The Lilly Belle

Slowly and gently, the steam-powered passenger train drifts
to a halt at the imposing brick station. The engine’s bell has ceased
its clanging, and the locomotive hisses and groans, anxious to continue
its journey. Passengers scurry off the trains with loved ones in tow,
while excited others clamber on board to grab a place on the hard wooden
seats in the crowded coach.

After calmly presenting your specially engraved ticket to the blue-vested
conductor on the station platform, however, you are cordially escorted
to the rear of the train, to a deep burgundy-colored car, varnished to
a high gloss with bright red and dark green trim. The conductor fishes
around embarrassingly in his vest pocket, but eventually he draws out
a shiny brass key on a round ring. Inserting the key into the keyhole
below the polished brass door knob of the car, the conductor turns it
once, and then turns the knob. Once the door opens, you climb the car’s
steps, the conductor lending gentle assistance at your elbow. Your fellow
passengers in the penultimate car look on enviously as you stand on the
car’s platform. Then you cross the threshold and into the car. As the
conductor shuts the door behind you, passengers standing nearby on the
station platform can see what’s written on the brass plate affixed to
the bright red door panel: Lilly Belle.

This is her story.

To begin, we really should have some sort of historical context with
which to view the Lilly Belle, and to understand private cars,
we should know something about them. George Mortimer Pullman did not invent
the idea of luxurious rail travel, but he certainly perfected it. Known
more for improvements to the sleeping car, in the late 19th century his
Pullman Palace Car Company also built hundreds of private cars during
the great age of trains.

Observation car, parlor car, private car—what’s the difference between
all these conveyances? They were all variations on a theme: That of showcasing
all that a railroad had to offer to its most influential passengers. Far
from being least, these cars were the last ones in a passenger train,
bringing up the rear as cabooses did on freight trains.

Riding in style on the Southern Pacific’s Sunset Limited at the turn of
the 19th century. Love the hats. Photo provided by Steve DeGaetano.

Generally, “observation” cars referred to the car placed on the tail
end of a passenger train. At the turn of the 19th century, observation
cars generally featured large rear windows where passengers could watch
the passing scenery. Before the advent of the modern streamline enclosed
tailcar in the 1930s, the typical rear car’s most striking and discernable
feature, however, was an elaborate wrought-iron or brass railing, surrounding
an open rear deck where elegantly dressed ladies and tuxedoed gentlemen
passengers could sip champagne or a chilled ale while sitting on wicker
chairs and watching the countryside and tracks pass by in a mesmerizing
blur.

What the view looked like from the platform. The conductor was there to
tend to the passengers’ every need. Photos provided by Steve

Sometimes these cars were also called “parlor”cars, reflecting the typical
19th century parlor that graced many homes of the era, where folks could
“sit a spell”and enjoy one another’s company. Parlor cars, however, did
not necessarily include the rear deck, and could sometimes be found mid-train.

For sheer luxury and glamour, however, the “private”rail car was the
most opulent way for men of power and wealth to travel.

There were actually three types of private cars: Those chartered from
the Pullman Company, similar to today’s private jets; those assigned to
various railroad officials as “business”cars, providing comfortable office
and living quarters to be used when the officials were out inspecting
the line, and those privately owned by a corporation or an individual.

The railing shown here on the Northern Pacific’s Oriental Limited may
have been the inspiration for the railing seen on the Lilly Belle.
Photo provided by Steve DeGaetano.

These private conveyances were called “Palaces on Rails.” As written
in Rails Across America (William L. Withuhn, Editor), “The private
railroad car has always been a status symbol for aristocracy and the extravagantly
wealthy. A veritable land yacht on wheels.” And indeed they were. Private
railroad cars represented the apex of car design and luxury during the
golden era of rail travel in America. According to Rails Across America,
“The cars themselves were the finest examples of the car builder’s art,
with décor borrowed from the latest hotels and restaurants. Inlaid
wood, japanning, French polishing, carvings tapestries and plush upholstery
typified Pullman Palace Car interiors.” The history of the private railroad
car goes back nearly as far as rail travel itself. Abraham Lincoln owned
one of the first private railroad cars, but a Southern assassin would see
that its only use would be in transporting Lincoln’s body back to Illinois
for burial.

