Flashback – Disneyland—1956

“That’s a real alligator, Harold.” Elaine paused at the shaded entrance to the Jungle Cruise to glance inside a chicken-wire pen standing off to the side. Lazily fanning herself with her straw hat, she pushed her white-rimmed sunglasses down her nose. When she leaned closer, a loud hiss came from the three-foot-long reptile inside the cage. Startled, she jumped back. “See? I told you it was real!”

Harold looked up from his guidebook as their son pelted the captive with popcorn. “Don’t waste your treat, Marty. It’s obviously made out of rubber. That’s the sound of the gears inside the jaws. See? They’re going up and down just like they do inside the ride.” He peered more closely at what he thought was a marvel of engineering. “Amazing. It’s practically seamless. Hmm, wonder why there are green pieces of rubber wedged in-between its teeth? It sort of looks like that snake we just bought Marty at that souvenir stand.”

Marty was just about to dangle his new green rubber snake into the cage. When the creature became motionless, he lost interest and started his favorite pastime—whining. “Can we go on the ride now? I’m hot! You promised.”

Ignoring the persistent drone of his son’s voice, Harold consulted the guidebook once again. “Tell you what. This brochure says the Golden Horseshoe is air-conditioned. Why don’t we go over there and come back here tonight when it’s cooler? Then we can compare this alligator with the ones in the river.”

“That’s odd, Harold. Wasn’t there an alligator in this cage when we were here earlier?”

“Of course there was. We talked about it. Why do you ask?”

Elaine pointed at the cage. One side now had a gaping hole and the chicken-wire was all bent outward. “It’s empty now. Wonder if they moved it somewhere else?”

As they moved through the line, Harold thought he had it figured out. He gave an appreciative chuckle. “That’s probably just some Disneyland Magic they want us to believe! If we think a ‘real’ alligator escaped, it would make this ride much more exciting. I’m going to ask one of the guides if that’s true or not.”

Near the front of the line, the cast members seemed surprised to hear six shots fired from a skipper deep inside the ride. Harold and Elaine could hear them talking. “That was a warning signal. One of the boats either derailed or can’t move. We’ll have to send out a diver to help if the boat went off the rail.”

One of the cast members listening jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the guests in line. “Didn’t you hear what that one guy just said? The cage out front is empty! That alligator escaped again.”

All heads immediately turned to stare at the murky water. “I ain’t going in there. Call the Buena Park Alligator Farm. They’re going to have to come and find it.”

“Their handler is pretty fast. I don’t get it, but he just stands here and makes funny noises in his throat. That dumb gator comes right up to him. You’re the diver. Why don’t you try it?”

The cast member who should have been on his way to help the stranded boat shook his head. “Nope. That gator is more trouble than he’s worth. What would I do with it if it came up to the dock? That little demon is mean. I don’t care what the handler says. Let him fix it. And then he can take that thing back to the Alligator Farm with him!”

The men on the dock stood in their places and continued to gaze into the water, alert for a pair of yellow eyes. When another six shots were fired into the air, one of them headed for the rubber rescue boat while another headed for the phone.

Disneyland

“So, how’d you know it was me?”

Lance held up the leafy piece of evidence in his hand. “Oh, I had a pretty good idea when the call came through to Security.” After a glance over his shoulder, Lance clasped his son by the shoulder. “Let’s get out of sight and then you can tell me all about it.”

“I’m not in trouble?”

“Well, if my boss comes by and sees me with a kid with leaves sticking out of his hair, then, yes, you are. But, the faster we get inside and out of sight, the better the odds that the kid in the jungle got away.”

Without another word, Peter opened the door on the side of the Market House that seemingly went to nowhere. Once inside the closet-like interior, the door safely closed and locked away from curious eyes, father and son climbed the metal ladder to the second-floor apartment. The rooms, furnished in the same manner as Walt’s private apartment above the Fire Station, had been a gift from Walt at the end of one of Peter’s previous quests. Outfitted with a small kitchenette and bathroom, it had already been put to good use by the Brentwoods and the Michaels when they wanted to spend the night in the Magic Kingdom.

Seated on the red velvet-covered daybed, Peter pulled out the gray capsule. “I found this in the backpack on the lowest native.”

Lance shook his head in wonder. “Amazing it was still there after, what? Forty-some years? You’d think someone would have found it with all the traffic the jungle gets.”

