Snacks At Their Summit

Nowhere was selling so intense as concession stands in the fifties. Those (popcorn) kettles had been boiling since the war ended. Soft drinks hoarded for service personnel were now available to everyone, as was candy and other sweet confections. The end of sugar rationing opened gates wide for treat counter expansion and profit enough to make up some of the loss resulting from reduced attendance and higher film rentals. Never before were patrons so manipulated, for theatre admission was but a preamble to management's dedicated campaign to lighten customer purses. The sensory seduction began with popping corn in the lobby, its siren song irresistible to eyes, ears, and smell. One fix necessitated another, as salt-laden bags aroused customer demand for beverage. Small change was returned for dollars spent, thereby tempting further impulse purchase of snack goods. Candy became huge. Nestle would package chocolates especially for theatre sale, nickel bars good, dime ones  better. Dressing concession areas became as important as displays out front, and no longer was negotiation limited to food. When the Des Moines Theatre in that city went to selling The Greatest Show On Earth, it all but pulled viewers out of their seats to insure repeated visits to a lavishly appointed counter as shown here. A Betty Hutton trapeze cutout swung over the heads of attendants, and fairground-inspired displays filled the lobby. Clowns plus barkers worked streets approaching the theatre, circus bric-a-brac sold alongside candied treats. Your seat in the auditorium was no refuge from determined hawkers working aisles during intermission, and even seizing the stage itself. Ladies and gentlemen, while we are changing acts in the center ring, our ushers will pass among you with popcorn, peanuts, Crackerjack, hot dogs, and soft drinks. Further stating the obvious, and with the help of shrill whistles to command attention, barkers assured that These are for sale! They are real! They are delicious! Throughout a newsreel opening the show, hard selling continued with employees marching back to front holding merchandise aloft and tossing bags and boxes to customers. Crowds for The Greatest Show On Earth necessitated several satellite candy counters throughout the lobby and mezzanine areas, with the Coca-Cola Company loaning extra coolers with aprons and caps for roving salesmen. It may seem like too hard a sell today, but carnival atmosphere was then an expected part of the moviegoing experience. Showing movies was but pretext to the lure of food stands.

Air conditioning and plenty to eat were reasons enough to buy a ticket in those days. Double features meant you could settle in for hours enjoying cool comfort and take meals besides. Sandwiches might be offered in addition to sweets. We had them at the Liberty, plus a bulldog faced attendant named Frank who’d slam my M&M’s down with sufficient force to shatter the outer coatings. One thing we did not experience was a pitch for Will Rogers Hospital, the industry’s primary charity and one that functions to the present day. Again there were aggressive moves upon patrons to kick in. United Artists Theatres for one used to bring up house lights before ushers went among seated customers with collection cups. During the fifties, a fourth of operating venues maintained regular drives for the hospital, which was located in Saranac Lake, NY. Rogers displays such as one shown here were common, and placed prominently to engage patrons entering the theatre. Always a downside for increased concession variety was attendant mess and necessary cleanup. Most of this stuff wound up on floors, and floors had to be cleaned, but how to monitor spillage and droppage through a typical day, where janitorial service ran a losing competition with kids using refuse for improvised missiles? You’d think no sensible exhibitor would encourage chewing gum sale on his premises, yet here is trade evidence that some did for sake of variety to customers. Enhancement of audience appetite was supplied by shows appealing to youth. House Of Wax and others in 3-D were a natural for enhanced counter treatment, as here with the dimensional cutout looming over concession buyers. Restless youngsters sought out displays such as ones Disney provided for 1953’s Peter Pan, a marketplace for souvenirs well beyond mere candy bars and Pepsi. Note the availability of plastic place mat sets for four inspired by the character. There were also hats, phonograph records, comics, coloring books, the stuff of a well-named Peter Pan Bazaar, and  early occasion for Disney to bring his merchandising right through the front entrance of houses where his animated feature was playing. Part of reason all this worked was prices kept within reason through the fifties and into the sixties. So-called (elevated) "theatre" rates for concessions were kept at bay at least that long, and business thrived, but how much customer good will has been forfeited since? I could sooner make  down payment for a new car as pay for popcorn and a soft drink today.