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By Michael - July 11th, 2010 When one thinks about Imagineering, it’s most likely that the mind first runs to the artists. With fifty-five years of renderings, sketches, models, sculptures and amazing artwork, it’s perhaps no surprise that the fine artists have often become the public face of Disney’s creative workshop. Unfortunately this can do a disservice to the engineering side of Imagineering. While perhaps not as photogenic as an artist’s rendering, the concept and execution behind something as groundbreaking as the Enhanced Motion Vehicle or a trackless, solar-powered ride vehicle is just as impressive and worthy of attention.
We’ve previously discussed the work of Imagineer George McGinnis, and he recently put me in touch with one of the company’s long-time engineering greats. William “Bill” Watkins worked with Imagineering from 1966 until 1985, having come aboard as a project engineer after stints at Lockheed, Marqardt, and Honeywell. He worked on scores of well-known projects over the years, from the PeopleMovers and Autopia to Space Mountain and Big Thunder Mountain.
Bill has been working to record some of his thoughts and experiences from the design process, and along with George he’s been kind enough to share some of these with us. Specifically, we’re going to take a look at the process behind the creation of Space Mountain, which opened first at Walt Disney World in 1975. More than just a simple steel coaster, this new attraction broke barriers at the time by using the new technique of Computer Aided Design. It’s an interesting look into the difficult practicalities that Disney’s engineers face when the blue sky concepts of WDI’s creative teams meet the immutable restrictions of physics.
How Computers Influenced Roller Coaster Design
William M. Watkins, Former Disney Chief Mechanical Engineer
When I was a child, probably seven or eight years old, I went on my first roller coaster ride at Camden Park in Huntington, West Virginia where we were visiting relatives. I remember being very frightened before my father and I got on it, but being very exhilarated after we got off. After we returned home to Indiana I built my first coaster with a ladder, a board, and my little red wagon. This resulted in the first of three broken arms that I suffered before I was twelve. Little did I know that nearly thirty years later I would get involved in designing coasters and other theme park rides for a living after joining WED Enterprises (now Walt Disney Imagineering) in 1966 and later at my own company, Ride & Show Engineering, Inc. I have designed just three roller coasters (not counting that first one): Space Mountain, Walt Disney World; Space Mountain, Disneyland (CA); and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, Disneyland (CA); but Space Mountain, Disneyland, has been duplicated at Tokyo Disneyland and Hong Kong Disneyland Park. Big Thunder Mountain Railroad also exists at Walt Disney World, Paris Disneyland, and Tokyo Disneyland, each with somewhat different names and configurations to adapt to the local terrain. There are many coasters throughout the world, over 600 in the US alone, and so there are many designers. Some of the old coasters were designed by people who had not had technical training and yet they served their purpose well, providing entertainment with safety. However, times have changed and so has coaster design.
 Final Disneyland Space Mountain engineering model
I will attempt to describe the approach that I developed for the design of gravity rides, an approach that would not have been possible without the advent of the digital computer because of the enormous number of calculations required. I recall a story by Ernest Gann, an engineer and novelist who wrote Fate is the Hunter. Many years ago he was in charge of a dirigible project and they were designing a large circular truss. They started by estimating the conditions at one point on the circle and a team of engineers spent an entire year calculating the stress in each member until they arrived back at the starting point where they found, as expected, that their original estimate was significantly off. So they re-estimated and started around again. Today, the whole analysis could be done in minutes if not seconds. The same thing applies to the designs of coasters today. That is not to say that a coaster can be designed in seconds. There are many programs to write, hundreds of decisions to make, testing to obtain data to plug into the computer, meetings with art directors, show designers, operations personnel, and shop managers. The whole design process took more than a year back in the 70’s, but the resultant design would have taken decades if it were not for the computer. Of course it would have opened on the same schedule, but would have been built to a lesser standard.
At the time that I began studying coaster design in 1968, computer use was just becoming more common. Disney was using computers for animation control and business applications but these computers were very slow and involved punch cards. For engineering applications, we tied into a main frame computer in Omaha via a dial-up modem with an electric typewriter. Though cumbersome by today’s standards, it was light-years ahead of what had gone on before.
