ery astute to the values of his time and gave the people exactly what they wanted to hear. Not only were the employees all white and overly cheerful, but the blacks that were involved, like the infamous Aunt Jemima Kitchen sponsored by Quaker Oats, were so pejoratively. Only after CORE protests, in 1963 and again in 1968, did blacks get hired and then actually greet the public. For a nation in turmoil, and for a region happy to be away from the residue left over from a century of massive, rapid urbanization in the east, Disneyland was the perfect tonic for a white, mobile middle class apathetic to the problems of race and class. Disneyland offered a history that glorified the west and the cleanliness of an era long gone, while at the same time neglecting things like collective action like labor movements. The interesting thing about Disney is that they are still influencing the way we see the past, and, dishearteningly, the future. Watching Disney gentrify New York is like watching history in real time: the cleaning up of Times Square; the walling off of public space; the removal of benevolent chaos from public life; the creation of another Disneyland; the end of history removed from commerce. After 40 years, Disney has finished what Buffalo Bill started. Fact and fiction have been blended to the point where the truth is not decipherable. History, for the masses, has been reduced to public spectacle for a price. It is almost as if the west was tamed, the millions of innocent Indians killed, so Disney could wall off our neighborhoods, close off public space, and then charge America to hear the story of how he managed to do it. There are indeed many consistent themes in the Buffalo Bill and Disneyland experiences. Buffalo Bill was bankrupt in 1916. Historians can only hope the same fate awaits hegemonic Disney. The question, though, is it too late to rewrite all of this specious history? More than entertainment, to be sure, ...
