Chapter 4
INDIANA JONES
 Day after day, night after night, we cleaned the theater. I became an expert plumber, electrician, carpenter, painter, janitor, mason, glazier, manager, and promoter. Many nights I couldn't go to work at Columbus Photo because I was so tired from working all day at the theater.
On March the 9th John Smallshaf came down to help. We were removing some torn drapery from the lobby that vandals had torn away from the walls while the theater had been vacant. Behind the draperies was a painted mural depicting the seven stages of the theater, from ancient Greece to the modern cinema. The mural had been covered over during a remodeling project in 1962.
 We decided to remove all of the coverings and expose the entire mural. After all, it had not been seen by the public in almost 20 years.
"According to the paper there used to be some bas reliefs on either side of the stage," said John. "I wonder if they are still there?"
"No," I answered, "All of that was removed in 1962 to 'modernize' the theater."
John wasn't satisfied. He went behind the stage and began to explore the brickwork behind the proscenium. After a short while he called me to the stage to see what he had found. About 15 feet up the wall the bricks were no longer arranged in a neat row but were in an irregular pattern supported by an iron bar gridwork.
"I think that's where the bas reliefs used to be," I suggested.
"Maybe it's still there, on the other side," he wondered.
"No. I'm sure it's gone," I insisted.
Undaunted by my skepticism John proceeded to an exit door where he promptly removed the top molding freeing the wall covering. As he pulled the drape away from the wall, twenty years worth of dust avalanched into John's face. He retreated from the dust cloud and waited for it to settle. In a moment, he returned with a flashlight and again pulled the drape from the wall.
"Hey, come look at this," he said as he shone his light into the darkness.
I looked to where his beam was focused on a cloth covering that had been nailed to the wall behind the drape.
"You know, you may be right. Something's up there," I said.
I went and found a ladder and shoved it under the drape and took the flashlight. Slowly I made my way up the ladder and through the choking dust. When I reached the bottom of the cloth I stopped and gave it a pull. It was so dry rotted that it tore with little effort. When I ripped the cloth there came another avalanche of dust. As I flipped the light on and pulled back the cloth I felt like Indiana Jones in "Raiders of the Lost Ark". As I pulled back the fabric I came face to face with a golden head. I could hardly catch my breath.
"It's still here!" I shouted.
 There in front of me was a dusty gold face with an evil scowl on its lip. As I shined the light around inside the cloth I could see a huge golden foot and the initials "F. W. Zimmer."
"Come down and let me take a look," John shouted.
"Yeah, I've got to call the newspaper about this," I exclaimed as I descended the ladder.
When I reached the phone I was so excited I could hardly speak. Though I wasn't making much sense the paper sent a photographer to take pictures of the thing we had found. When the photographer arrived we pulled the curtain away from the wall as far as we could but he wasn't able to get a good shot.
By the next afternoon I had removed the curtains from the reliefs. There turned out to be two reliefs, one on each side of the stage, a male and a female figure. I noticed dusty neon tubes were hanging inside the framing of the reliefs which reminded me that I had seen two old neon transformers in the basement. I fastened the tubes back in their places and fetched the transformers. I wired the transformers to the tubes and found an old dimmer back stage. I had found the old dimmer weeks before but it didn't do anything but now I speculated that it had been used for the neon. I gave the knob a turn and it began to hum. As I continued to turn the knob the tubes began to glow green. With the power up to full I ran to the back of the auditorium and turned around. It was breathtaking. After almost twenty years green light splashed across the gold foil surface. I left the lights on until the photographer arrived to take pictures and the photos were printed in the Thursday, March 16th edition of The Columbus Enquirer.
On March 20th, we held an auction in the theater. Pat Monroe had been cleaning the seats for the past two weeks and they were really looking good. I was glad that those attending the auction could sit in clean seats. The auction netted only about fourteen hundred dollars but at least we could make another month's rent.
 Two days later John Smalshaf and I moved his Simplex E-7 35MM. projectors to the theater. Talk about a job! We had kept the projector head and the sound head bolted together for fear if we took them apart we would mess up the alignment between the two heads. Together they weighed a couple of hundred pounds and we had to carry them up the stairs to the mezzanine, then up to the balcony. From the balcony each machine had to be carried up the balcony stairs to the booth. When we got the second machine to the booth we were exhausted. After a short rest I insisted that we go ahead and mount the projectors to their pedestals. The original pedestals and carbon arc lamphouses had been left in the booth when Plitt had closed the theater nearly six years earlier. Carbon arc was now obsolete but we couldn't afford the newer xenon lamps and besides, I had found a couple of boxes of carbon rods in the booth. I was sure that they would last until we could afford new lamps. (Carbon arc works much like welding. The rods burn with an electric arc producing a brilliant light.)