“Traffic? What traffic?” Peter’s head shot up. Apparently there were a few stories he hadn’t yet heard.

That secret smile that so infuriated kids played over his dad’s face. “Oh, there’ve been a few tales that have made their way backstage among the cast members.”

“About you and Wolf?”

The smile spread to a huge grin. “No. About your mom and me.”

Always ready to deflect any interest in any possible wrongdoing on his part, Peter was all ears. “Tell me.”

Lance bit down the urge to let Peter know that he had tried to tell him the story, but the boy hadn’t been interested. Maybe this was a good sign. “This was just after your mom and I met. Your grandfather was still alive then and he told us that Uncle Adam and I had missed a clue in our first Hidden Mickey hunt. Once we—your mom and I—figured it out, we found we had to search inside the Jungle Cruise for one of the clues.” He nodded at the capsule Peter gripped in his hands. “Just like you had to. Well, we felt it was best to do our exploring at night and we worried about the cleaning and repair crews. So….” He paused for dramatic effect and inwardly smiled when Peter leaned forward. “So, we spent the night up in Tarzan’s Treehouse and I zip-lined over the Indy queue and into the jungle.”

“Zip-line? You? Wow, that must have been something to see.”

“Yeah, it was pretty fun.” With an upheld hand, Lance felt he had to add, “Not that you are hereby given permission to do anything like that. Understand?”

“Umm, sure. But, is the line still there?”

Lance shook his head. “No, I took it down as fast as I could. But, you can still see the hole in the tree if you look hard enough.” Before Peter could ask any more, Lance indicated the canister with a tilt of his chin. “So, are you going to open it? I’m curious to see where you have to go next.” Inwardly he hoped Peter was likewise as interested.

“Oh.” Peter broke eye contact with his dad and looked down at the cool length of plastic. “Umm.” A tinge of red crept up his cheeks while Lance waited for a reply. “I kinda told Catie I’d open it with her.”

Glad his son was at least engaged enough to want to continue, Lance had to be satisfied. “Okay, that’s fair. Maybe your mom and I can drive you over to the hospital after I get off work. That way you won’t have to ride your bike over at midnight. Again.”

Eyes wide, Peter wisely kept silent. With a brief nod, he merely muttered, “That would be nice.”

Fullerton

When Lance and Kimberly suggested a walk outside the hospital with Adam and Beth, Alex stayed behind. Wondering what was up with Peter, he ventured, “You want to play on the Wii with me? You could take over Michael’s racecar. I’m beating him pretty bad so he probably wouldn’t mind.”

Peter glanced up at the muted television and the animated road race that had been paused. “No, Mikey would be upset. He thinks he’s winning.”

Alex gave a laugh. “Well, if he wants to think that. So, why’d you stay behind then?”

“I wanted to talk to Catie.” Not sure why Alex was so curious, Peter hesitated to see if he was about to be teased.

Alex didn’t volunteer the fact that he solely missed his sister. He, too, talked to her whenever they were alone. “That’s cool. Can I stay?”

Relieved he didn’t have to defend himself, Peter shrugged to indicate he didn’t care one way or the other. “Sure. I found another clue in the Jungle Cruise and wanted to open the capsule with her.”

The boys approached the silent girl. The bruising on her face had begun to fade from deep purple to tinges of yellow. Alex had already told Catie all about his day, so he waited for Peter.

“Hi, Catie. It’s me again. Peter.” He half expected Alex to snicker. “I found the next clue. You’ll never guess where it was. You know the guys the rhino chased up the tree? Well, it was in the lowest guy’s backpack.”

Rats, I miss out on all the fun stuff. “How’d you get in there to find that out?” Alex was all ears now.

Peter went silent as his mind began to spin. Catie had been his sole partner on their adventures only because Alex hadn’t been interested enough to join them. Now Peter wasn’t sure how much he should tell his friend. “Oh, well, you know the Jungle Cruise is right next to Main Street, right?”

Not wanting to appear stupid, Alex had to nod. His field of interest in Disneyland extended to the roller coasters, not the history and demographics. “Oh, yeah. Sure. That makes sense.”

Peter let it go with that. He’d fill Catie in on the rest of the details later when no one else was in the room. “Anyway, Catie, I was going to open the next clue with you like I promised. Alex can help me open the capsule and then we’ll read it to you.”

