"The Edgewood Drive-in is closing. Tonight is its last night." The news hit like a hammer. It was like being told that a friend was on death's door. Not the Edgewood! Not the beautiful Edgewood! It was like a huge chunk of my adolescence was being obliterated.
Reflections After Dark, Memories of the Drive-In by John Gilbert
Final Chapter 7
The summer of 1973 I went to work at the Liberty Theater It was a predominately Black theater with its share of Black exploitation films. The manager was one Freddie Brown. My first day on the job was to train. The liberty always opened at 5:00 PM and closed at 11:00 PM. To make sure that the film was over at 11:00, I would have to back time the 6 hours the theater was open. That meant that I might have to start 12 minutes into reel 4 to come out at exactly 11:00.
I liked the Liberty. It was small and had a tiny concession and a balcony. The booth was small and dark. It was hot in the summer and cold in the winter but it was my booth. This was my dream and it had come true. The Liberty had one of the best projected pictures I have ever seen in any theater. It was sharp and bright. There was only one drawback. Freddie Brown didn't like me. He had an entire list of grievances drawn up against me and they were given to the projectionist union. I got called on the carpet at one union meeting and asked about a only a couple of items on the long list. They said not to worry, that all of the operators at the Liberty get written up.
I had many experiences at the Liberty but that's another story for another time. In spite of Mr. Brown I worked at the Liberty until January 1st, 1974, the day it closed. I caught relief at the drive-ins as I looked for another job. I bounced from job to job until the summer of 1974 when I landed a job at WRBL-Radio. I was hired as the FM Operator. That was a fancy title for someone who plugged tapes into the automation system. I worked from 8:00 PM till sign off.
Columbus was notorious for low salaries and WRBL was no different. WRBL was a great place to learn, however. I learned how the production room worked and how to put on a radio show. In just a few weeks I had mastered the automation equipment and was even voicing commercials. I found new ways to produce programs and I could even fix damaged records.
 One day I got a call to catch relief at the Edgewood for the upcoming weekend. Several of the older operators had retired and there were still a few openings in spite of several theater closings. I arrived at the Edgewood in the late afternoon on Friday. I hadn't been to the theater since daddy retired. It looked somehow different. I pulled up next to the box-office and parked just as Harold Bishop had done so many times. The office door was open and the manager was inside. I stopped at the open door and introduced myself. The manager was a young fellow with platinum blond hair. He spoke with a bit of a lisp and gave me a limp handshake. He gave me the key to the booth and I then drove to the concession. Though I had seen this building a thousand times, it was like looking at it anew. I knew every step that led to the booth but it was different this time. The booth looked as it always did but Harold wasn't there. He had gone to work for an auto parts place due to lack of work. The Liberty had closed as well as the Rialto and the Georgia. Now there was talk of the Bradley closing. The new shopping mall theaters were now automated and could be run by the managers. The job that I had so longed for was now being phased out. Harold's stool was in its proper place in front of the rewind table. It was from that stool that he had told me so many tales. There were the projectors where Harold had opened the lamp house to charge our glowing monster costumes. This is where I had made my first changeover on a foggy night. I flipped on the switches and the fans and blowers came to life. The huge tubes in the amplifier began to glow blue. I threaded the first two reels on the two projectors and with thirty minutes to go, I started the pre-movie music tape. I expected to hear old Ben Parsons but I was totally stunned by what came out of the speaker. Some guy was doing the worst Wolfman Jack impression that I had ever heard. Then screaming guitars started playing. Now I've always liked classical music and this stuff hurt my ears.
With the show ready I left the booth and went to the concession. I introduced myself to the concession manager and told him that my father used to manage this theater. During the course of the conversation Smitty's name came up. It seems that Smitty was given a drive-in theater to manage in south Georgia. Once again money came up missing and this time he was caught red handed with theater money in his pocket and was fired on the spot.
