In 1950 I was an usher(ette) at the Playhouse for a short time. I was issued a scratchy beige uniform with maroon trim, and a flashlight. There I was introduced to “Tweety”, having to listen to his song all too many times. In the evenings there would be a break, when the manager turned up in black tie, and coffee would be served to the moviegoers (in real cups and saucers) — little old ladies in shoulder capes and hats were particularly happy for this ritual. I don’t remember if this was every evening, or only on weekends, or maybe at a film opening, but it gave a feeling of being at a live theater.
I was shocked to find, upon returning to NY a few years back, that it has become a video shop. Some old posters were there, but even so, it had to be put on our list of gone-forever-should-have-lived-on places.
In 1950 I was an usher(ette) at the Playhouse for a short time. I was issued a scratchy beige uniform with maroon trim, and a flashlight. There I was introduced to “Tweety”, having to listen to his song all too many times. In the evenings there would be a break, when the manager turned up in black tie, and coffee would be served to the moviegoers (in real cups and saucers) — little old ladies in shoulder capes and hats were particularly happy for this ritual. I don’t remember if this was every evening, or only on weekends, or maybe at a film opening, but it gave a feeling of being at a live theater.
I was shocked to find, upon returning to NY a few years back, that it has become a video shop. Some old posters were there, but even so, it had to be put on our list of gone-forever-should-have-lived-on places.