My beginnings on Main Street have left me with a plethora of stories. I really did live “with concrete under my feet” until we moved to our newly built house on the Lake Emory Road when I was 10 years old.
While others my age were playing in yards or doing farm chores, I was Skip-to-my-Louing in downtown Franklin; and, one of my favorite things to do was to go to the movies. I could spend all Saturday afternoon at the Macon Theater, which was located about a hundred steps from where I lived.
[The 650-seat Macon Theater at 16 East Main Street opened Jan. 28, 1940. It closed in the early to mid-1980s.]
The Macon Theater actually had what were called double features on Saturdays. So, if I went early, I could stay until late and that suited the people who were in charge of me. They knew where I was and did not have to wonder what I was going to do next for several hours. These are my memories of going to the movies, and they may or may not be accurate.
The entry to the theater had a small one-person ticket booth usually manned by Carrie Houston. Believe it or not, the glassed-in booth had both a front window opening and a side window opening. Black people stood at the side window and white people stood at the front window. Less than a foot separated the windows. Those were crazy times.
After purchasing a ticket at the booth, moviegoers walked through the entry into the lobby. The entry had posters on either side in glass frames advertising the upcoming movies. I think there was red carpet on the floor of the entry and in the lobby. Glass doors opened into the lobby where the delicious smell of popcorn popping made everyone want a bag. There were no flavorings or butter added to the popcorn — just a little or a lot of salt.
Other snacks for sale were candy bars, packages of five little doughnuts covered with either coconut or powdered sugar, and the most delightful of all — huge dill pickles, I’m talking 4 or 5 inches long with a 2-to-3-inch diameter. One of those things could last for the whole double feature with no problem. Of course, fountain drinks were also for sale, but with no size variation. There was no small, medium, or large.
The men I remember being in charge were Vernon Stiles, manager; Vernon Ledford, at the snack bar; and Wiley Rogers, ticket collector. Lawsy, mercy, when Mr. Stiles walked up and down the aisles, people knew to straighten up and be quiet. Supposedly, he would throw out rowdies, but I never witnessed that happening. Mr. Ledford could neither hear nor speak, but he surely could read lips to get all of those orders filled correctly. And, I think Mr. Rogers’s job was just to stand in the lobby.
There were stairs in the lobby that led to the restrooms on the second floor that my mama forbade me to use. After munching on those salty pickles, it’s a wonder anyone needed to use them. Also, upstairs was a balcony that wasn’t opened regularly except for black folks who had one section reserved just for them. My kid mind never really understood segregation and always thought those were the best seats in the place.
The auditorium had a middle section and two side sections. Some people liked sitting way in the back in the dark so they could do some unobserved “making out.” The floor had carpeting only in the aisles, and the floor under the seats was perpetually sticky from spilled drinks. The screen showed previews of coming attractions, a cartoon, and then the featured movie.
If the film didn’t break at least once during the movie, a Franklin movie-going experience was missed. It was there where I was introduced to Flash Gordon, Superman, and The Blob, along with Gidget and Moon Doggie.
Admission was a quarter. Popcorn and snacks cost a dime. Drinks were fifteen cents. Those were the days, my friend.