The Lackawanna Railroad’s fictional spokeswoman, Phoebe Snow, enjoys the
passing scenery from her train’s observation car. Photo provided by Steve
DeGaetano.

Another Midwesterner and a railroad magnate on a small scale who would
pass from this earth a century after the Great Emancipator, Walt Disney
may have wanted a private car to ride on his personal railroad, but unfortunately,
like Lincoln, he too did not live to see that dream become a reality.
But as a consolation, Walt Disney got to “play trains” on a scale few
of us will ever know.

In 1954 when Walt Disney was designing the railroad for his first theme
park in Anaheim, California, his idea was to have two trains representing
two different eras, and portraying two different types of trains. One
train would be patterned after the freight trains that sped across the
Great Plains, carrying cattle and freight to Eastern markets. This train
would feature a balloon-stacked steam locomotive looking like a wood burner
from the 1870s, and its rolling stock would consist of stock cars and
gondolas. The final car of the original six-car train would be an authentic
caboose, the little car at the end of freight trains that had an elevated
“lookout” area, called a “cupola,” where the conductor or brakeman could
keep an eye on the train.

The second train conceived by Walt would be an 1880s passenger train,
pulled by a brass cap-stacked speed queen of the 1890s. The cars would
be modeled on typical open-platform coaches of the era, and the train
would also be six cars in length. Master Disney draftsman Eddie Sargeant
began laying out engineering drawings of this passenger train on August
14, 1954, and they were all constructed in an identical fashion inside
a soundstage at the Disney Studios in Burbank, CA. The entire set of cars
cost $93,332 to build—nearly double what it cost to build the freight
train.

All the cars were built with steel beam under frames, while the interiors
and exteriors would be built of wood, just as the prototypes were. Outside,
they would be sheathed in tongue-and-groove siding, while inside, mahogany
would be used to panel the walls and ceilings. The “trucks” (wheelsets
and frames) and other related hardware were purchased from a supplier
of railroad equipment in Seattle called the C.M. Lovsted Co. Speakers
were installed in each end of the cars, and flush-mounted lamps were placed
in the ceiling. The doors on the cars’ ends would feature unusual arched
tops, and the upper “clerestory” roof would highlight a versatile material
that was finding wide use at the young theme park: Frosted fiberglass
panels would replace expensive glass in these upper windows.

One of the faux-brass ceiling lamps used on Disneyland’s first passenger
cars. Photo provided by Steve DeGaetano.

The cars were painted a canary yellow, with bright red doors and window
sashes. Dark hunter green trim was used on the corner posts of the cars,
with gold scrollwork. The letter board above the windows was also painted
with the hunter green, and lettered “Santa Fe & Disneyland R.R.” The cars
had salmon-colored roofs, and the trucks were painted an olive green,
with red wheels.

An unusual view of Retlaw 1, featuring the observation car Grand Canyon,
around 1957. Photo provided by Steve DeGaetano.

The entire train set was known by cast members as “Retlaw1,” in reference
to Walt’s personal company that operated the Disneyland trains, and each
car bore a name as well as a number. The original and only sponsor of
the Disneyland trains from 1955 through 1974 was the venerable Atchison,
Topeka and Santa Fe Ry., and the cars’ names would reflect that sponsorship.
The first car was a combination baggage car and coach, called a “combine” and named Wells Fargo Express, No. 101. Following that would be
four coaches, with passenger seating throughout. These cars were No. 102
Navajo Chief, No. 103 Colorado Rockies, No. 104 Land
of Pueblos, and No. 105 Painted Desert.

Bringing up the rear was a car that differed subtly from the four coaches
that preceded it. The car was numbered 106, and it bore the stately name
Grand Canyon.

The Grand Canyon would be the train’s observation car, and its
designers knew to include the graceful wrought-iron railing on the rear
that typified that style of car. But the car differed from its siblings
in other ways as well.

Instead of simply painting the car’s name on the sides in straight block
lettering, as was done with the previous cars, Disney applied the name
in large, flowing letters, as if they were on a banner. In between the
words “Grand” and “Canyon,” there was a large oval vignette of the famed
chasm, in brilliant color.

