A certain benevolent, even beatific air has settled over central Florida, tableland once renowned for perfuming the atmosphere with orange blossoms, rippling the lakelands with water skis, and quadrennially thundering to the support of George Corley Wallace, a carpetbagger down from Alabama. The new euphoria, fertilized with the green of new bucks, wreathed In smiles, floating on the gossamer of whimsey, and all but drenched in Wholesome Goodness, has been reliably identified as raw Mouse Power.
Mouse Power is the true derivative of Disneyism, a religion whose hymn is "Whistle While You Work," whose patron saint is Mickey himself, and whose holy see is Walt Disney World, a forty-three-square-mile tract that is twice the size of Manhattan, more than fifty times the real estate-of Monaco, and 250 times larger than Vatican City.
Disney World cannot be dismissed as Disneyland East, for it is far more than an amusement park. Its master plan is a scheme for ultimate living-town houses that offer condominium apartments, lakes and recreation areas, six hotels, a hospital, and an office park for tenants who would whistle and work at the same time, even if they were not working for Disney.
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