This column by John Cosway is a mix of 50 years of media memories and 20 years of buying and selling experiences via live and online auctions, flea markets, antique stores and markets etc
 
Cosway's Corner - Saving the nabes
 
Preserving Ontario's landmark theatres - and the memories
 
By John Cosway
When the landmark 1918 Regent Theatre reopens April 1 following a three-month winter facelift, it will be applauded by thousands of men and women who root for the preservation of all vintage theatres.
 
The Regent's rejuvenation, made possible by a 10-year community fundraising campaign and a generous $240,700 federal Canadian Heritage ministry grant, isn't the first in the theatre's 92-year history, but is the most expensive - and the most encouraging.
 
Community efforts to save Ontario's vintage movie theatres from the wrecker's ball require a timeless, selfless passion and those who appreciate the cause should applaud loud and clear. Too many theatres have vanished from the Ontario landscape.
 
People old enough to remember long-gone vaudeville and movie theatre palaces and neighborhood theatres in towns and cities across the province know once they are gone, they are gone.
 
John Sebert's hard-to-find 2001 paperback book The Nabes: Toronto's Wonderful Neighborhood Movie Houses is a delightfully nostalgic journey filled with photographs of now-demolished theatres generations of movie fans frequented.
 
But core community and provincial heritage groups with a love of historic buildings are keeping many vintage theatres alive with non-stop campaigning.
 
While dozens of Toronto's early live theatre and movie theatres have been demolished in favour of multi-plexes and urban development, there are exceptions, including the 1913 Elgin Theatre and its upstairs 1914 Winter Garden Theatre on Yonge Street.
 
The 1912 Revue Theatre on Roncesvalles Ave. was in business non-stop from 1912 to June 2006, when it was closed by the children of the previous owner, who died in 2004.
 
The Revue Film Society, a gathering of residents and movie fans, stepped up, raised
almost $130,000 and in October 2007 it reopened following a facelift.
 
The 1939 Kingsway Theatre in Toronto was closed for more than two years and was thought by locals to be gone forever before it reopened in January 2009.
 
And there are similar theatre survival stories in smaller communities across the province: The Capitol in Port Hope, the Grand in London, the Empire in Belleville etc.
 
When you consider all of the forces motivating people to stay home in the 21st century - big screen TVs, home theatre sound, DVDs, home computers, the Internet, downloadable movies etc. - the survival of these 20th century neighborhood theatres is remarkable.
 
In my silent applause for all of the efforts to save a way of life, I blogged about my experiences with movie theatres big - Radio City Music Hall in New York, which
was saved from the wreckers in the 1980s - and small, the nabes in Toronto.
 
(If you want to share your movie theatre memories with me, please do in an e-mail)
 
My first movie theatre experience as a kid growing up in midtown Toronto in the 1940s and '50s was probably a Martin and Lewis comedy. Or perhaps Abbott and Costello.
 
It would have been 1947 or '48 (at age five or six) at one of four nearby neighborhood cinemas - the Alhambra, the Midtown, the Metro or the Bloor.
 
We lived on Euclid Ave. and all four theatres were within walking distance. No Sunday movies in those church-and-state days, just Mondays through Saturdays, with popular Saturday afternoon action serial matinees, a mix of westerns and space adventures.
 
On more adventurous days, it would be a trek to the now defunct University Theatre on Bloor Street near Bay, where the large comfortable seats felt more like thrones to kids.
 
Pre-television years were paradise for movie fans, with a cartoon, a newsreel and a double movie bill in quiet, comfortable theatres, Uniformed ushers kept the peace and ejected rowdy patrons. Admission was 25 cents, popcorn a dime.
 
For a time, my older sister, Gloria, worked at the Alhambra and she would get me in free. After the movies, it would be a free sundae at Leggett's on the northwest corner of Bloor and Bathurst, where another older sister, Carol, worked.
 
Lucky kid.
 
