FROM: Disney P.I. Published As Uncovered

The (Unsolved) Case of the Adventurers Club

The Adventurers Club on Pleasure Island is closed. We know that for certain. But the mystery attending its closure remains. Now the case, long unsolved, has come to the Disney P.I., Debra Peterson, and she loses no time picking up the trail.

- by Debra Peterson, June 16, 2011

It's been far too long since I've stood here, on the steps of Adventurers Club at Pleasure Island. Since 2008, in fact, the year the club closed. The club's existence is worth remembering and its closing remains a mystery...

Every detective needs a place to counter the solitary hours spent investigating their latest case, to sort fact from fancy. A Disney detective is no different. I know it sounds like something out of a B-movie, but there's something fitting about finding yourself in a watering hole to call home. There's something about relaxing with a stiff drink and sharing information with like-minded souls.

It's the stuff dreams, and stories, are made of.

Adventurers Club became that place for me after I stumbled onto it some time after it opened in 1989. I had wandered into the dark streets of Pleasure Island in search of something new... interactive... a Disney spot worth my attention and loyalty. Then I saw the club. It promised adventure, entertainment and, oh yes, drinks.

"If you come in here a stranger, you will exit as a friend"

I was naturally cynical when I first approached the outside of Adventurers Club. It seemed a straightforward bit of Disney theming hardly different than other bars and clubs. Then someone from the club's shadows whispered to me, "If you come in here a stranger, you will exit as a friend."

It was a distinctive voice, full of the promise of what waited behind those doors. I couldn't see the speaker's face clearly, but he wore a brown fedora and an enigmatic smile. And with those words, I knew I had been issued a challenge to discover the club's true character. I simply had to satisfy my curiosity - and my thirst.

Adventurers Club masqueraded as a family-friendly nightclub, a place to enjoy a drink or two. Its obviousness was obviously a facade, a thinly veiled disguise for something more interesting. So I explored the club with my usual combination of deductive reasoning and old-fashioned legwork. I was searching for the unexpected and undiscovered, as detectives and adventurers are wont to do.

It didn't take long to suspect Adventurers Club was less a conventional bar than it was a private club, circa 1937, for world travelers, bold explorers, and an odd assortment of characters with improbable stories. I knew I'd fit right in.

Always interrogate the butler, Kungaloosh in hand

In my initial casing of the joint, I passed by the Main Salon where I observed resident adventurers improv with unsuspecting guests. Then I nosed for notes in the Library and inspected artifacts in the Treasure Room. I couldn't decide at first whether to watch the show in the Mask Room or to watch the masks. I watched the shows, but kept my private eye on the masks' shifty eyes.

Upstairs in the Zebra Mezzanine, I questioned Graves the butler about Disney; I'm still not sure what he may have done, but in my experience butlers are always doing something. He denied everything, but I saw that glimmer in his eye.

I may or may not have indulged in a drink or two that first night, even though I was on the job; it's hard to remember and I wasn't taking notes. Sometimes a case calls for a good drink, one of the profession's perks. If so, I probably enjoyed the club's signature drink, the Kungaloosh! After all, Kungaloosh was also the club's special greeting and key to the Club Salute, essential elements in my cracking the case.

Disney, P.I. (does that stand for Pleasure Island?) finds the Hoopla

Immediately, I deduced there was something quite unique about Adventurers Club that would make it worth future visits. Perhaps it was when the Yakoose starting talking; it was no ordinary stuffed animal head, unless those eyes following me around the room deceived me. Or maybe it was when the goddess Babylonia statue let down her stone-faced guard to address mere mortals.

But I really knew the game was afoot after watching an animated, perhaps I should say animatronic, Colonel Critchlow Suchbench recruit new members. Like me, the Colonel was always watching, waiting. More than just someone's puppet, the Colonel identified guests who might have the stuff to become club members.

I could tell the Colonel had given special instructions to quick-witted adventurers to test me. I exchanged fish stories with Otis T. Wren, flirted with Hathaway Browne (but refused to join his mile-high club), and hummed to the song stylings of Samantha Sterling. I talked Balderdash Cup with Emil Bleehall, who assured me a P.I. such as myself would be a contender, so long as I didn't cross Club President Pamelia Perkins.

I was inducted that evening, and watched the resident adventurers put on their finest show for new members. I saluted my fellow adventurers and they me. Together, we stayed for the Hoopla. Our evening ended with promises to return, despite the mountains, ocean, and deserts that separated us. We all recognized an adventurer's life is best.

The (Unsolved) Case of the Adventurers Club

From that point on, whenever I was on a case at Disney World, I was a regular at Adventurers Club. There were always adventures to be shared and friends to make of strangers. I would toast fellow adventurers with martini in hand. It was home.

And I knew it was all thanks to that anonymous adventurer, the one with the distinctive voice. I didn't know who he was or where to find him. Although I would hear stories of his wandering ways, I never again saw him at the club.

Then the Adventurers Club shut its doors, along with most of Pleasure Island, a mystery in its own right. The man in the fedora hat, somewhat too suspiciously for someone with my job, disappeared shortly before the club's demise. All my inquiries led to dead ends. Not even Emil Bleehall could help me.

So I came to think of the club's closing and the man's sudden disappearance as 'The Unsolved Case of the Adventurers Club.'

"Some days you eat the bear, some days the bear eats you"

Then, recently, I was on the job at Jungle Cruise in Magic Kingdom, investigating rumors about Trader Sam, missing heads, new business plans, and Disneyland. I heard a familiar voice telling a Cast Member, "Some days you eat the bear, some days the bear eats you, but always dress for the hunt!"

Could this be my fellow adventurer, returned from parts unknown? Several conversations with a carefully recruited group of D.I.s (Disney Informants) confirmed a man with a fedora and an odd smile had been seen hanging out at Adventurers Club. He calls himself Wally, and bears an uncanny resemblance to Bertie from Haunted Mansion.

But is this fine-fedoraed chap a fine fellow adventurer, intent on exploring Disney with good intentions? Or is he now a nefarious character? Could he be the solution to my unsolved mystery? Is he responsible for the demise of the Adventurers Club?

Lately, I've been shadowing this man who calls himself Wally, leaving notes and dropping clues. So far, he's shown no signs of suspicious activity - just an odd tendency to tell digressive stories to whomever will listen. Plus, he seems very nice to his mother. This might be the behavior of an innocent man.

We may be ready to meet soon. I've left him a message to go to City Hall. I think our meeting is a risk worth taking. Hopefully, he can help me solve the mystery of the Adventurers Club or send me on my next adventure.

Until next time, consider me on the case.

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