On matinee Saturdays, our mothers’ headaches became someone else’s

Back in the ‘50s, the good mothers of our Southwest Philly neighborhood had the opportunity for a well-deserved break on Saturday afternoons, when two of our local movie theaters offered their much-anticipated matinees. As kids, we looked forward to these shows because they provided us several hours of unsupervised mayhem. Very few of our mothers drove back then, so most of us would walk the seven or eight blocks to Woodland Avenue to join the fun at either the Benn or the Benson Theater.

Nothing could pack a theater with children like the Japanese monster movie “Rodan!”

Both theaters were located on the same 6300 block, but the Benn holds more memories for me than its smaller counterpart. For instance, the Benn offered a 25-cent ticket for those under the age of 13; otherwise it cost 35 cents. My buddy, Tom “Spinner” Manieri was the tallest of our group and, due to an early growth spurt, had to bring his birth certificate as proof that he was indeed younger than 13. The ticket-window attendant at the Benn was an elderly lady who made Spinner prove his age every time he came to a matinee. I once asked her why she couldn’t just remember him, but she told me to shut up and mind my own business. Obviously, the Benn management did not force their employees to take a course in sensitivity training.

As soon as we entered the theater, we would always hit the snack counter, and everyone bought a box of popcorn but not just for the nutritional value of the tasty treat inside. The main reason happened after the popcorn was consumed. In a darkened theater, the flattened box made an excellent precursor to the modern Frisbee. Once the show started, it took great concentration to actually watch it. There would be so many popcorn boxes flying around, it was nearly impossible to see the onscreen action. Not only that, but, if you were a highly proficient box-flinger, you could actually hit the big screen and puncture it, causing the box to stick in it and dangle. Achieving that degree of marksmanship brought about kudos from those of your buddies who couldn’t quite make the grade!

Of course, the theater had a manager – poor guy – whom we nicknamed “Frank Benn,” a completely bald man in his 50s. I actually felt bad for him. Someone who knew him said he had a full head of hair before taking that job! Upon our entering, he would be standing there eyeing his soon-to-be nemeses. For us, it was like seeing a condemned man who was about to walk the plank. This fellow was always wearing a clean, white shirt and matching tie upon our arrival, but, by day’s end, he looked like he had narrowly escaped a barroom brawl.

This transformation was due to the stressful hours he endured during the matinee. Besides the popcorn-box missiles, Frank had to deal with kids zig-zagging up and down the aisles, incessantly screaming and yelling. Then there were kids who snuck in during the show by opening the emergency doors, Coke and Pepsi spills that caused the floors to be as sticky as fly paper, spitball wars, and other maddening activities, including the occasional minor fistfight. In fact, at least once during the movie, he would have the projectionist shut down the machine and turn on the lights. Then, with the demeanor of a madman, he would charge down the center aisle, screaming out loud while threatening to shut down the theater and throw us all out! This tactic always worked – for about five minutes after the show resumed – and then the bedlam returned with a vengeance, but Ol’ Frank never did kick us out.

The Saturday matinee really did provide our mothers with a brief respite, and it was always crowded, but the largest crowds seemed to turn up for the horror films with a bunch of cartoons as an appetizer. Without a doubt, the film that attracted the largest audience was “Rodan! The Flying Monster!” It was the first Japanese monster movie in color (U.S. release 1956) and was taglined, “The most horrifying hell-creature that ever menaced mankind.” Yikes! This film depicted a large, flying, prehistoric creature that sprang to life after some miners inadvertently uncovered the wrong mineshaft. This was a classic Japanese movie. The English was poorly dubbed as the residents of Sasebo watched helplessly as their city was being destroyed. Before the theater opened for that show, the line stretched all the way around the corner.

In the annals of Benn Theater folklore, “Rodan” stands out for another reason: That show actually held our interest for about 25 minutes before the first popcorn box was launched – a record that was unbroken throughout my childhood!