Even a little good news is still good.
When I saw the ruins of the Hager Drive-In this past weekend, I got worried. A friend had told me about the act with the inflatable screen, but what I saw made me think something had gone awry. At home, I got even more worried: their website was down, even though the one for the Hager Cineplex was still active. Luckily, the cineplex site included an e-mail address for the drive-in, and the resultant worrywart missive captured a happy response.
I'll not post it here, since it was a private communication, but the gist is good: the crumbled ticket booths actually represent progress on renovating the drive-in, and although nothing really everlasting will be constructed for a couple of years because of various zoning issues, a permanent steel screen tower rising 80 feet should arrive in a few weeks--probably one of the reasons why the theater hasn't opened yet. (Oh, and the website is being overhauled by a professional, and "it will ROCK.")
In other words, that golden marquee will be alone no longer.
Huzzah!
Showing posts with label drive-in theaters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drive-in theaters. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Flickers of a Ghost
I got lost. Took a wrong turn, wound up in a different state, discovered a direction, and began to wind my way home.
I was tired, and the sunlight was fading rapidly behind the grey and black clouds roiling in the sky. So when I saw it, I tried to blink away the hallucination.
It is huge--a bright, pulsating marquee of yellow and orange, standing, it seems, at least two stories high. A white placard juts out, demanding passer-bys to come see the zombie movie premiere at the Hager 10 Cineplex. But the strange thing is that the marquee fronts an empty parking lot.
I drive by, but slow...the cineplex actually is about a football field or so away. What’s behind that empty lot, though, causes me to turn around.
For about 20 years, the Hager Drive-In had operated here alongside the cineplex, but 20 years ago, it closed down. The marquee is the only operating remnant of the drive-in left, but there are other bones.
The parking lot, which probably once held the bulk of the drive-in, stretches far back and curls all the way behind the indoor movie theater. Even though a Saturday crowd is at the cineplex, their numbers are dwarfed by the size of the lot. In a far corner sit the drive-through ticket booths, weirdly guarding the edge of an overgrown field. Only a year ago, the entryway was still intact, but since then, the roof with the Hager heraldry has crumbled, leaving the two booths standing free. A deteriorating snack bar and projection house building stands in the field, drowning in the brown weeds and vine.
As I gaze at the ghost, the skies open. The deluge matches my mood.
But the Hager may not be completely lost. According to Drive-In Theatres of the Mid-Atlantic, a group is working with the cineplex to to restore and reopen the drive-in. In the meantime, an inflatable screen shows double- and triple-feature revivals of b-movies past and present.
I hope they succeed. Drive-ins are an American creation, one in-grained in our collective conscious like Route 66, jazz, convertibles, and baseball parks. Losing part of the American identity to a dusty, historical relic would be more than a simple shame--we would be giving up a unique part of our culture willingly.
They’ve started to have a revival the last few years, but the resurrection can’t come fast enough. More than 200 drive-ins once dotted the landscape of Maryland and the Virginias. Now only 11 remain.
Far too many ghosts.
I was tired, and the sunlight was fading rapidly behind the grey and black clouds roiling in the sky. So when I saw it, I tried to blink away the hallucination.
It is huge--a bright, pulsating marquee of yellow and orange, standing, it seems, at least two stories high. A white placard juts out, demanding passer-bys to come see the zombie movie premiere at the Hager 10 Cineplex. But the strange thing is that the marquee fronts an empty parking lot.
I drive by, but slow...the cineplex actually is about a football field or so away. What’s behind that empty lot, though, causes me to turn around.
For about 20 years, the Hager Drive-In had operated here alongside the cineplex, but 20 years ago, it closed down. The marquee is the only operating remnant of the drive-in left, but there are other bones.
The parking lot, which probably once held the bulk of the drive-in, stretches far back and curls all the way behind the indoor movie theater. Even though a Saturday crowd is at the cineplex, their numbers are dwarfed by the size of the lot. In a far corner sit the drive-through ticket booths, weirdly guarding the edge of an overgrown field. Only a year ago, the entryway was still intact, but since then, the roof with the Hager heraldry has crumbled, leaving the two booths standing free. A deteriorating snack bar and projection house building stands in the field, drowning in the brown weeds and vine.
As I gaze at the ghost, the skies open. The deluge matches my mood.
But the Hager may not be completely lost. According to Drive-In Theatres of the Mid-Atlantic, a group is working with the cineplex to to restore and reopen the drive-in. In the meantime, an inflatable screen shows double- and triple-feature revivals of b-movies past and present.
I hope they succeed. Drive-ins are an American creation, one in-grained in our collective conscious like Route 66, jazz, convertibles, and baseball parks. Losing part of the American identity to a dusty, historical relic would be more than a simple shame--we would be giving up a unique part of our culture willingly.
They’ve started to have a revival the last few years, but the resurrection can’t come fast enough. More than 200 drive-ins once dotted the landscape of Maryland and the Virginias. Now only 11 remain.
Far too many ghosts.
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