I’m turning a year older this month. As is increasingly common, there will soon be another of my favorite things I’ll need to say goodbye to.
So long, Tom Sawyer Island.
Tom Sawyer Island is an attraction in Frontierland at Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom. It is actually two islands, connected by a suspension bridge, surrounded by the water of Rivers of America. During my first visit to the park in 1972, this place rivaled the Haunted Mansion as my favorite spot.
The only way to get there was a fake log raft powered by a hidden motor but still steered with a tiller. Once there, the island had something lacking in the rest of the sun-drenched park: trees, and with them, shade. The separation from the rest of the park was physical and auditory. Even the rest rooms at Disney World weren’t quiet, but this island was.
For a kid who loved to explore, this place was heaven. Trails through the woods crisscrossed the islands. There was a water-powered gristmill turning away, mysterious tunnels that went who-knows-where, a waterfall, and a seemingly treacherous barrel bridge. Aunt Polly’s restaurant served lunch and you sat riverside to eat it. It had the best view of the Haunted Mansion anywhere. From covered landings I could watch the Liberty Belle paddle wheeler, Mike Fink’s Keel Boats, and free-floating canoes circle the island. Checkerboard tables awaited in several locations, with black and red pieces set up and begging me to play. At the peak of the first island stood a playground and picnic tables.
But the real treat rose from the smaller island on the other side of the suspension bridge. Here stood Fort Langhorn, a log fort straight out of any Western movie. Audio-animatronic horses, soldiers, and even chickens entertained from inside a livery stable. A prisoner snoozed inside the guardhouse. In the event of an attack that closed the main gate, there was a secret tunnel to make my escape.
Inside, steps took me to the “rifle roosts” and parapet that crowned the fort. In the corner towers rifled muskets mounted in firing slits awaited my itchy trigger finger. One squeeze and an audio recording of a gunshot rang out. Did I aim at the passengers aboard the ships in the river? I plead the Fifth Amendment.
Needless to say, I would have rolled out a sleeping bag and moved in there if I’d been allowed.
Returning over fifty years later is always a treat. The nostalgia for the excitement the place engendered in young me is one reason, but the other is that in the chaotic, noisy, crowded, and hot park, this place is an oasis. In fifty years, the trees have become majestic and the Disney landscapers have perfected the organized chaos of the flowers and shrubs beneath them. Being lightly visited, I can still take a seat in the shade and enjoy the much lower sound level of the few families wandering the trails.
And now the “lightly visited” aspect of Tom Sawyer’s Island seems to have been its death sentence.
Recently Disney announced a major “expansion” of Frontierland, including a ride themed after the Cars animated movies. I’ve been on a similar ride at Disneyland Anaheim and it was quite good. My excitement turned to heartache as I read the details. This wasn’t an expansion. Tom Sawyer Island and Rivers of America were being “reimagined” (i.e. bulldozed) and the Cars ride was going to fill their empty footprint.
I’m sure that was a great business decision. The attraction doesn’t draw big crowds. (I can’t remember Aunt Polly’s ever being open in the last few decades.) The Liberty Belle is the only remaining boat ride around the river. The rafts are probably expensive to maintain and crew. A good ride in that prime real estate could siphon thousands of people from other attraction lines all day long. On paper, it’s a no-brainer.
Yet there is an intangible cost that can’t be factored into that math.
I know the park needs to evolve as tastes change. Walt himself envisioned the parks as continual works-in-progress, always transforming. Disneyland’s original 1950s Frontierland was the product of Walt’s and America’s love of Westerns at the time, and that love was already on the wane by 1971 when the Florida version opened. Kids don’t watch the Lone Ranger catch gunmen on TV anymore. There’s a good chance they aren’t allowed to read The Adventures of Tom Sawyer in school and don’t know who the character is. We no longer celebrate the spirit of adventure and the rugged individualism that Teddy Roosevelt espoused, and those were the draws of Tom Sawyer Island. Just around every corner there was all the adventure your imagination could conjure.
In addition, my parents could let my brother and I explore the island on our own, knowing it was safe and the nature of the island kept us from getting lost. That world now seems as far away as the Wild West itself. Parents I see on the island keep their children close, and many kids are afraid to explore the island tunnels I rushed into as a boy.
I’m going to miss this retreat in the river, and the tooting riverboat that circled it every half hour. Not just for the memories I’m losing, but for the memories so many other kids will never make. Fifty years from now, will anyone wax poetic when the Cars ride shuts down for some new attraction? Probably not.
I’ll be doing it late this year, but traditionally, I visit Magic Kingdom to celebrate my birthday. I try to hit as many attractions as I can. This year I’ll do just one, and give my old pal Tom a long goodbye.
