I walked on up the street from the bus station past the Majestic Theater. From the Majestic I could see the Rialto Theater which is just a block away. I’d see the 1 o'clock picture show at the Majestic and the 3 o'clock picture show at the Rialto. The other downtown theater is the Ritz, which is two blocks down Main Street, and the picture shows that play there are usually double feature westerns with a serial. The Ritz is old and rundown, and a lot of folks won’t go there ’cause of the stories about rats and roaches running under the seats, but I think the Ritz is the very best theater in town. After all you get to see a whole bunch of trailers, newsreels, a serial, and always a double feature, all of that for only 8 cents. Heck, that’s a whole bunch cheaper than any of the other theaters in town, which are 10 and 11 cents for just one picture show.
Heck, I was almost late for the picture show, so I headed down Main Street to the Ritz Theater. When I got to the theater, there was John Clayton standing in a crowd of kids waiting for the ticket booth to open.
“Well, it’s my turn to pay. Go on around to the back, and I’ll let you in,” said John Clayton.
Yeah, I know sneaking into the picture show is kinda bad, but old man Slater, the theater manager is always letting his friends in without paying, so why can’t we get in free? Heck, at least we buy one ticket.
Well, I know you’re wondering how one of us manages to get in free, ain;t you? Okay, this is how it happened: About a year ago, John Clayton ate too much popcorn and candy and right in the middle of the picture show he looked over at me and said, “Richard, I’m gonna throw up!”
“What? You can’t throw up right here! Go to the rest room!”
“I can’t make it there! I’m about to throw up right now!”
“Well, look over there on the back wall. There’s a sign that says exit! Run over and get away from me!”
Shoot, John Clayton took off like a shot and disappeared behind a curtain. In a few minutes he came back.
“Hey, I made it outside,” he whispered. “There’s a door that opens into the alley behind the theater and you just push it and it opens.”
“Huh?”
Well, my brain started working overtime, and I looked at him and said, “Heck, next Saturday, I’ll go around to the alley and you can let me in.”
So that’s how the sneaking into the Ritz got started. That Saturday morning John Clayton pushed open the door and I slipped down to our front seats and settled in waiting for the picture show to start. ’Course, we had to wait for about 10 trailers to show and then a Lash La Rue serial, and finally, the first picture show of the double feature started. It was Hoot Gibson in Sonora Stagecoach. You know, Hoot Gibson looks real funny wearing that big tall hat, but even with that hat, he’s one of my favorite cowboys. In the second show, Lights of Old Santa Fe, Roy Rogers and Gabby Hayes were the stars. You know, Roy Rogers always looks a little too dressed up to be a real cowboy, but not old, funny Gabby Hayes. Heck, he’s just about my favorite cowboy.
At 12:30 I walked out of the theater into a blazing hot mid-September sun. John Clayton’s daddy picked him up, and I walked down the street to get a hot dog. Woolworth’s is only a block from the Ritz Theater, so in a few minutes I was sitting at the lunch counter, having my hot dog and Coca-Cola. As I finished my hot dog, I looked up at the big clock over the counter. I was just right. It was 10 minutes till 1 o'clock. As soon as I finished, I walked down to the Majestic Theater. Bella Lugosi was on. He’s the Voodoo Man. I’d seen the trailers to this picture show several weeks ago, and I was a little nervous about seeing it. I bought my ticket and stood in the lobby, waiting for the show to be over, when several little kids ran out the theater door crying. That wasn’t all. As the theater emptied even some older kids were upset. The coming attractions poster on the wall said, “Voodoo Man—One of the scariest films ever made!”
Oh, my gosh, I’m gonna be all by myself in that big, dark theater!
The picture show started, and everything went okay until this Voodoo man the professor had created started grabbing people just when you didn’t think he was around. Right toward the end of the show when the Voodoo Zombie stepped out of the closet and grabbed the beautiful blonde girl, I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I ran out into the lobby yelling along with about 25 other kids. I’m never gonna see another picture show with Bella Lugosi in it. He’s just too scary.
