My first “date” was at the Hiser – Jimmy Hildreth and I took the Kurlander twins, Jean and Joan, to see a show I can’t remember on a Saturday afternoon. The Hiser was as described above and had the additional feature of a bowling alley in the basement, accessed from the parking lot at the rear. I think there were maybe three lanes of 10 pins back when Bethesda had 40 lanes of ducks a couple of blocks away.
Mr. Hiser did the right thing and turned the place over to KB in the early 60s. They jazzed it up a little – new carpet, added some concession machines (popcorn) and played some good shows on second run. I saw Psycho, West Side Story and Two Women there. A powerful show – so much so that a male patron passed out during the rape scene while standing in the back – I thought the Coke machine had fallen over.
When I worked for KB I would sometimes pick up some hours at the Baronet. One of the neat features of this design challenged building was the access to the projection booth. I know that projectionists were a strange lot that liked their privacy – they would kind of slip in and out of the Apex without a sound or a nod to anyone. The Baronet must have been heaven for them – you could only get to the booth from the outside of the building. This was really nice in the winter. It seems that projectionist union rules prevented the carrying of film cans to and from the booth. So, it was left to the ushers to take care of this task. One night in the middle of a sleet storm I was told to take two cans to the booth – up the outside iron stairs to the ice covered platform outside the booth. A knock on the door and a hand reaches out for the cans of film, one at a time and that was that.
Back then Bethesda had two movies theaters with a total of two screens. Small time but fun.
What a conversation – I worked at the MacArthur in the early 60s. A high school friend of mine, Buddy Kearny, worked for KB and told me they need ushers. I think it was the summer of 1960. I started out working the parking lot across the alley next to the the theater. This consisted of laying on the hood of a parked car most of the evening watching the planes come down the river on the Georgetown approach on the way to National. Eventually the manager, Bill Flanagan and later Ron Pitcherello(sp), allowed me to work the lounge upstairs. Butter cookies and coffee for the folks waiting for the next show – usually a British comedy. They all played there – old and new it seems. And they were great. My favorites may be the St. Trinian’s series with Alistair Sim.
After a few months (I think), I was transferred to the Apex where Flanagan had gone for a stint. I was lucky to be there for a couple of years where I worked for Bill Hunter – just a wonderful guy – Bruce Burns, Ritch Hutchinson and many others including Marvin Goldman’s son, Ron (but thats another story).
By the way, I don’t remember there being popcorn at the MacArthur but it did make its way back to the Apex and the Baronet. My understanding of the “no popcorn” policy was that the salt ruined the carpeting and management didn’t want that to happen. A guy named Jim Sheetz took over the concession end of things for KB and must have convinced Mr. Burka that you could buy a lot of carpet with the profits from popcorn.
Another fine KB Theatre as my old friend, Bruce Burns, remembers it. We were both there for the grand (Washington) openings of The Longest Day and Lawrence of Arabia. Search light trucks, the DC National Guard Honor Guard, Bobby and Ethel Kennedy – The Longest Day opening was quite an impressive night. KB went hard ticket – all reserved seating for both films and 70mm that required the removal of a couple of rows of seats up front. Lawrence of Arabia was spectacular on that screen – the scene when he blows out the match and the sun lights up the screen – what a cut. Yes Bruce, Omar was there – I had the privilege of asking him to take his lighted cigarette upstairs to the lounge – the only time I ever spoke to a movie star.
The Apex was one of the major houses of Washington’s KB Theatres and home to their corporate offices. I remember many of the people that worked there in the early 1960s, from Bailey the janitor, to Bill Hunter, the manager, and Mr. Burka and Mr. Goldman, the owners of KB. It was a great place to work and the source of many fond memories. The theater was huge, sat over 1,000, with 2 balcony level “party rooms”. It had two main aisles. The ceiling featured a huge horsehoe shaped light fixture with gold hemispheres that had holes cut in them that were filled with colored glass or plastic that emited light from a single bulb inside. Changing the bulbs required a trip up a ladder located back stage. The ceiling must have been 30' high. Once up the ladder, you went on to a small platform and through a small door to a very narrow catwalk. Then, partially standing or crawling, depending on your courage, you made your way to the burned out fixture and replaced the bulb. Wanting as quick a retreat as possible back to the relative safety of the ladder, most of us just left the old bulbs on top of the ceiling lathe – kind of a light bulb graveyard.
