A Trip Back To 1938

When I look at a still like this, it’s almost as though I were staring into some alternate universe, a place that surely never existed, for the thrill of going there and seeing it for real would be just too delirious. Of course, other people feel that way about basketball tournaments, or NASCAR museums, so to each his own, but if this writer could indeed go back in time to any era or setting, here would be as good a start as any. Grindhouses, lowly little theatres that opened early and played late (if not all night), were a staple in any town of any size. Often as not, they’d load up a bill with three features at least, all second-run at best. Projectors would grind through long days on continuous basis --- no breaks or intermission --- this where "grind" got its name. You could walk in anytime, and it never mattered  what was on the screen. Chances are you're there to get warm, or sleep off a bender, no reason too obscure or impermissible. That’s what movies were for back then. Maybe it’s as well industry people, let alone the stars, never frequented such places. It would have been disillusioning, if not dangerous. I’ve always loved the idea of a grindhouse. None had pretensions. Bookings were, for the most part, indiscriminate. Cheap rentals were the guiding light, and the bill changed every other day if not daily. That meant having to constantly rip down all such gorgeous posters as here. Most times you could return them for a credit, unless they were glued to boards. In those days, you had to grab pedestrian attention walking by, and hope that on impulse, they might come in.

See the man with the bag? That’s me --- and it’s 1938. Can’t wait to get in there and get started. Maybe I’ll see Death Fangs first. It’s only a 1934 short subject, but Flash The Wonder Dog is in it, and he always gives good value for your dime’s admission. First a little snack. That chili con carne might be good for ten cents, or how about that slap-down breakfast --- two eggs, bread, coffee, and orange juice for seventeen cents. That might hold me through a five-hour show. These posters are spectacular. Wonder if the manager will believe me when I tell him they'll be worth a fortune in about eighty years? Better not. No need getting beat up or arrested on my first trip back in time. That’s liable to happen in any case once I enter dark environs of the "Star." Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten the nickel hot dog at that little place behind me. Did they use real dogs to make such things back then? Now, what’s on the program --- That Girl From Paris --- did I come eighty-eight years back to see a 1936 Lily Pons/Jack Oakie vehicle? How about Sweetheart Of The Navy --- only a year old, but Eric Linden and Cecilia Parker? Boy, that manager needs some of my expert guidance. Why not a triple bill of Captain Blood, King Kong, and The Thin Man? From the looks of him, stood deep within the recesses of that inner lobby, not the sort who’d be responsive to booking suggestions. Third feature looks to be the save, One Way Passage, from 1932 with William Powell and Kay Francis, and if it starts soon enough, I can get back to 2026 in time to visit the emergency room and deal with that hot dog.