I worked at the Northside for 3 or 4 years after Jim’s stint posted above. It was a fabulous job. The organization was a great team, in the heart of hippie craziness. John also owned the Cheshire Cat, a charming little restuarant/bar next door. Both the theater and the Cat opened onto the Pizza garden of Laval’s – a local pizzeria, bar, club. The two theaters were each kind of grubby, though we sincerely made an effort to clean them. The Popcorn stand was a rolling cart that we parked by the doors of the theater, in the garden, serving to the people eating at the picnic tables as well as the movie patrons. The balmy summer evenings in Berkeley, with the slight sounds of music from Laval’s, the smell of fresh popcorn, standing around cracking jokes, ineptly playing hacky-sack, those are some of my fondest memories of my time at school at UC Berkeley.
Noah was the kid who lived upstairs. He would come down and help out with the popcorn on busy Saturday and Friday nights. Jim Rosso with his deep voice was the primo doorman, Joe Lubliner was a Yoda-like presence hovering over all of us with his benevolent spirit. Irving Lubliner was the projectionist who introduced me to the place and trained me as projectionist (we had gone to school together in Oakland) and his best friend, Peter Lisker also pulled time as projectionist. The Master projectionist was the eternally enigmatic John O'Faolin. He used to write himself notes in a strange script developed by George Bernard Shaw, and stick them all round the projection booth. I startled him one day after I had figured out what the script was and left him Other notes in this same obscure script! Anne Labriola and Nancy Makowsky were both solid citizens of the Northside Crew, sweet, generous, artisitic, funny, as was Sandy Biasotti, Joe’s decade-long girlfriend. John Armstrong managed the business, but by the time I came around (72 – 75) had mostly relgated the daily business to his coterie of friends/employees. Michael, his boyfriend, was the master mechanic. Eddie Mahoney was the funniest of the fine doormen/stand-up comics.
I happened to be on tickets one night (rather unusual for me) and we had sold out both theaters – I think it was a Friday night. I had put the little sold out sign up and had put a Kleenex box or something across the slot under the glass and was just kicking back, with the windows of the ticket booth completely filled by the backs of the people waiting to go into the theater as it was almost the double intermission. Eddie was on the door. Suddenly there was a rapping on the widow next to my head and someone on the outside was pushing a bag through the slot. I irritatedly pushed the bag back outside, peering through the glass and saying “We’re sold out!!!” The rapping continued. And then I heard the voice outside saying again and again “Put the Money in the bag!” Then I saw that the rapping came from the guy outside knocking a gun against the glass! Strangely, filled, I suppose, with that youthful sense of immortality, this mostly just irritated me, “Why the hell should I do anything this clod tells me, too?” I just wanted someone to see what was going on.
So I started to count the dollar bills out as I put them in the bag. “1, 2, 3…"
"Don’t count them!” The voice said, exasperatedly!
“Oh, OK,” I said grabbing some fives and putting them in the bag.
“Not the 5’s! The 10’s! The 20’s!"
"Oh, OK, "I said, taking the fives BACK OUT of the bag!
"Hurry!!!"
I was finally putting the 10’s and 20’s into the bag when something just went over the top in me. I was really pissed that this clown was making me give up all this money. so I started to grab back the money out of the bag, and his hand reached in and grabbed the bag and what was left of the money. I jumped up and ran down the long ticket booth and out through the door into the mass of waiting people.
"Thieves! Thieves!” I yelled, to my own surprise, as I tore through the crowd, Eddie, instantly in hot pursuit. Down the little alley and onto Euclid, Eddie quickly outstripped me, the two characters we were chasing clearly ahead of us. Suddenly I realized that he wasn’t fully apprised of the situation.
“Eddie! They’ve got a gun!"
"Oh shi-i-i-i-i-t!” he called back over his shoulder.
They hopped into a waiting car at the top of the block.
John Armstrong split the money I got back with me and told me to just give it to them next time.
