Saturday night at the movies

Every issue, Editor at Large, Valery, relives the best bits of our lives. This fortnight, the joy of two seats in the balcony and a choc-ice in the intermission!

Remember when every town had last least one cinema with a glamorous name such as Gaumont, Ritz, Regal, Savoy and Embassy? When there was an A and B picture – not to mention a news reel? And, of course, continuous shows, as Ann Rowe recalls. “My family think it is hilarious when I tell them that we used to go into the cinema at any time as the films would be continually playing. This meant that we often watched the end of the film before the beginning! Do other people remember the constant whisper of, ‘this is where we came in’ as people got up to leave?” And there was another common practice that many of you, including Evelyn Hayes mentioned: “In the Fifties when my sister and I were about nine and ten, Dad often took us to the local cinema after tea on a Friday. But if he couldn’t go, he would give us money to go on our own. If the film was certified as an ‘A’ we couldn’t get in without an adult, so would ask any couples going in to take us in with them. I can’t believe we did that now.” But it didn’t always work, as Pamela Bish found out. “In 1957, my cousin Christine came to stay. Our nearest cinema was showing Tammy, starring Debbie Reynolds, who we both greatly admired. We arrived at the box office, only to be told we could not go in without an adult, as the second feature was A-rated. We asked several people if we could go in with them but they all refused. “We forlornly made our way back to the bus stop, angry with the cinema for showing a U and A film at the same time. To this day and I will soon be 73, I have never seen Tammy.” Back then, of course, we also thought nothing of queueing for films... From Summer Holiday to Hard Day’s Night, via Elvis in Blue Hawaii to Grease, with waited for hours to see our idols. But there was one film that outdid them all, the notorious Seventies shocker, The Exorcist. Linda Mills recalls. “It was early afternoon and the cinema wasn’t yet open, but the queue went past the shops. “When the doors opened it moved very slowly and staff were on hand to ensure there was no pushing in. My friend and I eventually got to the front when the ‘Cinema Full’ sign went up. “We couldn’t believe it, but instead of leaving, we stayed, like everyone else, until the first showing finished and people came out – some were as white as sheets. But we still went in, though I watched through fingers that seldom left my face!” At least Linda got to see the film... “I went on my first

‘We’d just got to the front when the Cinema Full sign went up’ If you love old movies, you won’t want to miss the NEW issue of Yours Retro – on sale May 25 at all good newsagents

date, aged 15, to see White Christmas,” remembers Mrs Redman. “We queued for two hours, and by the time it started, after all the adverts, I realised it was 9.30pm and I had to get home for 10pm or I’d be in trouble. We ran all the way home. It was years before we saw the film – but we’ve been married for 57 years.” Mrs Wood knew how to deal with queues... “In 1949, my husband and I wanted to see The Glass Mountain, but there were long queues. We were trying to decide what to do when a group of people went up the steps, so we followed them. The doorman saluted us as we went past the box office, to see not only the Mayor and dignitaries but Michael Denison and Dulcie Gray – the stars of the film. We had a few words with them and were then shown to our seats – the best in the house. No one queried who we were and the film was lovely.” And with all that queuing, Mrs Baldwin’s sister needed sustenance. “My sister and I loved the pictures and were happy to queue for ages. My sister would always take jam sandwiches with her. Once, after a long wait, we were eventually seated and she was devastated to find she had dropped her sandwiches outside. She moaned all evening.” For Sandra Wray those long queues were a culinary life-saver. “In the early Sixties, my husband Alan and I would queue every Saturday night to see a film. One Saturday I suddenly remembered I’d baked some mince pies ready for my in-laws coming to Sunday tea and had left them in the oven. We lived a three-mile bus ride away, but Alan managed to catch a bus home, take them out and be back before I’d reached the front of the queue!” A trip to the pictures could turn into an unexpected adventure, as Janice Bawler found out. “A company ran a Saturday evening bus to and from our village to a local town that had two cinemas. Move Over Darling, with Doris Day and Rock Hudson was playing at one, so two of us went to that. Afterwards, we made our way to the pick-up point, only to find the bus had left! It was after 10pm and we were stranded 15 miles from home with no money. “We eventually found a phone box and thanks to the operator got through to the owner of the company. He arranged for one of his drivers to meet us and drive us home – what a relief! I never used the bus again!”