My approach to coaster design was influenced by my experience as a race driver and a pilot. This may come as a surprise to those who are not familiar with racing, but the most important factor in driving a race car rapidly through a curve is the ability to minimize the lateral loads on the car by taking the proper path, maximizing the radius through the curve and to do it smoothly. Piloting technique is much the same. A good pilot banks the airplane smoothly and will coordinate his turns by applying the proper amount of rudder. Otherwise he puts undue stresses on the equipment and causes discomfort to his passengers.
 Imagineer William Watkins riding on single-seat test vehicle to evaluate banked curve geometry
It was my belief, especially in regard to Space Mountain, because the ride is in the dark, that the ride should be smooth and since there would be a lack of visual cues, the g forces should be limited. A brief explanation: g loading is expressed as a ratio of the force developed in changing speed or direction relative to the force felt due to the earth’s gravity. The smaller the curve radius and the higher the speed, the higher the g force. Thus, a 2g force on a 100 pound body causes it to to weigh 200 pounds. Race drivers in the Indianapolis 500 are subjected to more than 3g’s in the corners and there are loop coasters that subject passengers to as much as 5g’s. I decided that there should be a maximum of 2.5g’s for our coaster designs. I tested this premise by exposing myself to 3g’s in high banked (70.5 degrees) turns in an airplane. I felt that if 3g’s was OK for me, who’d had a disc removed from my back a couple of years earlier, then 2.5g’s should be safe for the vast majority of riders. So you might say; yes, but what about someone who is weaker than you? Two things: if all rides were geared to the weakest among the population, there would be no rides. The second point is that the operations personnel are charged with, through signage, informing people of the nature of the ride and denying boarding to people that they feel are not capable of withstanding the forces.
Not all g forces increase the weight of the passenger. As a vehicle goes over the top of a hill the load on the passenger becomes less than earth’s gravity and, in the extreme, could throw an unrestrained passenger out of the car. Some coasters do subject passengers to slightly negative g’s which cause them to raise off their seats and become “weightless” for a short period. And this is often touted as a desirable feature. However, in a dark ride such as Space Mountain, we felt that it would be best not to raise passengers off their seats because of the possibly of injury when they sit back down, especially when the g’s rapidly become positive. So the top of hills (negative vertical curves as we call them) are designed to lower the passenger’s weight by just 75%, leaving 25% of their weight still resting on the seat. Thus passenger loading varies from 0.25g’s to 2.5g’s as they travel through Space Mountain and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad.
The next issue is the direction of the g forces. There have been rides like the Wild Mouse which is a series of flat circular curves connected by straight sections. The g forces are all lateral, suddenly pressing the passengers against the side of the vehicle or against each other. These are rides that are usually found at carnivals and are relatively inexpensive and easy to set up. More sophisticated rides have banked turns. If the turns have 100% banking, then the g forces are directly into the seat with no lateral component. This could be considered ideal but is impossible to achieve for every vehicle because it is dependent on the speed of the vehicle and that varies due to several factors that will be explained later. Overbanking is to be avoided because that would cause the passenger to tend to fall toward the center of the curve. Underbanking is better because it causes the passenger to press against the outside of the car, but with much less force than with the unbanked turn. And people are used to experiencing forces toward the outside of turns when riding in automobiles on curvy roads. So curves were designed for 80% banking for the slowest vehicles to avoid the possibility of overbanking.
The next issue is how to gracefully transition from a “wings level” (as we say in flying) condition to a banked condition. Formulas for putting mechanical components, such as valves in an engine, into motion without inducing sudden impacts are well known in engineering and these same formulas can be applied to the change in bank angle when entering and departing a curve. The amount of banking increases inversely with curve radius, so during the transition phase where bank angles are smaller, the radii must be larger than the final curve, so this defines the shape of the total curve, i.e. turning gradually at first and tighter as the bank angle increases.
The next issue in curve design is establishing the line about which banking takes place. Visualize what happens when a high-wing fixed gear airplane banks. In a right turn you will see the wings moving to the right while the wheels move to the left. That means that somewhere in between is a point that does not move relative to your body. If those wheels were on a fixed track, the track would have to be moving up, swinging around that point. The best track design is one in which a point on the centerline, a few inches above the seat , will follow a smooth line into and out of a banked curve. By defining this line and swinging the track around it, the disturbance of the passenger is minimized. Contrast this with the usual practice in the old wooden coasters in which banking is achieved by raising the outer rail thus tossing the passengers toward the center of the curve.
