I worked as an usher at them Hempstead for a couple of years a teenager in the early 70’s. Many memories. It was an impressive structure, though falling apart by the time I got there. There was an old dressing room in the basement with a long row of mirrors, as if for the chorus people Upstairs, on either side of the stage, there were spiral staircases that had private dressing rooms off them, for the headliners, I suppose. During my tenure, the theatre went through several incarnations: black exploitation films, second run films, even a brief (but memorable) porn period. One summer day, the manager went out for a while and stupidly left me in charge. After a while, a patron came out from the theater to say it was smokey inside. Indeed it was: a fire in the basement! I went through the basement to explore (like I said, stupid) and only got far enough to close the fire doors on my way back out. Then I called the fire department. By this time, the smoke in the theater was thick, but the patrons stuck to their seats. I ran up to the projectionist, who had no idea what was happening (he was so old—so it seemed to me—that he probably couldn’t see much anyway) and told him to tun off the film. Then I ran down to the stage and announced that if they would please follow me to the lobby, I’d give everyone a free pass. The fire department had things under control quickly: the fire was from the belts on the air conditioner compressor. No big deal, really. I’ll never forget how people stayed in their seats, even though it was becoming difficult to see the screen. Must have been a porn film with a really excellent sound track.
I worked as an usher at them Hempstead for a couple of years a teenager in the early 70’s. Many memories. It was an impressive structure, though falling apart by the time I got there. There was an old dressing room in the basement with a long row of mirrors, as if for the chorus people Upstairs, on either side of the stage, there were spiral staircases that had private dressing rooms off them, for the headliners, I suppose. During my tenure, the theatre went through several incarnations: black exploitation films, second run films, even a brief (but memorable) porn period. One summer day, the manager went out for a while and stupidly left me in charge. After a while, a patron came out from the theater to say it was smokey inside. Indeed it was: a fire in the basement! I went through the basement to explore (like I said, stupid) and only got far enough to close the fire doors on my way back out. Then I called the fire department. By this time, the smoke in the theater was thick, but the patrons stuck to their seats. I ran up to the projectionist, who had no idea what was happening (he was so old—so it seemed to me—that he probably couldn’t see much anyway) and told him to tun off the film. Then I ran down to the stage and announced that if they would please follow me to the lobby, I’d give everyone a free pass. The fire department had things under control quickly: the fire was from the belts on the air conditioner compressor. No big deal, really. I’ll never forget how people stayed in their seats, even though it was becoming difficult to see the screen. Must have been a porn film with a really excellent sound track.