Before the days of Netflix and streaming videos, films were shown in movie theaters, the rundown sites for more than cinematic entertainment. Teenagers in the early 1950’s had to leave home if they wanted to participate in this visual world.
Although many teens were able to drive, I had to walk two miles to spend a few hours in the Robbins Theater, in the business center of town, or in the McKinley Theater, located at the edge of Niles. The Robbins, next to the Grill, our high school hangout, was preferred to the McKinley, even though its quarter admission was a nickel more expensive. Both showed double features; the Robbins had first-run films rather than mere Westerns. I usually went to the movies several times a week.
In January of 1951, I saw such stars and films as: John Payne in Tripoli and Howard Duff in Shakedown; Judy Garland and Gene Kelly in Summer Stock and Robert Young and Barbara Hale in And Baby Makes Three; James Stewart and Barbara Hale, again, in The Jackpot and Randolph Scott in The Nevadan; Bill Holden and Barry Fitzgerald in Union Station, along with Joan Davis and Andy Devine in The Traveling Saleswoman, a very good mystery and a very good comedy. The month ended with Mario Lanza in The Toast of New Orleans and Broderick Crawford and Glenn Ford in Convicted.
I seldom missed the shows on Wednesday; that was “Bank Nite” at the Robbins but not at the lower-priced McKinley. Between the two midweek films, the theater lights would be turned on, revealing a stage with ragged, burgundy curtains and a small, round wire-cage tumbler, wheeled out for the drawing of the names of winners from an original sign-up list of patrons. The prizes amounted to 5, 10 and 25 dollars for each of the three drawings. You had to be present in order to win; unclaimed dollars were carried over until next week’s event. The largest awards occasionally reached a final, magnificent bounty of $400. So those who came were often less interested in the movies, themselves, than in the chance to become a big winner. The intermission was not the time to buy another bag of ten-cent popcorn, those chewy kernels soaked in a yellow fluid held all of the buttery, salty taste one could consume and not be completely satiated.
“Bank-nite” was not the only method for increasing the sale of movie tickets and popcorn. Alternative evenings would offer free pottery, a different dish each week. It was possible to get six dinner plates and all of the dining accessories, including gravy boat, if you went on a regular basis, as I did. Not all enticements were free, however. In addition to bank-nites and dish-nites, opportunities were presented for the purchase of books, one or two dollars a piece, making up the current Collier’s Encyclopedia. My extended education depended, in part, on the twenty-volume set purchased throughout the year at the movie theater.
Netflix and other media sources provide modern entertainment, but the Robbins Theater offered money, dishes and an advanced education, all for a very reasonable price. You can’t get that by streaming productions onto your cell phone.