Before departing on vacation, I promised to share my impressions of what might be gleaned from the Disney World experiment for building functional human settlement patterns in the Rest of the World. I fully acknowledge that the commentary that follows is based upon quick and superficial observation, which may be of limited value. But some interesting points do emerge.
Utilidors. Disney turned down my request to view the underground complex — a network of corridors that contain utilities and accommodate logistical transportation — that I deemed the most innovative aspect of Disney World and, possibly, the most instructive for design of other communities. Accordingly, most of what I know about the “utilidors” I gleaned from an online article, “Under the Magic Kingdom,” on the HiddenMickeys.org website.
The 15-foot-high corridors were built at ground level, then covered with soil from excavation of the Seven Seas Lagoon. Disney World was actually built atop this spoil, creating the above-ground level visible to visitors and a below-ground level used by employees. From the website:
You have never seen a delivery truck at Disney – have you? Magic Kingdom’s first floor has all the access roads for the Cast Members (employees) and service vehicles, the “tunnels” or Utilidors, the AVAC, service rooms, wardrobe and costuming, male and female locker rooms, offices, storage, kitchens, break rooms, two employee cafeterias, including the Fantasyland Dining Room, Kingdom Kutters, a Fire Prevention Center, Studio “D” and many of the support departments for the Magic Kingdom. The Fantasyland Dining Room and restrooms are to the left.
Underground corridors strike me as a possibly useful adjunct to Claude Lewenz’ concept of pedestrian villages. (See “First, Shoot All the Cars.”) While the pedestrian-only aspects of Lewenz’ village are highly appealing, the difficulty in accommodating delivery trucks and other utilitarian vehicles creates problems that I’m not sure that Lewenz ever resolved satisfactorily. Disney-esque corridors could solve those problems — though, admittedly, at a significant cost.
. I did have a chance to ride the monorail, which is showing its age after 27 years. The mass transit system has 12 trains consisting of six cars each, capable of running up to 40 miles per hour. I’m no expert in mass transit, so I apologize in advance if my commentary sounds like Urban Planning 101
The Disney monorail strikes me as a “niche” system that is appropriate in certain settings, but not a tool capable of providing mobility and access for large populations. The beauty of the monorail, or so it would appear to my uninformed eye, is that the structure takes up relatively little space. The struts upon which the track rests have a small “footprint,” therefore can be retrofitted into an existing urban space, presumably a highway or boulevard, relatively easily.
The monorail stations need not be large if located inside a building, as the Disney World monorail is in one of the Disney hotels. However, the ramps connecting the monorail to the pedestrian level did consume considerable space — posing an obstacle for retrofitting an already-developed area.
Multimodal. Where Disney truly excels is in its implementation of multi-modal transportation. Each of the four main theme parks is surrounded by vast acres of parking lots, which function as the resort’s interface with the world. Tens of thousands of visitors arrive by car daily. To transport them quickly and efficiently from the parking lots into the pedestrian-oriented parks, Disney operates an elaborate tram system. To provide access between the theme parks, as well as the various resort hotels and other facilities, Disney runs buses, passenger boats and the aforementioned monorail.
The key to making the Disney system work is the existence of well-placed multi-modal transportation hubs, where parking-lot trams, passenger boats, monorails, buses and pedestrian walkways all come together and visitors can easily switch from one mode to the other. Once the newcomer has figured out the system — what connects with what — the multimodal system functions reasonably well.
Where planning for Virginia’s transportation facilities seem deficient, it strikes me, is (a) the paucity of such multi-modal centers, and (b) the failure in imagination to incorporate water-borne craft into the multi-modal system. Unfortunately, I have no idea what it cost to put the Disney system into place, nor how much it costs to operate. I suspect that Disney treats such information as closely guarded competitive intelligence. Therefore, there is no way to know whether implementation of such a system would make sense in real-world urban conditions in Virginia today.
There you have it, folks, the sum total of what I learned from the Mouse.
Celebration. P.S. To answer Ed Risse’s question, I did not have a chance to visit Celebration, Disney’s New Urbanist development built nearby. From what I heard from a friend who works for the Disney organization, Celebration is both a success and a failure. The New Urbanist formula was such a commercial success that the prices of property there rose to astronomical levels that priced less affluent households out of the “affordable” housing envisioned for the development. The obvious answer: Build more communities like Celebration, eliminate the scarcity value, and “affordable” housing will stay affordable.
I found one other observation made by my friend to be noteworthy: Performance of the retail development in Celebration has been disappointing. Turns out, people still like driving long distances to Big Box retail outside the development. Whether the phenomenon of $4-per-gallon changes that predilection remains to be seen.
(Photo credits: Utilidors, HiddenMickeys.org; monorail, Oren’s Transit Page.)