Actually it was known as the Bell Cinema. It had a very ‘art deco’ marquee – very modern back then. I lived around the corner on Eastern Parkway when they opened it – 1936 or thereabouts sounds about right. Didn’t go too often as a kid unless I was with my parents seeing something they wanted to see. My only vivid memory is seeing Kind Hearts & Coronets while sitting in the balcony – I guess around 1949 or thereabouts.
I went to the National Theater every Saturday during the early 1940’s. At that time, the first 50 kids got a free comic book, and the admission was 10 cents (that meant you had to find and cash in 5 empty coke bottles during the week in order to have the money).
We learned about the true meaning of inflation, when early in the war the admission went up to 11 cents.
Kids were relegated to the left hand side of the theater, ruled by a brick-house shaped ‘matron’. The matron was the boss, and usually herded the kids together as they came in, so that starting with the seats in the front row, every seat was filled – no one had a choice where to sit, you sat where she told you. If a kid left early, everyone else had to move over to fill the spot, so we were solid kids. Guess the flashlight wielding ‘matron’ felt she was in control and no-one was running loose.
There was no air conditioning – there were two huge pedestal fans up front, which kept the air moving but also made it impossible to hear anything unless you were toward the back. We didn’t really come to hear anyway -more to poke each other and play.
Actually it was known as the Bell Cinema. It had a very ‘art deco’ marquee – very modern back then. I lived around the corner on Eastern Parkway when they opened it – 1936 or thereabouts sounds about right. Didn’t go too often as a kid unless I was with my parents seeing something they wanted to see. My only vivid memory is seeing Kind Hearts & Coronets while sitting in the balcony – I guess around 1949 or thereabouts.
Alan Taplow
I went to the National Theater every Saturday during the early 1940’s. At that time, the first 50 kids got a free comic book, and the admission was 10 cents (that meant you had to find and cash in 5 empty coke bottles during the week in order to have the money).
We learned about the true meaning of inflation, when early in the war the admission went up to 11 cents.
Kids were relegated to the left hand side of the theater, ruled by a brick-house shaped ‘matron’. The matron was the boss, and usually herded the kids together as they came in, so that starting with the seats in the front row, every seat was filled – no one had a choice where to sit, you sat where she told you. If a kid left early, everyone else had to move over to fill the spot, so we were solid kids. Guess the flashlight wielding ‘matron’ felt she was in control and no-one was running loose.
There was no air conditioning – there were two huge pedestal fans up front, which kept the air moving but also made it impossible to hear anything unless you were toward the back. We didn’t really come to hear anyway -more to poke each other and play.
Alan Taplow