Curtains

Cherry

By luigi_pagano

Sat, 16 Oct 2021
  • 973 reads
8 comments
 

The cinema was in the basement
of an imposing Art Deco building;
it was the place for our weekly fix
of Westerns and animated cartoons.
We did not care that marble stairs
led to a first-floor, well-filled library;
we wanted Roy Rogers and Tom Mix.

Unsupervised, during the interval,
we played cowboys and Red Indians
galloping around the auditorium
castigated by the theatre's usherette.
It was a time when adult viewers
were still allowed to smoke cigarettes
even though it was a kids' matinée. 

Over the years the audience dwindled,
it was decided the curtain should fall
and we children were left high and dry
not understanding the reason why 
Mickey Mouse or The Three Caballeros
would no longer appear on the screen.
Our dream palace had lost its sheen.

When, later on, it became a bingo hall,
whereas the children were left in the lurch
it provided entertainment to the grannies  
who would flock to the place to play lotto
in the evening, after attending church.
The novelty lasted only a few months  
because the foundations were derelict. 

It was then the council issued the edict
that the edifice had to be safely restored 
or else be forever consigned to oblivion.
The owner of the cinema was the dweller
of an apartment on the second floor.
Without hesitating expressed the opinion
that it was better to use it as a wine cellar.

 

© Luigi Pagano 2021 

Certificate U
Poem
Mutevoli pensieri
Inspiration Point (work that responds to our weekly writing cue)

Comments

Submitted by celticman on

I guess most cinemas followed the same pattern. picture, then bingo, then oblivion. 

 

Submitted by luigi_pagano on

Very true, Jack. Many that came into disuse were converted for alternative use, demolished to be replaced by high-rise buildings for office occupation or permanently closed. A few, like the Hyde Park Picture House in Leeds, are being lovely restored and preserved.

Best, Luigi

P.S. Many thanks to the Editors for the cherries.

 

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Oh! How those Saturday mornings of going to the pictures to watch our favourite westerns comes flooding back Luigi. When it was your birthday it would be fun to get up in front of the other children, and everyone would sing happy birthday.

Sadly our 1950s and 1960s cinema when I was a child. is now luxury flats, but then  memories are so treasured, I'm just glad I was born at the right time.

A nostalgic poem that invoked those memories.

Jenny. xx

 

Submitted by luigi_pagano on

The bricks and mortar of those bygone cinemas may have disintegrated but the nostalgic memories  of the treasured moments that we spent in them will stay with us forever, Jenny.

Luigi xx

 

Submitted by forest_for_ever on

Thank you so much for reviving what is now a fond memory for me.  I used to go to Saturday Morning Cinema.  I had a shilling and it was 6d for the  stalls where the 'more lively' boys went.  I paid the 9d to go up into the Circle for a bit of peace.  I still had 3d for an ice lolly.  They knocked down the Odeon in Chelmsford where I grew up.  It as replaced long after I had grown up by a new breed of 'multiplex cinema.  

Thank you.

 

 

Submitted by luigi_pagano on

It looks as if many of us have had similar experiences which affected us deeply, Graham. For me, it happened so long ago that, unlike you, I can't remember the ticket price. You must have an excellent memory.  smiley

Cheers, Luigi

 

 

 

Submitted by Turlough on

It really saddens me to see the decline and fall of buildings like the cinema from your childhood, often followed by demolition to make way for an inner ring road or a shopping centre. It's not just cinemas though. In my time in my city of Leeds I've seen the obliteration of charming old pubs, shopping arcades, bus stations, ornately tiled public toilets and an assortment of other old buildings not old enough to be classed as historic but not new enough to be acceptable to the modern face of the city.

Your words of nostalgia have stirred feelings of regret that such worthwhile architecture and events have become things of the past and impossible to recreate. You've made me want to write something along these lines myself.

Despite my moaning and groaning I really enjoyed reading your poem.

Thank you.

 

Turlough

Submitted by luigi_pagano on

I entirely share your feelings of sadness, Turlough.
The disappearance of old buildings has always been the cause of grief and regret often for sentimental reasons.
I remember the poet John Betjeman's lifelong crusade to save Victorian railways station because of their stylish architecture and how successfully he was in his pursuit. 
Not all of us have his pulling power and can only express our wishes that places of our affection like the Odeon, the Roxy or the Rex are saved from extinction.
Pragmatism though dictates that structures that have become unsafe and a danger to the public are beyond redemption and have to fall by the wayside. While accepting this we must ensure that no indiscriminate destruction takes place.
Glad you enjoyed the poem and thanks for your insightful feedback.
Best wishes, Luigi