My first “date” was at the Hiser – Jimmy Hildreth and I took the Kurlander twins, Jean and Joan, to see a show I can’t remember on a Saturday afternoon. The Hiser was as described above and had the additional feature of a bowling alley in the basement, accessed from the parking lot at the rear. I think there were maybe three lanes of 10 pins back when Bethesda had 40 lanes of ducks a couple of blocks away.
Mr. Hiser did the right thing and turned the place over to KB in the early 60s. They jazzed it up a little – new carpet, added some concession machines (popcorn) and played some good shows on second run. I saw Psycho, West Side Story and Two Women there. A powerful show – so much so that a male patron passed out during the rape scene while standing in the back – I thought the Coke machine had fallen over.
When I worked for KB I would sometimes pick up some hours at the Baronet. One of the neat features of this design challenged building was the access to the projection booth. I know that projectionists were a strange lot that liked their privacy – they would kind of slip in and out of the Apex without a sound or a nod to anyone. The Baronet must have been heaven for them – you could only get to the booth from the outside of the building. This was really nice in the winter. It seems that projectionist union rules prevented the carrying of film cans to and from the booth. So, it was left to the ushers to take care of this task. One night in the middle of a sleet storm I was told to take two cans to the booth – up the outside iron stairs to the ice covered platform outside the booth. A knock on the door and a hand reaches out for the cans of film, one at a time and that was that.
Back then Bethesda had two movies theaters with a total of two screens. Small time but fun.
What a conversation – I worked at the MacArthur in the early 60s. A high school friend of mine, Buddy Kearny, worked for KB and told me they need ushers. I think it was the summer of 1960. I started out working the parking lot across the alley next to the the theater. This consisted of laying on the hood of a parked car most of the evening watching the planes come down the river on the Georgetown approach on the way to National. Eventually the manager, Bill Flanagan and later Ron Pitcherello(sp), allowed me to work the lounge upstairs. Butter cookies and coffee for the folks waiting for the next show – usually a British comedy. They all played there – old and new it seems. And they were great. My favorites may be the St. Trinian’s series with Alistair Sim.
After a few months (I think), I was transferred to the Apex where Flanagan had gone for a stint. I was lucky to be there for a couple of years where I worked for Bill Hunter – just a wonderful guy – Bruce Burns, Ritch Hutchinson and many others including Marvin Goldman’s son, Ron (but thats another story).
By the way, I don’t remember there being popcorn at the MacArthur but it did make its way back to the Apex and the Baronet. My understanding of the “no popcorn” policy was that the salt ruined the carpeting and management didn’t want that to happen. A guy named Jim Sheetz took over the concession end of things for KB and must have convinced Mr. Burka that you could buy a lot of carpet with the profits from popcorn.
Another fine KB Theatre as my old friend, Bruce Burns, remembers it. We were both there for the grand (Washington) openings of The Longest Day and Lawrence of Arabia. Search light trucks, the DC National Guard Honor Guard, Bobby and Ethel Kennedy – The Longest Day opening was quite an impressive night. KB went hard ticket – all reserved seating for both films and 70mm that required the removal of a couple of rows of seats up front. Lawrence of Arabia was spectacular on that screen – the scene when he blows out the match and the sun lights up the screen – what a cut. Yes Bruce, Omar was there – I had the privilege of asking him to take his lighted cigarette upstairs to the lounge – the only time I ever spoke to a movie star.
The Apex was one of the major houses of Washington’s KB Theatres and home to their corporate offices. I remember many of the people that worked there in the early 1960s, from Bailey the janitor, to Bill Hunter, the manager, and Mr. Burka and Mr. Goldman, the owners of KB. It was a great place to work and the source of many fond memories. The theater was huge, sat over 1,000, with 2 balcony level “party rooms”. It had two main aisles. The ceiling featured a huge horsehoe shaped light fixture with gold hemispheres that had holes cut in them that were filled with colored glass or plastic that emited light from a single bulb inside. Changing the bulbs required a trip up a ladder located back stage. The ceiling must have been 30' high. Once up the ladder, you went on to a small platform and through a small door to a very narrow catwalk. Then, partially standing or crawling, depending on your courage, you made your way to the burned out fixture and replaced the bulb. Wanting as quick a retreat as possible back to the relative safety of the ladder, most of us just left the old bulbs on top of the ceiling lathe – kind of a light bulb graveyard.