The show starts at dusk
Writer looks back at working at the Northeast Drive-in Theatre
“The Northeast Drive-In Theatre, Sheppard Avenue and Victoria Park, is now playing a first Toronto showing, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, starring Robert Redford and Paul Newman, and Midnight Cowboy, starring Jon Voight and Dustin Hoffman. Box office opens at 8 p.m. Show starts at dusk; thanks for calling the Northeast.”
Movies and cars; there is no finer combination. These were my thoughts as I walked into the Northeast Drive-In during the summer of 1969 and landed my first part-time job as an usher. Had I been female, I would have been directed to the snack bar. Gender roles were very defined in those days.
What I didn’t know at the time was that I would witness the swan song of the drive-in theatre in an urban setting, until it closed its doors for the last time in 1976.
Ushers, resplendent in company-issue white pants, T-shirt, blue jacket embla- zoned with “Drive-In Theatre” on the back, and the trademark flashlight with the orange cone, did everything; directed traffic, repaired speakers and even helped little kids find their parents’ car after a solo trip to the snack bar. You were also expected to keep your hair cut short; a restriction in those days that caused many young men to seek other employment.
There was also a detective aspect to the job, as the cashiers were instructed to note the licence plate number of anyone who drove in alone, as a common sneak- in strategy was to hide extra passengers in the trunk.
The record was six people in the trunk of a ’61 Chevrolet Biscayne.
The ushers would then check later on to see how many people were in the car, ask to see ticket stubs, and the usual stories would be exchanged of how the customer had thrown away their stubs, the cashier didn’t give them a ticket, or, most common in the ’60s, “I have a right to privacy, man.”
Sometimes the police, who by coincidence happened to be “checking the lot” (this was code for watching a movie free) would evict the more cantankerous offenders.
Customers would pay at the cashier’s booth — admission was $1.75 for adults in1969 — and then proceed to the doorman’s box to present their ticket, which would be torn in half, and most important, the doorman would click the little counter that kept track of how many cars had entered. This was crucial information for the snack bar, as this determined how much food needed to be prepared.
On busy nights when all cashier booths were opened, two ushers were required on either side of the doorman’s booth to speed up entry. One quickly learned that the preferred side was where the young lady passenger was required to lean forward to hand you the ticket. We were, after all, teenagers.
During the long days of summer, the box office wouldn’t open until 8 p.m., and the show couldn’t start until 9:30 because it simply wasn’t dark enough. In late June even at that hour you could barely see the colour cartoon. While waiting for darkness, it was car time. The kids would go to the playground and the men would show off their cars. Windshields were cleaned, interiors tidied, conversations finished, cubic inches discussed and compared.
It was the heyday of the Mustang, Camaro and Firebird. The average family sedan Pontiac Strato Chief or Ford Fairlane seated six people comfortably, more if necessary. Seatbelts were installed in all vehicles from 1968 onward, but their use was not mandatory until Ontario became the first province to require their use by law in 1976. Utility vans were getting makeovers, murals painted on the outside, their interiors turned into beautiful living rooms on wheels, complete with shag carpet, mirror tiles and mini bars.
Boomer kids were growing up and they had more money to spend than any previous generation. Gasoline was 35 cents a gallon, engines were big and powerful, and no one cared too much about gas mileage or air pollution. The Beach Boys were singing “She’s real fine my four-o-nine” and about some poor girl who would have “Fun, fun, fun till her daddy takes her T-Bird away.” It was the pinnacle of North America’s love affair with the automobile.
Saturday night in the summer was the big night; the Northeast could hold 1,300 cars, and it was not uncommon to reach that capacity and still have to turn away customers.
“Time to stretch and fetch! See what’s cooking in our refreshment booth.”
Intermission — or break — was the busiest time. All available ushers were conscripted into the snack bar to help out. It was here where I first learned about big business and the need for profit. Scotty, who was a really good manager, was always being encouraged by the owners to get the product yields up. Salt was to be used liberally on all foods, as this made customers thirsty. Ice was then used in abundance in the soft drinks, as water was cheaper than Coke syrup.
Generally, the usual snack bar variety of hotdogs, hamburgers were of good quality and cooked properly. As much of the food was prepared in advance, there were often leftovers, which were re-heated the next night (not so good), and sometimes even a third night. Surprisingly, very few people ever asked for a refund.
Pranks were popular among a staff predominantly made up of teenagers, and new staff were easy victims. Francis, the assistant manager, was a Second World War veteran who had fought in Italy. He had a mild case of shell shock that resulted in him being very easily startled. You can well imagine what a bunch of teenagers did with that knowledge.
