A Day at the Colony

In the 50's, we were either crazy or very innocent and the world let us go our own way. I lived in the Mt. Greenwood neighborhood on the far southwest corner of Chicago. It was a nice neighborhood but you had to see a map of the city to believe it was still Chicago. The nearest suburbs, Oak Lawn and Alsip were still farm land with a few homes thrown in for laughs.

Even Mt. Greenwood still had a farm bordering Alsip. We had prairies and undeveloped lots and WPA streets dating back to the 30's that hadn't changed much since then. We had corner grocery stores here and there throughout the neighborhood and a couple of drug stores but only one with a fountain.

There were no movie theaters and only one bowling alley that I can recall, though that may have been in the next neighborhood. The nearest public swimming pool was in Blue Island and the nearest beach was 95th Street Beach on Lake Michigan; a 15 mile bus ride. That was okay during the school year and most of the time during summer vacation, but kids get wander lust at times and want to explore. This is where the crazy part comes in.

We kids would go to extremes to get money for bus fare and spending money to get out of the neighborhood. Our favorite destination was the Colony Theater at 59th and Kedzie. From 105th and Kedzie, that was just under 6 miles or 12 cents plus 5 cents for the transfer. Then you had to raise the quarter admission and money for popcorn and candy and a large pop. Oh, and I can't forget the side trip to Gertie's Ice Cream Parlor.

We were an industrious bunch and all of us could say we started working at that young age. Money would be raised by cutting lawns, raking leaves in the fall or doing odd jobs. We would do the environment a favor by collecting pop bottles people discarded, for the two cent deposits. No job was beneath us. Cleaning garages, basements and taking out garbage and cleaning garbage cans would net a few nickels here and there.

Those that were really lucky would get to work for one of the many corner grocery stores, sweeping floors or stocking shelves. Pennies, nickels and dimes were like gold and when we got a quarter, that was the mother lode. Our parents survived wars and the Great Depression so nothing was given away. It only made us stronger and I loved the feeling of earning my own way to the Colony or beyond. If anyone would have dared made a fuss about child labor, John Wayne would have never made a successful movie.

I had one advantage over the other kids. I came along late in my parent's lives and my father was a very hard working man. He was over 50 when I was 5 so by the time I was 7 and he wanted quiet time at home on the weekend, all I had to do was hang around and be myself and soon Pa would reach in his pocket and bring out some money and say, "why don't you take in a show today". There would be many father and son days but a lot of times he just wanted to have a few bottles of Schlitz and fall asleep watching a Cubs game and an old man can't do that with a little kid hangin' around, chatterin' his ears off.

On the Saturday morning of the show, we would gather at the corner of 105th and Christiana and walk so fast to the bus stop at Kedzie that our feet would barely touch the ground. We looked like one gangly body with a thousand little clod hoppin' feet pushing us along to the bus stop. There would be an average of about six or seven of us on the bus but it wasn't uncommon for only two to make the trip. A few of the gang had over protective parents and really didn't like all of us kids going off on our own like that. One poor guy only got to go to the theater with his mother. She was the only mom on the block that drove a car in those days and she would pack her kids in the Nash station wagon and they would run errands with her. Occasionally she would take her kids to a Doris Day movie. Ugh! That poor guy rarely got out with the guys but once in a while we would sneak him out with us. However, if there was to be a double feature of cowboy movies no parents anywhere could have stopped any of us.

Now, even though it was only a six mile ride, it could take a long time on a CTA bus in the 50's. They were big and navigated the narrow city streets at a notoriously slow pace. We could always see it coming from a long way off and it seemed to take forever to get to our corner. We would have the bus fare in our hands, nervously fondling the coins and half wishing we could meet the bus half way.

