Sony Handycam
In 1988, my parents bought a Sony Handycam 8mm video camera. Of course the family used it to film the usual stuff, birthdays, vacations, graduations, etc. But it also was the beginning of a period of filmmaking which would become one of my biggest hobbies for the next five years. Dom, Steve, Burt, Damian, and I made many short films of varying quality, like Invasion of the Rats. And any chance I could get to make a video for a school project, I did. I made a video demonstrating Einstein's theories for my calculus class. And Steve and I made a video for our senior externship project at McKean and Associates.
My best work with the Handycam would happen in college. More on that later.
The Perfect High School Job
My first job was a busboy/dishwasher. It lasted 2 weeks. I wasn't old enough to drive, and it was quite a distance from home. Not very convenient (especially for my dad, who had to drive me there and pick me up). My second job, not including a summer of cutting grass with my dad, was bagging groceries at Publix (grocery store). I held that job for the better part of my junior year of high school. Until I got the mother of all high school jobs: movie theater usher.
For anyone who loves going to the movies, what better part time job could you have than a movie theater job? Inverness had a brand new 6-screen theater (quite the upgrade from the small single-screen downtown). A band friend (he also played trumpet) worked at the new theater from the time it opened. I had put in an application and I would often ask him if he thought they were going to do any more hiring. Finally, one night we were seeing Star Trek V and Mike walked through the theater before the movie started. I asked him if I had a job and he told me to talk to Mary (the manager). I was so excited that I completely enjoyed what turned out to arguably be the worst of all the Star Trek movies.
After the movie, I talked to Mary and she offered me a job. I was in.
I started working at Citrus Cinemas at the start of summer of 1989, a blockbuster-packed summer with Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade and Batman. It was a blast. I loved everything about it. The job only paid minimum wage, which at that time was somewhere in the range of $3.50 an hour. But I also got free movies, which for a high schooler in Inverness was a significant perk.
As the other ushers moved on to other jobs, my best friends took their places, until finally it was Dominick, Damian, Burt, and me working there together. The only thing better than a movie theatre job is working with your best friends. If Steve had joined us, it would have been perfect, but he already had a good job at the Crown Hotel.
I bought my first car with the income from that job. A silver 1979 Volkswagon Scirocco. $1000. I got a loan from my grandmother and paid her every month (plus interest) until it was paid off. It was a stick shift. The front fenders were rusted, but I fancied that it looked a little bit like the DeLorean from Back to the Future. I loved that car.
At Citrus Cinemas, projectionist was a full-time position. Even though there were only 6 screens (rinky-dink compared to the big megaplexes that would blossom in the next ten years) they hired guys who only worked in the booth. That meant you got to wear street clothes and spend all your time tending to the projectors instead of dealing with customers. I expressed interest in learning projection and soon I was working booth more than usher. Spending hours upon hours in a dark, noisy room with no other people might sound like Hell, but I loved the chance to listen to music, work on homework, all while doing a job and getting paid. Sometimes I'd bring an alarm clock, stretch out on the floor, and take a short nap, the alarm waking me up before the first movie ended. Too bad the projection booth didn't have a comfy chair or small sofa.
Citrus Cinemas had curtains that rose before the movie started. The curtains were triggered by a little piece of metal tape we'd place on the film at a certain spot. The tape tripped a sensor that signaled the curtains to rise or lower. But the projectionist also had manual control of the curtains. At any time, with the flip of a switch, I could make the curtains go up or go down.
A metal bar went across the bottom of the curtain, and we discovered that if someone held on to that bar, the curtains, when raised, could lift the person all the way up to the top of the screen. "Riding the curtain" was only done in between movies, when we were cleaning the theatre (and it had to be a slow day, when patrons weren't waiting to come in. Someone usually stood guard at the door just in case).
One night, Burt and another usher named Dennis were cleaning the biggest house. Burt called to me while I was threading the projector. I opened the window and Burt told me to raise the curtain. I started the curtain and Burt held on to the bar, lifting off the ground. Dennis saw what he was doing and ran up to the curtain, leaped up and grabbed on. We had never lifted two people before. It seemed too risky. But the curtain couldn't be stopped in mid-travel. Once it was going up it had to go all the way up before it would go down again. I just shook my head and watched the two of them rise towards the top of the screen. But when it got three-fourths of the way up, the curtain suddenly stopped. Burt and Dennis called out for me to let it down. I flipped the switch and nothing happened. Flip, flip. I tried the switch over and over, but nothing happened. Burt and Dennis, hanging about 20 feet off the ground, yelled out for me to stop playing around, that they couldn't hold on much longer. I yelled back to them that I didn't do it, they must have broken it.
They held on for a little while longer, hoping that the curtain would go down. The alternative to them dropping 20 feet was for me to go get a manager to get a ladder (assuming they could hold on that long, which was doubtful) but then they'd be caught red-handed. Me as well. I told them they just had to drop.
Dennis went first. It looked like it hurt. He walked it off, but I could see the pain on his face. Then Burt. His feet hit the tiled floor and went forward, his butt crushing a board that ran along the bottom of the black masking below the screen. Limping and bruised, Burt and Dennis were off the curtain now, but we had another show that night and the curtain was a quarter of the way down. I kept trying the switch but the curtain was dead.
I called Mary and told her that for some reason the curtain in house 6 was malfunctioning. They had to cancel the last show of the night.
The next day, Dom and I worked the opening shift. Mary told us they were bringing in a technician from out of town to fix the curtain. Dom and I went into house 6 and crawled under the screen to look at the curtain motor. While checking it out, we found a circuit breaker reset button and pressed it. I ran up to the booth and tried the switch. The curtain went up all the way.
We told Mary that we fixed the curtain. We weren't quite the heroes that we'd hoped we'd be, but she was grateful that she could cancel the technician. Best of all, our secret was still safe. The last thing we wanted was some smart-pant technician telling her that the only thing to trip the circuit breaker would be pesky kids riding on the curtain.
We still rode the curtain after that incident. But never two at a time.
I worked at Citrus Cinemas till I left for Gainesville to go to college, a total of about 14 months. So many fond memories, though the assistant manager Jack nearly drove me insane. It was a good lesson in working for people who treat you poorly.
Needless to say, I saw a lot of movies in those 14 months.
1 comment:
That was cool. I am sitting at my computer with Smoky on my lap (he always does this when I am on the computer). He is such a dear.
Post a Comment