Remembering The Patapsco Theater

 As I was making my way to my mom's house earlier today for my regular Saturday visit, I found myself sitting at a red light across from the old Patapsco Movie Theater. The nostalgia gears began to turn and quickly transported me back to the days of my youth.

Growing up in the South Baltimore neighborhood of Brooklyn, this old movie house provided me with many days of cinematic bliss. It was common to meet up with my friends on any Saturday afternoon to catch the latest attraction. There was usually an opening movie (aka a "B" movie) prior to the the main attraction. Some of these warm-up flicks were as good or sometimes even better than the feature film.

As you approached the marquee of the theater, you would pay the entrance fee to the "ticket lady" who sat inside of a small booth just outside the main entrance. You would conduct your transaction through a louvered piece of metal that was attached to the middle of the thick plate glass window. The actual money/ticket exchange was made through a scalloped steel dish at the bottom of the window. 

If I recall correctly, the admission was something like 75 cents for anyone 12 or under and $1.50 for "adults". When I was 10 years old, I can remember getting into an argument with the ticket lady after she wanted me to pay the full adult price. But I wasn't having any of that. After all, I was only 10 years old! She was adamant that I pay the full price because I looked older than 12 years old. I tried to reason with her, even going as far as humiliating myself in front of my friends and explaining that I was "husky" (this was how my mom used to candy-coat the fact that I was over-weight). Admittedly, I was bigger than most kids my age. But I still shouldn't have to pay the 12+ price.

Nowadays, 75 cents versus a buck fifty might not seem like that big of a deal. But back then, it was the difference between a small box of Mike & Ike's and a jumbo tub of buttered popcorn. And there was no way that this husky guy was going to make it through a double feature with no popcorn. So, I held my ground and continued to plead my case with the ticket lady. She finally offered me a compromise. She would let me through for the under-12 price. However, I would have to bring my birth certificate with me the next time to prove my age. I took the deal. For the next two years, any time I wanted to see a movie, I stuffed my proof-of-age document into the back pocket of my husky-size Toughskins.

But once I was inside of the theater, all my problems went away. The lobby of the theater was spacious, offering plenty of room to mingle with your friends before the show. After a quick stop at the concession stand, you would make your way into the cinema to find the perfect seat. As a symmetrical guy, I always preferred a seat somewhere in the middle of the room.

I can remember seeing "Jaws" in this movie house in 1975. In fact, I went back and saw it several more times before it's run ended. And every time, it seemed just as exciting as the first. I also watched "The Outlaw Josey Wales" along with other classic westerns. I can remember the hype over a horror movie called "It's Alive". It was about a killer baby. It seemed so scary at the time but it was actually one of the worst movies ever made. Speaking of bad movies, there was also a movie called "Tentacles" that I saw here. It was about a giant killer octopus. The creators were obviously trying to piggyback on the success of "Jaws" but it didn't work. 

And even though you had to sit through an occasional dud, it really wasn't so bad. After all, for those of us who grew up without air conditioning, a comfortable seat in a climate-controlled movie theater was a treat within itself.

As the years progressed, the multiplex cinemas began to take off and the single-theater movie houses began to disappear. In 1977, the Patapsco Theater closed it's doors for good and was soon converted into a social services center. Today, it houses some type of church.

My trip down memory lane ended abruptly as the driver behind me tooted his horn. The traffic light at 6th and Patapsco had turned green and it was time to move on. The old movie theater quickly faded from my rear-view mirror but it's memories will always be there....

kw

Back in the 60/70's...

Modern day....

A Farewell For Franko

I first got to know Frank DeLost when we were teenagers playing baseball for the local Brooklyn-Curtis Bay traveling team. The team was made up of some rather unique personalities and Frank fit right in as our starting center fielder. Now, keep in mind that Frank had this distinct way of getting from point A to point B. While most people might have considering it walking, I viewed it more as "bopping". I can remember the opposing team jacking balls into deep center field. At first, it appeared that the ball was well over Frank's head. But then, waiting for the last possible second to move, Frank would break into his familiar bop. Trotting casually towards the fence, no one expected him to catch up to the ball. But defying logic, Frank would inevitably snatch the ball out of mid-air. This was just the beginning of many "WTF moments" to come.....

During that same baseball season, we traveled to Richmond, VA to play in a multi-day tournament. We were the Brooklyn-Curtis Bay version of the Bad News Bears. Although the team did have legitimate baseball skills, the highlight of the trip was the endless pranks and shenanigans that we took part in. Since I'm not sure if there's a statute of limitation on any of those antics, I won't go into any detail. All I'll say is that, even 30 years later, Frank would always get a kick out of talking about it. Whenever we ran into each other, at some point, with a big smile on his face, Frank would usually say, "Hey man, that Richmond trip was some crazy stuff."

Not long after our baseball days, Frank started attending the local Jehovah's Witness Kingdom Hall. Most of us knew nothing about the religion, so we did what most teenagers would so: We busted our friend's balls over it. We would sometimes address Frank as "Jehovah". Always good-natured, he would simply respond by asking, "Hey man, why are you calling me God?" This would inevitably turn into a 30-minute lecture from Frank. Before long, to avoid the sermon, we avoided the Jehovah jokes and went back to calling him plain ol' Frank.

In later years, I would occasionally run into Frank at the Club 4100 in Brooklyn where he worked at the time. It was here that Frank would occasionally transition into The Hulk or Batman to entertain the kids at the annual parties at the Club.

A few years ago, Frank joined our bowling league. Ironically, he quickly became known as Spider-Man. This wasn't because of his Super hero costumes from the 4100 Club, but instead, because of the way he threw the bowling bowl. Bopping across the approach lane, Frank would release the ball in a way that resembled Spider-Man throwing a web. Whenever someone yelled, "Hey Spider-man!", Frank would instantly respond by making a goofy face or striking a crazy pose.

I often listen to talk radio. One day, as I'm listening to a local show, the announcer says, "Now we're going to Frank in Curtis Bay. OK, Frank, what's on your mind?"

As soon as I heard the voice, I knew it was my old buddy. In true Franko fashion, he came right out the gate with a barrage of comments that would have even Einstein scratching his head. The announcer (I think it was Tom Marr), responded by saying, "Frank, what the hell are you talking about?"

I was laughing so hard, I nearly drove my car into a ditch.  From then on, whenever I heard the announcer say that he was going to "Frank from Curtis Bay", I would instantly pull my car off to the side of the road just to be safe.

...............................................................................................................

Sadly, we recently learned of Frank's untimely passing. Although he needed a new liver, he declined any option of a transplant because he said "some kid might need it more". This sums up Frank's unselfish nature and the compassion he had for others.

I will always remember Frank as a guy with whom I could share a zany story and a good laugh. I can't say that I've ever met anyone like him. And I doubt that I ever will......

In lieu of a traditional funeral, one of Franks last wishes was for all of his friends to get together for a Memorial/Farewell Party in his honor. That party is scheduled for tomorrow where many of Frank's longtime friends will gather and share their favorite memories. Although Frank won't be there tomorrow, his presence will surely be felt through our timeless recollections of him......

kw