Those beasts always seemed to lurch around when they stopped and as the door would unfold the whole bus would make one last leaning motion as it rested by the curb as if it was trying to swallow us kids whole. We would pile on in unison and we were so full of anticipation that it became annoying to drop our change in the meter. It seemed like an excruciating amount of time was wasted for the driver to watch the change going in and hand out our transfers. As soon as we got that transfer in our hands, we would beat feet to the rear of the bus. No self-respecting kid would want to sit in the normal seats; we liked that wide seat in the rear with the funny looking seats running lengthwise next to it. It formed a sort of living room where we could face each other and talk on the way and we would be away from any adults.

By adult standards, it may not have been a long trip but in those slow moving behemoths belching diesel fumes, it was really long. We learned fast to recognize landmarks to break up the monotony. We knew we were past Evergreen Park when we saw the cemetery and the radio station with the tall tower. The 79th Street viaduct was the slow part of the journey because of the many streets at the intersection and excruciatingly long lights. Didn't the city planner realize John Wayne was waiting? How could they have such a messy intersection in our way?

Once we were at the big hill by the Nabisco plant, we started getting fidgety because we were nearing the transfer point. Of course that hill was a highlight for another reason. The smell of the Nabisco Company baking all of those cookies could be waft into the bus windows for up to a mile away. To a kid, that was drool fuel and would put us into a frenzy anticipating the treats we were in for at the Colony.

From the transfer point to the Colony, we probably could have walked there faster but there was one old relic we loved riding on; electric buses. They were nearly extinct by that time but Kedzie from 63rd street heading north still had them running. They looked like street cars with the overhead cables but they didn't have railroad type tracks. They were regular buses with electric motors and we loved them. They moved a lot smoother and quieter and I think that if the streets weren't so crowded and they had room to run, they would have been a lot faster than a regular bus. It was worth the nickel transfer to ride that short entertaining trip.

At 59th street, the Colony was just a few doors down from the corner. We wore our Keds so we could get to the ticket window faster. We had been able to keep the anxiety level down until now by watching landmarks and such but when you were at the ticket window of the Colony and you could see the huge popcorn popper turning in the window you would start salivating like a rabid dog.

In those days, air conditioning was rare and usually only theaters had it. On a hot summer day, there was no more unique feeling than that of the door of the Colony opening up and letting the smell of hot popcorn and cool air rush across your face. You knew in an instant that there indeed was a Heaven and this was the gate.

No sane person went to a theater in those days without a box of popcorn. The kind with real melted butter touching each kernel of corn with such a perfect amount of salt that it would gather along the corner of your mouth so you could be licking it off long after it the box was empty.

Coke was the pop of choice at most theaters but it really didn't matter since they all still used cane sugar which made the flavor snap right out of the straw into your mouth.

Subliminals were still legal but hardly necessary. What kid needed to be coaxed into buying such exquisite treats during a double feature? Yes, they had double features in those days. That was a cool experience and really quite a long one. Before each feature there would be a cartoon and coming attractions, as trailers were called then. Also, between the two shows there would be a short feature along with the cartoon. The shorts were usually a nature film by Disney or maybe a silent film with Laurel and Hardy or Buster Keaton.

The Colony was not as big as the major theaters downtown but it was still bigger and infinitely better than today's cinemas. The lobby was big and well lit with elegant carpeting and furnishings and a massive screen. Now they are "cinemas" set in a row of twenty with tiny screens and a cold sterile atmosphere. All cinemas today look alike and what they call butter is disgusting. But they were all theaters then. Bright and shiny lobbies, plush carpeting, brass rails up a winding staircase to the balcony. Oh yes, the balcony; something unique to real theaters.

Anyone who was cool sat in the balcony. I realize that some kids prefer to sit up uncomfortably close to the screen because the screens in those days were huge and when a chase scene came on the screen it took your breath away. But in the balcony, it was a feeling of freedom to be above everyone, especially if you were in the front row by the rail. Also, sitting there you could hit your buddies below with kernels of popcorn.

The back row of the balcony was an area we didn't care about at that age. That was where couples would make out and miss half of the show or more if they were a steady couple. For now though, we loved our place in the Colony that allowed us to take in that wide screen without any heads in the way.