In those pre-TV years there were two forms of family entertainment, aside from sports:
Sitting in the living room by the radio listening to popular shows like Fibber McGee and Molly, Fred Allen, Burns and Allen, Red Skelton, Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy.
 
And the movies.
 
Then suddenly there was this odd looking box in local appliance stores that had test patterns and fuzzy black and white programming. It was mesmerizing.
 
McGrath's, an appliance store on the south side of Bloor just steps from the humble beginnings of Honest Ed's, would leave a black and white TV in the window on after hours with the sound cranked up.
 
The biggest crowd outside McGrath's was for Gillette's Friday Night at the Fights and there we stood in the middle of winter risking frostbite to watch the greats in the ring.
 
The first on our block to get a TV was the family of my buddy, Morton Posner, two doors up. The Posners were Orthodox Jews so Friday nights and Saturday until dusk were off limits for viewing their TV, but they welcomed us the rest of the week.
 
Mr. And Mrs. North, with Richard Denning and Barbara Britton as amateur crime solvers, was one of the TV shows we watched at Morty's in 1952.
 
We didn't get our first TV until the spring of 1953, when my sister Gloria's first $1,000 bond was used to buy a fridge, furniture and a 17-inch floor model TV set.
 
Scheduling was skimpy in the early days of television and the few stations available usually signed off by midnight. I'd sneak downstairs after bedtime to watch the test patterns and then turn off the TV and watch the white dot disappear.
 
The fascination with television, especially Howdy Doody for the kids, and the growing number of radio stars making the transition to television for family viewing, took its toll on neighborhood movie theatres.
 
With more people staying home to watch TV, movie theatres got creative. In addition to a double bill, cartoon and newsreel, some theatres had live entertainment between movies. They also put silver dollars in some 10-cent popcorn boxes as prizes.
 
Movie theatres fought the good fight and while their numbers declined, enough men, women and children wanting to share the movie experience with others kept theatres alive during the upswing of television.
 
(Talk about nostalgia, look up the movie ads in any of the Toronto newspapers from the 1940s and '50s, with full pages of movie theatre ads. Only the Midtown - now called the Bloor Cinema - remains in our old neighborhood. The Metro, an adult movie theatre for years, still stands and there are proposals to save it from demolition.)
 
Sunday movies were not allowed in Toronto until the 1960s, so it was a thrill of sorts sitting and watching La Strada on a Sunday in the 1950s. The theatre on College St. in Little Italy was flouting the law and bravo to them.
 
One Saturday, while watching a matinee in the Lansdowne just off Bloor Street, it was decision time - spend my last dime on popcorn, or save it for the streetcar ride home.
It was a very long walk home, but a hot roast beef dinner was on the table.
 
Somewhere along the way, ushers made their exit from movie theatres; the television generation thought nothing of talking throughout movies; theatres got smaller; people began putting their feet up on the backs of seats; admission and food prices went up.
 
Enter VCRs. In 1980, my first monster Zenith Beta VCR cost $1,200. Movie rentals were not allowed at first, so my film library was launched with Alien and Animal House at $100 apiece.
 
DVDs? Big screen TVs? Surround sound? Movies on the Internet? More reasons to stay home, but there is still the social need to frequent movie theatres, now as a discounted senior, to share the experience with others.
 
Still have fond memories of my movie theatre days in the Annex and try to get to the Bloor once or twice a year to thank them for keeping the memories alive.
 
To relive my youth at a drive-in movie theatre, there is always one of the 26 drive-ins still active in the province.
 
Which brings me to one of my brother Bill's favourite jokes:
 
Did you hear about the two guys found frozen to death at a drive-in theatre?
 
They were waiting to see Closed For The Season.
 
Ta dum.
 
Photos: Courtesy of Archives of Ontario
 
1 - The Regent Theatre in Picton, reopens April 1
 
2 - The Midtown Theatre in Toronto, now the Bloor Theatre
 
3 - The comfy, but defunct University Theatre in Toronto
 
 
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