A rare color view of Retlaw 1 on Opening Day. Grand Canyon’s distinctive
window pattern can be seen, as well as the oval vignette showing the car’s
namesake canyon. Research to date has not produced a clear view of the
painting.

The car’s window treatment was different from the others was well, with
six sets of large double windows on each side, instead of the coaches’
rows of 12 small single windows. Inside, the seating was arranged with
seats along the walls of the car. The “bench” seats were built four seats
abreast, with passengers facing the central aisle of the car, and each
other, as opposed to the standard front-facing “school bus” seating that
was used in the other cars of the train. The car’s rear observation deck
was shaded by a green-and-white striped awning; and while the deck was
surely inviting to passengers, a brass sign affixed to the door was discouraging
in its message: “Passengers Are Not Allowed To Stand On The Platform.” Hanging on the car’s rear railing was the train’s “drumhead,” a circular,
lighted tailsign. The drumhead on Grand Canyon bore the name of
the train, “Santa Fe & Disneyland Limited,” surrounding the typical Santa
Fe cross, and a yellow stylized rendition of Sleeping Beauty Castle. Often,
a pair of railroad signal lanterns rested on the deck near the railing.

The passenger train of the Santa Fe & Disneyland Limited was the pride
of the fleet for several years, but times were changing. Issues arose
in the mid-1960s with the addition of the Primeval World diorama. The
cars had very small windows, and made viewing the pageantry of the Pleistocene
difficult for many guests. Additionally, the cars were hard to load and
unload, since each passenger had to go through one of each car’s two doors,
single file. The recently acquired “Holiday” cars, with their sideways-facing
seats and larger entryways eventually caused the park to remove the Retlaw
1 passenger train from general service. The cars were used only on rare
occasions, usually during rainy or cold weather, and the cars of Retlaw
1 made their final run around the park on a gloomy, drizzly day in 1974.
In that year as well, the Santa Fe dropped its sponsorship, and the railroad
simply became the Disneyland Railroad we know today. After that, Walt
Disney’s wonderful yellow passenger cars were unceremoniously put into
storage in the back of the Disneyland roundhouse—Grand Canyon
among them.

As luck would have it, there would be a reprieve for the most glorious
car on the Disneyland Railroad, however. The car had a champion.

The late Ken Kohler began his Disney career in the mid-1950s as a conductor
on the Santa Fe & Disneyland Railroad. Through the years, Kohler rose
to the rank of Superintendent of Monorail/Steam Train Maintenance. While
a controversial figure among those who worked for him in the roundhouse,
he nonetheless had the foresight to see that there might be a future for
Grand Canyon. In 1974, Ken Kohler had one whopper of an idea.

Ken Kohler, left, discusses operations with a brakeman (a now-obsolete
cast member position that would equate today with a conductor) and another
Disney executive. Photo provided by Steve DeGaetano.

In that year, America was quickly gearing up for its 1976 Bicentennial
celebration, only two years away. Kohler had the idea that perhaps car
106, Grand Canyon, could be revived as a “Bicentennial Car,” decked
out with red-white-and-blue bunting. Eventually, according to a Disneyland
newsletter, Ken’s idea evolved into a plan to rebuild her as an elegant
private railcar for distinguished guests.

According to Michael Broggie’s book, Walt Disney’s Railroad Story,
“Bill Cottrell, Retlaw’s president, liked the idea; the work was begun
in July 1974 to completely renovate the coach.”

This drawing by Preston Nirattisai, shows the differing window arrangements
on both sides of the car. Photo provided by Steve DeGaetano.

Along with a complete restoration, the car would receive a new name as
well. Borrowing the tradition of naming ships after women, it was decided
to give the car a lady’s name, and no one deserved the honor more that
Lillian Disney. So, the car would be re-christened Lilly Belle,
as Walt would no doubt have wished.

Work on redesigning the car began in earnest. According to Kohler, “There
are no set rules for building a private car. They were all built to individual
tastes.”As written in an undated Disney memo of the time that may have
been used for cast member training, titled Preliminary Notes and Fact
Sheet for Railroad Car #106 “Lilly Belle,” “The concept of the private
car was carefully planned with Mrs. Lillian Disney Truyens to carry out
the theme and the personal taste with memorabilia of Walt’s interest in
trains.”All of the restoration work was done under Cottrell’s personal
direction. Research was conducted using books on private rail cars of
the era, with the understanding that the car should reflect the personal
tastes of the owner. Walt had a great interest in the Victorian era, and
as such, a strong Victorian theme resulted in the car’s decoration.

