Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall, Whose History Is the Fairest of Them All?

Abstract

MICKEY MOUSE SCRAMBLED aboard the last helicopter out of Haymarket less than twelve months after The Walt Disney Company announced plans to build a multi-million dollar history theme park outside Washington, D.C. But the lingering memory of Disney's America is likely to divide the politics of history museums for years to come. The question will be asked again and again, where did you stand on the issue of theme park history? Were you for it or against it? Your answer will land you in one of two camps that Disney didn't create, but it polarized the differences between them like nothing else in recent memory. I opposed the location in Northern Virginia. My employer Colonial Williamsburg opposed a location anywhere in the Northern Hemisphere. Nevertheless, my first reaction on hearing the unexpected news of Disney's withdrawal was one of sharp disappointment! A little voice inside me cried, How dare you, Michael Eisner? You can't cave in now! Later, yes-but not yet! Not when we've just started to debate the real issues your project raises! I still feel cheated almost a year later. The Disney Company's sudden appearance on the borders of our history museum kingdom was the best thing to happen to American history since Alex Haley. It challenged our monopoly, it rattled our complacency, and it mocked our claims to entertain and educate the general public. Overnight, Disney redrew the line that defines the boundaries of popular history. That line ran down the middle of a long conference table at Colonial Williamsburg one afternoon in December 1993, five weeks after plans for Disney's America were unveiled. Disney executives were busy making the