Ken, most likely, the same guy! Tall and slim – yes! But dour-looking? He didn’t strike me as such.
Anyway, Bud was a very good, efficient, manager; and as Century’s HQ was in the Community building, I viewed his eventual promotion to a larger, high profile, theater – such as the Queens, the Meadows, or the Kingsway – as a given.
When I knew him (and later, his stepdaughter Linda), he was living in Brooklyn (Carroll Gardens) on Butler Street – directly across the street from St. Francis College (which I attended from ‘55 to '57, before transferring to Pace at night).
By chance, do you remember the name of the Community’s manager when you were there?
About the time I left Century (Summer ‘57), I was also breaking up with the stepdaughter of Bud Hansen, the Community’s manager. I’ve often wondered whatever happened to him (and her).
Wagnerian? Hammersteinian? More likely Frankensteinian!!
I didn’t remember her name, but you’ve accurately described her. Immortal? Naah! Formaldehyde ran in her veins, which accounts for the grey skin (think of the corpses at Stutzmann’s). She had been resuscitated by Dr. Josef Mengele.
You might possibly have known my brother George; although (I think) he graduated in ‘59. Steve and Tim followed a few years later.
My wife and I were married there September 3rd, 1960. I literally married “the girl next door (89-11)!”
During matinees, the right third was the Children’s section; complete, of course, with the ugliest matrons in the world, with dispositions to match!! One was a spitting – excuse me, barfing – image of Bloody Mary in South Pacific.
If you qualified for a children’s ticket, and was unaccompanied by an adult, you had to sit in that section, and be out of the theater by 7:00 PM! Maybe the rules, or the age limit, changed when you were there.
If the cops later migrated to the balcony, perhaps it was to watch Dorothy “make out…”
Where on 249th? 89-09, second house behind the frozen custard stand on Jamaica Avenue. As my deceased mother’s executor, I sold the house just 18 months ago. It’s been completely rebuilt by the new owners.
I spent my first 3 ½ school years (K-3A) in PS 133. Living south of the Creedmoor track, we were then “zoned out” of 133, and had to travel to 33. By September, 1950, the east wing of PS 133 was open. With but one year to go (i.e., 8th grade), I was allowed to choose between 33 and 133. I chose to stay at 33. Two of my brothers were forced to return to 133. My youngest siblings all went to St. Greg’s.
My wife still has a cousin living around the corner from where you had lived: 85-40 247th!
So it was YOUR dad who would occasionally sack out in the last row of the orchestra, outside the manager’s office (chuckle).
Seriously, the cop on the beat was always quite welcome; especially with the explosion of Rock-n-Roll and “Beach” movies in the mid-‘50’s. The teenagers would sometimes get out-of-hand; and then we’d put the cop to work (as only he’d know how…, heh, heh)!
BTW, although I lived in Bellerose (249th Street), I spent 5 ½ years at PS 33 – across the street from the 105th Precinct.
I remember the luncheonette quite well. After having seen a typical double-bill once or twice, taking my “breaks” (as an usher) inside the theater became rather boring. Consequently, I was in the luncheonette quite often.
Also, I was dating the sister of a fellow usher at the time (‘53-'55), and often met her in the luncheonette.
The ground (main) floor is called the orchestra. The “upper lobby area” is called the mezzanine. After you go through the passageways from the mezzanine, you went DOWN into the loge, or UP into the balcony.
The loge in the Floral only had about three rows of seats; but they were the best seats in the house, especially with the advent of CinemaScope. You would view the screen looking straight ahead – neither up (from the orchestra) nor down; and – unlike the first few balcony rows – you had no one walking in front of you! So you really felt you were part of the action on the screen.
As I recall, loge seats cost about a quarter more; and could be purchased at the boxoffice, or from an usher(ette) assigned to loge/balcony duty. Needless to say, part of our job as ushers was to make sure that all loge patrons were properly ticketed.
Anyway, if the passageways were chained, then the Loge had to be closed.
As for the restrooms, in the Floral and Queens, they were located only on the mezzanines. RCDTJ, you had your own potty in the projection booth (chuckle).
Having worked in the Floral (‘53-'55) and the Queens ('55-'58), I can assure you that the attitude of the Matrons off-duty was equal to that on-duty! I suspect that the more sour they were, the more likely they would be hired!