I don't remember what the movie was that Friday night but I do remember that something had to be done about that pre-movie music tape. On Saturday I stopped by WRBL-Radio and grabbed up an armload of records. I headed for the production studio and set to work making my own pre-show tape. I ran popular music and added in a few pre-recorded comic bits for good measure. That evening I was again at the Edgewood but this time with my new tape. I didn't want to tell anyone for fear the manager might not let me play it. With 30 minutes to go I rolled the tape. Out of the speaker came a peppy little tune which was called "Peppy Time Tune." Then came my voice welcoming everyone to the Edgewood Drive-in Theater. I invited everyone to drop by the concession while we still had "28 minutes before the big show hits the big screen tonight." I had heard hundreds of Ben Parson's pre-movie tapes over the years and I was following in his footsteps. There was little to do during those thirty minutes so I again made my way to the concession. In a few minutes the theater's manager came in.
"Thank you so much for changing that tape," he said handing me a limp wrist.
"Yeah, I knocked that out this afternoon," I informed him.
"It's so much better than that crap we've been running. How much would you charge to do more tapes?" he asked.
"I dunno. I've never done one of these before." I shrugged.
"How about ten dollars a week?" he suggested.
I told him that, that would be fine and with that, I was in the tape making business. Word traveled fast. In a week I was approached by the projectionist of the Victory Drive-in about making tapes for them as well. I was catching relief at the Victory the next week and took their tape to them. Mrs. Shields, the owners wife, was delighted with their tape. She asked me to put "Tie a Yellow ‘Round the Old Oak Tree' on the next tape which I promptly did. My venture was short lived. The drive-ins began to close one by one.
It wasn't lack of attendance that closed the drive-ins but property values. In their day the drive-ins were located on the outskirts of most towns on the cheap property. As the towns grew they expanded toward the drive-ins and property values skyrocketed. A drive-in takes a minimum of 15 acres and soon the owners couldn't pay the huge tax bills. It was better to sell out and cut your losses. Drive-ins were simply taxed to death.
After two years at WRBL-Radio, I met a very pretty girl named Angie. Angie worked with my sister in the Atlanta area and my sister set us up on a blind date. Soon Angie and I were seeing a lot of each other and I began to look for a job near her. I found a job and a duplex to rent and made the 100 mile move. It was the first time I had been away from home and I found it very lonely. I had been in East Point, GA for three months when I got a call from my friend Beverly Suhr. John and Beverly Suhr were my best friends and WRBL News Anchor Dick McMichael was at their house. During the evening Dick had mentioned that he needed a news cameraman. Beverly was on the phone in an instant.
"John, Dick McMichael is here and he needs a cameraman," she spurted making the sentence into one long word. " Here, talk to Dick."
I was half asleep when Beverly called and Dick and I talked for a few minutes. I told him that I had worked in radio and he said that he remembered my name. He asked if I'd had any experience shooting film. I told him that I had shot plenty of 8 mm film and he said that there was really no difference. He instructed me to call him at the TV station the next afternoon at 3:00. I was now wide awake. All the next day at work I watched the clock. At three I made the call.
"Well, when would you like to start?" Dick asked.
"I ought to give my boss here a two weeks notice," I said trying to contain my excitement.
"All right, I'll see you in two weeks, " he said.
As I hung up the phone I was awestruck. In two weeks I would be a TV news photographer. I would get to run the 16 mm cameras. I put in my notice and called Angie and told her that I would be moving back to Columbus. She was disappointed but she knew that this would a good opportunity for me. I had asked her to marry me and we both knew that we would do better if she was away from her family.
WRBL-TV was better than a college education. Before long I was not only shooting film but reporting the news. Dick taught me to write news stories, edit film, and even how to be an on-air personality. It was fun to take an idea and turn it into a news story. Dick taught me how to find the "story angle."
One day one of my fellow reporters said that he had an item that I might be interested in.
"The Edgewood Drive-in is closing. Tonight is its last night."
The news hit like a hammer. It was like being told that a friend was on death's door. Not the Edgewood! Not the beautiful Edgewood! It was like a huge chunk of my adolescence was being obliterated.
That night I showed up at the Edgewood with camera in hand. I could at least do a story on the drive-ins closing. I photographed the box-office, the concession, and I made an attempt to photograph the dimly lit lot. I walked to the front of the screen and pointed my camera at the concession. I slowed the film speed down to lengthen the exposure time of each frame. I wanted to capture those shafts of light coming from the projection booth that I had seen all my life. After this night they would never emanate from those portholes again. I shot a few seconds of film and lowered my camera. I can only make a feeble attempt to describe the image that lay before me. I had seen this picture so many times, the concession outlined in blue and green lights, the light from the screen reflection off car windshields. The faint light that emanated from the concession windows and the ghostly sounds of 600 speakers all talking at once. The cool night air mixed with the fragrance of frying foods, warm asphalt, and car exhaust. Adding to the sounds of crunching gravel were he crickets were singing their nightly chorus and the mosquitos humming around my ears. It was all too much. It was the end of an era. By this time tomorrow the image that was burned into my mind would be only a memory. I had to leave.
