There was the Strand, Royal and Liberty. They were just a few of the elegant single screen movie houses in my hometown back in the late 30's and 40's. Now they would loom like giant dinosaurs when compared to the austere cubical complexes that are today's movie theaters. While many were leveled to make way for parking lots, some relics of those bygone days still linger on main streets of towns and cities around the country.
Thinking back, the first thing that comes to my mind is, "Wednesday Dish Night." When I was about twelve years old I was sometimes invited to accompany my older sister, Geraldine, to an evening show at the Strand, especially if she wanted to see a scary film like Frankenstein or Dracula. Wednesday night was, also, the time to go if you wanted a free piece of fancy dinnerware. Competition was always keen among local theaters back then, and a variety of incentives such as free dinnerware, toys and live entertainment were used to draw bigger crowds. If I paid the adult price of 25 cents and presented the stub to the usher, I could add an extra dish to the family cupboard.
After Gerry and I were each handed the dish of the evening and purchased our usual pack of Walnettos and Necco Wafers, we were directed by a flashlight wielding usher wearing an ill-fitted blue blazer to some available seats. From past experience, I knew that strange things were bound to happen when fragile items were left setting on the laps of hundreds of engrossed movie viewers and, indeed, they did.
It was not unusual that during an exciting action or tender love scene that a piece of dinnerware would accidently slip from a lap and drop to the floor. If it hit just right, it would rattle to a halt still intact. Such good fortune was recognized by other patrons with vigorous applause, between-the teeth whistles and resounding cheers. On the other hand, if the item shattered on impact, a loud moan or boooo would mark the latest disaster of the evening.
On any given Wednesday night, there were always folks who went home empty handed.