Thanks, Gerald. I have entered my comments on the Plaza Theater page. The Plaza does deserve a page of its own. Like you, I also missed Lillian Gish’s 1970’s film tour appearance at the Durfee Theater, but I do remember someone at a Seekonk motel where she stayed telling me that she was more than gracious to the staff there. And she had a rather heavy trunk she would not let out of her sight. It contained a custom rose spotlight that had to be set in the orchestra pit area. With that special baby spot, Miss Gish looked 28 again. She was quite a woman. I had also heard that she marveled at the incredible acoustics of the Durfee Theater.
Speaking of Fall River, Massachusetts, I am truly amazed that no one has written about the 900-seat Plaza Theater. In the mid-1940’s through the early 1950’s, Westerns ruled that North Main Street theater. But once a patron traveled through the attractive glass-blocked foyer and through the 10-foot doors, a sort of planned choas was often the rule. The Plaza didn’t have ushers; it had a 280-pound policeman named Red. At least one altercation a day accurred between Red and an unruly patron or two. No one seemed to take offense, an no one was ever barred from the Plaza. For instance, a Wednesday matinee I attended in the 1950’s featured two Gene Autry movies
along with theater-goers throwing Ju Ju Bees, popcorn and Milk Duds
like rice at a wedding; then yelling and cursing and jumping along the tops of theater seats to go to and from the lobby. And those were just the senior citizens. But it was a small price to pay for three Warner Brothers cartoons, a double feature and a sound system that rivaled the nearby and much larger Durfee Theater. The Plaza was anything but stuffy. Attendees somehow knew that the Plaza’s staff wanted them to enjoy themselves; and they didâ€"Big time.
Speaking of Fall River, Massachusetts, I am truly amazed that no one has written about the 900-seat Plaza Theater. In the mid-1940’s through the early 1950’s, Westerns ruled that North Main Street theater. But once a patron traveled through the attractive glass-blocked foyer and through the 10-foot doors, a sort of planned choas was often the rule. The Plaza didn’t have ushers; it had a 280-pound policeman named Red. At least one altercation a day accurred between Red and an unruly patron or two. No one seemed to take offense, an no one was ever barred from the Plaza. For instance, a Wednesday matinee I attended in the 1950’s featured two Gene Autry movies along with theater-goers throwing Ju Ju Bees, popcorn and Milk Duds
like rice at a wedding; then yelling and cursing and jumping along the tops of theater seats to go to and from the lobby. And those were just the senior citizens. But it was a small rpice to pay for three Warner Brothers cartoons, a double feature and a sound system that rivaled the nearby and much larger Durfee Theater. The Plaza was anything but stuffy. Attendees somehow knew that the Plaza’s staff wanted them to enjoy themselves; and they didâ€"Big time.
Thanks, Gerald. I have entered my comments on the Plaza Theater page. The Plaza does deserve a page of its own. Like you, I also missed Lillian Gish’s 1970’s film tour appearance at the Durfee Theater, but I do remember someone at a Seekonk motel where she stayed telling me that she was more than gracious to the staff there. And she had a rather heavy trunk she would not let out of her sight. It contained a custom rose spotlight that had to be set in the orchestra pit area. With that special baby spot, Miss Gish looked 28 again. She was quite a woman. I had also heard that she marveled at the incredible acoustics of the Durfee Theater.
Speaking of Fall River, Massachusetts, I am truly amazed that no one has written about the 900-seat Plaza Theater. In the mid-1940’s through the early 1950’s, Westerns ruled that North Main Street theater. But once a patron traveled through the attractive glass-blocked foyer and through the 10-foot doors, a sort of planned choas was often the rule. The Plaza didn’t have ushers; it had a 280-pound policeman named Red. At least one altercation a day accurred between Red and an unruly patron or two. No one seemed to take offense, an no one was ever barred from the Plaza. For instance, a Wednesday matinee I attended in the 1950’s featured two Gene Autry movies
along with theater-goers throwing Ju Ju Bees, popcorn and Milk Duds
like rice at a wedding; then yelling and cursing and jumping along the tops of theater seats to go to and from the lobby. And those were just the senior citizens. But it was a small price to pay for three Warner Brothers cartoons, a double feature and a sound system that rivaled the nearby and much larger Durfee Theater. The Plaza was anything but stuffy. Attendees somehow knew that the Plaza’s staff wanted them to enjoy themselves; and they didâ€"Big time.
Speaking of Fall River, Massachusetts, I am truly amazed that no one has written about the 900-seat Plaza Theater. In the mid-1940’s through the early 1950’s, Westerns ruled that North Main Street theater. But once a patron traveled through the attractive glass-blocked foyer and through the 10-foot doors, a sort of planned choas was often the rule. The Plaza didn’t have ushers; it had a 280-pound policeman named Red. At least one altercation a day accurred between Red and an unruly patron or two. No one seemed to take offense, an no one was ever barred from the Plaza. For instance, a Wednesday matinee I attended in the 1950’s featured two Gene Autry movies along with theater-goers throwing Ju Ju Bees, popcorn and Milk Duds
like rice at a wedding; then yelling and cursing and jumping along the tops of theater seats to go to and from the lobby. And those were just the senior citizens. But it was a small rpice to pay for three Warner Brothers cartoons, a double feature and a sound system that rivaled the nearby and much larger Durfee Theater. The Plaza was anything but stuffy. Attendees somehow knew that the Plaza’s staff wanted them to enjoy themselves; and they didâ€"Big time.