One of my earliest memories is the rainy afternoon that I saw a Christmas/Santa Movie at the Wollaston Theater. Myself, Mom and my 5 yr old sister, Eileen. I was 3 and a half at the time. The movie was about how Santa Claus got kidnapped by an evil (gang) or some wierd crook(?) and there were “not going to be any presents this year”, as Santa had said on the previews/for that movie.
I only (really) remember one small scene of the movie. Santa, with his head tilted forward, was listening to this giant ‘Ear’ type machine. Through the big Ear-contraption, Santa could hear all of the children from around the world, if they were good (or not) and exactly what the children wanted for, toys that particular Christmas. It is strange what visions ‘stick in your mind’ to become actual (real) memories. Like an old black and white polaroid in your head that you can ‘pull out’ and revisit, time and time again.
The other memory seems much smaller and insignificant. Though, I knew, at the actual time, it was huge. Now, when I look back, however, I realize that it was one of those ‘defining moments’ that actually mold a person, somehow. I remember standing out by the front curb (was it Billings Road?) at Beale St. My Dad had just dropped off my Mom, Eileen and I across the street, quickly, in traffic. He rushed back, in the VW Beetle, to Beach St. (home) to closely moniter the old black and white TV, which they both had been watching with full attention, earlier. (As I was told years later).
My memory was that Wollaston Square looked like a huge and scary and grey City (like when we would take the trains in to Filene’s Basement, in Boston). I recall holding my Mom and Eileen by the hand and that, I had stopped right before the front of the marquee, while still in the street. My memory is of staring at the water running down the street, by the curb (which seemed about as high as a 2 foot wall). My Mom was gently tugging at my hand, which was warmly-clasped in hers. “Come on Mikey, up”, Mom pleaded in a cracked voice. I did not budge even though Eileen pulled my other hand, again and again, while pleading; “Hurry, we’re going to miss the start of the movie”! I knew I was not going to make it over that curb and the flowing rain water. Something was definetly wrong. Something very sad in my Mom’s voice. I did not recognize her tone. I had never heard her voice like that, ever. A very deep uneasy feeling suddenly seized me. I tilted my head up to look at Mom. My Mom had water coming down from her eyes, like the water that flowed in the street, as if a thin stream, by the curb. Suddenly, like a wave on the beach, It hit me and only many years later I figured out. I had never seen tears in my Mom’s blue eyes before that very afternoon. Mom’s patient eyes were always a beautiful blue. Now they were reddish and sad. I had never seen my Mom with so much hurt and sadness. So much pain.
I had made it over the curb, even remembered that one tiny scene in the movie. I do not recall anything else about that day. The significance. I do remember that the way I saw things, from then forward, were always a little bit different. Some how everything was different after that day. My little world changed that afternoon. That day that I learned that even Santa, himself, could get kidnapped and that Mommies and Daddies actually CAN cry (and sometimes do cry). My world was a bit colder. A little more sad. Things were not quite the same after that November afternoon in 1963.
If anyone recalls the name of the movie that was playing at the Wolly Theater, on November 22, 1963, please email me here or at
I enjoyed reading the memories of that old theater. This magical place has touched so many lives, many hearts, and made many wonderful memories. I am 49, now, and live in Albuquerque, New Mexico, with my own children. Every annual trip back to Milton, I always find time to see that beautiful old theater in Wollaston…..
One of my earliest memories is the rainy afternoon that I saw a Christmas/Santa Movie at the Wollaston Theater. Myself, Mom and my 5 yr old sister, Eileen. I was 3 and a half at the time. The movie was about how Santa Claus got kidnapped by an evil (gang) or some wierd crook(?) and there were “not going to be any presents this year”, as Santa had said on the previews/commercials for that movie.
I only (really) remember one small scene of the movie. Santa, with his head tilted forward, was listening to this giant ‘Ear’ type machine. Through the big Ear-contraption, Santa could hear all of the children from around the world, if they were good (or not) and exactly what the children wanted for toys, on that particular Christmas. It is strange what visions ‘stick in your mind’ to become actual (real) memories. Like an old black and white polaroid in your head that you can ‘pull out’ and revisit, time and time again.
The other memory seems much smaller and insignificant. Though, I knew, at the actual time, it was huge. Now, when I look back, however, I realize that it was one of those ‘defining moments’ that actually mold a person, somehow. I remember standing out by the front curb (was it Billings Road?) at Beale St. My Dad had just dropped off my Mom, Eileen and I across the street, quickly, in traffic. He rushed back, in the VW Beetle, to Beach St. (home) to closely moniter the old black and white TV, which they both had been watching with full attention, earlier.
I had made it over the curb, even remembered that one tiny scene in the movie. I do not recall anything else about that day. The significance of it. I do remember that the way I saw things, from then forward, were always a little bit different. Some how everything was different after that day. My little world changed that afternoon. That day that I learned that even Santa, himself, could get kidnapped and that Mommies and Daddies actually CAN cry (and sometimes do cry). My world was a bit colder. A little sadder. Things were not quite the same after that November afternoon in 1963.
If anyone recalls the name of the movie that was playing at the Wolly Theater, on November 22, 1963, please email me here or at
I enjoyed reading the memories of that old theater. This magical place has touched so many lives, many hearts, and made many wonderful memories. I am 49, now, and live in Albuquerque, New Mexico, with my own children. Every annual trip back to Milton, I always find time to see that beautiful old theater in Wollaston…..