Some of the Victorian “bric-a-brac” that was installed in the car to contribute
to the theme. Photo by Matt Walker.

The actual rebuild of the car began by completely gutting the interior.
The seats were removed, and the linoleum flooring was ripped out. The
Preliminary Notes states that the crew, “Start[ed] with a red Victorian
carpet with a rose pattern as a first stage of refurbishing the train.” Some of the original four-abreast seats were reupholstered in a deep claret
mohair to complement the décor. Externally, one of the double sets
of windows on the left side of the car were paneled over, giving that
side of the car a non-symmetrical look typical of 19th century private
cars.

The floor plan of the Lilly Belle as it was originally conceived.
The four-seat bench on the right has been replaced with free-standing
chairs. Drawing by Preston Nirattisai.

Broggie continues, “The interior mahogany paneling was sanded and varnished,
and Victorian gold leaf designs were stenciled onto the curved ceiling
panels.” Outside, the car was given a coat of luxurious burgundy paint,
followed by coats of varnish to give it a high gloss. The name of the
car was placed on the center of the car sides, outlined in a dark green
frame. The dark green trim was also used on the railings and corner posts,
and the gold scrollwork that had adorned the car when it was known as
Grand Canyon was re-applied.

Craftsmen install the ceiling stencil to an unidentified Retlaw 1 car
in 1955. This same design was resurrected for the transformation of the
Grand Canyon into the Lilly Belle. Photo provided by Steve DeGaetano.

A photocopy of a Disney-written article in my possession, unfortunately
with title obscured by a Post-It fax transmittal memo, further describes
the work: “Claret velvet drapes were hung at the windows and four beveled
mirrors were set above the windows. Rimming the car, at ceiling level,
are twelve stained-glass panels,” finally replacing the fiberglass of
an earlier era.

In this photo one can see the colorful skylights in the clerestory, a
well as the complex stenciling applied to the ceiling panels. Photo by
Matt Walker.

The article continues: “A Victorian settee and side chairs were added
after buying them at auction. Marble-topped tables are used to conceal
the lighting controls and various switches. Victorian bric-a-brac and
old Disney family pictures hang on the walls.” The Preliminary Notes
tells us that “collages of railroad passes and memorabilia of Walt’s miniature
railroad system and the Santa Fe and Disneyland Railroad [were installed].
Early photos of Walt and his family in gold leaf frames are on the walls
of the car.” The centerpiece of the displays was the little yellow 1/8th
scale caboose from Walt’s backyard railroad, the Carolwood Pacific. Nearby
a guestbook with custom stationary could be signed by passengers of the
car.

A page from the Lilly Belle‘s guest book. Photo provided by Steve
DeGaetano.

A large gold-framed mirror was installed where the two windows on the
left side had been paneled over, flanked on each side by brass wall lamps,
and in front of the mirror was a larger marble table. Interestingly, the
curtains were hung only on the car’s left-side windows and end windows;
the windows on the park-facing side of the car were left un-obscured by
drapery, to allow for better park and diorama viewing. The brass plaques
that had warned passengers not to stand on the platform were removed and
new custom-cast brass plates, which used an actual antique railroad pattern,
and bearing the car’s new name, Lilly Belle, were installed on
the car doors. The 37.75-foot-long car could comfortably seat about 15
people.

Originally, the Lilly Belle name plates were made of brass, but
because they often “disappeared,” brass-plated fiberglass plates were
eventually substituted. Photo by Matt Walker

Rumors, unsubstantiated at this writing, allude to a stained glass window
installed in the rear door, making use of the same colors that appear
in the clerestory skylights, depicting Mickey Mouse. Out on the observation
deck, a steamer trunk without a bottom was used to cover the 12-volt batteries
that were used to supply power to the car, and on the railing was hung
a new drumhead, bearing the words: Disneyland Railroad—Holiday.

From the beginning, the car was a hit. It was virtually unrecognizable
as being from Retlaw 1

Most families may not have been able to ride the Lilly Belle, but
they could at least get a picture on board a mock Lilly Belle platform.
Proper Victorian attire was optional. From the summer, 1982 guidebook.
Photo provided by Steve DeGaetano.

