DISNEYLAND'S POOR COUSIN (Dec. 11)

Since the 1950's, Southern California has seen the rise of the "theme park", beginning with Disneyland in 1955 (this year was their 50th anniversary - see my blog from October), Knott's Berry Farm, Magic Mountain, Universal Studios, etc.

Disneyland was always our family tradition dating back to the 1960's, but I do recall visiting Knott's Berry Farm once or twice in those days. It was kind of a hokey Grand-Ol'-Opry-meets-Hollywood-western-set, and pretty small. There was a Western town main street with an apothecary with a bunch of (probably authentic) old medicine bottles in the window. "Lydia Pinkham's Pink Pills for Pale People" was one that became part of our family jokes.

This past Sunday, I met a few friends at Knott's Berry Farm to see another friend who's an "actor" - really jack-of-all (media) trades who performs wherever there's pay involved on TV, movies, live stage, etc.. Paul Avidisian has been performing at KBF for several months now in their faux Western saloon, and recently, due to the Christmas season, in an abridged version of Dickens' "Christmas Carol". I believe he plays the part of the obsequious Bob Cratchit, Scrooge's clerk.

I had forgotten how low-key (and down market) Knott's Berry Farm was/is. It's only a cut above a small-town Fourth of July fair, and about as well organized. In comparison with Disneyland it fares pretty sadly. Disneyland is slick (and extremely well-organized) in every detail. Parking there is fast and seamless, and a little trolley picks you up by your car (parked still miles from the park) and moves you comfortably to the entrance gate. At KFB, it was catch as catch can. I had to drive around to three sides of the park before I could find a parking lot that was open, and the signs to keep you from wasting time looking were hard to find. And if you didn't have cash, they couldn't handle your credit card. (What, are we still in the '50s?) Once parked, you still had to walk all the way to the main entrance.

The mainly working-class families walking around (many proving the epidemic of obesity in America) looked tired and grumpy. Even the kids. Every schlock-y Christmas doodad was on sale in their Western store arcade along with sad souvenirs made in China - or Burma. Lines at the few amusement rides were as long as Disneyland - with none of the meticulous organization or in-line entertainment Disney has developed to keep kids happy for the hour and a half it takes to get into Space Mountain.

In the 1950's the two parks probably started out somewhat equal, but you get the impression that, while Disneyland has continually adapted, evolved and improved, KBF hasn't bothered to learn (or research) one thing about better crowd control, experience engineering, etc. Fifty years of decay rather than fifty years of self-improvement.

Anyway, Paul A's shows were fun to watch in a hokey kind of way (although the saloon pianist was off sick and the leading female actor had laryngitis and could barely sing). For the second show, Dicken's "Christmas Carol", the American cast did their best to conjure up some Trans-Atlantic version of an English accent. Paul's was not quite half-way to England. But he surprised us all at the quality of his singing voice (more of an Irish tenor), and he appreciated our efforts to turn out to support the home team and later mugged for our cameras in his Western costume.

The rest of the group then headed out for a restaurant to celebrate Paul's acting accomplishments that day, but I had to leave during the applause for a "A Christmas Carol" to hop in my car and drive an hour to a formal Christmas concert at a Catholic college directed by another friend, Allan Petker, who was the groom in the wedding I attended in Santa Clarita back in November.

Combined with church that morning, Sunday was one of the busiest days on my social calendar this month!