Spoiler warning: Today’s article describes in detail everything about
the new Tower of Terror attraction at Disney’s California Adventure
park (which is still being previewed to special audiences), except for
some of the core moments of the ride itself.
I have two “DisneyBuddies”: people who are willing to go
to Disneyland Resort with me at a moment’s notice. Some time in March,
one of the buddies, a radio personality named Sebastian, sent me e-mail
to let me know that APTRA (the Associated Press Television-Radio Association
of California & Nevada) was having its convention in Anaheim at the Paradise
Pier Hotel.
He asked if I’d like to meet him there, along with our other buddy, Sara.
And then, as if I needed added encouragement, he shared this section of
the convention itinerary:
Friday, April 2
6 – 9 p.m.
“Tower Of Terror” Media Preview. Get the first look
at the Disneyland Resort’s newest attraction, the “Twilight
Zone Tower Of Terror” set to open in May. Some of the Imagineers
behind the project will be on hand.
That was all the incentive I needed. I had no interest in riding the
Tower once it opened—I’m a big chicken, as far as thrill rides are
concerned—but I was dying to see the Tower of Terror up close and
get a chance to meet some Imagineers. We made plans to meet at the Resort
that Friday.
Once we had arrived at the resort and checked into our room at the Paradise
Pier Hotel (just refurbished, very nice), we headed down to the convention
registration area, on the first floor of the hotel, to meet with the rest
of our tour group. All the attendees were wearing metallic holographic
plastic wristbands to identify us as part of the group: ours were bright
blue.
At 6 p.m., we were debriefed by a cast member, who reminded us that we
should not use any recording devices during our tour, including cameras
and video equipment. (A forlorn voice piped up from the back of the group:
“But we’re reporters!”) So warned, we headed out en masse
toward the Park, crossing Disneyland Drive and taking the Paradise Walk
toward the exclusive entrance for hotel guests.
Our bags were checked and tickets taken at the gate, and we gathered
in the alcove near Souvenir 66, making small talk as we waited for the
entire party to enter the park. The sun had set, and the lights of the
Golden Zephyr shone in the dusk. Once the entire group had entered the
park, we stepped out onto the parade route, and saw the Tower of Terror
ahead of us. Lit dimly by the waning sunset, its lights flickered purple
against the darkened sky behind it, and a sickly pale moon hung above,
shrouded in storm clouds. I felt a little queasy. As we walked toward
the Tower, unable to take our eyes away from it, I thought for a moment
I saw movement. “Guys,” I said uneasily, “I think I just
saw an elevator drop.”
Stacks of old-fashioned suitcases and steamer trunks make up the columns
of Fastpass dispensing machines for the Tower of Terror attraction. Photo
by Adrienne Vincent-Phoenix.
We walked through A Bug’s Land, and while the theming was enchanting,
we could still see the Tower, eerie though the leaves of clover. I tried
not to think about the possibility that we might actually ride, distracting
myself by examining everything at ground level very carefully—but
the Tower still glowered quietly at me each time I glanced upwards.
We exited through a doorway marked “Worker Bees,” crossed a
traffic corridor, and passed through another cast member entrance into
the plaza in front of the Tower. A bellhop greeted us grimly as we passed
the hotel lobby. He was dressed in a snappy uniform—burgundy trousers,
golden yellow jacket, and burgundy pillbox hat—but his face was done
in macabre makeup. He did not look healthy. Over his shoulder we could
glimpse the detailed lobby’s opulent decay. Other bellhops stood in rank
to our left, wearing burgundy trousers, topped with a double-breasted
burgundy duster, decorated with gold buttons and piping across the chest.
The entrance to the Hollywood Tower Hotel does not look too foreboding…
Photo by Adrienne Vincent-Phoenix.
We were led to what I assume will serve as the outer queue, a lovely
Spanish/Mission-style courtyard covered by a heavy wood-beam trellis that
was threaded with gnarled flowering vines. Simple lanterns on the support
pillars provided soft light. The area was set with a dozen or so tall
cocktail tables, covered with burgundy cloths, and each held a few votive
candles and a centerpiece of calla lilies. We were met by a line of servers
holding tray after tray of hors d’oeuvres: shrimp with fresh guacamole,
savory beef wrapped in flaky puff pastry, crostini, tiny cakes of lemon
risotto; and another friendly server offered us punch in Deco martini
glasses. The glasses held a red LED in the base, so our drinks (and our
faces) glowed eerily as we sipped them.
