December 15, 1966: The Day Walt Disney Died
Frank Allnutt

One November day in1966, I went over to a sound stage at the Disney Studio where Walt was making a film that presented his concept for EPCOT at the Florida Project (Walt Disney World, Florida). Walt was recovering from lung cancer surgery, though the nature of his surgery had not been made public up to that time. When the camera wasn’t rolling, Walt walked off the set and placed a hand over his chest and grimaced.
He was in considerable pain, and I sensed that he was in a race against time to finish the Florida film before the inevitable.

A few weeks later, on the morning of December 15, 1966. I was at the Disney Studio for an eight o’clock meeting with Card Walker. But Card wasn’t in—he was across the street, visiting Walt, who was back in St. Joseph’s Hospital.

I waited in Card’s office for a while, then asked Hazel Garner if I should wait for Card or return to WED and reschedule our meeting. She suggested I return to WED.

I walked out of the Publicity Building and within a few steps saw Card and Donn Tatum walking slowly down the sidewalk toward me. Both were Executive Vice Presidents at the time. I stopped and they walked up to me. I saw in their faces that their hearts were heavy. Something was wrong—terribly wrong!

They walked up to me. Not a word was spoken. Card, a tall man, wrapped his right arm around my shoulders and gave me a fatherly hug. His eyes were reddened with tears. I struggled to hold mine back. The expected had happened; Walt had passed.

Back at WED, I walked into the office of Bob Jackson, WED’s Public Relations Director. He looked up from his typewriter and somberly asked, “Have you heard?” Nodding and choked up, I managed to respond, “Yeah, I just saw Card and Donn.”

For the next few hours, the phone rang off the hook. Some callers had already heard and were phoning us for confirmation. A television news film crew arrived. I ushered them to the Florida project “War Room.” They began shooing background footage of maps and architectural renderings of the Florida project for their evening news programs.

WED closed down for the rest of the day.

Bob, along with the Imagineers and everyone else at WED, went home, but I stayed to answer the phone. Only a few calls came in. Then none.

Other than security people, I think I was the only person left in the building. I went downstairs and slowly walked through the huge Back Room. It was eerie—just me and Mickey, the American Presidents, a few pirates, and some of the AA kids from “It’s a Small World...

The Back Room was completely silent and dark, except for spotlights on some of the Audioanimatronics figures. Most were only partially costumed, thus revealing their mechanical parts. They were frozen in awkward standing positions—in suspended animation, it seemed. Their eyes were open but stared blankly at nothing.
It was as if their life-source was suddenly taken from them. And, in a sense, it had—not only for them, but for all of us in Walt’s world.

As it is said in show business, “The show must go on.” And it has for the Disney organization—in California, Florida...and around the world. But not like it would have with Walt at the helm.

And that is why Mickey continues to cry to this day

Frank, when WED Public Relations Manager.