In 1976, the car was known as the Bicentennial Special and Presidential
Car, but now it is simply known as the Presidential Car. Befitting
it’s stature as a private car, the Lilly Belle could only be ridden
by Disney company executives or dignitaries. On rare occasions, the car
would be made available to others with proper credentials. Special tickets
were issued, resurrecting the ornate artwork of the E.P. Ripley
that had graced Santa Fe & Disneyland tickets in the mid-1950s. Some of
these tickets were facsimile “signed” by Lillian Disney, while others
were blank. A Retlaw executive pass could also gain the bearer admittance.

Of course, there was one person who didn’t need a pass of any kind to
board the car. Bill Colley, a Disneyland Railroad conductor in the early
1980s, remembers, “I had been with Retlaw for about six months in the
spring of 1980 and had been trained on the Monorails after the Steam Trains.
I was working the Monorail shift when I was requested to change my costume
and report to Steam Trains as they were short-handed. Everything was going
great, as usual. About six hours into the shift, Train Control, Steam
Train Lead, received a call that we were about to have a very important
VIP arrive at main Street station for a trip on the Lilly Belle.
Well, the VI-VIP was none other than Lillian Disney herself, and everyone
started jumping! The Lilly Belle arrived at Main Street and we
boarded Mrs. Disney and her party. We all were on our best Retlaw behavior.
Needless to say Retlaw Supervisor Paul Legg was there to oversee the procedure.
WOW! What a thrill for me to get to see Mrs. Disney! I will never forget
that!”

Front and rear view of the special ticket that one needed to board the
Lilly Belle. This one was unfortunately “voided” by Disney.

What was it like to ride in the car? Steve Burns, who operates Burnsland.com
(link), a Web site with quite a
bit of Disneyland Railroad information, got to ride the car as a finalist
in the Disney Store National Trivia contest. He recalls:

I knew the Lilly Belle‘s history of being one of the original
passenger cars on the Santa Fe and Disneyland Railroad, which was then
turned into a luxury VIP car. I had even seen a few pictures. But I was
still amazed at the elegance of it all—the comfortable furniture,
the dark colors, the pictures of Walt. I felt that it was a true honor
to be riding in this railcar. I wondered if people could see us through
the windows, asking themselves who we might be to get to ride in style,
knowing that royalty and dignitaries had also ridden in the same way in
the same car.

I enjoyed the fact that the railroad narration could be heard in the
car, although it seemed to be a slightly lower volume than in the regular
cars. The windows seemed rather small, which made me more aware of why
Walt ordered that open-air cars be constructed to give guests a better
view of the park as they were riding. Still, it was enjoyable to sit in
this enclosed car, looking out the windows, taking in the scenery, and
knowing that I was riding in a piece of history.

Brass lamps flank the rear door, while in the corners, small fans are
situated to provide suitable Victorian “air-conditioned comfort”on warm
days. Photo by Matt Walker

Matt Walker, proprietor of Startedbyamouse.com (link),
had a similar experience, also as a Disney Store Trivia Contest finalist:

Certainly, you felt like a VIP getting to go through the red door with
the brass nameplate attached while other guests wondered why they couldn’t
do the same. I fully understood that feeling, so often being the person
on the outside looking in. But here I was taking a seat in the private
parlor car, awaiting the all-clear signal allowing us to pull away from
the Main Street Station.

My favorite thing that I remember about riding in the Lilly Belle
was looking at the personal photos of Walt and his family that adorned
the walls of the car. These weren’t the standard images that we had
seen time and time again of “Uncle Walt” addressing the public at an
event or through the television camera. But rather they were intimate
portraits of a family man and—dare I say—a regular guy.

The red Victorian décor was very similar to how Walt’s apartment
above the fire station and Club 33 are decorated. Though these areas
are not generally available to the park’s guests, their commonality
is very much an example of how the concept of theme is carried out through
all areas of Disneyland. Fake flowers and a few suitcases piled up on
one another as a prop were some of the things that reminded me that
I wasn’t on board just any railroad coach, but one that was deliberately
put together to satisfy the back story created for it.