The Last of the Projectionists

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NPR recently ran a piece about how Hollywood is converting to all-digital and will no longer distribute new movies in 35-millimeter film form. That means the end of the line for most old-time movie projectionists — folks like Andy Holyoke, who was the projectionist for the Little Art Theatre in Yellow Springs Ohio for 35 years. The theater will close for several months to convert to digital, as most movie houses have already done. Like slide-rule manufacturers, typewriter salesmen, sign painters (my dad’s craft) and switchboard operators, the movie projectionist is going the way of the dodo bird and eight-track players.

I spent a summer in downtown Nacogdoches as the Last Picture Show Projectionist at the Main Theatre in the mid-1970s. By then, the theater was playing a weird selection of first-run movies on their second trip through town, along with what back then were called “blaxploitation films.” I guess they were called that because they were targeted toward a black audience and featured black actors. Other than that, they didn’t strike me as exploitative. They were just shoot ‘em ups that happened to feature black actors and actresses and had the same lousy plot lines and crummy camera work as their white counterparts. Nonetheless, I can probably lay claim to having watched “Dolemite” and “Foxy Brown” more times than anybody not involved in actually making the movie — unless, like me, they were a projectionist.

It was a grand summer job, running two World War II vintage projectors. I received a quick lesson from the retiring projectionist and was hurtled into the job, quickly learning how to splice film, switch from one projector to another when the cue marks appeared on screen, and, most importantly, not to panic when things went awry. One time the celluloid caught fire on a matinee afternoon during a screening of “Foxy Brown,” starring the voluptuous Pam Grier. There was a fairly full crowd downstairs — a rare event. The audience grew restive, indeed obscene, as I frantically spliced the film back together. It was a good thing the projection room had a lock on it, as a few large men rattled the knob while muttering imprecations my way. I finally managed to get the movie back on track, and everyone settled back in their seats.

But most days and nights were far more peaceful. In fact, I read Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s “Gulag Archipelago” and a couple of other Russian novels that summer up in the booth while showing “Chinatown,” starring Jack Nicholson and Faye Dunaway. I saw that movie more than two dozen times, though never straight through until years later, well after I had left this summer gig.

The Main Theatre sported two massive carbon-arc projectors that probably were manufactured in the 1940s from what I could research. (There are some cool YouTube videos showing the projectors in action if you’re interested.) My primary job was loading reels on the projectors and switching from one projector to another as the reels ran out, about every 20 minutes. I also had to make sure the carbon rods stayed lighted and were long enough to last the length of each reel.

As the reel came close to the end, a cue mark would appear in the top right hand of the corner of the screen. That was my signal to begin the second projector. When a second cue mark appeared, I would switch it over to the other projector. If you watch old movies, you will still see those cue marks on occasion.  Then I would load a fresh reel on the dormant projector, check the rods again, and go back to reading about the Russians.

My other duty was to change out the marquee, using a long pole with a suction cup on it to pull off and replace the letters. Like my father the signpainter, I was always terrified about misspelling something up there in the bright lights for all to see.

Being a movie projectionist was my favorite college job, until I landed at the newspaper, which became my career for more than 30 years. It certainly beat sweeping up severed chicken feet at the poultry processing plant, delivering pizzas, searing steaks, manning a convenience store counter, working as a janitor or patrolling the streets of Nac as a dogcatcher. Those are all other jobs I held while working my way through SFA.

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The old Main Theatre is now being restored by a brave preservationist who bought the building and is converting much of it to apartments. Then he plans to restore the theater to its former glory. I hope he plans on using the old projectors, which can still be used to show old movies, just not first-run features. Maybe I can get a weekend job.

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