Stopover: Disney, OK

Along the Western frontier of the Ozarks's magical kingdom, you'll find the small town of Disney, the happiest place in Oklahoma. It sits at the fringes of Green Country, the hilly region bordering Beige Country, as the rest of the state is known.

[Disney, OK, on Google Maps]

Disney anchors the Grand Lake O' the Cherokees, home to lots o' watery standards like boating, fishing, sailing, and swimming. The rocky spillway and trails below are a major off-road playground, and the neighboring roads are among the best in Oklahoma. It's where dreams come true, provided yours involve something along the lines of a Jeep or pontoon boat.



Disney came to life when the lake was created by the mile-wide Pensacola Dam, a Depression-era construction that was the first to bring hydroelectric power to Oklahoma. It's the largest arch-span dam in the world, an imposing structure with from the time of Gotham and deco.



The dam was completed in 1940, but Disney was not formally incorporated until 1959. It was named for Oklahoma Congressman Wesley Disney, who loosened the necessary millions in public works treasure from Franklin Roosevelt to start construction. Walt Disney did not factor so much as a namesake. Supposedly.


Crime on Disney Island? Qwakwaaaaaakwaaaaaak...

The fact that Disneyland - America's most iconic mid-century tourist destination - opened just a few years before seems a bit serendipitous. Christening a town with fortunate name association is never a bad draw, especially when you make your living half an hour from the Mother Road, Route 66. As mentioned a few weeks ago, McDonald County temporarily succeeded from the United States around that time. Why? For being left off the Missouri Highway Commission's Family Vacationland promotional road map. Ozark tourism, serious business.

Disney's popularity is seasonal, having a permanent population of less than 300. Still, it's big enough to show a few neat trappings of America driving culture. My favorite is Pistol Pat's Bar-B-Que, an example of the disappearing style of walk-up burger shacks being obsoleted by fast-food chains. To me, getting a shake from a smokey, sizzling chamber of meat and ice cream is the definition of Summer. Sure, Pistol Pat bears a slight resemblance to licensed Oklahoma State mascot Pistol Pete, but that's no matter. We've established that coincidental associations never hurt.



Something unique about Pistol Pat's is that the menu is also in Cherokee, an odd intersection of Westward-roving, conquer-by-car America and Native America. Once a history of strife, the old Cowboys and Indians paradigm comes together under a barbecue-glazed olive branch of peace. If there's a common ground, it's that "fried cheese balls" translates to "delicious" in either tongue.

If you can't make it to Anaheim, the Disney of the Ozarks is a start.