Saturday Movie Marathon - Yorkville 1952

I was talking with my friend, Denny Ferado, about our childhood Yorkville movie going experiences. Mine in the 1960s, his in the 1950s. My favorite memories took place at RKO throwing ourselves down the giant horseshoe staircase, playing hide and go seek in RKO's cave like basement ( the Men's room urinals were so large you could hide in them) and buying 5 cent candy including Pom Poms, Milk Duds & Root Beer Barrels.

Denny's favorite memory was Saturday marathons at the Gracie Square Theatre with fine home cooking. Here's Denny's story:

Designed by the same man who designed the Gallo Opera House (later became Studio 54) and which was built during the same time as the original Park Lane theater that stood on the northeast corner of 89th Street and First Avenue in the Yorkville section of Manhattan. It was a bigger version of his Italian Renaissance Opera House. His name was Eugene DeRosa and It was the largest theater ever built east of Third Avenueon Manhattan’s Upper East Side.

The Park Lane first opened its doors on February 17, 1927 with the comedy “Lunatic at Large,” starring Leon Errol and Dorothy Mackaill with a self-produced revue with dancers, singers and a symphony-sized orchestra conducted by Julius Meyer. There were also recitals by the Park Lane’s Wurlitzer organist. It was purchased by the Brandt family in 1938 and around 1946/1947 underwent a name change to The Gracie Square Theater.Because it was too close to the 86th Street theaters, it did not qualify for first-run movies so the Gracie Square began to show double bills of second-run foreign anddomestic movies. Along with a double bill you’d get news reels, sports, shorts, a few serials and, what seemed to me at the time, a hundred cartoons.

Once you were inside you were there for the entire day. It was, at least, a five or six-hour day, and, you could come out of there with a new wardrobe. All you had to do was tell the usher that you left your gloves, hat or coat on your seat the previous Saturday. He’d say “Follow me” and he’d take you behind the scenes to the lost clothing room where you could look through three gigantic boxes of jackets, sweaters, hats, gloves scarves and goulashes. All items left behind on the seats. Whenever I went into that room with the hope of finding something new, it was always a madhouse. On any Saturday you might find 5 to 10 kids flying around back there, rummaging through the boxes and yanking articles away from one another as we argued over the better finds. Since the boxes were taller than most of us they were usually lying on their sides with the spoils spilled out all over the floor. If you were fast enough you could walk out of there looking like a kid from Park Avenue. So what if you weren’t color-coordinated, you could pick up a hat or a pair of gloves that your family could never afford to buy you. The Gracie Square Theater was kid-friendly.

During viewing there might be a baby or two crying, a peashooter fight taking place in the upper balcony, a wrestling match going on in the center isle mezzanine, a group of guys ten rows above a group of girls and throwing pieces of candy at their heads and the girls shouting out warnings for them to stop. All of this activity happening at the same time. Like a spirited horse revels in freedom these young mares and colts reveled in their Saturday afternoons at the movie house.

We were all young (mostly ten and eleven) and loud in 1952 and 1953 during those summers when my parents would take us, usually seven or eight, on Saturdays, to the Gracie Square Theater for a days outing. My lucky friends who spent those long Saturday afternoons with my parents were: Paddy Dougherty, Ronnie and Jay O’Neill, Tommy Dowd, Jimmy Whalen, Billy Auger and Kenny Loonan. The big payoff came when we reached the halfway point after we had been building up an appetite for a couple of hours. Mom and dad would start to unload the beach bags we had all helped carry along with us. She’d lift out her big pot of spaghetti, take the lid off and the entire 2,012 seat theater would fill up with the smell of meatballs.

My father would hold out the ‘unbreakable’ Melmac plates, one at a time and mom would fill them with food. The first one got passed down along the line to the last kid until we all had a plate of spaghetti, a giant meatball and a fork. Dad would take the lid off our Coca Cola cooler filled with sodas and start sending them down the line. Then, you could hear us, 8 kids slurping up spaghetti through our lips and teeth with lots of “Ahhhs” and “Mmmms” and “Thanks Mom” being whispered along the line. This made mom and dad very happy because we were all getting a good meal and not just “filling your stomachs up with junk!” After dinner everything was passed back the other way and repacked to be returned home and washed by my mother. Then pop would pull out his thermos and he and mom would slide off their shoes, relax and have their coffee. Then I’d hear her whisper to my father:

“Dominick, did they all eat?”

“Yes, Marg, They all ate.” The next quiet moment on the screen I’d hear Mom gently snoring.

story by Dennis Ferado