I'll Have Some General Custer Grits, a Milkybar, and a Quickie Burger with My Movie

My wife and I are not global tourists, but we were fortunate enough to spend three weeks in Great Britain back in the 1980s--when airfares were cheap and our bodies were young. Armed with nothing more than our BritRail passes and backpacks, we trekked from London to Straford-Upon-Avon to York and deep into Scotland. The highlight of our trip was a visit with Leslie Halliwell, author of The Filmgoer's Companion--but that's another story. This one is about the movie theatres we encountered across the big pond.

We saw our first London film, Personal Services starring Julie Walters, at the Empire 4 in Leicester Square. A large urban theatre, the Empire sold tickets for 4 to 5 pounds, which was probably around $8. Patrons reserved seats on a computer (maybe that was done in NYC or L.A. back home...but not where we lived). The lobby included a bar--not just a snack bar, but one served that alcoholic beverages. There was a Baskin-Robbins in the lobby as well as a video gift shop. There were snacks aplenty, but with unusual names like General Custer Grits (I think they were pork rinds), Quickie-burgers, and Milkybars.  Interestingly, there were no loos (I mean...restrooms) in the lobby--they were located inside the auditorium.

The Empire 4 was a nice enough theatre...although 25 minutes of commercials prior to the feature seemed excessive (especially back then). The bottom line is that it was pretty much a big city movie theatre, not unlike, I suspect, what one would have found in Chicago, New York, or L.A. at the time.

In Bath, we found a movie house with much more ambiance: the appro-priately named Little Theatre. Its exterior, consisting  of whitish stone and old-fashioned framed movie posters, lacked the pizzazz of the ornate movie palaces. But it possessed its own distinct charm, helped immeasurably by its delightful fare of non-mainstream films. Of course, our movie-going experience may have been enhanced by the film we saw there: Claude Berri's tragic classic Jean de Florette. I'm glad to report that the Little Theatre in Bath is still flourishing today and has amassed 411 fans on Facebook.

I confess that I can't recall much about the movie theatre in Edinburgh where we saw John Boorman's Hope and Glory. I just remember that it seemed like the perfect film to see during our visit to Great Britain. When we returned to London at the end of our trip, we were lucky enough to catch Manon des Sources, the sequel (second half is perhaps a better description) to Jean de Florette. Again, the movie dominated its surroundings.

We didn't see a film at the Leicester Square Theatre, but I couldn't pass on the opportunity to snap this photo of its marquee with a statue of the Little Tramp in the foreground.

In the end, we didn't visit any elaborate showcases of cinematic splendor. However, we did get to experience watching a movie in another country, albeit one that speaks the same language. That left us with some great memories which come flooding back whenever we see those movies again. I haven't seen Jean de Florette in a few years, but just thinking of it makes me yearn for a Milkybar!

The Bookery: A Place for... Movies?

When I was young, renting a video was a rare experience. My small city didn’t actually have a video store. All it had was a gas station that carried a few VHS tapes (you could get gas there, too, but we never filled up at that station, so it’s never been officially confirmed). It was in walking distance from my house, but my stepfather had to okay each rental, for financial reasons and presumably moral reasons as well. So most of the movies I watched on VHS were of the family variety or sometimes whatever my sister, the oldest of three children, wanted to see. Years later, a grocery store began carrying videotapes available for rental, and by then, I could rent whatever I chose so long as I didn’t develop bad habits (e.g., expressing an interest in butcher knives after watching John Carpenter’s 1978 Halloween). I had a bike, and I could have ridden to the VHS-armed grocery store, but it was safer to go the back way than ride on the sidewalk and/or street. The back way was a set of railroad tracks, but trains made few appearances (and nowadays none at all), and when they did, they were slow and easy to avoid.

With little access to VHS, I saw most films on TV. Sometimes I would stay up late to catch a film. There was no DVR or TiVo, of course, and we only had one VCR, which was connected to the 25” family television (aka my stepfather’s TV). Even if I’d been brave enough to touch the VCR and risk irking the iron-fisted owner of the machine and its corresponding TV, I still wouldn’t have been able to program the thing, which was not unlike HAL from Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). When we finally got a VCR for my siblings and my movie-loving self, it was actually a VCP. The “P” stood for “player,” and the machine adamantly refused to record anything. Consequently, I would keep late hours with the hopes of seeing an obscure film. Normally, the TV networks would run horror films in the wee hours of the morning, which, not surprisingly, led to my fondness for the genre.