RCDTJ,
Your comment about the closed balcony is interesting. Was the Loge also closed?
Actually the Floral Park problem is much worse: The City/County line runs diagonally from southwest to northeast, cutting right through residential blocks, plots, and homes!
Re the projectionists, that kind of accommodation between locals was common – sometimes mandated from above!
E.g., when the Sperry plant in Lake Success was built (1941), IBEW Local 3 had insisted on representing the electricians; notwithstanding the fact that Nassau County was Local 25 territory. Local 3’s weight carried the day; and it remained unchanged until the plant was shut down a few years ago.
As for the Floral, I don’t know; even though I started my five year Century “career” there!
To all of you guys hung up on the location of the Bellerose Theater, be advised that there are actually THREE (3) communities named “Bellerose:”
“Bellerose-Queens” – All of the area NORTH of Jamaica Ave/Jericho Tnpk, from Gettysburg Street to Little Neck Pkwy;
“Village of Bellerose” (Incorporated) – SOUTH of Jamaica Ave/Jericho Tnpk (i.e., Nassau County), and EAST of Colonial Road;
“Bellerose Terrace” – An unincorporated hamlet of the Town of Hempstead, SOUTH of Jamaica Ave/Jericho Tnpk (i.e., Nassau County), and WEST of Colonial Road.
As one who grew up in Bellerose, I can assure you that the theater is actually located in Bellerose Terrace (Nassau County). As for the street name, irrespective of how individual merchants wished to list their locations, the north (Queens County) side was customarily called “Jamaica Avenue,” and the south (Nassau County) side was customarily called “Jericho Turnpike.”
BTW, “Jericho Turnpike” is, in fact, the older name! As a toll road in the mid-1800’s, the name existed all the way to Jamaica. Later on, still as a toll road, the section to (what is now) Queens Village was paved with wood planks, and became know as the “Jamaica Plank Road.” The term “Jericho Turnpike” disappeared around the year 1898, when Nassau County was split from Queens with the creation of present-day New York City.
Ken, according to a good friend (the organist in my own parish, who first told me of this website), the organ went to Chaminade High School in Mineola.
Robbie, my organist-friend also confirms what you said about the “churchy” tone of the Austins.
Dorothy, I’m glad I didn’t ask… (“Dorothy, those are NOT mouse droppings; that’s the new peppercorn-flavored popcorn!”)
Ken – Yes, the music normally came from the booth. But there was an override switch on the manager’s office wall at eye level above the turntable. That turntable was the one I used. My LPs were played only while I was in the theater. I wouldn’t allow anyone, even Sy, to touch them.
BTW, the PA system (over which intermission music played) utilized a different (smaller) set of speakers from those used for the film sound tracks. Every once in awhile, the projectionist would forget to turn off the PA music as the film began. Thus, the override switch was our means of shutting off the music.
Dorothy – You’ve raised an interesting issue – I remember occasional mice in the theater (inevitable due to food scraps and chewing gum left by patrons). Unsold candy, of course, was removed from the stand during the nightly inventory, and locked in rodent-proof cabinets.
Ken or Dorothy, what was done with the bags of pre-popped corn, when penetrated by mice? Or shouldn’t I ask (gag, barf)??
I remember the ushers' room very well. But sharing it with bags of popcorn?? That’s disgusting!
In my five years with Century, all popcorn was REALLY fresh-popped. And for a small premium (I don’t recall how much) the container of popcorn was then sprayed with freshly melted butter and sprinkled with extra salt.
Part of my job as Chief of Service was to fill in as others took scheduled breaks. This included the Children’s Matron, the Doorman, and the Refreshment Stand Matron. Consequently, I occasionally made, and served, the popcorn. To this day, whenever I smell freshly popped popcorn, my thoughts drift back almost 50 years…
That “clunky metal door” and the asbestos fire curtain suspended above the stage (immediately in front of the main curtain) were, of course, part of the fire containment system dating back to the Vaudeville days (late-20’s). That ebony switchboard, with its myriad of switches and huge dimmers, was a beauty. I often tinkered with the dimmers during intermissions to subtly vary the colored lights playing on the main curtain.
