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The Willow Glen Resident

Force for Change: With their big-budget special effects and story lines that actually held your attention, movies like 'Star Wars' signaled the beginning of the end for many drive-in theaters.

Remember When

Drive-ins recall days of low-budget films

By Cookie Curci-Wright

The concept of the drive-in movie theater was the brainchild of Richard Hollingshead. On June 6, 1933, in Camden, N.J., Hollingshead opened the very first public drive-in theater. It held 400 cars.

The movie showing that night was a howler called Wife Beware, starring Adolf Menjou. The popularity of this alfresco theater spread across the land. By 1941, supply and demand had encouraged the state of Illinois to build the world's largest drive-in theater, with a 1,500-car capacity. Drive-ins were at a premium, with only 52 in actual operation across the country and many more in the planning stages.

By 1950, the "automobile theater," as it was first called, was as much a part of summer as ice cream, lemonade and baseball. By the mid-'50s, the number of drive-ins across the country climbed to 4,063. The late 1940s and early 1950s saw the popularity of the drive-in soar to the heights of pop-culture icon, and summer would never be the same again.

The drive-in offered teenagers the perfect place to be alone with their sweethearts, hidden behind steamy car windows. For the suburban household, the joys of seeing a movie from the comfort of the family car were limitless. Now Mom and Dad could go out for the evening without the need of a baby-sitter. They simply dressed "Junior" and little sister in pj's and tucked them cozily into the back seat. The family was all set for the night at the drive-in.

The roomy luxury cars of the 1940s and '50s were a perfect match for drive-in movie theaters. Cars like the Cadillac Coupe Deville, Oldsmobile 88, Lincoln Mark IV, Ford station wagon and the Chevrolet Impala came equipped with sofa-like seats, front and back arm trays, push-button radios, reading lamps, built-in ashtrays, cigarette lighters and a huge curved windshield that allowed passengers a panoramic view of the screen.

Anxiously waiting for the sun to set so the movie could start was all part of the anticipation of the Saturday night drive-in experience. In a show of camaraderie, drivers routinely flashed their headlights, honked their horns and streaked their spotlights across the screen, displaying their impatience.

By the time the moon crested over the movie screen, the second feature was well under way.

Although the drive-in theater was never really about cinema, its marquee reflected the taste of its teenage patrons and spawned such low-budget black-and-white B-movies as I Was a Teen-age Werewolf, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Godzilla and The Thing. The acting wasn't all that great and the photography was a bit out of focus, but there was always plenty of action.

It really didn't matter what was playing, it was the going there that was important for the teenagers. Chevys and Buicks were full of them. It was exciting to see and be seen. Whether on a date or piled into the car with a group of friends, we flocked to the theater every weekend. Sometimes the first feature was half over by the time we arrived. But it didn't bother us a bit. We'd watch the second half of the movie, the Movie Tone news, a cartoon, a stage act and the second film. Then we'd watch the first feature again.

Sometimes the diehard movie faithful would spend as many as eight consecutive hours at their favorite drive-in during a movie marathon. I remember the Moonlite Drive-in on El Camino Real, and how it offered customers "movies 'til dawn."

If the customer could stay awake long enough, they'd see a collection of B film classics such as, Creature From the Black Lagoon, It Came From Outer Space and Them. Other favorite local drive-ins included El Rancho, Tropicana, Winchester, Shamrock, Frontier and Capitol.

Today a mere 825 drive-ins survive in the United States. There are some who believe that Americans won't let the drive-in fade away from the American scene, that these establishments are too much a part of our past, our culture and our heritage to ever let them die out completely. This may be so, but didn't we feel the same way about our movie palaces, soda shops, mom-and-pop diners and our drive-in restaurants? Just asking.


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This article appeared in the Willow Glen Resident, October 7, 1998.
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