The next day I had wired power to the projector motors and trimmed the carbon rods in the lamps. I opened the curtains, struck the carbons, and turned on the motor. As I opened the dowser the screen was instantly filled with a pure white light. I knew what I had to do next. I turned off the motor and found a reel of film which I threaded into the projector. It was a reel of old drive-in intermission advertisements left over from my father's drive-in days. As I turned the motor back on there came the familiar clatter of the film running through the projector's gate. Opening the dowser brought goose bumps to my arms. For the first time in over five years a motion picture, larger than life and in full color, danced across the Bradley's screen. I stepped into the balcony to savor the moment.
"It shouldn't be too much of a problem to get the sound working," I thought.
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The sound would have to wait, however. John and Beverly Suhr had been to the Fox Theater in Atlanta where comedian Dave Gardner had been performing. Brother Dave, as he was called, had been a popular southern humorist in the 50's and 60's and was now attempting a comeback. After the show John and Beverly went backstage and introduced themselves to the ageing comedian and told him of the Save the Bradley project. He and his agent said that for a five thousand dollar guarantee they would come and do one show. John had called me to tell me of the offer and I couldn't see why we wouldn't make five thousand dollars off one show. (Keep in mind I am a dreamer.) |
Brother Dave |
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Gardener was to perform the evening of April 2nd and we set to work putting the theater in order. Angie and I cleaned out one of the small storage rooms backstage and made it into a dressing room. Gene Bunn from Holiday Furniture next door had loaned us a sofa and a standup full length mirror and with a fresh coat of paint and a carpet scrap on the floor, we had a proper dressing room.
 By the morning of April 2nd we had sold less than a hundred tickets. WVOC Radio had done an outstanding job of promoting the event and we had opened the box office several mornings prior but sales had been poor. At 4:00 in the afternoon scaffolding was still up in the lobby where last minute work was still being done. Caterers were bringing in food, musicians were setting up, and to my delight, bouquets of flowers were being delivered with well wishes from businesses around town. Later as things were being cleared away Brother Dave arrived and was escorted to his dressing room. By 7:30 there was a line from the ticket booth stretching down the block. The advertising had worked.
John Suhr played the piano as the audience filtered into the auditorium and at the appointed time left for the stage where he would serve as the Master of Ceremonies. At 8:00 I welcomed the audience and thanked them for coming as I had done so many times at Hollywood & Vine. I received a round of applause after I told the gathering that no tax money or bank money had gone into the building and that everything they had seen in the theater had been done with donations and volunteer efforts. Having finished my remarks the band struck up "RC Cola and a Moon Pie" Gardener's theme song. With cigarette in hand Brother Dave trotted onto the Bradley stage. Gardner went on to tell the stories that made him famous. There was "Little David and the Philadelphians", "Killer and Miss Baby", and a great deal of his zany and irreverent wit.
During the show I went to the office where Angie had counted the receipts.
"Well, we made the five thousand dollar guarantee," she said.
"That's great!" I smiled. "How much did we make all total?"
"Five thousand and four dollars."
I almost had a heart attack.
"You mean we only made four dollars?" I asked suddenly feeling sick at my stomach.
"Four dollars. That's it," said Angie showing me the paperwork.
It was now the second of April and the rent was due and I had told Mr. Huff that I would pay it out of the profits from the Gardner show. What a joke, four dollars!
"Tell you what I'm going to do," said Ed Joiner, Brother Dave's promoter, who had been going over Angie's paperwork. "What if we take four thousand and that will give you your rent money?"
I couldn't thank him enough. After all, he didn't have to do that. We had guaranteed him five thousand dollars and all the money was rightfully his. It just goes to show you, a few in the entertainment business do have a heart.
Brother Dave threw up his hand and wished everyone a good night then danced his way backstage as the band struck up "Oh When the Saints Go Marchin' In". John Suhr made his way to the microphone and announced that Brother Dave would be back on April 17th and was going to cut a tape for RCA Records. John said that Ed Joiner was so pleased with the acoustics in the Bradley that he thought that it would be the ideal hall to record Gardener's new comeback album. I was elated!
Things seemed to be going great. Brother Dave got a good review in the paper and a lady called to tell me that she had an old popcorn machine she wished to donate. I knew things were going to start coming my way. I was sure that people could now see that the Bradley would work.
I went to pick up the popcorn machine and found it under a tree in the lady's back yard. It had come in a lot she had purchased at an auction at Fort Benning. The kettle was full of rainwater, the warming bin full of wet leaves, and the motor was frozen up but I was sure I could get it working. I hauled it back to the theater and looked up the cost of the machine in my concession supply book. Wow! It had cost four thousand dollars new. If I could get it working what a blessing this would be. It took two days to clean the popper and I took the motor apart and got it working. By the next afternoon I had popped my first batch of corn. How wonderful the concession smelled as the aroma of popping corn filled the air. I was now ready for Brother Dave part 2.
Ed Joiner called on the 16th and said that Brother Dave had the flu and would have to cancel. We rescheduled the return engagement for May 7th. Little did I know then that May 7th was a disaster looking for a place to happen.
Chapter 5 "Let's Show A Movie" by John Gilbert, Columbus, Ga.
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John Gilbert > Save The Bradley 4