Speaking of intermissions, I tired rather quickly of the typical “elevator music” played. As I had (still have) a rather large collection of “sound track” and “musicals” (e.g., Picnic, Guys & Dolls, Giant, etc.), I prevailed on Sy Samuels to allow me to bring in, and play, some of those LPs; particularly when the music neatly fit with a current or future billing. Other times I played classical music, especially Baroque, and got a lot of good comments from some of our patrons.
I too was a smoker; but I don’t ever remember doing it “on the sneak.” I DO recall, however, that smoking in full uniform (i.e., with jacket on) was strictly forbidden. As I hated those white dickies, I normally wore my own white shirt, and simply took my jacket off when on break.
Ken – Yes indeed, I remember that vertical ladder to the projection booth.
On rare occasions I had to schlep those heavy lead cannisters of 35mm film – a holdover from the nitrate film days – to the top of the balcony. I’d then climb the ladder and summon the projectionist to get them up into the booth.
I have a vague recollection of a rope hoist for the cannisters… Do you recall?
Having worked as a usher at the Floral from 1953 to 1955, I strongly disagree with the “loser” comment. The theater did well and made money! Yes, it shared simultaneous billings with Century’s Queens (Queens Village) and Meadows (Fresh Meadows) theaters, but always had good crowds on Friday through Sunday evenings. And for an especially good film, SRO was the norm. Frankly, I never saw as few as six patrons in the theater, even on a weekday afternoon.
Having started as an usher in Century’s Floral Theater (Floral Park) in 1953, I transferred to the Queens as “Chief of Service (Head Usher)” in 1955; working there for three years under Manager Sy Samuels and his assistant, Art Ringfield. Ken, at $1.15 you were lucky! I made $0.85 an hour in 1955, rising to $1.00 when I left in 1958. Bess, your brother’s friend was pretty lucky. Any usher foolish enough to open an emergency exit to let someone in free was summarily fired. Particularly dumb was to do it during the day. Opening ANY of those doors would instantly flood the entire theater with light. Nevertheless, they were great days… if you didn’t mind seeing the same movie for 20 to 25 times!
As I wrote my earlier response, I had a somewhat opposite thought:
I wondered if he got dour because I dumped his stepdaughter…
Ken, most likely, the same guy! Tall and slim – yes! But dour-looking? He didn’t strike me as such.
Anyway, Bud was a very good, efficient, manager; and as Century’s HQ was in the Community building, I viewed his eventual promotion to a larger, high profile, theater – such as the Queens, the Meadows, or the Kingsway – as a given.
When I knew him (and later, his stepdaughter Linda), he was living in Brooklyn (Carroll Gardens) on Butler Street – directly across the street from St. Francis College (which I attended from ‘55 to '57, before transferring to Pace at night).
Annie,
By chance, do you remember the name of the Community’s manager when you were there?
About the time I left Century (Summer ‘57), I was also breaking up with the stepdaughter of Bud Hansen, the Community’s manager. I’ve often wondered whatever happened to him (and her).
Ken,
Wagnerian? Hammersteinian? More likely Frankensteinian!!
I didn’t remember her name, but you’ve accurately described her. Immortal? Naah! Formaldehyde ran in her veins, which accounts for the grey skin (think of the corpses at Stutzmann’s). She had been resuscitated by Dr. Josef Mengele.
You might possibly have known my brother George; although (I think) he graduated in ‘59. Steve and Tim followed a few years later.
My wife and I were married there September 3rd, 1960. I literally married “the girl next door (89-11)!”
During matinees, the right third was the Children’s section; complete, of course, with the ugliest matrons in the world, with dispositions to match!! One was a spitting – excuse me, barfing – image of Bloody Mary in South Pacific.
If you qualified for a children’s ticket, and was unaccompanied by an adult, you had to sit in that section, and be out of the theater by 7:00 PM! Maybe the rules, or the age limit, changed when you were there.
If the cops later migrated to the balcony, perhaps it was to watch Dorothy “make out…”
Where on 249th? 89-09, second house behind the frozen custard stand on Jamaica Avenue. As my deceased mother’s executor, I sold the house just 18 months ago. It’s been completely rebuilt by the new owners.
I spent my first 3 ½ school years (K-3A) in PS 133. Living south of the Creedmoor track, we were then “zoned out” of 133, and had to travel to 33. By September, 1950, the east wing of PS 133 was open. With but one year to go (i.e., 8th grade), I was allowed to choose between 33 and 133. I chose to stay at 33. Two of my brothers were forced to return to 133. My youngest siblings all went to St. Greg’s.