In 1990, we finally got a video store. The Bookery, operated and owned by a sweet, angelic lady named Jackie, began stocking videos to rent. The store had been around since 1980, selling used books (hence, the at-the-time appropriate name). Jackie expanded the business to movie rentals. At first, the selection was minimal, not much better than the gas station and the grocery store. But The Bookery quickly increased its inventory. Before long, I was riding my bike to the store and having to request a sack to carry six VHS tapes (my standard renting amount). Then I was taking a car, and if my brother had the car, I was convincing my mom, my sister or a friend to drive me over to The Bookery.

I never acknowledged my predilection for horror films until I became a regular customer at The Bookery. One day, Jackie made a comment that I always headed first to the horror section, which at the time was near the back of store, past the new releases (she eventually moved the horror films to just inside the front door, which I’d like to think was solely for my benefit). Jackie was right: as soon as I walked into the store, it was like a conveyor belt took me to my favorite genre. But even if I didn’t prefer horror movies, I still would have had a deep respect for Jackie’s horror selection. It’s where I first saw Bob Clark’s classic Black Christmas (1974), Frank Henenlotter’s Basket Case (1982), Dario Argento’s Suspiria (1977) and Phenomena (1984, then with the U.S. title of Creepers), and even the hard-to-find The Carrier (1988). Jackie would have each film of a horror series, which, sadly, is not a common practice, as some outlets may have two or three films from a movie franchise consisting of at least seven sequels.

Jackie’s business was a family affair. It was not uncommon to see her mother, her daughter, or her granddaughter behind the counter. I remember once having a late fee on my account (which truly was a surprise, as I had a penchant for always returning movies on time, sometimes returning six 5-day rentals the very next day as an excuse to rent more videos). Jackie’s daughter told me about it, and I was willing to pay because I didn’t want to argue and destroy my Bookery rep. Jackie’s mother, however, refused to believe that I had returned a movie late, and she took the fee off my account, leaving me with a perfect record by the time The Bookery closed its doors. (Technically, my brother had already blemished my record years before, but Jackie kindly overlooked it, knowing who was responsible. Overlooked the blemish, as I had to pay for my brother’s VHS tardiness.)

Aside from my time away at college, I was a loyal customer of The Bookery for many years. In 2007, Jackie announced that she would be selling the business as soon as she found a buyer for her movies. Each of her videotapes and DVDs was for both rent and sale (I bought The Carrier) until another store offered to buy the remainder of her inventory. And then The Bookery was closed. Two years later, Jackie died, leaving a giant hole in my heart.

I miss Jackie and The Bookery dearly. I’ve been a member of a few online DVD rental sites, and while they offer a vast array of choices, it’s just not the same. I miss standing in front of a wall of DVDs and videotapes, scanning every single cover, even though I’d already seen them hundreds of times. I miss Jackie’s gray cat named Blue, who would wait patiently until someone opened the door, so that he could either leave or run back inside. I miss the creaky floors, the air conditioning vent near the new releases, the other cats who would sit on the counter while you were checking out, and Jackie letting me answer the phone when it got too busy. I miss horror films being held for me, even when I didn’t request them, and movie posters being set aside and which would eventually adorn my walls. Most of all, I miss Jackie’s smile that would shine brightly as I approached the counter, balancing a stack of VHS and/or DVD boxes. Her typical response: “That’s it?” I often took that as a criticism and would run back to grab three more films.

To many people, Jackie was the outgoing, considerate woman who you could usually find at the local video store. She preferred books, but she knew her business. You could ask her about almost any film, and she would know it, know if she carried it, and know if it was available. I once asked about Stuart Gordon’s From Beyond (1986), simply saying: “Do you have From Beyond?” With no hesitation, Jackie responded, “No, sorry.” Jackie was a little more to me than just a wonderful person and friend. She will forever remain a large part of my movie history. I’ve seen so many films and have forgotten quite a number of them, but Jackie is, simply put, unforgettable.