I was in the news room the next day when salesman Art Lane came bounding into the news room.
"Who was at the Edgewood last night taking pictures?" he huffed.
"I did," I admitted.
"Get rid of them! Martin Theaters says that if we run them, they'll cancel all advertising."
I felt as though I had done something wrong. I took the film and put it in the back of my mail box. For the rest of the day I had a guilty feeling. Why was Art so upset? What did I do that was so wrong? I would soon find that someone in the theater company had something to hide.
Several times over the next few months I visited the abandoned drive-in. The speakers had been removed and even the glass had been taken from the concession windows to prevent breakage by vandals, I guess. The doors were locked but I climbed through the open window to have a look around the empty building. Only the main counter remained inside the concession. The cool winds of Autumn were blowing through the paneless windows. How much corn had I popped in this room? How many burgers and fries had I served? How many glass bottles of cola syrup had I poured into the drink tanks? But all that was gone. Now only empty windows looked out onto a blank screen that towered over a windswept lot. I climbed back out onto the concrete pad where gunslingers once put on a show. I walked around the building and down the ramp where I once rode my mini-bike. I climbed the stairs to the booth but it was locked. There were the sign boards where once I spelled out the concession's wares in glowing letters. I walked back to my truck and took one more glance around the lot. It was like visiting a grave and just as quiet.
As I slowly drove around the lot and made my way toward the exit I had a thought. What would it take to put the Edgewood back into operation? Could it be ready by Spring? I knew that the property was owned by Parkhill Cemetery and I wondered what they would want for rent. Since the cemetery office was just next door I pulled in and asked for Mr. Edge. He was very cordial and seemed open to the idea of renting the Edgewood property.
"What would you want us to do?" he asked.
Being young and inexperienced I had no answer. I told him that I would talk with a few friends and get back with him. I knew that it was pointless to pursue the idea any farther. I had no money.
Sometime later I heard that an attorney by the name of Martell Layfield and a group of fellow attorneys were looking into opening the Edgewood. Their plans were short-lived, however. The screen mysteriously burned. People like to tell news reporters things and I ran into a fellow who told me that he was paid to torch the Edgewood's screen. He was paid by the same person who had a lot to hide. Theater companies don't like competition.
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 So much time has passed since those days at the drive-in. Daddy lived to be 93 and passed away March 1st, 2004. Even in his old age, he was always putting on a show.
I guess I'm a sentential old fool. They say that smell is the sense most closely connected to memory. Every now and then I'll be in my yard in the waning hours of the afternoon as a summer's day draws to a close. The humidity will be just right and suddenly I'll catch a whiff of something frying, drifting on a gentle breeze. I close my eyes and breath in the fragrance and I'm instantly transported to the drive-in. For a wonderful moment the excitement returns. It is now twilight and the lot is filling up fast. The smell of popcorn mixed with frying hamburgers wafts across the lot. The rumble of automobiles with the accompanying sound of gravel crunching under tires again greet my ears. There are also the sounds of people moving toward the concession and others returning to their cars with trays of popcorn and soft drinks. I don't want to open my eyes. I want to be a boy again running up to greet the man with the huge ring of keys just to let everyone know that this is the manager and he's my dad.
This was the final chapter of Reflections After Dark, Memories of the Drive-In
by John Gilbert
John Gilbert and the staff of Columbus Georgia Online hopes you enjoyed this seven part series that has attracted attention nationally. DRIVEIN.com has picked up Johns DriveIn Series and has posted rave reveiws.
The Great Locomotive Caper by John Gilbert, Read the Preview !
John would like to hear from you. Please contact him with any comments, information or old pictures you may have about the Edgewood Drive In or your local Drive In. Don't be shy.
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John Gilbert > Reflections After Dark, Memories of the Drive-In 7