I walked out of the Majestic at 3 o'clock and crossed the street heading for the Rialto Theater. The Rialto is just a block away from the Majestic. It’s a huge, fancy theater with a large balcony divided into a white and a colored section. Daddy told me there are 1,500 seats in the Rialto.
I was really looking forward to the picture show at the Rialto, Thirty Seconds over Tokyo starring Spencer Tracy and Van Johnson. Me and Daddy had listened to Walter Winchell tell all about General Jimmy Doolittle’s raid on them Japs, and I couldn’t wait to see it on the big Rialto screen. There’s only one kinda upsetting thing about the Rialto. It’s the cigar-smoking manager named Mr. Rob. Heck, you make one little peep, and he’ll grab you up like a sack of potatoes and chunk you right out. He has a danged little flashlight that he shines on kids if they’re talking during the picture show, and when that light hits you, wow, it’s like somebody putting a zipper on your mouth.
Just as I walked up to the theater a car pulled up, and someone called out, “Richard!” It was Connie.
“Hi, Connie,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m going to the 3 o'clock picture show.”
“Really? Do you know this picture show is about the War? I thought girls didn’t like that kinda stuff.”
“Oh, Richard, some girls might not, but I can’t wait—Wanta sit together?”
“Well, uh, uh, okay,” I stammered. We bought our tickets, two Coca-Colas, and a bag of popcorn to share. Mr. Rob pointed one of them bony fingers at us when we walked through the lobby, which we knew meant, “I don’t want no trouble out of y’all.” We nodded our heads, and then a lady with a little flashlight showed us our seats. We finished the popcorn and Coca-ColaCoca-Colas as the trailers ended. My hand was on the arm rest between us when I felt Connie’s hand touch mine and then I felt her hand slip under my palm. It surprised me, and I started to move my hand, but then, for some reason, I didn’t want to. I held Connie’s hand for the whole picture show.
Me and Connie walked out of the Rialto at 5 o'clock back into that hot, blazing sun. Connie’s daddy was there to pick her up. She gave me a big smile and hopped in the car, and I stood there for a few minutes smiling, as I thought about holding Connie’s hand.
I walked up to Samples just as Momma got off from work. We walked across the street to a parking lot and got in Miss Helen's car and in about 10 minutes, Miss Helen pulled up in front of the gate at the fairgrounds.
“Richard don't get into any trouble, and meet Mr. Reed at the gate at 9 o'clock to ride home.”
“Gosh, Momma, I'll just be at the fair. How could I get into trouble?” Momma didn't answer, but she kinda frowned, and I smiled and hopped out of the car.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Bullet
Well, I found John Clayton in about five minutes and we started walking down the carnival Midway. Boy, that was just about the most fun thing I could ever imagine with all the lights, and, wow, did everything smell good. I was so excited I could hardly breathe. Then I looked over at a booth, where, I mean just hundreds of great big stuffed dogs were hanging nearly everywhere, and a man was waving what looked like a slingshot.
“John Clayton, look over there.”
A big banner said, “Break three plates and win your choice.”
“Aw, come on, there’s some trick to this. It says all you hafta do is break three plates in a row, and you win a big furry dog. Heck, I’ll bet they make you shoot blindfolded.”
“Yeah, Richard, you’re right,” said John Clayton. They got some trick that we don’t know about.”
“Uh, huh, something’s sure fishy.”
We were still standing there looking at the booth when the man that ran the booth walked over.
“Boys, win a giant furry dog. It’s so easy. All you have to do is break three of these big dishes in three shots, with this slingshot, and you win your choice of any dog.”
“Oh, that’s it? Are you sure? Just break three plates?”
“Yeah, that’s all there is to it,” he said. Then he smiled and said, “Well, boys, can’t you shoot a slingshot? Is it too hard for you? Want me to show you how?”
John Clayton whispered in my ear. “Richard, that Yankee man thinks we can’t shoot a slingshot.”
“He thinks we can’t shoot a slingshot?” That made me so mad.
“Sir, I want try. Here’s my quarter.”
“Okay, young man. Here take these three steel balls. Here, let me show you how to put these steel balls in the pouch and how to hold the slingshot.”
