TMT: “Daddy…dad, I’m talking to YOU!”
This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time, a series begun here. I blame…er, credit… the American Cinematheque for this. Someone has to be…
This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time, a series begun here. I blame…er, credit… the American Cinematheque for this. Someone has to be…
This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time, a series begun here. “Just when I thought I was out…they pull me back in.”…
As well, access to other portions of the theater’s roof framework were available via adjoined ladders at various points along the top of the building — including the central section over the audience hall and all the way back to high point of the rear structure. You can see the lone, naked ladder in the photo that climbs up to that highpoint location, here. It provided one of the highest viewing whereabouts in the city of Huntington Park.
Being a senior projectionist, at age 22 for the first half of 1977, no less, at the independent Huntington Park Warner Theatre (a place I had come to regularly since I was a kid), was a one-of-a-kind experience. I went from someone who knew next to nothing about the trade to someone who could at the very least get a movie projected — by hook or by crook.
I guess when you come down to it, this involvement of working as a projectionist from 1976 – 1977 at the Warner Huntington Park Theater was a unique one. It simultaneously fed me concession stand food & drink (though for years afterward, I couldn’t stand to drink Pepsi), pocket money, and experiences that couldn’t have come from anywhere else.
After being promoted by attrition to lead projectionist at the Huntington Park Warner Theater, following an all too short stint of a few months showing movies, I attempted to settle into a semblance of routine. The summer of 1976, though, threw that totally out of proportion with its arrival as I completed of my college spring semester. The result of which gave me more time to work.
Within weeks of heading to Century City one night for a movie, only to find Huey helicopters blitzing the avenue on their way up to the Nakatomi Plaza building, I’d begun the last romance of my life. Unbeknownst to me, mind you, but that’s quite okay. At this point, months into it, I found I rather enjoyed being swept up.
My Wednesdays were never, ever, the same from this moment forward. Primarily because, for those of us old enough to remember, that mid-point of the week was once the traditional day when movies opened, were released into theaters, back then. And preparing for the weekly changes was what I had to learn. It came with the new lead role I’d inherit.
Getting back into my blogging routine takes a bit of time for me after vacationing. Yet, I need to acknowledge and thank Natasha of Films and…
Here, I head-counted a half-dozen patrons enjoying the movie as it drew down to the last of its scenes. I bounded upstairs in time to execute a proper changeover. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. All was well, yes? It was…until I went down again. As was my routine to see that no exit doors were left ajar, this occurred a mere 5 minutes later.
Before I arrived, the owner realized the demographics of the area were changing during the 70s, and that more and more of his clientele were Latino patrons. He was also competing for their dollars with the two other movie theaters along the Pacific boulevard shopping strip: the California and the Park (the other, the Lyric Theatre, went after, ahem, a different market).
I was taught on what is known as a Two Reel System — the older carbon arc variety. No splicing of film together to make it one large, easy to project unit. Nope…didn’t happen. The Warner’s projection booth had three, count them three, Simplex carbon arc projectors. Museum pieces, really. Only two were used at any time. The third kept as cold backup for when one of others totally arrested on you, which could happen given the age of these antiques.
So, what were the lessons gleamed while employed there? Scrimping was a way of life for independents. The economics of the movie theater in the mid-70s hadn’t changed much since the 30s and 40s either. Studios made their money from the box office — and theater owners made theirs from the concession stand.
By the mid-70s, I needed a steady job to support my endeavor of higher education. Perhaps affording to have money in my pocket for dating purposes, too. Youth and hormones can be mercenary. A college education was something my mother pushed for, and I (the oldest surviving) got that obligación. Now, my younger brother (by a year and eight months) on the other hand sought work foremost.
Earlier this month, the epically awesome Natasha of the grand Film and Things blog, bestowed upon moi the Epically Awesome Award of Epic Awesomeness. Who am…
This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time, a series that was begun here. Returning to my theme for the month October, as a fan of monster and horror films since childhood, I thought to tie these memories within that genre. And I’ve waited to delve into this specific film for some time now. Especially, since a great deal of history lies in the attic with this one. Might as well have candlelight flare at this very moment.
This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time, a series that was begun here. For October, as a fan of monster and horror…
This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time, a series that was begun here. Recently, a colleague returned to contribute more of his fine writing online with a short post on a seminal sci-fi film. To celebrate his reappearance, I thought to jot down one more of these since it was he who inspired this very line of memory posts.
This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time, a series begun here. While my earlier ‘date’ post logged my eye-opening revelation of who…
This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time, a series that was begun here. It’s becoming a habit, or synchronicity… whatever, for these…