Easels holding the concept art for the attraction surrounded the patio,
as well as several flat-screen TVs that displayed the Hollywood Tower
Hotel logo. A jazz quartet, dressed in sleeveless bellhop uniforms with
white shirts underneath, played big-band favorites in one corner. As we
munched happily and took in the scene, the macabre bellhop greeted each
table with appropriate foreboding (He looked at us nervously, and then
smiled and said “Thanks for… dropping in,” with a look
that made us delightedly uneasy).
To one side of the patio, a photo opportunity had been set up, with projection
screen lit with a drawing of the Tower as a backdrop. We headed over to
have our photo taken, and as we returned we found that one of the many
Imagineers in attendance had introduced himself and his compatriots (we
missed their names), and welcomed us to the event.
We then saw a short promo film—I imagine it will be a television
commercial—that gave us the back story of the attraction and a taste
of the thrills in store. Once the promo was over, our host announced that
while the ride was not scheduled to open to the public for another month,
it had been turned over for final testing two days previously, and since
it had passed inspection and completed the testing process—they were
going to allow us to be the first “civilians” to experience
the Tower of Terror. My heart jumped. I hadn’t planned for that. Before
I could begin to get nervous and persuade myself not to ride, our bellhop
took the microphone and announced that parties would experience the Tower
according to the color of their wristbands. The first group to ride…
…I held my breath…
…were to be those wearing blue wristbands.
I looked down at my wrist, shocked and dismayed, as my friends pulled
me toward certain doom. I couldn’t back out: how often does an opportunity
like this come along? I swallowed hard and smiled at the line of Imagineers
and cast members who waited along the route to the lobby to greet us.
We walked quickly through the lobby to a set of doors to the right of
the hotel desk, marked “Library.”
Considerable detail has gone into the theming for the attraction, including
the lighting in the interior queue area. Photo by Adrienne Vincent-Phoenix.
Once our party had assembled in the lobby, a bellhop opened the wood
doors and ushered us into the library. I was distracted by the incredibly
detailed theming, and once I had regained my wits, I realized that the
doors had shut behind us quite firmly. My fate was sealed. I tried to
reassure myself by taking in the library’s details: walls lined with books,
of course, in elaborate enclosed bookcases; curiosities along the top
of the cases—spooky masks and sculptures; and a plush, faded oriental
rug on the floor.
Lightning flashed outside the window, and as the thunder crashed the
lamps dimmed. There seemed to be quite a storm outside. Suddenly a loud
crack of thunder extinguished all the lights in the room, and in the darkness,
a video screen in the corner crackled to life. Rod Serling himself greeted
us, and told us the story of the Hollywood Tower Hotel; how it stood like
a jewel among the heyday of 1939 Hollywood, how it was struck by lightning
as four guests and an unfortunate bellhop rode in the doomed elevator,
and how the elevator and the guests inside disappeared forever. He then
invited us to take our own ride. The lights came up, a door opened on
the opposite side of the room, and we were escorted from the library down
into the Boiler Room.
The boiler in the boiler room looks angry enough to come alive. Photo
by Adrienne Vincent-Phoenix.
The boiler room was simultaneously immense and claustrophobic, filled
with a tangle of pipes and machinery. A huge boiler, looking for all the
world like an angry face, growled in one corner. A desk, scattered with
personal effects, waited near the end of the queue, obviously abandoned
suddenly over 60 years ago.
The boiler room is full of a tangle of pipes and machinery. Photo by Adrienne
Vincent-Phoenix.
A cast member arranged us into lines, and we were escorted into our elevator.
Three or four rows of seats faced the elevator doors, tiered like stadium
seats. Each seat had a belt much like those on Indiana Jones Adventure
and Star Tours, and, as I found out later, the end seats featured a hand
grip. The doors closed, and our elevator rumbled to life.
The service elevator awaits visitors to the new attraction. Photo by Adrienne
Vincent-Phoenix.
