Throwback Thursday: Cork boy who took a gun to cinema!

We have heard once more from the redoubtable Throwback Thursday contributor Sheila, who sends genuine written letters (she prefers to remain reasonably anonymous though).

“Dear Jo, it’s me again! Re the discussion on going to the pictures, nobody seems to mention the booking of Sunday night seats for the Savoy and the Capitol.

“My late husband and I were married on April 22, 1957, and he would always book seats for us on Sundays.

“My mother-in-law, Mary, late of Curraheen, plus my sister, also Mary, would babysit once our family came along (seven of them, like steps of the stairs!). That help was very welcome. I made sure they were all in bed very early to enable us to go out.

“Happy happy days, singing along to Fred Bridgeman, a great pleasure.

“Curraheen was the countryside then, and buses were the transport. When we got home after the shows, my husband would walk my Mam to Washington Street for the last bus. My sister only had to cross the road. And, by the way, Mr Walsh from Assumption Road was the projectionist at the Savoy. His daughter Betty was my friend.”

Now you do bring back memories for the rest of us, Sheila. We seem to recall that it was ‘the thing’ for engaged or married couples to book those reserved cinema seats on a Sunday night. Anybody else remember going to the Savoy or the Capitol then?

George Harding writes to tell us about his own early cinema-going days:

“The first flick I remember seeing had Laurel and Hardy in it. I don’t remember the title or the picture house, and I can recall only one scene.

“Hardy is facing the camera and is having an argument with Stan. His rear is protruding out over a river. A shark glides by, and its fin – which is the only thing visible - slices through his pants. He turns around in a temper to find out who or what his persecutor was, and there is no evidence. He then continues his argument with Stan, and the same situation arises. Stan can see what is happening, but he doesn’t tell Oliver.

“I am sure it was a very funny scene because it stayed in my memory, and I would love to know in whch movie it appeared. I guess it was the mid-1950s when I saw it, but the film probably originated in the ’30s or ’40s, which was their heyday.”

George adds of his childhood: “When we were not playing hurling or talking about it, there was only one other subject – and that was going to the pictures, or how we were going to get to the pictures.

“Saturday afternoon was a must, especially in the winter. The Savoy was number one, but if we could not afford that plush abode, then any of the others would suffice: the Pav, Capitol, Palace, The Col, The Ritz, The Lee, the Assems.

“The latter was my favourite because it was the cheapest, and there was always a double bill. Usually, a cowboy flick supported by a British B movie.

“A much older friend of mine, now unfortunately deceased, told me of his most memorable experience in the Assems. He used to go on Saturday nights with his pal, circa 1950. In those times there would be a main feature which would have been preceded by a shorter flick known colloquially as a ‘folley-upper.’ These were similar to today’s soap operas on TV, and therefore you had to go back each week to find out what happened next.

“One series featured Hopalong Cassidy who was played by my pal’s friend’s favourite actor. He idolised this fellow more than Christy Ring.

“Now, at the conclusion of one of these ‘folley-uppers, Hopalong Cassidy gets shot. It is unclear if he is wounded or dead and on the way home afterwards, my friend’s pal says, ‘I’ll fix that bastard next week’. Which he did, as the seanchaí used to say at the end of a story.

“The following Saturday night, as soon as the baddie appears, our man produces a gun (a real one) and shoots at the character on the screen. There is pandemonium, the lights go up, the cops arrive and our boys are arrested. Wonder what ensued?”

Gosh, that sounds like a frightening episode.

George adds: “My own personal memory of the Assems was a flick titled The Singer Not the Song, starring Dirk Bogarde. It was a western, I think, and Bogarde played an outlaw opposite John Mills as a priest trying to fend off a woman who has fallen for him.

“I was about 15 years old at the time, and there were two younger fellows in front of me who had seen the picture already. One would say to the other, ‘Your man gets shot here’, or something along those lines, and they were spoiling my enjoyment of the story.

“There was a woman sitting next to me, and she gave me a tap on the arm and said ‘Would you ever tell those young lads to shut up’. I was delighted to get the prompt and duly told the lads to stop it. They did, and all was fine for a couple of minutes until the woman tapped me on the arm again and said, ‘Your man gets shot here!’ I dared not tell her shut up, because she was an adult, and I was only a teenager.

“So the picture was spoiled twice for me, and I never got to see the end of it, as I had to get back to work for five o’clock.

“I have often wondered what happened in the end, as I have never seen a re-run of it on TV.”

George continues his amazing memories: “One afternoon, I was queuing up outside the Capitol on the Grand Parade for some big picture, and eventually got in with a couple of minutes to spare.

“I was standing at the back peering into the darkness, trying to figure out where I would take a seat, when out of nowhere my mother appeared and demanded, ‘What are you doing here when you should be at work?’

“I got the fright of my life, just turned on my heel and ran out of the place. She had been on a bus that was stopped at the traffic lights across the road at Singers Corner, and she spotted me in the queue. Caught red-handed and left one and six down the drain!”

When he started work, George had more money to indulge his passions.

“On August 17, 1964, I started work as a post boy in Haughtons on South Terrace, and the following Friday I collected my first pay packet of two pounds fifteen shillings.

“That Friday night I got dolled up, put on my drainpipes and brown suede pointers, and got the bus into town to go the flicks.

“It was the Savoy, and it was not any old picture but A Hard Day’s Night, starring the Beatles. They were number one that week with the title song.

“I felt like a million dollars walking down the corridor leading to the stalls. I handed my ticket (or so I thought) to the collector.

“I was only gone a few steps towards my seat when your man called me back and asked ‘Can I have your ticket please?’ In my excited state I had handed him a ten bob note that was in my right hand, while the ticket was in my left hand. Why he didn’t put the money in his pocket and let me disappear into the darkness, I will never know. I hope he is in heaven.

“The picture remains a classic, and Ringo, who was supposedly the least talented member of the Fab Four, stole the show.”

George adds: “When we were broke, the lads and I would go to town to try and duck into the pictures. We were usually successful, but I cannot remember the procedure.

“Inevitably, though, we would have our comeuppance. Our plan was thwarted in the Pav one day, and we ended up in the manager’s office. He turned out to be a nice old sort who knew my father, and sent us off home telling us to be good boys in future.

“It was embarrassing for us, but I often wondered how the Old Man felt! He never mentioned it, I suppose, because he was a movie buff himself.

“I was coming home from the Palace one night on the bus, and he happened to be on it. He asked me where I had been, and what the picture was. I said Kissin’ Cousins with Elvis Presley. He raised his eyes to heaven as if to say ‘God help us’.

“He was right there, because the King only made one or two good flicks, and Kissin’ Cousins was probably the worst.

“I asked the ould fellah where he had been, and he said ‘I went to the Pavilion to see The Old Man And The Sea with Spencer Tracy in one of the triumphs of the screen.”

“Obviously, we had very different tastes at that time, but isn’t it always the way?”

Love those memories, George! If you do happen to recall the tricks and ploys used to duck into the cinema without paying, do share them with us!

The rest of you, send us your own recollections of the glory days when we had cinemas all around and re-runs coming up as often as the new releases.

Email jokerrigan1@gmail.com or put a message on our Facebook page: echolive.ie/nostalgia.