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REMEMBERING THE PLAZA THEATER
By,
Clara
Wersterfer
"Hurry up and get dressed. Your daddy will be home in about fifteen
minutes and he will be ready to go. We don't want to miss the start of
the movie," Momma yelled from her bedroom. Momma hated to be late for
anything. I knew she was putting the finishing touches on her makeup
and patting her hair, re-combing it and patting some more. She always
wanted to look her best whenever we went out. I had to change from my
play clothes into a school dress and brush my hair. Momma came in and
checked to see if I met her approval. If I didn't look good, Momma
didn't look good. So, she patted on my hair, combed it a little more
and rearranged my collar. It was Friday night; the highlight of our
week, when we attended the movies. It was our brief escape from
reality. They would select which movie we saw and I would hope it
was showing at the Plaza.
We had four theaters in town, three of them you entered a foyer with
concession stand and rest rooms, but the Plaza had class! During June,
July, and August the Plaza would present the "Children's Theater" on one
Saturday each month. It was a live performance of a fairy tale, such as
Little Red Riding Hood or Hansel and Gretel. How I looked forward to
those plays! I loved fairytales and the Plaza. I am still hooked on
stage plays. Dad would take me, and he and other parents would wait in
the foyer until it was over to take us home. You entered the theater
beside the ticket booth and walked down a long hall with marble floor.
There was a set of double doors and the next hall had red carpet. It
too was long, but there were pictures on the walls and posters of coming
attractions in frames with a light shining right on them. A couple of
straight-backed chairs, upholstered in red, were placed down this hall
for folks who needed a rest. We took our time and stopped to see the
coming attraction posters. This hallway led to the concession stand and
restrooms. We went into the restroom before continuing. Momma didn't
want to be disturbed during the movie taking me to the bathroom, and I
was not permitted to go alone. Four steps down (with shining brass
handrails and red velvet ropes on the steps) was a waiting area with
sofas, chairs, and tables. The sofas were wonderfully soft.
There were statues placed in all the right places,
paintings, and photographs of movie stars on the walls. A large
fountain in the center sprayed water that was illuminated by colored
lights. The lighting was subdued and emanated from somewhere in the
walls. Two ushers waited in black suits, white shirts, and bow ties.
They had flashlights in hand ready to escort you to a seat. This was
as close to luxury as we ever came, outside the silver screen. We
arrived a bit early and had a seat in the "waiting room" until the house
lights came on, signifying the end of the movie. The usher asked my
father where we wanted to sit. My dad said about midway. The usher
found us good seats.
For the next two hours and thirty minutes we were all three lost in
another world, eyes glued to the screen, lest we miss something
important. The popcorn was long finished and the Milk Duds eaten when
the movie ended. "Do not throw stuff on the floor. Take it with you
for the trash can. Leave it clean for others," admonished Momma. I
held it on my lap until we found the trash can. I hated for the house
lights to come on and "The End" to be displayed on the screen. Leaving
the theater, we talked about what we had seen and our favorite parts.
Sometimes we would spot a friend or neighbor and stop for a chat. This
was nice as I had more time to look around and admire the beautiful
furnishing. Mom and Dad would discuss the newsreel, the movie, and even
the comedy we had seen, as we drove home.
I sat in the back seat thinking how long a week was before our next
movie. Naturally, I hoped the movie we wanted to see next Friday would
be at the Plaza.
İMay 2006
Clara Wersterfer |
