12/19/22
Newsletter #193
The Crack of Dawn
When I first moved to Hollywood in 1977 I lived kitty-cornered from Paramount Pictures, and right across the street from a wonderful old art house movie theater called the Encore Theater. They were just having a series of double features with the director showing up for an open Q&A between the films. I caught Sam Fuller and Peter Bogdanovich. Then I basically saw every movie they showed. Every time I was there an old man, who turned out to be the owner, was there smoking cigarettes with the patrons and talking. He and I began speaking regularly and I found him to be a very friendly, knowledgeable man. After about a month he offered me the job of projectionist. I assured him that though I could run a Super-8 or 16mm projector, I didn’t have the first clue how to run a 35mm projector. “It’s easy,“ he said, “the asshole projectionist will show you how before he leaves.”
The projectionist was a beleaguered man in a dirty wife-beater t-shirt. The projection room was a clutter of old coffee cups, fast food wrappers, pictures of naked women on the walls, and 8 million stubs of carbon rods all over the floor. The two old Simplex projectors were from the 1940s. These were called Carbon Arc Projectors that had two carbon rods inside, and where they met was a bright flame. As the rods burned down they grew dimmer, as did the picture on the screen, so a constant aspect of the job was turning two knobs to push the rods together and keep the flame bright. Since the owner was too cheap to buy a sufficient amount of carbon rods, there were metal clips to piece the partially used rods together, which worked.
Movies used to come to theaters on 20-minute reels. You’d load up one projector with reel #1, start it, then you’d load the second projector with reel #2. All movies had visible little marks up at the top right hand corner of the picture alerting the projectionist of the upcoming reel change, or change-over. You’d position yourself between the two projectors holding wooden handles. When the marks appeared you’d pull one handle, stopping that projector, then push the other handle starting the other one. It was a bit tricky at first, but I got the hang of it quickly. Sadly, however, the Encore was showing a double feature of Russian ballet films. Still, I’d been in Hollywood for two months, had just turned eighteen, and I already had a job in the film business.
And I only worked for about 4 hours every night.
Well, if it’s too good to be true, it’s not true.
A couple of weeks later, after work, the owner invited me to his apartment around the block for a drink. I thought, “Gosh, what a friendly guy.” His big apartment was a total shit-hole full of a million knickknacks. He poured us each a big glass of whiskey, which I hate, and after a drink and a cigarette he casually asked, “Would you like to suck my cock?” I said, “No.” He said, “Are you sure?” I said, “Absolutely sure.” He said, “If you don’t suck my cock you’re fired.” I set down the glass of vile whiskey, stood up and said, “It was nice working for you,” and left. Thus went my first job in the movie business.
Have a terrific day.