With a shrug, Alex accepted the container. “It isn’t very big. Must not have much inside.” The end cap easily twisted off in his hand and revealed a lone piece of notebook paper. “That’s weird. It says: Thaddeus Walker gave it his all in 1812. Bring a shovel.”

Peter’s look of interest changed into a frown. “What does ‘gave it his all’ mean? I don’t understand.”

“It means that person died in his efforts, whatever it was he had to do. He did his best but didn’t live through it.”

The boys’ heads shot up as their parents returned to the room. After his explanation, Adam went to Catie’s side to softly touch her brown hair. The heart-rending gesture was one of reassurance. For a moment, the beep beep of her monitor was the only sound in the still room.

Beth went to his side to lean her head against his shoulder. Only Adam could hear her whisper. “She’s going to be all right, honey.”

To allow the family a moment together, Kimberly herded Lance and Peter out into the hallway. In a similar gesture to acknowledge that her oldest son was fine, she gave him a hug. “So, you found the next clue. Are you excited?”

Peter leaned into the warm embrace for a moment longer before the change of topic gave him the excuse to pull away. “Do you want to see the paper? It’s definitely Walt’s handwriting. Not sure where I need to go. Do you have any ideas?”

Lance accepted the note to look it over, his heart again speeding up at the prospect. Peter, though, looked as if they were discussing school clothes. Patience, patience. “Not sure. I don’t recognize the name as someone associated with Walt, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t.” Thinking back to his very first clue with Adam, he suddenly grinned. “But, I do know this: When Walt says to bring a shovel, he means it.”

“So I have to dig up something buried in Disneyland?”

“Possibly Disneyland. There are many other places in Walt’s history you might have to search.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, like at the Studio where I dug up the Gold Pass to Disneyland.”

“Is that how you found the Pass? I never did hear that story.” Kimberly took the clue so she could compare it with what she and Lance had found years ago.

Beth’s coming out of the hospital room saved Peter from having to explain how he dug up a flowerbed in the Studio’s Nunnery. “So, you found another clue, Peter? How exciting.” It became obvious she was struggling with emotion when her eyes filled with tears. After a clearing cough, her smile wavered, but she was able to continue. “I know Catie loves hearing about what you’re doing. Thanks for coming to talk to her.”

“Maybe she’ll wake up and help me with the next one.”

Beth gave the boy a hug. “I hope so, honey. You go do us all proud, all right?”

Smothered into her shoulder, Peter’s reply was muffled. “I’ll do my best.”

“So, how many graveyards are there in Disneyland anyway?” Back in his room, safe from any more random hugs, Peter concentrated on the clue. He decided to go with Uncle Adam’s explanation that it referred to someone who had died. “Well, that’s interesting. There are at least six graveyards in Disneyland. I thought there was only the one in the Haunted Mansion, but there are really three there.” His chair scooted closer to the desk. “There’s the pet cemetery on the side of the Mansion that most people don’t even know about.” Picture after picture was brought up and closed. “That can’t be it. All the dates are wrong for the clue. They go from 1847 to 1869.”

He switched his search the second Mansion graveyard: The tombstones seen in the outside queue. “No dates? How come none of them have dates? Fred, Master Gracey, Brother Claude, Grampa Marc.” Five minutes later, Peter found he was reading just to be reading and not doing actual research. “Oh, so that’s who they were named after. I knew some of the Imagineers’ names but not all of them. Wonder if I need to go to the Park and look for myself. Maybe these pictures missed something.”

The graveyard scene at the end of the Haunted Mansion ride was the third. “Gosh, these pictures don’t show anything. Yeah, I’ll definitely have to go on the ride.” He smiled as he clicked off the current screen. “Yeah, that’s too bad. I have to ride the Mansion!”

The Frontierland Shootin’ Exposition was next on his list of cemeteries. “The only date I can see in Boot Hill is December 1848. That’s wrong, too.” Peter frowned as he thought. “It can’t be there anyway. They’re all just targets. How could anything be buried under that?”

The next location earned a groan. “Storybook Land Canal Boats? Really? There’s a graveyard in Alice’s Village, but, man, they are only, like half an inch tall. I don’t want to dig up Storybook Land.”