My wife still has a cousin living around the corner from where you had lived: 85-40 247th!
Ken,
So it was YOUR dad who would occasionally sack out in the last row of the orchestra, outside the manager’s office (chuckle).
Seriously, the cop on the beat was always quite welcome; especially with the explosion of Rock-n-Roll and “Beach” movies in the mid-‘50’s. The teenagers would sometimes get out-of-hand; and then we’d put the cop to work (as only he’d know how…, heh, heh)!
BTW, although I lived in Bellerose (249th Street), I spent 5 ½ years at PS 33 – across the street from the 105th Precinct.
I remember the luncheonette quite well. After having seen a typical double-bill once or twice, taking my “breaks” (as an usher) inside the theater became rather boring. Consequently, I was in the luncheonette quite often.
Also, I was dating the sister of a fellow usher at the time (‘53-'55), and often met her in the luncheonette.
RCDTJ,
Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I’ve been in NJ for the last 36 hours, for a wake and funeral.
You are correct on both the steps in the Floral passageways, and the loge location.
In the Queens, the passageways were lengthier, and had fewer steps.
Guys,
The ground (main) floor is called the orchestra. The “upper lobby area” is called the mezzanine. After you go through the passageways from the mezzanine, you went DOWN into the loge, or UP into the balcony.
The loge in the Floral only had about three rows of seats; but they were the best seats in the house, especially with the advent of CinemaScope. You would view the screen looking straight ahead – neither up (from the orchestra) nor down; and – unlike the first few balcony rows – you had no one walking in front of you! So you really felt you were part of the action on the screen.
As I recall, loge seats cost about a quarter more; and could be purchased at the boxoffice, or from an usher(ette) assigned to loge/balcony duty. Needless to say, part of our job as ushers was to make sure that all loge patrons were properly ticketed.
Anyway, if the passageways were chained, then the Loge had to be closed.
As for the restrooms, in the Floral and Queens, they were located only on the mezzanines. RCDTJ, you had your own potty in the projection booth (chuckle).
Zjoe/RobertR,
Having worked in the Floral (‘53-'55) and the Queens ('55-'58), I can assure you that the attitude of the Matrons off-duty was equal to that on-duty! I suspect that the more sour they were, the more likely they would be hired!
RCDTJ,
Your comment about the closed balcony is interesting. Was the Loge also closed?
RCDTJ-
Actually the Floral Park problem is much worse: The City/County line runs diagonally from southwest to northeast, cutting right through residential blocks, plots, and homes!
Re the projectionists, that kind of accommodation between locals was common – sometimes mandated from above!
E.g., when the Sperry plant in Lake Success was built (1941), IBEW Local 3 had insisted on representing the electricians; notwithstanding the fact that Nassau County was Local 25 territory. Local 3’s weight carried the day; and it remained unchanged until the plant was shut down a few years ago.
As for the Floral, I don’t know; even though I started my five year Century “career” there!
To all of you guys hung up on the location of the Bellerose Theater, be advised that there are actually THREE (3) communities named “Bellerose:”
“Bellerose-Queens” – All of the area NORTH of Jamaica Ave/Jericho Tnpk, from Gettysburg Street to Little Neck Pkwy;
“Village of Bellerose” (Incorporated) – SOUTH of Jamaica Ave/Jericho Tnpk (i.e., Nassau County), and EAST of Colonial Road;
“Bellerose Terrace” – An unincorporated hamlet of the Town of Hempstead, SOUTH of Jamaica Ave/Jericho Tnpk (i.e., Nassau County), and WEST of Colonial Road.
As one who grew up in Bellerose, I can assure you that the theater is actually located in Bellerose Terrace (Nassau County). As for the street name, irrespective of how individual merchants wished to list their locations, the north (Queens County) side was customarily called “Jamaica Avenue,” and the south (Nassau County) side was customarily called “Jericho Turnpike.”
BTW, “Jericho Turnpike” is, in fact, the older name! As a toll road in the mid-1800’s, the name existed all the way to Jamaica. Later on, still as a toll road, the section to (what is now) Queens Village was paved with wood planks, and became know as the “Jamaica Plank Road.” The term “Jericho Turnpike” disappeared around the year 1898, when Nassau County was split from Queens with the creation of present-day New York City.