He had his revenge, however, as every time he would bring someone their first pay envelope, he would grab it back and with a perfectly straight face tell them that it was customary for him to keep the first one. He usually gave it back to them later in the night.
Like so many businesses today, the staff of the drive-in was made up of mostly teenagers working part-time for minimum wage (one dollar an hour in 1969). The big drawback was that you were required to work nights and weekends, so it was the young people who really needed the money who stayed any length of time, and because of the hours, workmates became your social circle. Staff parties wouldn’t start until 1 or 2 a.m. in the summer, and often ended over breakfast. When school was on, again thanks to good management, studying during slack times was quite acceptable, and one merely had to say the word test or exam, and you were given the night off.
Midnight shows were a staple of summer long-weekends. Two lowbudget horror movies were added to the double feature on Sunday night, with the original black and white 1960s version of Night of the Living Dead taking the prize for most often shown. This was a very long, hot night for staff, and usually someone would stash a two-four in their car as part of the survival strategy. For years we thought we had fooled the boss, but he knew all along, and it was only because we did it responsibly that he looked the other way.
After some early experiments with the outdoor movie concept in the United States in the 1930s, drive-ins, like so many other things, became very popular during the postwar baby boom.
The Northeast, the first drive-in in the Toronto area, opened in 1947 in what was then known as the town of Lansing, now part of North York. It was well out of the city and surrounded by farmer’s fields, a perfect venue for the B-movies of the ’50s like The Blob or I was a Teenage Werewolf. Business began to dwindle in the ’60s due to really bad movies (the beach party movies come to mind) so it was then that the drive- ins began to show first run movies in direct competition to the indoor theatres.
There were several things that drew people to the drive-ins. In the ’50s and ’60s, more formal dress codes were in effect when you went anywhere, so “Come as you are” was very appealing. There was no charge for children, they could come in their pyjamas, and usually fell asleep by the second feature. No babysitter was required, and crying or fussy children did not disturb a whole audience.
When the automobile was first invented, it didn’t take long for young couples to figure out that the back seat was a good place for private romantic adventures, and teenagers quickly figured out that going to the drive-in was a respectable excuse to be alone. Thus was born the term “Passion Pit.” These activities were usually relegated to the back ramps, where windows were often fogged up. These entanglements very often resulted in someone’s foot resting on the brake pedal, and the brake lights would blind the cars in the next row. Ushers had to approach these situations very delicately when asking the customer(s) to move the offending foot.
By the time I started in 1969, what had began as a drive-in out in the country was now surrounded by factories, businesses and subdivisions. At the same time, by the ’70s, business began to drop off.
The theatres tried to embrace the passion pit theme head on, and began running soft porn movies. This strategy was less than successful, and only strengthened the resolve of nearby housing communities, already complaining about noise and traffic, to have drive-ins closed down. These movies were restricted to pa- trons 18 and older, and obviously destroyed the image of the drive-in as a family venue.
As a cashier, I once had to refuse admittance to a girl of 17, who was pregnant. Indicating her condition, she said, “Seriously? I can participate, but not watch?”
What finished off the drive-ins that were still close to the city was real estate values. Drive-ins require a lot of space, and space is expensive. Taxes and maintenance costs all soared, while the age-old problem of any outdoor venue in Canada, winter, seemed to get worse every year. The old family joke was every time we drove by the Northeast in the winter, my dad would say, “They’re playing that same movie again, ‘Closed for the Season.’ ”
The Northeast closed in 1976, and the property was sold for $4 million. The land is now home to a number of highrise office buildings. Some of the other drive-ins, like the Scarboro, Northwest and the 7 and 27 held out a little longer, but by the early ’80s all drive-ins close to Toronto itself were gone.
Yet some have survived. In many towns throughout southern Ontario, (Owen Sound, Kingston) drive-ins continue to stay afloat. Many of them are vintage reminders of the heyday of the drive-in, with some buildings having changed little since they were built.
Newer innovations such as radio sound, (replacing the old tinny backseat speaker), and multiple screens have helped them survive.
And in winter, they play that same movie again. Richard Coleman is a freelance writer who contributes to Toronto Star Wheels from time-to-time. To reach him, email wheels@thestar.ca and put his name in the subject line.
One of the things that drew people to drive-ins was the casual dress code. In the ’50s and ’60s, formal dress codes were in effect almost everywhere, so “Come as you are” was very appealing