With a shake of his head, Peter dismissed the popular ride to scroll to the next search. “Tom Sawyer Island? Where? At the cabin? No, it was set up behind the old Fort. It says the Fort was torn down and rebuilt in 2007. That’s too bad. Is the graveyard still there? Hmm.”

Disneyland

Lance and his family had a table waterside in the Blue Bayou Restaurant. Michael and Andrew were more interested in the Pirates of the Caribbean boats slowly floating past their table than their dinner. Lance had eagerly devoured his filet while Peter pushed his Jambalaya around in the bowl. “You going to eat that, Pete?”

“Lance, you just had a huge filet. How can you possibly still be hungry?” Her husband’s remarkable hunger always amazed Kimberly. He was still as slender as the day she married him.

“What can I say? I hate seeing something go to waste. Especially the Bayou’s Jambalaya.”

Peter shoved his bowl closer to his dad and grabbed one of the remaining dinner rolls.

“Can I have a roll to feed the ducks, Mom?”

“There’s no ducks in here, Andrew. We’re inside.”

“I know that, Mikey! I mean the ducks in the River.”

Before the two younger ones could get into it, Kimberly sighed. Just one girl. That’s all I ever asked for. One sweet, kind, non-argumentative little daughter. “All right, you two. That’s enough. Andrew, yes, you can have a roll if no one else wants the last one.” She threw a look at Lance that told him not to claim the last roll. To change the subject, she turned to Peter. “So, do you think we need to ride the Mansion again? It was so dark it was difficult to see the writing on many of the tombstones. We could give it another go.”

Peter wasn’t sure. “I don’t think that’s the right place.” In the darkened, moon-lit ambience of the restaurant, amid the soft croaking of frogs and darting fireflies, a sudden bright light caught everyone’s attention. Peter glanced over at the lapping water of the Bayou. Someone in the front row of a passing boat just took a flash picture. “That’s not going to turn out.” He turned back to his mom and her suggestion. “I’d rather go over to Tom Sawyer Island. The picture I saw online was blurry, but the wooden marker thingy looked like it could have said just what the clue said.”

Silent all this time, Lance finished up the remaining Jambalaya. “Man, that was good! Did someone order dessert? I can’t remember. What?” He stopped when he realized Kimberly and Peter were staring at him. “Do I have something on my face?”

“You never leave enough food to have something on your face, honey.”

Lance contentedly patted his flat stomach. “What can I say? I’m a growing boy.”

“We were talking about Tom Sawyer Island, Dad. I’d like to go over there before it shuts down for the night.”

Lance used the Bayou’s flickering darkness to scrutinize Peter’s face. What he saw was determination and figured that was good enough for now. “Okay, that’s a plan. I’ll call two of my security buddies to stand guard. As you know, there’re two paths that go up behind the Fort. One from each side of the River. Or we could just come back tonight from the apartment.”

Peter surprised him by shaking his head no. “I’d rather do it now. You going to ask Steve and Joe for help?”

“Yeah. They’re good for that. They’ve helped me out before and won’t ask any questions later. Plus, they can alert us when the Mark Twain or the Columbia gets close. I do know the canoes aren’t running today.”

“You sound like a tour guide, Daddy!”

“You think I’d make a good one, Andrew?”

“I dunno. Can we go feed the ducks now?”

Arms folded over his chest, Peter stood and stared at the small graveyard behind Fort Wilderness. Situated on a tall mound, it was the farthest you walk on the Island before coming to the fenced-off No Man’s Land. Thaddeus Walker was indeed there, along with ten others who shared his final resting place. W. Pierre Feignoux, Lieut. Laurence Clemmings, Sacajawea, and Ebinizer Browne were among the deceased. “Well, I guess it’s obvious which grave I want, but what do I do? How much do I have to dig up?”

Lance watched as the Mark Twain sailed past, her steam whistle blowing a greeting to the old abandoned Fort. “You have just a couple of minutes before she goes by on the other side. You have to figure it out, son.”

“Yeah, but…” Peter sighed as he brought the folding shovel out from his backpack. When he had been at the Studio, he had found a telltale WED engraved in the wall above the spot he needed to dig. There was no such marking here. Just hard-packed dirt. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll figure it out.”

Once the Mark Twain’s paddlewheel was out of sight on the other side, he knew he should get to work. There would no longer be a danger from any passenger seeing him or what he was about to do.

