I worked as a weekend/summer usher at the Rideau from 1961 to 1965 while attending Rideau (of course) High School and Carleton University. At that time, the theatre was an “action house,†showing first-run double bills of westerns, comedies, war pictures, crime pictures, teen pictures and some horror and science fiction shows (although more of the last category ran at the Centre Theatre on Sparks Street, which played American-International’s product). The first James Bond movie, “Dr. No,†played the Rideau first-run on a double bill because the distributor saw it as just another action film. After its surprise success, subsequent Bond films played as single bills at “A†theatres, such as the Elgin. The first Beatles picture, “A Hard Day’s Night,†played first-run at the Rideau as a single bill, with advance sales of special, oversize souvenir tickets at the then-high price of $1. Fans lined up two days in advance. The Rideau also played many of director William Castle’s gimmicky horror movies. In “The House on Haunted Hill,†a glowing skeleton appeared to leave the screen and float over the audience, thanks to a pulley and wire that ran from the screen to the back of the balcony. For “The Tingler,†random seats were wired with low-voltage electricity, shocking unsuspecting audience members into jumping and shrieking at appropriate moments. At the climax of “Homicidal,†audiences got a one-minute “fright break†warning and then the house lights were cut, plunging them into screaming darkness as the horror played on. Manager Doug Pinder was a real showman who sometimes dressed the entire street-face of the theatre with elaborate false fronts promoting the show inside. I remember when he agonized about raising the evening adult ticket price to 75 cents; he feared it would hurt business. The Rideau was a simple but handsome theatre, with a long, wide lobby that had once housed the entire Princess Theatre, a silent house that preceded the Rideau. Beyond the Rideau’s lobby, a few steps led to the auditorium level, where further flights of stairs at the left and right led to a landing from which a final flight in the center led to the balcony and loges. I never counted the seats, but Canadian Film Weekly’s yearbooks are probably correct when they put the total at 817 (not the 1,081 cited at the top of this listing). You had to be at least 16 to go up to the balcony, where smoking was allowed. Ushers showed all customers to their seats, and patrolled the aisles quietly but constantly, shushing talkers, breaking up overly amorous couples, watching for molesters and ejecting the unruly. We were proud of our showplace and we had great camaraderie. Occasionally, we all left by a rear door at the end of the night because several ejected customers were waiting for us at the front. On holiday weekends, the Rideau’s ushers would finish their 12-hour shifts at 11:30 p.m., then head for the Britannia Drive-In out on Richmond Road to supplement its staff for a midnight triple bill. At sun-up, the show would end and we’d head for breakfast.
I worked as a weekend/summer usher at the Rideau from 1961 to 1965 while attending Rideau (of course) High School and Carleton University. At that time, the theatre was an “action house,†showing first-run double bills of westerns, comedies, war pictures, crime pictures, teen pictures and some horror and science fiction shows (although more of the last category ran at the Centre Theatre on Sparks Street, which played American-International’s product). The first James Bond movie, “Dr. No,†played the Rideau first-run on a double bill because the distributor saw it as just another action film. After its surprise success, subsequent Bond films played as single bills at “A†theatres, such as the Elgin. The first Beatles picture, “A Hard Day’s Night,†played first-run at the Rideau as a single bill, with advance sales of special, oversize souvenir tickets at the then-high price of $1. Fans lined up two days in advance. The Rideau also played many of director William Castle’s gimmicky horror movies. In “The House on Haunted Hill,†a glowing skeleton appeared to leave the screen and float over the audience, thanks to a pulley and wire that ran from the screen to the back of the balcony. For “The Tingler,†random seats were wired with low-voltage electricity, shocking unsuspecting audience members into jumping and shrieking at appropriate moments. At the climax of “Homicidal,†audiences got a one-minute “fright break†warning and then the house lights were cut, plunging them into screaming darkness as the horror played on. Manager Doug Pinder was a real showman who sometimes dressed the entire street-face of the theatre with elaborate false fronts promoting the show inside. I remember when he agonized about raising the evening adult ticket price to 75 cents; he feared it would hurt business. The Rideau was a simple but handsome theatre, with a long, wide lobby that had once housed the entire Princess Theatre, a silent house that preceded the Rideau. Beyond the Rideau’s lobby, a few steps led to the auditorium level, where further flights of stairs at the left and right led to a landing from which a final flight in the center led to the balcony and loges. I never counted the seats, but Canadian Film Weekly’s yearbooks are probably correct when they put the total at 817 (not the 1,081 cited at the top of this listing). You had to be at least 16 to go up to the balcony, where smoking was allowed. Ushers showed all customers to their seats, and patrolled the aisles quietly but constantly, shushing talkers, breaking up overly amorous couples, watching for molesters and ejecting the unruly. We were proud of our showplace and we had great camaraderie. Occasionally, we all left by a rear door at the end of the night because several ejected customers were waiting for us at the front. On holiday weekends, the Rideau’s ushers would finish their 12-hour shifts at 11:30 p.m., then head for the Britannia Drive-In out on Richmond Road to supplement its staff for a midnight triple bill. At sun-up, the show would end and we’d head for breakfast.