On a hot summer Saturday whenIwasakid,nothing topped a movie marathon in dark air-conditioned comfort.
During the week we scouted area theaters for the best deals. Usually, those were half-day events that started before noon.
Buy a ticket, and you’d get two movies plus a cartoon, previews of upcoming shows, and even a newsreel.
Some guys liked westerns. Lots of the girls liked semiromantic flickswithbigname stars.
But I wanted only scary movies, complete with vampires, zombies, dinosaurs, demons, spacemen, mummies, or robots.
Thenoneday,anewfright show came to town, and we all raced to see it. Here’s why.
It was advertised as “the most horrifying story ever shown.” It was so scary, three early viewers allegedly died of fright while watching the film.
Our theater warned us that before we entered, we must sign a paper that we swore “our family would not sue the theater if we died of fright while watching the show.”
That Saturday, dozens of kidslinedupatacardtableby the ticket booth. At the table sat a young lady in nurse’s uniform, showing us where to sign our names.
Five of us guys signed, then entered the auditorium. We were pretty sure at least one of us would be scared to death. Who would it be?
Then the film started. There were a couple werewolves, a ghost or two, plus a giant insect. But we were disappointed when – as the movie ended – all five of us were still breathing.
As we exited, that same uniformed lady was making newarrivalssignthecontract for the next showing.
“The movie wasn’t great,” one of my friends yelled to those in line, “and I don’t think that’s a real nurse, either.”