The Disneyland Effect

Remember Judge Roy Hofheinz? He's Houston's one-man answer to P.T. Barnum, William Zeckendorf and Clint Murchison--the developer extraordinary whose projects always seem to start with a thud, then prosper with a vengeance. His Astrodome, for example. Hailed as "the Eighth Wonder of the World," the air-conditioned stadium began with a clear plastic roof. Baseball players lost fly balls in the glare, so the dome was painted. Then sunlight could not reach the grass, which withered, so artificial turf was laid down. Now everybody is happy.

And now Hofheinz has a new spectacular: Astroworld. It opened last week, a 57-acre amusement park near Houston's Astrodome and still another of Hofheinz' ventures, a convention center called Astrohall. Yes, it rained on opening day. Such attractions as a simulated sleigh ride down the 65-ft.-high Der Hofheinzberg and most of the boats to carry visitors through a Lost World Adventure were not functioning. The next night, the Astrowheel--the world's first futuristic Ferris wheel--groaned to a halt, marooning 40 riders high above the action.

Grateful Godson. The first weekend's crowd of 50,000 people cared not a whit. They loved Astroworld--just the way the judge* knew they would. Hofheinz' goal is to create an area where the whole family can come for a week and never need leave. To this end, he has spent $16 million on fun rides like the swirling Black Dragon, a 340-ft.high Astroneedle, a frontier village and outdoor air conditioning. Moreover, he is not permitting any haphazard development on his Astro domain. The four-motel complex that will open this fall is owned by him (although leased to such moteliers as Howard Johnson and Holiday Inns), and so is the transportation system of small, gaudy "tramp trains" that will run between motels and amusement park. Later, Hofheinz plans to build more motels, two theaters, a museum, an automobile race track and an inland Sea-Arama.

All this should sound familiar. Astroworld is a godson of Disneyland. The late Walt Disney blessed Hofheinz' borrowed philosophy of fun for the family. "The Disneyland people helped us on Astroworld every time we asked," says the judge gratefully. "They suggested ways of doing things so we could avoid what they learned the hard way."

Runaway Train. What Hofheinz, Disney and other big developers are cashing in on is a remarkable phenomenon best described as the "Disneyland Effect." Stated simply, the thesis is that what's missing in urban life is a sense of fun, and that once a fun area is built, it proves to be a powerful, regenerative force that brings prosperity to the whole surrounding area.

The prototype is Disneyland itself. In its 13 years, the 70-acre, $100 million amusement park in Anaheim has become California's No. 1 tourist attraction: 7,900,000 visitors came last year. The constant influx has helped transform Anaheim from a small, dusty town set amid orange groves into a pleasant and bustling city. To cope with the tourists, 3,500 motel and hotel rooms have been built (Disney's own hotel has grown from 150 to 616 rooms) and restaurants have sprouted thick as asparagus outside the superpark's gates.

The lessons provided by Disneyland were put to their first serious test in 1961, when a barren stretch of land midway between Dallas and Fort Worth was taken over by the Great Southwest Corp. and built into the site of Six Flags over Texas, an $18 million, 40-acre imitation Disneyland that even Disney employees concede is a "pretty good job." Following Disney's rules, it has thematic sections (one for each flag) and such thrilling rides as the Runaway Train trip through a series of mock 1890s-style hazards. To date, some 11 million paying visitors have loved the park, and the Disneyland Effect has taken place right on schedule: new hotels, motels, shopping centers and apartment projects have appeared in a broad swath around the park, and the fun area has become the center of an unplanned but prosperous new town.

Money & Fun. Next to come is the California Exposition, a permanent, year-round state fair just five minutes from Sacramento. Opening on July 1, it will feature a vast amusement park, an exhibition center, a race track and artificial lakes. The $20 million project, which is designed for the enjoyment of all the family, covers 630 acres. Estimates are that in the next twelve years the Exposition will draw 50 million people, gross some $330 million for the state--and in the process create a sizable boom for Sacramento.

The ultimate test of the thesis will be the brand-new Walt Disney city in central Florida now being built from scratch on 43 square miles of swampy flatlands. The first nucleus, programmed to open in 1970, will in effect be a Disneyland East, and already 400 acres have been cleared and a system of dams, lakes and canals is being constructed. Linked to the fun city by monorail there will eventually be an experimental, radially designed city and a 1,000-acre industrial park. But the locomotive pulling them all will be Disney's Amusement Theme Park, a mecca for fun lovers that will support every other part of a Disney world. All this, of course, is in accordance with the Disneyland Effect's guiding maxim: Money is where the fun is.

* In 1937, when he was only 24 years old, Hofheinz was elected judge of Houston's Harris County, served until 1944.

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