 Raising the outside rail tosses the passenger toward the center of the curve. Swinging the track about an elevated line simulates flying in an airplane.
To design a ride such as Space Mountain to fit in a confined space, be smooth and have the capacity to accommodate a large number of passengers each day, it is necessary to accurately calculate speeds and timing. In order to avoid the possibility of collisions between vehicles, the track is divided into zones which are on shorter time intervals than that in which the cars are dispatched and each zone is protected by brakes. The speeds, and thus the timing of vehicles, is a function of changes in elevation, and the various drag factors that tend to slow the vehicle down. There is the rolling resistance of the wheels, friction in the bearings and seals, viscous drag of the wheel lubricants, scrubbing of the wheel treads due to minor misalignment, and the aerodynamic drag. Some of these factors are influenced by the weight of passengers carried, some are not. That is why heavy vehicles are faster than light ones. Although some of these factors may seem small, they are significant over the entire length of the track. As a matter of fact, it is the designers job to manage the drag so that most of the energy of raising the vehicle to the top of the lift is consumed by the drag while the vehicle is coasting down, converting that energy to heat.
So, as I said, It takes thousands of calculations and a lot of trial and error to arrive at a final design and, without a computer to do those computations, it would have taken much longer than Ernest Gann’s circular truss to design Space Mountain.
Many thanks to Mr. Watkins and to George McGinnis for putting together this look into what went in to designing this groundbreaking attraction.
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By Michael - July 9th, 2010 If you’re reading this site, then Jeff Kurtti will probably need little introduction. Disney fans like myself will most likely have an entire shelf filled with books that Jeff has authored, magazines with articles he has written, and DVDs that he has produced.
Jeff worked with Walt Disney Imagineering from 1987-1995, after which he became a freelance author and creative consultant. The DVD packages he has produced were, quite literally, the best that Disney has ever released. He’s written scads of books, including a number of art books for Disney and Pixar animated films as well as several key works about theme park history. His 1996 Disney Editions publication Since the World Began remains the single great officially-sanctioned look at the history of Walt Disney World. His latest work is Disneyland Through The Decades, released this year in honor of that park’s 55th anniversary.
Jeff was kind enough to contribute this story about working alongside Herb Ryman, at a time when Herb was an elder statesman of Disney Imagineering.
Herbie Ryman and the Myth of Walt Disney
In 1987, I was hired at Walt Disney Imagineering as a Coordinator in the Graphics Department for what was then called Euro Disneyland.
The glamorous offices were in a well-worn two-story light industrial building, perched on a hillside overlooking the L.A. River in the Grand Central Business Park in Glendale. Today, part of the Studios of KABC Television stand on this site.
Inside was a collection of mismatched cubicle dens, large rooms that house the separate “lands,” each supervised by their individual Show Producer. In a stroke of good luck, there was an empty cubicle in the Main Street area, and I was given a home there, to begin identifying and coding all of the graphic design needs throughout the new Magic Kingdom.
My first day there, the curious and the welcoming came by, including a funny elfin old man with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face. I quickly connected the affable “Herbie” with the legendary Herb Ryman, and was simply stunned that such a legendary figure was in the cubicle just a few feet away from me. In these days at WDI, we still had Claude Coats, John Hench, Jack Ferges, and Adolfo Procopio in the building; we were frequently visited by Marc and Alice Davis, Ken Anderson, Harper and Flossie Goff, Harriet Burns, Bill Justice, Jimmy MacDonald, and so many other Disney Artists and Imagineers of great fame—at least to me!
Morning coffee with Herbie was a remarkable thing. He could speak with erudition about any number of topics, and loved to talk with a variety of people about all manner of subjects—often to the consternation of those charged with getting his work to a meeting or a presentation on time.
I came to learn that his talent as a raconteur was a part of his talent as an artist, a component of his process in translating ideas to evocative visual media. I think he genuinely liked people, and enjoyed the stimulation offered in his daily migrations around the building; observing, interacting, offering his insight or opinion, or in many cases recollections of earlier projects. Often it was his eyewitness account of solving a problem with Walt that offered a solution to what we had thought was a new problem.
For many of us, Herbie represented the links between Walt himself, and the very special new Park we were all part of trying to make, one that moved his design principles forward while respecting and elevating Walt’s ideas and dreams.