I worked at the Northside for 3 or 4 years after Jim’s stint posted above. It was a fabulous job. The organization was a great team, in the heart of hippie craziness. John also owned the Cheshire Cat, a charming little restuarant/bar next door. Both the theater and the Cat opened onto the Pizza garden of Laval’s – a local pizzeria, bar, club. The two theaters were each kind of grubby, though we sincerely made an effort to clean them. The Popcorn stand was a rolling cart that we parked by the doors of the theater, in the garden, serving to the people eating at the picnic tables as well as the movie patrons. The balmy summer evenings in Berkeley, with the slight sounds of music from Laval’s, the smell of fresh popcorn, standing around cracking jokes, ineptly playing hacky-sack, those are some of my fondest memories of my time at school at UC Berkeley.
Noah was the kid who lived upstairs. He would come down and help out with the popcorn on busy Saturday and Friday nights. Jim Rosso with his deep voice was the primo doorman, Joe Lubliner was a Yoda-like presence hovering over all of us with his benevolent spirit. Irving Lubliner was the projectionist who introduced me to the place and trained me as projectionist (we had gone to school together in Oakland) and his best friend, Peter Lisker also pulled time as projectionist. The Master projectionist was the eternally enigmatic John O'Faolin. He used to write himself notes in a strange script developed by George Bernard Shaw, and stick them all round the projection booth. I startled him one day after I had figured out what the script was and left him Other notes in this same obscure script! Anne Labriola and Nancy Makowsky were both solid citizens of the Northside Crew, sweet, generous, artisitic, funny, as was Sandy Biasotti, Joe’s decade-long girlfriend. John Armstrong managed the business, but by the time I came around (72 – 75) had mostly relgated the daily business to his coterie of friends/employees. Michael, his boyfriend, was the master mechanic. Eddie Mahoney was the funniest of the fine doormen/stand-up comics.
I happened to be on tickets one night (rather unusual for me) and we had sold out both theaters – I think it was a Friday night. I had put the little sold out sign up and had put a Kleenex box or something across the slot under the glass and was just kicking back, with the windows of the ticket booth completely filled by the backs of the people waiting to go into the theater as it was almost the double intermission. Eddie was on the door. Suddenly there was a rapping on the widow next to my head and someone on the outside was pushing a bag through the slot. I irritatedly pushed the bag back outside, peering through the glass and saying “We’re sold out!!!” The rapping continued. And then I heard the voice outside saying again and again “Put the Money in the bag!” Then I saw that the rapping came from the guy outside knocking a gun against the glass! Strangely, filled, I suppose, with that youthful sense of immortality, this mostly just irritated me, “Why the hell should I do anything this clod tells me, too?” I just wanted someone to see what was going on.
So I started to count the dollar bills out as I put them in the bag. “1, 2, 3…"
"Don’t count them!” The voice said, exasperatedly!
“Oh, OK,” I said grabbing some fives and putting them in the bag.
“Not the 5’s! The 10’s! The 20’s!"
"Oh, OK, "I said, taking the fives BACK OUT of the bag!
"Hurry!!!"
I was finally putting the 10’s and 20’s into the bag when something just went over the top in me. I was really pissed that this clown was making me give up all this money. so I started to grab back the money out of the bag, and his hand reached in and grabbed the bag and what was left of the money. I jumped up and ran down the long ticket booth and out through the door into the mass of waiting people.
"Thieves! Thieves!” I yelled, to my own surprise, as I tore through the crowd, Eddie, instantly in hot pursuit. Down the little alley and onto Euclid, Eddie quickly outstripped me, the two characters we were chasing clearly ahead of us. Suddenly I realized that he wasn’t fully apprised of the situation.
“Eddie! They’ve got a gun!"
"Oh shi-i-i-i-i-t!” he called back over his shoulder.
They hopped into a waiting car at the top of the block.
John Armstrong split the money I got back with me and told me to just give it to them next time.
posted by Sheila Brady 11/27/04