prune picker

This is the blog of a prune picker. (Native born Californian) Retired oilfield. I am an old man. I blog a lot about my body and getting old. As I approach death life gets more interesting. More interesting is not good. I still drive. I attend sports, music, and civic events. I am writing my memoirs. I attend swim class three times a week. Some of my blogs might be interesting. A lot of my blogs are silly and trivial. None are very long.

Friday, October 4, 2013

Going to the movies via the exit door.

You may have noticed that I am a movie fan. As a young child I was a rabid movie fan.  For a large part of my early childhood the price to go to a movie was a dime. A dime was a lot of money. I usually did not have a dime. The Fox Theater in Pomona had two exits. The one on the East side of the theatre opened on to the sidewalk of a main street. (Gary) The exit on the other side opened into an alley. I would stand by the alley exit until some one came out of the theatre. I would quickly enter the door. There was a hallway that led to a curtain covered entrance to the seating area. I would look through the curtain and check for ushers. I can remember sometimes crawling to a seat.

This system required that some one come out the exit door. At times, I can recall several of us putting our money together to get a dime. This would be given to one boy to pay the entrance fee to the theater and then come and open the exit door for the rest of us.

I went to the movies through that exit door many times. I do not believe that I was ever caught sneaking in. Pomona had three other theaters but I do not recall ever sneaking into any of them. Just the one Fox exit into the alley. I do not recommend going to the movies this way. It is not honest, As my Dad said "honesty is the best policy".

These were the days that my next older brother and I lived alone with my Dad. I did not have any supervision, or very little. I came and went largely on my own. I became used to, what you might call freedom. Later when my Dad suffered a stroke and I was placed in the George Junior Republic home for boys I ran away after two nights. I could not stand the supervision.

I often wonder about what my life would have been like if I had not ran away, but had stayed at George Junior.

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