L.A. Noir: The Struggle for the Soul of America's Most Seductive City

Earlier that year, President Eisenhower had invited Khrushchev to visit the United States, and the Soviet leader had agreed to an eleven-day trip that would crisscross the United States. Along the way, the Soviet premier was scheduled to spend one day and one night in Los Angeles. The prospect of a Khrushchev visit to Los Angeles sparked mass panic, as if a communist takeover might be affected by the mere presence of the general secretary. A hysterical protest rally was held in the Rose Bowl. As the official entrusted with Khrushchev’s security, Parker was concerned. Two weeks before the visit, Parker called on the public to “support Eisenhower” in this “most difficult decision.” He advised Angelenos to receive Khrushchev in a “state of aloof detachment” and to carry on with normal daily activities. Privately, though, the LAPD was preparing for the most high-security foreign visitor in the city’s history. Officers would be stationed at critical locations along Khrushchev’s every route. The Soviet leader would be surrounded by an envelope of LAPD officers at all times. No unauthorized contact with American civilians would be permitted. But at the very last minute, something came up. As Khrushchev flew across the country on September 19, accompanied by U.S. ambassador to the United Nations Henry Cabot Lodge, the Soviet premier made a request: He would like to tour Disneyland.

The general secretary’s desire for a visit was understandable. Disneyland, which had opened in Anaheim in 1955, was one of the wonders of its age, a 160-acre, $17 million Xanadu replete with such dazzling attractions as Sleeping Beauty’s castle, the Jungleland river safari ride (complete with a mechanized hippo that reared up under the boat), the Mount Matterhorn toboggan slide (with Swiss summiteers climbing the mountain), and a rocket ship that simulated a trip to the moon. With Disneyland, Walt Disney, the man whose drawings revolutionized animation, had transformed the Coney Island-style amusement park into something new, the theme park, that offered up fantasy, exoticism, and, most enticing of all, the future. Anaheim’s city manager had extended an invitation to the Soviet premier when his trip to the United States had first been announced, and Khrushchev had been interested. However, when Khrushchev’s advance security team went to Los Angeles to meet with Chief Parker and other local officials three weeks before his trip to the United States, the visit to Disneyland had been dropped. The fact that Khrushchev would be visiting on a Saturday posed major crowd-control problems, and his limited stay in Los Angeles meant that he would have had almost no time to enjoy the rides or see the sights. Unfortunately, this change of plans had apparently not been mentioned to Khrushchev himself. It now fell to his American hosts to deal with this request.

Khrushchev was greeted at the airport by Mayor Poulson, who delivered a terse welcome to the Soviet premier in a vacant corner of the airport. Soon thereafter, Khrushchev’s request to tour Disneyland reached Chief Parker. The LAPD was stretched thin. Some five hundred officers—more than 10 percent of the force—had already been dedicated to Khrushchev’s visit. Parker himself was personally commanding their operations. As the motorcade (accompanied by fifty motorcycle officers and two police helicopters) sped to Khrushchev’s first event, a luncheon at 20th Century Fox, Chief Parker’s car was hit by an errant tomato. The incident underscored the dangers Khrushchev faced in an unsecured environment. Parker decided to reject the premier’s request. The LAPD simply could not secure the thirty-mile route to Orange County, Parker reasoned, much less a theme park located outside its jurisdiction which was likely to have forty thousand visitors with no advance notice. Disneyland, said the chief, was off limits.

This decision was not immediately relayed to the Soviet premier. Instead, upon arriving at the studio, Khrushchev was taken to the set of the movie Can-Can (starring Shirley MacLaine, who attempted to engage the Soviet premier in an impromptu dance). That was followed by a luncheon at the Cafe de Paris commissary, with 20th Century Fox president Spyros Skouras as master of ceremonies. (Frank Sinatra sat next to Mrs. Khrushchev; Bob Hope and David Niven were across the table.) By all accounts, Khrushchev was in fine spirits—as a man looking forward to an afternoon at Disneyland ought to be. Then Mrs. Khrushchev passed her husband a note, informing Khrushchev of Parker’s decision. The premier’s mood changed abruptly. Enraged, Khrushchev immediately lashed out in a meandering, arm-waving forty-five-minute address.

“We have come to this town where lives the cream of American art,” Khrushchev began darkly.