Drive-in provided off-screen action

For years I have passed by and observed with nostalgia the abandoned old parking lot where our favorite drive-in theater once stood. Weeds have grown up through the cracked cement, and the fences are badly in need of repair.

Last year, an attempt was made to revitalize the old place, opening it on weekends during the summer. But apparently not enough people showed up. The drive-in, I guess, just belongs to another time.

Too bad. Outings there were some of the most memorable times we spent as a young family in the '50s. During the first years of our marriage, we seldom went to the movies. Like most former servicemen's families, we were struggling to buy a home. When the drive-in theater opened up just a mile from our house, we were delighted.

The admission was by the carload. That offered us a chance for summer evenings of inexpensive entertainment. We didn't have to worry about getting a babysitter; the kids were right there with us.

Going to the outdoor movies with a family did require planning. It was like a trip to the beach. Even though there was a refreshment center, we always took along our own food. Most of the time, I made sandwiches and took along fruit, cookies or cake and a jug of lemonade. If I had time, I made popcorn. Occasionally, the children got a treat from the refreshment stand.

We tried to arrive early. This would allow our kids time to burn off some energy before the movie started at dusk. They would run around and meet some of their friends and play at the kids' playground provided by the management.

It was common to see children dressed in their pajamas. Parents didn't have to dress up, either, which was important to my husband, since men back then still wore suits and hats.

We also brought pillows and blankets in our roomy station wagon so that if anyone got too tired or bored, they could just conk out. Since we had plenty of room, our children's friends often joined them there at various times.

A countdown clock appeared on the screen, letting us know the minutes left before the refreshment stand closed. It also got everyone back in place and settled before the show started.

One evening, the show started quite late because of a sudden downpour. With the delay, the children became tired sooner; by the time the movie ended, they were all snuggled down and fast asleep. My husband took a quick glance at them.

"How many heads do you count back there?" he asked.

"Five," I said, laughing. We had only four girls then. "That's Jamie," I said, pointing to a sleeping boy. "He was over here after the storm. I had better check with his mother."

I got out of the car and went to where Jamie's family had been parked. Their car was gone. They had driven off, evidently not missing him. Without waking our children, we immediately pulled out and drove directly to their house.

When Jamie's father greeted us, I asked whether anyone was missing from their car. He took a quick peek inside. "Nope, they're all here."

I gulped and turned to my husband, "Oh, no, then we have a strange kid in our car. I thought for sure it was Jamie . . ."

Jamie's father interrupted with a laugh. "I was just kidding," he said. "Just the other day you said that you would have liked having a boy. No easier way."

Today, I don't think people would be so nonchalant about a missing child. But that was back in the days when we didn't lock our doors, back in the days when drive-ins were popular.

- LaVerne Hammond, who divides her time between Wisconsin and Florida, is an octogenarian at work on her memoirs. Write her in care of the St. Petersburg Times, P.O. Box 1121, St. Petersburg, FL 33731.

© 2006 • All Rights Reserved • St. Petersburg Times
490 First Avenue South • St. Petersburg, FL 33701 • 727-893-8111

Contact the Times | Privacy Policy
Standard of Accuracy | Terms, Conditions & Copyright