Tomorrowland is the orphan division of Disneyland, thrown in as sop to those interested more in the future than the past. My idea was to sex up Tomorrowland: Tour the Solar System.
Not really, but we'd bill it that way. The Tour of the Solar System Building was to be large. Its rooms would reproduce environments of parts of the System, as best we knew them.
I'll never forget the first planning session when we realists were underdogs, yet swung the basic direction. By then, the Hollywood Mind had appeared. The Hollywood Mind is definitely a real thing, a vicious thing, a blank thing, that paternalistically insists It knows what the public wants.
There was general agreement on broad outlines. Trouble began over Venus.
"Of course," said one of the Minds, "we'll easily create a swampy environment—"
I burst out with quiet desperation: "May I comment?"
The realists were churning. Right there, sides were being chosen. I let all know my side immediately.
"Venus is hot, but it's desert heat. Continuous dust storms with fantastic winds—"
"People'd never go for that junk," interrupted the Mind. "Everyone knows Venus is swampy."