Memories of a Special Place

I was driving through downtown with my granddaughter in the car with me when we drove past a three story building with a huge neon marquee, all brightly lit and welcoming.

“What is that, Papaw?” my granddaughter asked.

“That used to be where young people went and found their dreams,” I said.

I grew up in this small town with a rich history and that old building stands today as a reminder of another era. Built in the late 1930’s with the then popular art deco architecture, it serves as more than a place of history. That old building gave thousands of young kids an introduction to the outside world.

For many of the children of East Texas, the Crim Theater opened their eyes into the rest of the world. News reels brought scenes of the wars to life. Musicals brought us fantasies. The world of glitz and glamour was exposed for the first time to children of oil field workers and affluent alike.

The art deco period was one of excess. When you walked inside the foyer of the Crim, you were welcomed by the smell of freshly popped popcorn. A long glass counter filled with candies and gum introduced you to items never before seen. Behind the counter was a drink dispenser that offered a variety of different sodas.

Brightly designed carpet, seemingly six inches thick, became the magic carpet which escorted us into the theater. Over head was a mirrored ceiling with millions of one inch square mirrored tiles. I was mesmerized as I walked along looking up at the dancing light.

The theater was the largest single room I had ever been in. I think it was larger than the church I attended. Murals were painted on the side walls and a floor to ceiling dark blue curtain hid the magic movie screen. I would sit with my Coke and box of popcorn in ready for the matinee to begin.

The overhead lights would dim, the projector would flicker and come to life and the large curtain opened to reveal the stark white screen. Music announced the show’s beginning, coming from a hundred speakers. At least to a nine year old boy it seemed to be a hundred.

It cost ten cents to see the matinee and I thought they were the best. Roy Rogers and Dale Evans and all of the gang treated us to serial performances each week and other stars opened our imaginations. I flew in biplanes, shooting down the evil Red Barron and his comrades and dove in submarines and stalked the enemy in wide-eyed silence.

By the time I was a teen, the performance on the screen was secondary. New fantasies occupied my mind and the adventure into romance beckoned. I remember the first time I sat beside a girl who was not my kin. She was a cute redhead with a turned up nose. I knew I had fallen in love and we would have a life together for all time. Romance with the little redhead lasted one week and she moved on.

I held hands with a girl for the first time while watching an Alfred Hitchcock movie. I decided I liked scary movies after that. A frightening scene would come on and she would hold tightly to my hand. I knew I was in love and we would be together for all time.

Later on as romance blossomed, I brought several girls to the movies. We shared popcorn and held hands. There is something special about innocent kids with buttery fingers holding hands in the dark. I never fell really in love with one of them and knew I was doomed to live life alone.

The balcony was relegated to the serious romantics and I never ventured up there. I heard from a friend though that the boys and girls kissed and didn’t watch the movie. Ugh, I thought at the time. Such a waste of time and money. Yes, I was doomed.

By the time I was a senior in high school, the Crim had fallen into disrepair and the paint on the walls began to flake and peel. The little mirror tiles came loose from the ceiling and distorted the mystique it had once presented. The owner closed the old theater and everyone had to go to the less glamorous Texan Theater across the street.

I wish I could go back and visit that old theater one more time. To walk past the enticing concession counter on the plush carpet, with dancing mirrors overhead, would carry my soul back to that other time.

I could sit in wait with my popcorn in hand, and when the sound came up and the curtain opened, I know I would be nine years old again.