I won’t give you the details of the ride experience itself—I don’t
want to spoil it, and I don’t remember the details clearly enough to recount
them accurately. Quite frankly, I was too busy screaming to take mental
notes. I do know that we went weightless twice; and I was impressed with
the ride effects—they served to further the story quite neatly. I
also know I’ve never screamed so loud, so long, and so fervently in my
life.
We returned to the boiler room and were able to leave our elevator, and
walked through a circular exit room containing photo screens showing our
honest reactions to the attraction. I was too dazed to notice, however,
and we wobbled through the gift shop at the exit, which was curtained
off to conceal the attraction merchandise already on the shelves.
The gift shop, now open for those who visit the attraction, provides various
souvenirs to remind guests of their stay at the Hollywood Tower Hotel.
Note the continued theming in the shop from the queue area of the ride.
Photo by Adrienne Vincent-Phoenix.
A cast member waited nearby to assure we couldn’t peek behind the curtains;
while more cast members eagerly asked our opinion: “What did you
think? Would you ride again?” Once outside, I fell to my knees and
kissed the ground, then wandered over to the bar on the patio for a stiff
shot of Sprite. A kind and attentive cast member found some replacement
martini glasses for us, as ours had been removed once we had left the
reception.
Once the adrenaline wore off slightly, we were able to chat with a few
Imagineers, which I felt was the most inspiring feature of the evening.
These are people who love what they do, and love answering questions about
their work, and their pride in the attraction was readily apparent. We
met the art designer on the project (Cory Sewelson), as well as the architect
(Coulter Winn) and the show writer (Michael [we couldn’t discover his
last name online, but he was also the writer responsible for the original
Tower at Walt Disney World]). It was fascinating to learn about how each
team interacts with each other to make the attraction work within the
goals set for it. Michael mentioned that Michael Eisner wanted to be sure
the people outside the ride could see and hear the people inside, so the
architect needed to adjust his designs accordingly, and he needed to write
the design changes into the show script.
After all the groups had experienced the Tower at least once, we were
allowed to return for another ride if we liked. Sebastian jumped at the
chance, and Sara and I tagged along, taking the time to examine the theming
in the lobby as the doors to the library shut behind him.
The lobby was reminiscent of that of the Roosevelt in Hollywood, including
exposed thick wood-beam ceiling supports, stained to a dark brown. A huge
fireplace graced the far end of the lobby, while an expansive check-in
desk ran along the right side, flanked by the Library doors. Glass cases
of period knickknacks stood outside the Library entrances, with tiny cards
suggesting a visit to the hotel Gift Shop. Chunks of plaster were missing
from the walls, revealing the wood slats underneath. A porcelain doll
lay abandoned on one of the many sofas; piles of steamer trunks were scattered
about; desks with Deco lamps stood in the corners of the room; and everything
looked like it was shrouded in a thick layer of dust.
The library doors reopened, and we were able to take a closer look at
everything inside, including a desk holding a mah-jongg set and a heavy
Egyptian Deco lamp. We learned we could walk through the boiler room without
having to ride, so we took another walk toward the elevators, appreciating
the rust on the pipes, the signs on the walls, and the photos and papers
on the desk. The circular exit room also held more display cases set into
the walls that held vintage radio sets and other electric items, and old
photographs. Everything appeared to have been abandoned suddenly long
ago, and then left untouched for decades. As we stepped outside the second
time, we were escorted through what I imagine will be the entrance of
the attraction into the Fastpass distribution point. I finally turned
my eyes from the Tower, and we exited onto Hollywood Boulevard, incredulous
and awestruck.
The experience as a whole left me with mixed feelings. I know that, even
as a Passholder, I wouldn’t ever have had the chance to attend a similar
event for free. Disney’s symbiotic relationship with the media has its
perks, I suppose. But I was proud to see that the spit-and-polish I’ve
always associated with Disney is still there; and it was gratifying to
see the eager anticipation on the faces of the cast members and Imagineers
as we saw the results of their hard work for the first time. I saw a real
pride in the Resort embodied in them, and I hope that, as we approach
Disneyland’s 50th anniversary, that will translate into real magic.