What they call wide screens today is only a portion of the size of that screen. I remember seeing How the West Was Won on that screen and it fit comfortably. If you saw it at most other shows, you saw those annoying bends in the film because the film was shot in a very wide Cinemascope which didn't fit on most screens.

I think I must have seen all of the movies John Wayne made at the Colony. That was our favorite venue, but in the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter what we saw. It was the experience that mattered. We all started going there by the age of maybe seven. It was the greatest feeling of freedom a kid could have.

As I said, cowboy movies were our favorite and rarely had a slow part but sometimes, a war movie was just as good even if it would be more of a girlie movie with a lot of mushy scenes. That worked out okay because it gave us free time to go to the restroom and then back to the concession stand. This, however was the only time the balcony proved to be a disadvantage. From the front row of the balcony, there were a lot of steps up back to the door and a long winding stairway back down to the lobby. If no adults were watching, the railing was great for sliding down and it cut down the time a lot.

During the first show, I would have my share of popcorn but during the second feature, I would want candy. I had to be sensible because we would want to save room for Gertie's Ice Cream before the trip home. Candy bars and boxes of candy were usually a nickel. They were perfect in size; not like those gargantuan sizes they serve today.

 

It may seem like we obsessed about snacks but keep in mind servings were sensible sizes then. A dime Coke was 8 or 10 ounces and it still had that old recipe, as I said before, made with cane sugar. Sugar may be a taboo in today's society but a teaspoon of sugar is only 16 calories and it really did taste better. Today, a small Coke in a cinema is a behemoth that I can't finish as an adult and those chemicals they use just can't compare or refresh the way those sugary old Cokes over shaved ice did.

 

The brightly lit glass candy counter at the Colony was overwhelming. They had all of the popular brands and some of those old brands from our parent's time. Hershey chocolate bars, all of the Mars candies, Lemonheads, Butterfingers, Baby Ruth, Clark Bars, Charleston Chew, Slo Poke, Red Hots, Oh Henry, Snow Caps, Necco Wafers, Junior Mints and the list went on. And the bubblegum selection! Bazooka and Double Bubble and who could forget Sputnik and Gold Nuggets?

 

Oh how I miss the days of huge candy counters with all those decisions to be made. We would check our money situation and make sure we had enough for Gertie's and the ride home and only then could you choose which candy would carry you through the second feature.

 

I can remember one particularly long second feature where some of us started dozing off in the air conditioned darkened bliss that was the Colony. When the lights came on we staggered up to the door and the winding stairway down to the bright outdoors seemed to torture our wobbly little legs. When the door opened up and the hot summer air hit you in the face, you just wanted to curl up on the sidewalk and take a nap but it was time to go home.

 

But first, ice cream! Gertie's Ice Cream Parlor was a Chicago landmark. It was next door to the Colony and conveniently, it was at the corner to catch the bus going home. Gertie's took up the whole corner store. They had booths by the windows and an old fashioned soda counter. They made their own ice cream and it was sensational. My favorite was the chocolate soda, served in those huge cut glass, stemmed glasses. The whipped cream was stacked really high and you had to eat it down fast before it ran over the edge but that's what made it so much fun.

Of course you have to picture the poor people who were suddenly inundated with a bunch of hyper little kids chattering on incessantly about the movies they just saw. If all of the kids on my block made it to the Colony on the same day, there would be ten of us taking over every available booth as we attacked those ice cream treats with the same frenzy the Duke attacked the bad guys. We must have been quite a site.

On the wall outside of Gertie's at the bus stop was a penny scale with the fortunes next to a Wrigley gum dispenser. Those machines spit out a real thick piece of either Juicy Fruit or Spearmint and I always made sure I had enough pennies for those machines. It wasn't like I needed the gum or to know my weight and fortune but it was there and part of the magic of the day.

We would always be heavy on our Keds on the way home. The trip seemed more like a chore after the good times we just shared. But we hashed over the movies we just saw and savored the summer breezes coming through those big sliding windows on the bus.