Movies Under the Stars: A Tribute to My Favorite Drive-in Theaters

I've known film buffs who would never consider watching a movie at a drive-in theater. They frown at the poor sound systems, damaged screens, unexpected bad weather, pesky insects, and extraneous noises (e.g., honking horns, loud teens, etc.). These distractions are all certainly legimate...and yet I love the experience of watching a movie under the stars. Ironically, my two favorite drive-in theaters are both named the Starlite.

Note the movies! (photo copyright by R. Armstrong). 

The Starlite Drive-in Theater in Elizabeth-town, Kentucky, suffered the same fate as most outdoor theaters:  It was torn down in the 1990s and replaced with the Starlite Shopping Center. But for many summers, my wife and I enjoyed watching double-features just a couple of miles from our house. Unlike many drive-ins, the Starlite was located in the city proper, which unfortunately made it more valuable as real estate than as a business venture.

During our first visit there, we were greatly puzzled to see that there were no carside speakers. We quickly learned that the sound was broadcast over a radio frequency. We turned on our radio as directed and then spent three-and-a-half hours hoping that the questionable battery in our Chevy Nova (metallic green....millions of them were manufactured) would start. It did--but, after that, we always took a little battery-powered radio with us.

We saw many movies at the Starlite for free since I was writing free-lance film reviews for the local newspaper in those days. For a young couple on a budget, the price was perfect and we had a grand time watching movies ranging from Trading Places to Fast Times at Ridgemont High to The Evil Dead. It was a sad day when the Starlite's closure was announced. The family that operated it owned another drive-in, the Knox, in a nearby town. The Knox Drive-in survived another decade, but was demolished around 2003.

There were just two drive-in theaters in Bloomington, Indiana: the Y&W and the Starlite. The Y&W, located on the way out of town (if heading to Indy), was probably the larger of the two. I went there a few times in college. A friend and I saw a double feature of Phantasm and Horror High (a teen version of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde). At the concession stand, they offered Ghoul Brew, a mysterious beverage featuring lots of dry ice so that it'd look creepy. Anyway, it was free and we were thirsty and poor. All I can say is the stuff tasted nasty! My wife and I also patronized the Y&W as newlyweds (we thought we were the only adults at The Fox and the Hound until we met friends from the university office where I worked).

The Starlite Drive-in in Bloomington, IN, courtesy of flickr.com.

The best Bloom-ington drive-in—indeed, probably, our all-time favorite—was the Starlite Drive-in Theatre. It was located outside of town and appeared to be carved out of a forest. Dense trees surrounded it, blocking out any light from the road. As a result, the stars were brilliant on a clear summer night.

My first visit to the Starlite was probably when my friend Terry and I saw Count Dracula and His Vampire Bride. We were surprised to learn that Hammer Films, which quit making movies in 1976, had produced a new Christopher Lee Dracula pic. But once we start watching the movie, we recognized the plot as belonging to The Satanic Rites of Dracula (a 1973 Hammer film never released in the U.S.). Yes, the 1973 movie had been retitled and finally released in the States! Oddly, neither title made much sense in respect to the plot. My wife and I loved going to the Starlite, which is where we saw movies like Ragtime, The Watcher in the Woods, and Unidentified Flying Oddball (surely the bottom half of a doubleheader).

I'm pleased to say that Bloomington's Starlite Drive-in Theatre is still in business (http://starlitebloomington.com/). Long live the American drive-in! Do you have any fond memories of drive-in theaters?

The Carolina and the Winston: A Tale of Two Downtown Theaters

For the first nine years of my life, the only indoor movie theaters in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, were the Carolina, the Winston, and the Center. I never saw a movie at the Center. My dad said it was located in a “bad part of town,” though I have no idea precisely where that was. According to urban legend, the Center Theater had rats, which made it a pretty unappealing place to watch movies. I think Dad and my brother saw a revival of The Adventures of Robin Hood there in the late 1950s. Other than that, I know of no one who ever went to the Center.

The Carolina Theatre was a large, ornate theater located downtown. At one time, it was part of the ground floor of the Carolina Hotel, but the hotel was long out of business by the time I was old enough to go see movies. For most of its existence, the Carolina was the crème de la crème of Winston-Salem movie theaters. A sculpture of a woman, looking like a Greek goddess, protruded from the wall above the screen. She was flanked on either side by chariots. A humongous crystal chandelier formed the focal point of the lobby. The Carolina was the only theater in Winston-Salem to have a balcony, though I only sat there twice (during Flipper while attending YMCA Day Camp and with my sister during That Darn Cat!, probably because the theater was full).