“Uh, well, that’s okay. I think I know how.”
"Crash! Crash! Crash!"
The three plates were shattered with three quick shots.
“Let me see, yes, give me that big red dog on the top row.”
John Clayton was pushing me aside as the man handed me the dog.
“Here’s my quarter.”
"Crash, Crash, Crash."
“I want that big blue dog on the second row,” hollered John Clayton.
“Here’s another quarter,” I said as I reached for the slingshot. Dang, we were gonna win ’em all.
“Whoa, you two little hotshots ain’t gonna clean me out, one dog to a customer. I don’t know how you kids got so good, but you’re finished. Anyway, boys, I’ve got other customers waiting to play. Young man step right up all you have to do is break three plates with three shots.”
“You’re kidding! What else?” I looked around and saw Ears talking to the man.
“Not a thing. Just break three plates and take your pick.”
“Okay, here’s my quarter.”
"Crash, Crash, Crash."
“Damn!” said the man.
I looked around and standing there watching were several other boys, that I knew could really shoot a slingshot. They had all lined up.
"Crash, Crash, Crash."
Again and again.
After five more big furry dogs had walked off the man pulled the awning down in front of the booth.
“That’s all folks. This booth is closed for tonight and for the rest of the fair. Damn hillbillies!” he muttered.
Ears looked at John Clayton and me and said, “We ain’t hillbillies!”
“Naw, we ain’t,” said John Clayton, “we’re white trash! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Then I saw it. “John Clayton, look!”
There at the end of the Midway was the Bullet, swinging around and around with lights flashing. Even as far away as we were you could hear kids screaming. It looked a lot bigger and it went a lot higher than I’d remembered.
“Oh, my gosh!” I muttered.
“Come on Richard, we’ve been talking about ridin’ the Bullet since last year’s fair.”
“Uh, uh, well, okay, but I’m hungry. Let’s eat something. How about a hot dog?”
“Richard, you’re trying to put off riding the Bullet!”
“No, I’m not. I’m just hungry.” ’Course that was a bold-faced lie because just the idea of swinging around 100 feet off the ground and getting turned upside down had me scared to death.
“Okay, a hot dog and a Coca-Cola does sound good.”
We stopped at the concession stand and loaded up two little cardboard trays with food. I finished my hot dog and was just drinking the last of my Coke and eating some cotton candy when Rosalie and her best friend, Freckles, walked up carrying two big candy apples. Me and John Clayton were holding the big furry dogs, which the girls were really looking at.
“Hi, girls, look what we won!” said John Clayton.
Boy, I was so glad I’d won that big stuffed dog. Heck, if that big red dog wouldn’t impress Rosalie nothing would. I smiled. “Yeah, Rosalie,” I said, “I won this one for you.”
I handed Rosalie my stuffed dog, and John Clayton gave me a look that would’ve killed a cat. He’d already told me where he was gonna hang it in his room. Then he looked at Freckles and finally said, “Yeah, Freckles, here’s my dog.”
Well, they were tickled to death, but John Clayton wasn’t too happy about losing his stuffed dog.
“Oh, Richard, thank you so much,” said Rosalie. She reached over and gave me a little hug, and I almost stopped breathing. I just knew we’d be boyfriend and girlfriend by the time we left the fair. I was gonna stay with Rosalie the rest of the night.
“I’ve never seen a stuffed dog this big, and red is my favorite color.”
“Shoot, Rosalie, I walked up to that booth and tOld John Clayton I was gonna win you one of them big furry dogs, and I sure did.” Another lie of course, but not a very big one.
Rosalie sat down by me, reached over, and held my hand. Everything was working out even better than I’d ever dreamed, and when she turned her head and looked at me with those blue eyes I thought I was gonna melt. Then she tried to bite down on her candy apple, but that candy covering was hard as a brick.
“These candy apples are too hard to bite. We were just about to throw them away. Do you and John Clayton want them?”
“Sure, we do.”
For the next few minutes the four of us sat on one of the carnival benches while me and John Clayton finished off the candy apples.