With a grunt of disgust similar to the one his dad had made back in 2002, the tip of the shovel bit into the ground. Once he broke through the hard top crust, he found the dirt easier to manipulate. Shovelful after shovelful flew to the side.

“Pete? Honey? You’re making a mess. You are going to have to fill it back in, you know.”

Peter looked over at his mom and noticed the way the dirt had been strewn in every direction. The glimmer of excitement faded. “Maybe Michael can help me.”

Michael didn’t even look up from his mom’s phone. “Nope.”

“The Columbia just rounded the bend by the canoe dock. We’re going to have company soon.”

Lance came over from his spot in the shade. “Thanks, Joe. Anything yet, Pete? No? Then hold up until the Columbia goes by. You know, we haven’t been on her in a long time. Maybe we can ride her when we’re done here.”

“Ride what, Daddy?” Andrew came back from the happy flock of mallards and mud hens that had just been fed pieces of bread. The ducks went off in a mass of feathers and confusion as the Columbia’s cannons roared from her deck. Scared by the loud noise, Andrew covered his ears. “I don’t want to ride that. It’s too loud. Can we go on Pirates again?”

“Andy, there are cannons in there, too, you know.”

“I know that, Mikey. But, that’s different. Those aren’t real.”

Peter ignored their ongoing debate on what was real at the Park as he got back to work on the growing hole. Just before the Columbia could reach the clearing, his spade hit something hard. “I found something!”

“Hold up.” The warning came from Steve as he waved hello and smiled at the guests as the ship slowly sailed by. “All clear.”

The family stepped away from their nonchalant protective pose around the hole to see what Peter had found. “I think you got it, Pete. That’s definitely plastic and not another rock.” Lance stepped over the short wooden railing that encircled the graves to retrieve the find. “Now you can fill it in.”

Peter’s shoulder sagged. He thought his dad was going to help.

“Lance.”

Halfway back over the fence, Lance paused at the one word uttered by his wife. One word, yet so full of meaning. With a roll of his eyes and a dramatic, long-suffering sigh, he tossed the small container to Kimberly. “Fine.” Without another word, he took the shovel from Peter and began to fill in the hole.

Unable to believe their eyes, Steve and Joe nudged each other as they left their posts to watch Lance’s show. “Wow, he actually does work. I would’ve lost that bet.”

“I know. Did you bring a camera? No one’s going to believe us.”

Tossing the shovel to the side and tamping down the soft dirt, Lance ignored his fellow security guards. “One word of this and I’ll tell Laura what really happened to her family’s heirloom vase, Steve.”

Steve’s tanned face visibly blanched. That monthly poker game had gotten a little rowdier than usual. “Uh, no need to bother Laura. We’re good, right, Joe?”

“Hey, I ain’t the one who broke it.”

Before Lance could prod them any further, cooler heads prevailed. Kimberly stepped between Steve and Joe and thanked them for their help. “Lance is almost done. Do you think you could keep watch for any guests who might wander back here?”

The green-eyed, curvy blonde could have asked them to jump into the River and they would have happily done it. “You bet, Kimberly. Sorry.”

She covered Lance’s ‘whipped puppies’ with a loud cough. Those same green eyes were less-than-mesmerizing when she flashed a warning look at her husband.

Unrepentant, he merely smirked as he called over to his security buddies. “I think we’re done here. Thanks, guys. I owe you one. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” Turning to his younger sons who started to complain again about their boredom with Peter’s stupid job, Lance rubbed his dusty hands together. “So, who’s ready for Pirates?”

“Me! Me!”

“Alrighty, then. Let’s go catch the last raft before they close the Island for the night. Good work, Pete.” He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder as they walked the dusty trail back to the dock. Screams from the passengers hurtling down Splash Mountain’s flume could be clearly heard from across the River. “Who wants to ride Splash Mountain instead?”

“No.”

His other arm snaked around Kimberly’s waist when they arrived at the raft dock. “Someone doesn’t want to get her hair wet.”

“I think Andrew’s coming down with a cold. He shouldn’t run around the Park with wet feet.”

Lance chuckled. “Right.”

To Peter, their good-natured banter was merely background noise. He didn’t really care what they went on. All the rides were good to him. He just wondered where Walt was going to send him next.