Ken, according to a good friend (the organist in my own parish, who first told me of this website), the organ went to Chaminade High School in Mineola.
Robbie, my organist-friend also confirms what you said about the “churchy” tone of the Austins.
Dorothy, I’m glad I didn’t ask… (“Dorothy, those are NOT mouse droppings; that’s the new peppercorn-flavored popcorn!”)
Ken – Yes, the music normally came from the booth. But there was an override switch on the manager’s office wall at eye level above the turntable. That turntable was the one I used. My LPs were played only while I was in the theater. I wouldn’t allow anyone, even Sy, to touch them.
BTW, the PA system (over which intermission music played) utilized a different (smaller) set of speakers from those used for the film sound tracks. Every once in awhile, the projectionist would forget to turn off the PA music as the film began. Thus, the override switch was our means of shutting off the music.
Dorothy – You’ve raised an interesting issue – I remember occasional mice in the theater (inevitable due to food scraps and chewing gum left by patrons). Unsold candy, of course, was removed from the stand during the nightly inventory, and locked in rodent-proof cabinets.
Ken or Dorothy, what was done with the bags of pre-popped corn, when penetrated by mice? Or shouldn’t I ask (gag, barf)??
I remember the ushers' room very well. But sharing it with bags of popcorn?? That’s disgusting!
In my five years with Century, all popcorn was REALLY fresh-popped. And for a small premium (I don’t recall how much) the container of popcorn was then sprayed with freshly melted butter and sprinkled with extra salt.
Part of my job as Chief of Service was to fill in as others took scheduled breaks. This included the Children’s Matron, the Doorman, and the Refreshment Stand Matron. Consequently, I occasionally made, and served, the popcorn. To this day, whenever I smell freshly popped popcorn, my thoughts drift back almost 50 years…
That “clunky metal door” and the asbestos fire curtain suspended above the stage (immediately in front of the main curtain) were, of course, part of the fire containment system dating back to the Vaudeville days (late-20’s). That ebony switchboard, with its myriad of switches and huge dimmers, was a beauty. I often tinkered with the dimmers during intermissions to subtly vary the colored lights playing on the main curtain.
Speaking of intermissions, I tired rather quickly of the typical “elevator music” played. As I had (still have) a rather large collection of “sound track” and “musicals” (e.g., Picnic, Guys & Dolls, Giant, etc.), I prevailed on Sy Samuels to allow me to bring in, and play, some of those LPs; particularly when the music neatly fit with a current or future billing. Other times I played classical music, especially Baroque, and got a lot of good comments from some of our patrons.
I too was a smoker; but I don’t ever remember doing it “on the sneak.” I DO recall, however, that smoking in full uniform (i.e., with jacket on) was strictly forbidden. As I hated those white dickies, I normally wore my own white shirt, and simply took my jacket off when on break.
Ahh, the memories…
Ken – Yes indeed, I remember that vertical ladder to the projection booth.
On rare occasions I had to schlep those heavy lead cannisters of 35mm film – a holdover from the nitrate film days – to the top of the balcony. I’d then climb the ladder and summon the projectionist to get them up into the booth.
I have a vague recollection of a rope hoist for the cannisters… Do you recall?
Having worked as a usher at the Floral from 1953 to 1955, I strongly disagree with the “loser” comment. The theater did well and made money! Yes, it shared simultaneous billings with Century’s Queens (Queens Village) and Meadows (Fresh Meadows) theaters, but always had good crowds on Friday through Sunday evenings. And for an especially good film, SRO was the norm. Frankly, I never saw as few as six patrons in the theater, even on a weekday afternoon.
Having started as an usher in Century’s Floral Theater (Floral Park) in 1953, I transferred to the Queens as “Chief of Service (Head Usher)” in 1955; working there for three years under Manager Sy Samuels and his assistant, Art Ringfield. Ken, at $1.15 you were lucky! I made $0.85 an hour in 1955, rising to $1.00 when I left in 1958. Bess, your brother’s friend was pretty lucky. Any usher foolish enough to open an emergency exit to let someone in free was summarily fired. Particularly dumb was to do it during the day. Opening ANY of those doors would instantly flood the entire theater with light. Nevertheless, they were great days… if you didn’t mind seeing the same movie for 20 to 25 times!