser shows and all the rest, eating as much cake as they wanted, having the run of worlds they’d only dreamt of. They were appreciated, even celebrated. It was life-changing for some. Me being one of them.

Not many companies commit to event production like Disney. Experience is their brand. Exceeding expectations is their jam. What I took away from my own experience with Disney inspired the rest of my career, even if I wasn’t able to bring them all to bear, consistently.

Here are three key things. None of this is novel, but as I grow more distant from the day-to-day work, I am reminded about what a quality experience necessitates.

• Purpose. Never lose sight of the reason for the event. Keep purpose at the core. Make it matter to the audience, to their lives. Ensure they take away the message, spirit and impact you want to deliver. Purpose must be evident at every touchpoint. For the 60th, the purpose was to make some kids smile, laugh, feel valued and loved.
• Investment. Invest what’s needed to make the event effective. If you can’t afford it, don’t overreach or try to stretch a nickel. Cheapness is visible to the audience and affects their experience, as well as the staff’s morale. This has been a major challenge in my later career, as corporations have sharpened their event pencils.
• Planning. Establish leadership, build consensus and nail the vision. Manage for change, but also acknowledge that with every deviation from the vision and purpose, the experience becomes thinner and weaker and probably more expensive. See notes above.

Disney Learnings

I was going to list a few of the many of the things I learned from my Disney days. But this post is already reading at 17 minutes, according to the bot. Makes me wish Walt had a bot to tell him that “Steamboat Willie” was a little long, repetitive and screechy. But here we are; Walt did good. There will def be more good Disney insight in the penultimate 60|60 post.

Pixie dust sticks to you, with you, inside you. Along with the friends, beer and magic. For the rest of your life.

Thanks for reading, and…

Make sure you have all of your personal belongings with you before you exit this blog post. And be sure to come see us again!