View from a Southern Window
Movies
Those of us now in our fifties and sixties who were Southern born and raised in rural or small town settings probably remember going to the movies when we were kids. As for me, we lived around Huntsville during the mid and late forties when it was a much smaller place–before the boom, I suppose one could say. There were two movie houses in downtown Huntsville at that time, and I think I’ve forgotten the names of both, but not the good times I enjoyed while there. From the time I was ten years of age, at the tail-end of 1945 (if not before), I was allowed to ride the local bus and go to the movies on Saturdays by myself. This went on until I was almost 12 and we moved to another community. During the time I saw all these movies, we lived at Farley in a village, called Red Stone Park for arsenal workers and military families. My dad was a guard at one of the gates. Redstone Park was torn down in the late fifties /early sixties to make room for some type of manufacturing plant, maybe Western Telephone. I attended Farley Junior High which is now an elementary school in—-ah, but I digress—
I was a bit of a tomboy; I traded comic books (bought new for ten cents each), played marbles with the boys until I lost all I had, rode their bicycles, climbed trees, AND loved cowboys movies! My parents were older than some when they married and started a family, and I had a twin brother and sister almost five years younger than me. I think my mother started letting me go to these movies because: 1. I begged and begged, 2. It was probably nice to be rid of me for a time, 3. For 50 cents I could ride the bus to town and back, see a movie and get a bag of popcorn, or do without the popcorn and see two movies which I usually did.
Needless to say, Saturday was my favorite day of the week, and the memories of those Saturdays spent watching my favorite western movies stand out as sharply as anything I’ve ever experienced. Just walking into the big, dimly lighted cool room was magical; I felt as if I had stepped into another world. I found my seat on the front row or at least very near it and soon a big cheer went up; the lights went out, the curtain parted and the show began. Just to get us warmed up there was always previews of coming attractions, a Looney Tunes cartoon, gigantic full color pictures of all the goodies at the snack bar and part 13 of a 62 part serial always leaving the hero falling off a cliff.
Now on to the main feature; there was Lash LaRue, dressed in black and a pure menace to the bad guys with that whip he always carried. Of course next came Sunset Carson, tall, with black curly hair. I saw him “live” one time when he and his horse appeared on stage at the theater. I must mention Red Ryder and Little Beaver, Monte Hale, Jimmy Wakely, and Alabama’s own Johnny Mac Brown. My favorites were everyone elses also; Roy Rogers and Gene Autry. When they were both playing on the same Saturday, well— that was just about as good as it got. There were many others whose names and faces have escaped me now, and many who were not the stars were still fun to see. Gene’s sidekick was Smiley Burnette, Roy’s was Gabby Hayes, the lovely Dale Evans, and those wonderful musicians whose beautiful harmony I can never forget, the Sons of the Pioneers.
I remember the spring school had just turned out for the summer and I had been promoted to the fifth grade; measles was making its rounds through the community. My younger brother and sister had succumbed and somewhat recovered. Both my main heros (Roy and Gene) were appearing at the theaters the following Saturday in one of their latest action-packed “shoot-’em-ups”. I was very excited and looking forward to a day of sheer enjoyment. About the middle of the week I noticed I didn’t feel really well, but I just knew I’d be fine by Saturday. Saturday morning rolled around and I rolled out of bed, red and bumpy and stinging all over-yep, a full-blown case of the old fashioned red measles! Needless to say, I did not make it to the movies that week.
Sometime before these fabulous forties came to an end, an entirely new way to watch movies came on the scene ; the Drive-In Movie. What a novel idea, sitting in the comfort (?) of one’s automobile while watching a movie. My dad did not think very highly of many modern ideas, but obviously this was one to which he had given some thought and he finally decided the family should go and try it. I have no idea of what movie we saw or what kind of vehicle we had, but as I recall, once is all we ever went as a family. Of course as I grew older and was allowed to go with boys in cars, (a dangerous combination) as long as there was more than one couple, I did get to go to the Drive-In theater. After a couple of decades, more or less, these, too, became a page in history as more TVs were in homes and better (?) more expensive movies were being made.
“Gone With The Wind” was made in 1939 and it was and still is a great epic. It came to Huntsville during the forties and my ” movie” phase. I had seen the previews on a Saturday and of course begged to go see it. I did get to go see it, but I certainly did not understand much of it at that tender age. It was big and beautiful, though; in gorgeous color and LONG .