One of my earliest memories is the rainy afternoon that I saw a Christmas/Santa Movie at the Wollaston Theater. Myself, Mom and my 5 yr old sister, Eileen. I was 3 and a half at the time. The movie was about how Santa Claus got kidnapped by an evil (gang) or some wierd crook(?) and there were “not going to be any presents this year”, as Santa had said on the previews/for that movie.
I only (really) remember one small scene of the movie. Santa, with his head tilted forward, was listening to this giant ‘Ear’ type machine. Through the big Ear-contraption, Santa could hear all of the children from around the world, if they were good (or not) and exactly what the children wanted for, toys that particular Christmas. It is strange what visions ‘stick in your mind’ to become actual (real) memories. Like an old black and white polaroid in your head that you can ‘pull out’ and revisit, time and time again.
The other memory seems much smaller and insignificant. Though, I knew, at the actual time, it was huge. Now, when I look back, however, I realize that it was one of those ‘defining moments’ that actually mold a person, somehow. I remember standing out by the front curb (was it Billings Road?) at Beale St. My Dad had just dropped off my Mom, Eileen and I across the street, quickly, in traffic. He rushed back, in the VW Beetle, to Beach St. (home) to closely moniter the old black and white TV, which they both had been watching with full attention, earlier. (As I was told years later).
My memory was that Wollaston Square looked like a huge and scary and grey City (like when we would take the trains in to Filene’s Basement, in Boston). I recall holding my Mom and Eileen by the hand and that, I had stopped right before the front of the marquee, while still in the street. My memory is of staring at the water running down the street, by the curb (which seemed about as high as a 2 foot wall). My Mom was gently tugging at my hand, which was warmly-clasped in hers. “Come on Mikey, up”, Mom pleaded in a cracked voice. I did not budge even though Eileen pulled my other hand, again and again, while pleading; “Hurry, we’re going to miss the start of the movie”! I knew I was not going to make it over that curb and the flowing rain water. Something was definetly wrong. Something very sad in my Mom’s voice. I did not recognize her tone. I had never heard her voice like that, ever. A very deep uneasy feeling suddenly seized me. I tilted my head up to look at Mom. My Mom had water coming down from her eyes, like the water that flowed in the street, as if a thin stream, by the curb. Suddenly, like a wave on the beach, It hit me and only many years later I figured out. I had never seen tears in my Mom’s blue eyes before that very afternoon. Mom’s patient eyes were always a beautiful blue. Now they were reddish and sad. I had never seen my Mom with so much hurt and sadness. So much pain.
I had made it over the curb, even remembered that one tiny scene in the movie. I do not recall anything else about that day. The significance. I do remember that the way I saw things, from then forward, were always a little bit different. Some how everything was different after that day. My little world changed that afternoon. That day that I learned that even Santa, himself, could get kidnapped and that Mommies and Daddies actually CAN cry (and sometimes do cry). My world was a bit colder. A little more sad. Things were not quite the same after that November afternoon in 1963.
If anyone recalls the name of the movie that was playing at the Wolly Theater, on November 22, 1963, please email me here or at
I enjoyed reading the memories of that old theater. This magical place has touched so many lives, many hearts, and made many wonderful memories. I am 49, now, and live in Albuquerque, New Mexico, with my own children. Every annual trip back to Milton, I always find time to see that beautiful old theater in Wollaston…..
Michael Cummings, Jr.
One of my earliest memories is the rainy afternoon that I saw a Christmas/Santa Movie at the Wollaston Theater. Myself, Mom and my 5 yr old sister, Eileen. I was 3 and a half at the time. The movie was about how Santa Claus got kidnapped by an evil (gang) or some wierd crook(?) and there were “not going to be any presents this year”, as Santa had said on the previews/commercials for that movie.
I only (really) remember one small scene of the movie. Santa, with his head tilted forward, was listening to this giant ‘Ear’ type machine. Through the big Ear-contraption, Santa could hear all of the children from around the world, if they were good (or not) and exactly what the children wanted for toys, on that particular Christmas. It is strange what visions ‘stick in your mind’ to become actual (real) memories. Like an old black and white polaroid in your head that you can ‘pull out’ and revisit, time and time again.
The other memory seems much smaller and insignificant. Though, I knew, at the actual time, it was huge. Now, when I look back, however, I realize that it was one of those ‘defining moments’ that actually mold a person, somehow. I remember standing out by the front curb (was it Billings Road?) at Beale St. My Dad had just dropped off my Mom, Eileen and I across the street, quickly, in traffic. He rushed back, in the VW Beetle, to Beach St. (home) to closely moniter the old black and white TV, which they both had been watching with full attention, earlier.
I had made it over the curb, even remembered that one tiny scene in the movie. I do not recall anything else about that day. The significance of it. I do remember that the way I saw things, from then forward, were always a little bit different. Some how everything was different after that day. My little world changed that afternoon. That day that I learned that even Santa, himself, could get kidnapped and that Mommies and Daddies actually CAN cry (and sometimes do cry). My world was a bit colder. A little sadder. Things were not quite the same after that November afternoon in 1963.
If anyone recalls the name of the movie that was playing at the Wolly Theater, on November 22, 1963, please email me here or at
I enjoyed reading the memories of that old theater. This magical place has touched so many lives, many hearts, and made many wonderful memories. I am 49, now, and live in Albuquerque, New Mexico, with my own children. Every annual trip back to Milton, I always find time to see that beautiful old theater in Wollaston…..
Michael Cummings, Jr.