As we got older, perhaps around 12 or 13, we liked to walk all the way home. That way we could stop at the lagoon in Marquette Park and linger awhile on top of the hill by the Nabisco plant. Each neighborhood had parks to stop in and sit in the shade and ponder our next summer adventure with such profound words as, "Whatta you wanna do?" "I Dunno, whatta you wanna do?" That would go on until we got home and our Ma's would have dinner ready. Those profound answers would have to wait until the next day.

The next day would come around and the bottle hunts would start again and we'd scurry around for more odd jobs. Of course, that would happen between ball games at the prairie but eventually the next adventure would be planned and before we knew it, those most awful words would pierce our ears; "Back to school"! Funny thing though, the teacher's never gave us a good grade when we all wrote about what we did all summer. I guess grade school teachers just didn't like John Wayne.

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BEGINNINGS 

Welcome to the Independent Evangelist; I.E. it's happening. This started out as a simple newsletter and with the help of a great friend and web master, Doug Sunker, it is now a web site.

I'm not an evangelist by strict definition but I had no choice. Many don't believe this story I'm about to tell, but it's very true and it humbles me every time I think of it.

I'm just a gruff old man, much like Walter Matthau in Grumpy Old Men. I was bored one night, sitting in my favorite chair and flipping channels on the TV. It was a bad night for television and I was thinking of playing a game on the computer.

I still had the TV remote in my hand when I heard a voice say, in a loud voice, "Independent Evangelist". I looked at my wife as she sat on the couch reading and I knew that wasn't her voice as it was a masculine voice and was very loud. I asked if she said anything just to be sure.

I chose to ignore the voice at first and flipped to the next channel and the voice rang out even louder, "Independent Evangelist" and I felt as though I had been shoved in the shoulder. There was nobody else in the house and no way anyone could have shoved me. It was a little unnerving.

The next channel I turned to had a guy in a movie shouting, "I.E., it's happening". I heard the voice a third time and heard, "Independent Evangelist, I. E. it's happening". I felt the shove in the back again and shot out of my chair and went to the computer.

Keep in mind that I had a stroke in '93 and I can only use my left hand to type. When I was young, I typed very well for a regular guy. Since the stroke, however, I usually type perhaps 20 words per minute. I sat down that night and I was typing well over 35 words per minute with no mistakes. For me, that's fast.

I wasn't even sure what to write but I had the Word program on and a blank page was rapidly filling up. After a while, I read back what I had written and felt a chill as I hadn't remembered writing all of it. I felt like the words were shooting out of my fingertips and I was inspired with a lot of story ideas.

My wife came in to see how I was doing and she sat down and formatted the looks of the newsletter. She made the heading and set it up so it would always type in columns, which I couldn't seem to figure out. Soon, the first newsletter was done but I looked at her and asked, "Now what"?

I had no doubt in my mind that God had guided me through this first newsletter and He would give me the means to distribute it. Luckily for me, the internet is so easy to use and emails handle rather large files. I sent it out to anybody and everybody I could think of and a few requests came to me for those that don't have computers.

After a short time, my wife said we need a color laser printer for faster and more efficient printing but there really aren't many requests for ground mail. Still, the printed copy evolved into a handsome newsletter.

In time, I was getting emails from all over the United States and from a few troops in Iraq and I know I never sent it to these new people. Some were famous people with notes of encouragement but whatever the source, I knew my newsletter was getting passed around.

I am really not the type of person qualified to pass along the word of God and inspirational stories, but He chose me. Another reason I know God is directing me happens when I try to type a story on my own. They come out terrible. Some nights, I feel I have nothing left to write and I sit at the computer and think I've turned on a game and realize I've turned on the Word program. I get a chill and say, "Oh no, here it goes again" and my hands are flying over the keys.

This is a true story and it scares me in a happy way. I write about our church, Good Shepherd Lutheran, in Naperville, Illinois but this site and nothing I write have anything to do with any church. It is strictly, the Independent Evangelist. I will stay independent but I love sharing stories of faith and inspiration so feel free to contact me if you have such a story. I hope you like what you see enough to pass it along to your friends.

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