Sometimes, however, Herbie liked to kick the pedestal out from under himself.
One day I came to my cubicle to find about a dozen young Imagineers gathered in and around Herbie’s workspace. Half of them were smiling broadly. The other half bore expressions that ranged from bafflement to agony.
What I overheard from my office went something like this:
“Well, we realized very early on that as a collective of artists we wouldn’t have much success, but if we created a charismatic figure to act as our leader, we might deflect the unwanted attention and create more of a ‘creative scapegoat.’
“I mean, come on. ‘Walt Disney’? Did you ever hear a name that was more made-up? We created that whole persona to fit with the art forms we were pursuing, and to reflect the innovations our collective was cooking up. Did you really think that everything attributed to Walt Disney could really be the result of one man’s ideas?
“We hired an actor out of Central Casting, and he became our figurehead. The deal was exclusive and very secret—it was probably one of the best-kept secrets in Hollywood, and there are still agreements in effect that withhold the actor’s true identity.
“But about 1965, a lot of us were retiring or moving on, and there wasn’t a lot of desire to keep the charade going any more, so it seemed to make sense to let the whole thing go. I think that old fella is still out in the Motion Picture Country Home, clean-shaven and under an assumed name.”
The story went on in this vein, with detail layered carefully upon detail—fabrications woven with pieces of Walt’s genuine biography, so that every crazy element was grounded in an irrefutable fact. Herbie was so sincere and earnest, and such a consummate storyteller, that only that twinkle in his eye ever gave away his game.
I watched Herbie as his audience dispersed, some stunned and upset, others chuckling at the grandeur of his talespinning. Herbie looked at my bemused expression and grinned, and winked at me. “You see, Jeff,” he offered by way of explanation, “You kids think that once anyone hits fifty they lose their sense of humor.”
And off he went, on another round of afternoon visits.
Many thanks to Jeff for sharing this story!
JEFF KURTTI is a renowned cross-media storyteller recognized for his fluency in a variety of forms and formats. As an author of more than twenty-five books, a writer-director of award-winning documentaries, and a respected public speaker, host, and panel moderator, Kurtti is a recognized expert on pop culture and the entertainment industry. He is a consultant to several clients in the motion picture, theater, museum/exhibit and themed-entertainment industries. His newest book, Disneyland Through The Decades, has just been published by Disney Editions.
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By Michael - July 9th, 2010  Story sketch for Anna and the King of Siam by Herb Ryman, 1946
The adventures that Herbert Ryman had in his world travels were translated into paintings and sketches, which helped him get his position at Walt Disney Productions. But after eight years with Disney, those same travels would lead to Ryman’s departure from the Mouse House.
20th Century Fox was developing a film based on Margaret Landon’s 1944 novel Anna and the King of Siam. The film adaptation, starring Irene Dunne and Rex Harrison, was looking for artists with experience in Asian design; at the same time, Fox was facing labor issues within its own art department. While Herb’s experiences in Siam might have made him a natural choice to bring in to work on the film, another fact made the match of man and project too perfect to refuse. In his Oriental adventures, Ryman had become friendly with not only members of the Siamese royal court, but with Landon herself. His close friendship with the author, herself the basis of the eponymous “Anna” of “Anna and the King”, sparked his interest in the project.
Ryman, as had been mentioned, had something of a unique relationship with Walt Disney. They were friends, not merely colleagues; in all his years at the studio, Herb never had a contract. He would come and go as he pleased, and so it was that when he decided to go to Fox to work on Anna he merely went to Walt’s office and said he had to leave. Walt, as time will show, certainly bore no grudge, and he and Ryman remained friendly while Herb was away. In fact, and unbeknownst to Walt, the temporary loss of this valuable artist would pay off in spades in the long-term. It was, after all, at Fox where Herb was to meet many designers that he would help recruit later to build Walt’s first theme park.
 In this photograph of the 20th Century Fox art department are several individuals that would eventually prove crucial to the development of Disneyland and Walt Disney World. On the back row are Richard Irvine (3rd from left) and Marvin Davis (5th from left). On the second row, far left, is Ryman, and beside him is George Patrick.
