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The Storybook
Land Candy Caper
by
Sheryl Fisher, August 2002
I worked at Disneyland throughout college, first as a
summer casual on several attractions, and then, from
early 1959 through 1962, as a permanent part time
employee on the Storybook Land canal boats. During
my employment as a boat operator, a non-stop journey
through the miniature landscape of Storybook Land was
timed to take approximately seven minutes. Ride
operators were cautioned not to depart from the script
and reverently recited the same “official” spiel more
than 100 times a week. Adjusting to this monotony did
not fit the student’s ideal of working at Disneyland.
One summer, a Casey Jr. Circus Train “engineer”
initiated a game of skill to fend off boredom. Each
day he bought a bag of salt water taffy at a
concession stand. He would carry the candy with him
as he drove the train around and through Storybook
Land passing within a few yards of the canal at some
locations. When he judged he would be in close
proximity to a boat, he blew the train’s whistle
signaling the boat operator to get ready. She would
then hold up the corners of her apron to catch a piece
of candy tossed into her lap. If the attempt was
successful, the candy was set aside until the ride had
ended and boat was at the dock.
This engineer’s timing was really quite
remarkable—slowing the train until just the right moment
then successfully targeting the apron of the boat operator
seated at the stern. Occasionally, an off-course
piece of candy flew into the canal, but to my
knowledge none ever fell into the seating area.
Because the attention of the passengers was generally
in a forward direction, the diversion went largely
unnoticed. Unfortunately, the possibility of being
observed from some other position was not considered.
Walt Disney was frequently seen around Disneyland in
the 1950s, but during the time I had been assigned to
Storybook Land he had never gone on the ride. I was
somewhat surprised one day to see him enter the gate
and escort a group of businessmen to a boat just ahead
of mine. I boarded my passengers and followed the VIP
boat into the ride, trying to keep a respectable
distance. I had paused at the Alice in Wonderland
scene when I heard the untimely train whistle.
Ignoring the signal, I continued with the spiel
pointing out Peter Pan Park, a small island to the
right in the center of the canal. It was at this
moment that I made unintentional eye contact with Mr.
Disney who was seated at the front of the oncoming
boat on the opposite side of the island. On my left,
the Casey Jr. train was bearing down. I saw the
engineer’s outstretched arm and began to panic. I
gestured toward the boat carrying Mr. Disney, I shook
my head back and forth and held up the palm of my hand
attempting to convey the circumstances to the Casey
Jr. engineer. As Mr. Disney’s boat passed, he turned
around to watch events unfold. As the unwanted candy
bounced off my lap, the delivery of my spiel had never
been so animated.
When the ride was over, Mr. Disney and another
gentleman were waiting for me at the dock. The man who
accompanied him was directing people through the
turnstile so they wouldn’t gather for autographs or
photos. Mr. Disney walked over to my boat after it had
been unloaded. He began with “My dear young lady,”
and continued his reproach for “playing games.” I
apologized and promised to be more considerate. The
exchange lasted only a minute or two and was never
mentioned by anyone afterward. I was certain,
however, my character had been called into question,
my entire future compromised, and even worse, that I
had earned the undying disdain of Walt Disney, the
most important man alive.
Several months later, I had heard that Mr. Disney was
at the Park to examine the damage from a minor fire on
the Jungle Cruise ride. I didn’t expect to see him in
Fantasyland that morning but on my way to the Pirate
Ship for lunch, once again we were face to face. He
was standing at the back entrance to the ship’s food
concession engaged in conversation with another man.
I didn’t want to risk further embarrassment, but rather
than appear rude (as well as irresponsible), I said
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” and I asked if the Jungle
Cruise was back in operation. Mr. Disney smiled and
assured me it was. As I walked away, I heard the
other person say, “Do you know her?” and his reply,
“No, I thought you did.” I breathed a huge
sigh of relief!
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