During this time of attending movies, which covered a period of two years or less, I was 10 and 11 years of age, but was very tall and growing. After a while the tickets sales girls started asking me if I were twelve. That would have caused me to have to pay adult admission which was forty cents to get in instead of ten. They asked me almost every week and I know they surely remembered me from one week to the next. I always told them my age, when I was born, etc. For some reason, this made my dad very angry, I mean, it burned him up, and he said I should start taking my birth certificate to the movies. I believe I did a few times, but when I took it, they would not ask my age. I think once is all I ever showed it to them.
Alas, just before I was 12, we fell on tougher financial times and moved away from there to a more rural community which had no local bus service and soon the “movie” phase gave way to the “boy” phase.
Way backin the fall of 1948 when people, and not machines, still picked cotton, I found out how wonderful it is to do a good turn for someone less fortunate. If you were less fortunate than my family at the time, you indeed could sure use a good turn, although I don’t recall thinking about any such thing.
I was twelve years old at the time; tall, gangly and setting the cotton-patch on fire! There were several of us picking; we were “hiring out” to a neighbor. The autumn sun was very warm; the back and knees were aching.
A young preacher and his wife and five small children were living in the community at that time. I know now that they, like the rest of us, were having a tough time of it just surviving. Times were not all that great in the rural south, shortly after World War II.
I cannot even recall the preacher’s name, now, that has been fifty-five plus years ago, but I remember he was always singing an old hymn as he worked.
“Flo,” he said, “I wonder if I could get you to stay with our kids tomorrow. My wife and I have some business we need to take care of in town.”
“I’ll have to ask my parents, I replied, “but I’m sure it will be OK.”
I rushed home that evening and eagerly told my parents what the preacher had asked me to do. They were dubious about me looking after five small children even for a few hours but I could be very persuasive when it was something I wanted to do. (Still can. Can’t we all?)
Mid-morning the next day I appeared at their door. They introduced me to their children, gave me a few instructions and left, saying they would be back by early evening.
Well, to tell the truth, the house looked like small rented farmhouses looked forty odd years ago. The belongings and furnishings were meager even to my young and inexperienced eyes.
As the old saying is: “I saw my duty and I done it.” (I don’t know who said it.) I swept the rough wood floors, drew some water from the well, changed the dirty baby and gave him a bottle. After that I brought in all the little ragged and worn clothes that were hanging outside on the pasture fence which also served as a clothes line. Next I folded all the clothes, straightened everything I could see that needed it, fed the children what I could find and fix, looked around and decided I had done all I could.
About sundown the preacher and wife drove up in their ancient pick-up. Frankly, their eyes widened and their faces lit up with pleasure when they saw all the work I had done. Of course that made me just swell up with pride, too. He tried his best to get me to take two dollars, but I would never take the two, I would only take one.
I know my steps were light; why my feet barely touched the dirt road, and my smile lasted into the twilight the whole two miles home. What a wonderful feeling I had inside!
As I said earlier, that little incident happened over 55 years ago, and no one may even remember it except me. I do not claim to be an especially good person, and there are probably are those who would most definitely say I wasn’t, but I’m glad to say it still gives me a glow inside even today when I know I have done a good turn for someone who really needed it. Knowing you helped is the greater reward. You don’t forget the feeling.
They saw Him in a manger
All the wise men and the shepherds
The star guiding them
The angels giving the good tidings.
Later, He was seen in the temple
Astonishing them
With His wisdom
At the age of 12.
He was seen at home with His family
Working with His earthly father
In the carpenter’s shop
Until
At the age of 30,
He saw it was time
To be about His heavenly Father’s business;
To start His real mission.
The few oddly assorted men who believed
Saw Him and followed.
The people of village and countryside
Saw Him as He taught and healed and preached.
Then as now, some saw and understood,
Some were blind and did not see.
Many that saw scoffed
And misunderstood.
Judas saw Him and kissed Him,
That the soldiers might also see and take Him to Pilate.
Pilate saw only the crowd,
And did as they desired.
Next they saw Him on the cross,
As the world grew dark and still.
He saw all His own as He died,
Even such as me.
His mother and His followers
Saw Him taken down,
And placed
In the borrowed grave
But on that first Easter morning,
They saw the stone was rolled away,
And the grave clothes laid aside
For He was seen no more in the tomb,
Hallelujah, He was seen no more in the tomb!