At Fox, Herb worked on a number of pictures including Forever Amber, Down to the Sea in Ships, David and Bathsheba, The Black Rose and The Robe. These lushly produced films gave Ryman something to sink his teeth into, with period settings that allowed him to turn his set and story sketches into truly illustrative pieces of art. The elaborate nature of these films kept him busy, too – such detailed scenes required far more pre-visualization than a typical picture.
 A design sketch for Forever Amber, 1947
While he was at Fox, Ryman continued his personal artistic endeavors. In fact, this is a noticeable thread throughout his life – no matter where he was working, or what he was doing, he still took his private art very seriously. While he certainly made the most of any assignment he was given on a commercial basis, his free time was devoted to his own self-expression though his watercolors and oil paintings.
 A design sketch for Down to the Sea in Ships, 1949
Herb’s time at 20th Century Fox would prove fruitful, not only for his work but for the contacts he would make. Because, after some time spent running away with the circus, Ryman would get a very unexpected and unique phone call. A request for a weekend of work that would change the world forever.
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By Michael - July 8th, 2010 
I was extremely pleased today to receive a copy of the latest edition of Didier Ghez‘s truly wonderful book series, Walt’s People: Talking Disney with the Artists who Knew Him. Volume Nine, available now in paperback or digital download, weights in at an impressive 541 pages. It’s great stuff, too!
The series, which began as an effort to reprint long-forgotten interviews of Disney artists and employees, has grown in scope. Aside from the great interviews, it now features other essays by well-known Disney historians. Here’s the list of contents for Volume Nine:
Foreword by John Culhane
Dave Smith: Thurston Harper
Ray Pointer: Berny Wolf
John Canemaker: Fanny Rabin about Art Babbitt
John Culhane: Art Babbitt
Tom Sito: Bill Melendez
Mark Langer: Ken O’Connor
John Canemaker: Thor Putman
John Culhane: Art Scott
Dave Smith: Ken Anderson
Christopher Finch and Linda Rosenkrantz: Ken Anderson
Christopher Finch and Linda Rosenkrantz: Les Clark
Christopher Finch and Linda Rosenkrantz: Jack Cutting
Robin Allan: Jack Cutting
Robin Allan: Bob Jones
Robin Allan: Joe and Jennie Grant
Floyd Norman: Three Disney Story Guys (Pete Young, Fred Lucky and Vance Gerry)
Jim Korkis: Margaret Kerry
Paul F. Anderson: Jack Ferges
Paul F. Anderson: Fred Joerger
Jim Korkis: The Secret Walt Disney Commercials
Michael Mallory: Paul Carlson
Didier Ghez: Paul Carlson
Floyd Norman: Just Finish that Darned Thing!
Didier Ghez: Victor Haboush
Julie Svendsen: Walt Peregoy
Floyd Norman: Disney’s “B” Movie
Alberto Becattini: Frank McSavage
Klaus Strzyz: Jack Bradbury + Mary Jim Carp
Klaus Strzyz: Bob Foster
Alberto Becattini: Bob Foster
Didier Ghez: Julie Svendsen
Göran Broling: Correspondence with Ollie Johnston
Clay Kaytis: Burny Mattinson
Didier Ghez: Tom Sito
It’s a treasure trove of Disney history and scholarship and, while it’ll be a while before I have time to do a full review, I guarantee that it’s worth your time. Besides, it has my name in the acknowledgments so that has to be worth your time and money!
Order now: Paperback / Digital Download
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By Michael - July 7th, 2010  Imagineering model of Mystic Manor for Hong Kong Disneyland, D23 Expo, 2009
Hey, remember when this was happening? Yeah, I keep forgetting too.
While we’re here, we might as well have a few more pictures…

 Storyboard art depicts the various show scenes in sequence from the Mystic Manor attraction
 Storyboards depicting the second half of Mystic Manor’s show scenes
 Model of Mystic Point land for Hong Kong Disneyland, featuring Mystic Manor and the Adventurers’ Club
In the above model of “Mystic Point”, Mystic Manor is on the left and the new “Adventurers’ Club” is on the right. For reference, Adventureland is in the foreground, Toy Story Land is off-camera to the right, and “Grizzly Trail” is off-camera to the left.
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The Progress City Primer
 From the Progress City archives comes this collection of 33 tall tales and true from Disney history. Available in paperback, hardback, and ebook formats.
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