What it’s like inside Disneyland’s exclusive, members-only Club 33
We’re following our guide through the “Happiest Place on Earth”. It’s 6pm on a Tuesday, and we’re battling our way through crowds of harried parents, their children wild-eyed, jaws agape as an assortment of Disney princesses twirl their candy-coloured dresses down the main drag of the park.
We’re en route to Club 33, Disney’s exclusive, VIP, members-only club. Stories vary, but the number 33 either refers to the club’s street address, or the number of its initial sponsors … or depending on what you believe, it infers some connection to Freemasonry or the Illuminati.
We stop at the door marked 33, an obvious sign we’ve reached the club, and are ushered on, deeper in the park’s New Orleans Square. At 33 Orleans St, opposite the La Mascarade d’Orleans shop, we stop again at the club’s new entrance. Our guide knocks on the pale blue, ornate door and we troop in after her, entering the Court de Anges, an open courtyard with a distinctly Deep South vibe.
We’re a lucky group of people invited to a private dinner held by the Academy Museum, supposedly only the second time in history that non-members have been allowed into the club.
Borne out of Walt Disney’s need for an adults-only, private space for entertaining VIPS, visiting dignitaries and celebrities, and inspired by VIP areas at New York World’s Fair, Club 33 was opened in 1967, six months after Disney died. Since then, the team at Disney have worked tirelessly to keep his vision alive.
Today, the club is still the stuff of legends. Thanks to social media and a few lawsuits, its location, interiors and ambience are no longer much of a secret, yet the club is still shrouded in an element of intrigue. You need to be a celebrity (Kanye West, Kim Kardashian, Tom Hanks and Johnny Depp are allegedly members), a VIP or just really, really rich to get in – although that doesn’t always guarantee entry. Rumours allege there’s at least a 10-year waiting list to get in, an initiation fee ranging from US$25,000 (NZ$38,000) to US$100,000, a background check, and somewhere in the ballpark of $10,000 to $15,000 as an annual fee.
Climbing up a highly Instagrammable winding staircase, we’re ushered to the right, towards Le Grand Salon, the club’s dining room. Disappointingly, we’re not allowed into the strictly members-only Salon Nouveau that lies to the left. Peering down the long, wood-panelled, wine case-lined corridor that leads to the jazz lounge, we can’t see anything of note. We’re told of Disney’s fondness of audio-animatronic technology. Booths in the lounge feature paintings and objects with cleverly concealed microphones. Staff behind the scenes listen in and interject with comments at opportune moments, a little like in the Haunted Mansion.
As we wait to be seated for dinner, we sip champagne and nibble on hors d’oeuvres in the foyer outside Le Grand Salon, and peer out the windows, several Disney fans hover around the club’s entrance on the street below, no doubt waiting for the locked door to open, hoping for a glimpse inside.
Inside the lobby, there’s Lillian Disney’s harpsichord (it’s been played by both Elton John and Paul McCartney), several beautiful pieces of antique furniture, lots of Disney memorabilia dating back to the original Fantasia film and an animatronic vulture that’s perched on top of a grandfather clock. We’re told it flaps its wings and speaks, but we never saw a peep out of it.
Dinner is a grand and elaborate affair created by chefs Andrew Sutton and Clint Chin – it’s five courses paired with wine. A meal at this reservation-only restaurant can cost more than a day at the park. We feast on grilled asparagus with lemon aioli, coastal strawberry salad with white radicchio, Belgian endive and a tangy tangerine vinaigrette. It’s followed by a choice of English pea agnolotti or grilled pheasant roulade with a blackberry rhubarb chimichurri.
By the time the entrees arrive, we’ve all got several glasses of wine lined up in front of us. Plates of tempura zucchini blossoms, grilled eggplant, Skuna Bay salmon and Prime Creekstone New York beef make their way around the room. As our final course of comforting and delectable warm Valrhona chocolate brownie bread pudding bananas foster and pecan ice cream settles in our bellies we hear loud pops and cracks from outside.
Trooping out onto the balcony, we watch as every visitor in the park stops, eyes up, phones out, capturing the magical display of fireworks lighting up the sky over the Sleeping Beauty Castle. It’s a pretty price to pay for this view, but maybe money can buy happiness.