The Carolina seemed to get most of the Disney films because it’s where I saw The Sword in the Stone, Those Calloways, and The Misadventures of Merlin Jones. It also ran “kiddie shows” with older movies and games on Saturday mornings and on weekdays in the summer. Briefly, it hosted weekend “midnight monster shows,” showing horror flicks while ushers in monster costumes ran up and down the aisles. I didn’t get to attend the monster shows and am sure I did my share of pouting.

Sadly, the owners of the Carolina let the theater run down during the early 1970s. They also painted the once-attractive lobby a hideous shade of lime green. During that period, the movies shown at the Carolina underwent a major change, too. Instead of Disney, it began to specialize in horror films, “blaxploitation” movies, and martial arts pictures. I still saw movies there with my sister and best friend Herb, such as Enter the Dragon, Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed, and Ssssssss.

During Terror in the Wax Museum (not one of Ray Milland’s better pics), Herb and I saw a patron singe a girl’s Afro with a lighter. At the same movie, a stranger ran up to Herb’s brother Johnny and told him: “There’s girl up there (in a row toward the front) that’s sweet on you.” The last time I can remember seeing a movie at the Carolina was when I was a senior in high school and convinced a group of friends to see Jimmy Wang Yu’s The Dragon Squad (this was during the kung fu movie craze of the mid-1970s.)

The Carolina was finally closed in the late 1970s or early 1980s, but its story has a happy ending. It was eventually sold, remodeled, and reopened as the Stevens Performing Arts Center, a venue for concerts and plays.

The Winston Theatre was located just a few blocks from the Carolina. It tended to show more adult fare; it’s where we saw Dr. Zhivago, Charade, The Great Escape, and Stagecoach (the remake.) However, it also showed family films. In fact, The Sound of Music played there for almost a year! It was an attractive theater with an aqua-blue interior, although the décor lacked the lavishness of the Carolina. It underwent minor remodeling in the early 1970s and became the first theater in town with Ultravision (a large slightly-curved screen).

The Winston's Ultravision screen.

Courtesy of my sister, I have very fond memories of the Winston. She worked there for a summer and, during that time, I saw every movie at the Winston for free! I would go with her when she left for work, watch the feature presentation a couple of times while she toiled at the concession stand, and then go home with her. It was a great deal and I saw two of my favorite films during that time: The Day of the Jackal and The Chinese Connection. In fact, I may never have become a Bruce Lee fan were it not for my big sister. When Bruce Lee’s first martial arts film, Fists of Fury, was released in the U.S., I snickered at the trailers because I knew him only as Kato from “The Green Hornet” TV series. But since I could see The Chinese Connection (his second martial arts pic) at the Winston for free, I did—and I loved it.

Unfortunately, as the suburbs of Winston-Salem expanded in the late 1970s, the Winston suffered a gradual decline and began to show second-run movies at a discounted price. My last visit was when some college friends and I were on spring break in 1979 and saw The Boys from Brazil (or rather The Bo s from Brazil…the “y” was missing on the marquee). Before we left for the movie, my father mentioned that couple of robberies had occurred recently downtown. That night, while we standing in line to get tickets, we heard the girl in the box office tell a patron: “We’ve been held up.” We looked at each other in shock—wow, my dad wasn’t kidding about those robberies! Later, we learned that that some employees had arrived late and caused some delays—that “held up” opening the box office on time.

The Winston Theatre in downtown Winston-Salem, NC.

I’m not sure when the Winston Theater closed, but the Hanes Mall Cinemas and other twin theaters (before the multiplexes) forced the closure of the largest movie theaters in Winston-Salem. There was no stopping the trend of building more screens with more movies (sometimes)—but the price was steep for those of us who got to experience the thrill of watching a film in a true movie palace.

(The photographs for this article are courtesy of the Forsyth County Public Library Photograph Collection. Additional historical photographs of Forsyth County, NC, can be viewed at http://www.digitalforsyth.org/.)