“Hey, Rosalie,” I said, “we’re fixin’ to go ride the Bullet. Come on over and watch us.” I guess I was trying to act brave and fearsome telling her that we were gonna ride something that I considered the most scary thing in the whole, entire world.
“Well, we were thinking about riding it, too. Maybe we could all ride it together.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe in a million years that a girl would ride the Bullet. “You mean you girls are gonna ride the Bullet? Do know it turns you upside down?”
“Oh, Richard, you boys think you’re the only ones that can do anything. Yes, we know it turns you upside down, and we’re ready to ride it.”
“Okay, but if you get scared and start crying don’t say we didn’t warn you,” said John Clayton.
Rosalie gave John Clayton one of them “drop-dead and do not pass go” looks and said, “Come on lets go get in line.”
Heck, I started walking toward the Bullet trying to think of some way to keep from riding it, but nothing came to mind. I kinda figured somebody would chicken out before we actually got on the Bullet, and then I could say then none of us had to ride it. Yeah, that was my plan because the closer I got to the ride the more nervous I was. Well, we got to the Bullet ride, bought our tickets, and got in line, and as I stood there watching the Bullet loop and loop, I started getting more and more upset.
Dang, somebody needs to say “let’s don’t ride this thing”. I glanced over at John Clayton who was just standing there like a little idiot with his mouth open watching the Bullet loop and loop.
He’s scared as a rabbit. I’ll bet he gonna back off any second. But he didn’t, and as the line got closer and closer to where the little cars stopped I just decided I didn’t have a choice but to get on. At least if I died they wouldn’t think I was a chicken. Kids were screaming, but everybody got out laughing, so I thought it might not be so bad.
Yeah, look at that little kid. He can’t be more’n eight. Shoot, if he can ride the Bullet, I sure as heck can.
Finally, we were at the front of the line. John Clayton got in the seat beside Freckles and I climbed in the seat across from them and sat down beside Rosalie. We put the big furry dogs in the seat beside us and I took a deep breath. It was great so far. I was sitting there beside Rosalie thinking she’d probably get scared and grab me, and I’d finally started breathing better.
“Hey, you kids! Pull those seat bars down and hold on.”
The big motor star
ted roaring, and the car slowly started moving back and forth. The ride looks just like two great big bullets on the end of a big iron bar.
“Oh! Oh! Here we go!” We all yelled as we made our first loop. And then we made another and another. There was just one problem, the big furry dogs couldn’t hold on so they were banging around in the little car until John Clayton grabbed one and I grabbed the other. Then things settled down and we were enjoying the ride which was scary but so much fun. Another circle and another and then another and another, and I started to feel a little funny. I looked across the aisle at John Clayton, and he was holding his mouth with one hand and the big furry dog with the other.
Oh, my good Lord in Heaven above! No! He’s gonna throw up! And then I started praying, Oh, please God! Don’t let John Clayton throw up. I promise I’ll never miss Sunday School for the rest of my whole, entire life. You know something? God didn’t answer that prayer, ’cause I’d no sooner finished praying when John Clayton let loose of the big furry dog and grabbed his mouth with both hands. The dog just flew up to the ceiling and John Clayton let out a yell and at least a gallon of vomit. It was the most horrible thing you can imagine because when the little car came zooming down a big furry dog came sailing from the ceiling whapping you in the face followed by a spray of vomit.
No! No! Stop! John Clayton! Stop! Don’t! Don’t!” I screamed. John Clayton held both of his hands over his mouth, and I thought for just about two seconds he wasn’t gonna throw up again. John Clayton told me later that he’d wasn’t gonna vomit again no matter what, but then he started to throw up and he said he would have choked to death if he hadn’t let it go. Well, if you ever see anyone who’s sick try to hold back vomit—run! Because they can’t hold it in no matter what they do. In about two seconds John Clayton, who was upside down as the little car looped, blew it out like nothin’ you’ve ever seen. Vomit spewed out everywhere like a giant water hose of throw-up, and it went all the way across the little car we were riding in and when the car turned right side up, it rained vomit on everybody, especially Rosalie.
Lyin' Like a Dog, The Yankee Doctor, The Danged Swamp! 3-Volume set Page 40
