Saturday Morning Magic
Saturday Morning Magic.
Given the magic of the silver screen youngsters in the 1940's could lose themselves in the antics of Roy Rogers' westerns when Roy played alongside his wife, Dale Evans and the famous horse he called trigger. We had no TV then, we were happy enough to get out of our mums hair on a Saturday and go to what became the kids Saturday must, the 'Saturday morning pictures' at the local Odeon Cinema.
I particularly remember The Dead End Kids who became known as the Bowery boys. The Dead End Kids: Leo Gorcey, Hunz Hall, Billy Halop, Gabriel Dell, Bernard Punsley and Bobby Jordan, made many films as a team.
Later, renamed the Bowery Boys, they continued to make some great films for the youngsters of the day. Huntz Hall and Leo Gorcey played the main roles and, despite their films being regarded as B movies, they appeared with the big stars of the time like Humphrey Bogart in "Dead End" (1938) the title of which prompted the title, Dead End Kids and a year later with James Cagney in Angel's With Dirty Faces and then with John Garfield "They Made Me a Criminal' (1939).
They went on to make a host of films until 1958 when they were getting a little bit too old in the tooth to match the parts they were playing. They were then well into their 30's and with the coming of television the lack of demand for programmer type films, proved to be the death knell of the series.
The series of comedies found the Boys in a variety of situations, always with the underrated (and critically unappreciated) comedy duo of Leo and Huntz as the focus. The earlier films had an overtone of gangster melodrama, while the later films were pure slapstick.
Some of my pals couldn't afford to pay the admittance charge and I remember arranging with one or two of them to wait outside the side entrance bar-locked doors, which could be opened from the inside, and when the picture had started and the auditorium was darkened I let them in and they quietly crept to a vacant seat. Oddly we were never caught and although I knew it was wrong at the time I felt no guilt, with so kids unable to afford the admission fee, who's fathers were away in the war. And it was probable too that the cinema manager was aware of what was happening but let it go.
I remember the certain aroma in the cinema which was always pleasant - and then sitting there listening to recorded music of the day and waiting for the plush red curtains to open and the screen to start flashing with coloured lights. Soon we would be in another world, away from the hardship of war and into the wondrous life of adventure giving us all the thrills the silver screen could muster.
During the interval ices and sweets were served by an usherette and sometimes music was played on the Wurlitzer cinema organ which rose from the depths. We would all sing along to the words as directed by a moving dot on the screen. And then afterwards, coming out into the open, we felt the sudden flood of daylight stinging our eyes. They all contributed to the magic of the Saturday Morning Pictures.
On one occasion my elder brother, home on leave from the army, took me to what was known as the Essoldo cinema in Belmont near Harrow in the UK. We travelled there by train from Harrow and Wealdstone station on what was fondly known as the ‘Stanmore Rattler' - running on a single track railway. I remember my brother was eager to see a John Wayne war movie. It was more realistic than any of the later cinemascope or 3D movies could ever have been. We had been warned by a message on the screen that an air raid was going on outside, that it was up to us if we wanted to disperse to a shelter. But the film was so thrilling we decided to stay watching. Just as John Wayne fired a huge cannon large chunks of masonry fell onto the stage after a huge explosion. A neighbouring building had received a direct hit. Needless to say we never did see the rest of the film - until much later when it was on TV!
I remember those times with great affection and thanks to all those stars of the time who made our young lives so joyous. I also recall the words to the song we sang:
"Every Saturday morning where do we go.
Getting into mischief oh dear no
To the Mickey Mouse club
With our badges on
Every Saturday morning at the Odeon!"
Despite the awful bombing and a couple of near misses when a string of bombs exploded near my family home that is what stood out, the spirit of the time.
Given the magic of the silver screen youngsters in the 1940's could lose themselves in the antics of Roy Rogers' westerns when Roy played alongside his wife, Dale Evans and the famous horse he called trigger. We had no TV then, we were happy enough to get out of our mums hair on a Saturday and go to what became the kids Saturday must, the 'Saturday morning pictures' at the local Odeon Cinema.
I particularly remember The Dead End Kids who became known as the Bowery boys. The Dead End Kids: Leo Gorcey, Hunz Hall, Billy Halop, Gabriel Dell, Bernard Punsley and Bobby Jordan, made many films as a team.
Later, renamed the Bowery Boys, they continued to make some great films for the youngsters of the day. Huntz Hall and Leo Gorcey played the main roles and, despite their films being regarded as B movies, they appeared with the big stars of the time like Humphrey Bogart in "Dead End" (1938) the title of which prompted the title, Dead End Kids and a year later with James Cagney in Angel's With Dirty Faces and then with John Garfield "They Made Me a Criminal' (1939).
They went on to make a host of films until 1958 when they were getting a little bit too old in the tooth to match the parts they were playing. They were then well into their 30's and with the coming of television the lack of demand for programmer type films, proved to be the death knell of the series.
The series of comedies found the Boys in a variety of situations, always with the underrated (and critically unappreciated) comedy duo of Leo and Huntz as the focus. The earlier films had an overtone of gangster melodrama, while the later films were pure slapstick.
Some of my pals couldn't afford to pay the admittance charge and I remember arranging with one or two of them to wait outside the side entrance bar-locked doors, which could be opened from the inside, and when the picture had started and the auditorium was darkened I let them in and they quietly crept to a vacant seat. Oddly we were never caught and although I knew it was wrong at the time I felt no guilt, with so kids unable to afford the admission fee, who's fathers were away in the war. And it was probable too that the cinema manager was aware of what was happening but let it go.
I remember the certain aroma in the cinema which was always pleasant - and then sitting there listening to recorded music of the day and waiting for the plush red curtains to open and the screen to start flashing with coloured lights. Soon we would be in another world, away from the hardship of war and into the wondrous life of adventure giving us all the thrills the silver screen could muster.
During the interval ices and sweets were served by an usherette and sometimes music was played on the Wurlitzer cinema organ which rose from the depths. We would all sing along to the words as directed by a moving dot on the screen. And then afterwards, coming out into the open, we felt the sudden flood of daylight stinging our eyes. They all contributed to the magic of the Saturday Morning Pictures.
On one occasion my elder brother, home on leave from the army, took me to what was known as the Essoldo cinema in Belmont near Harrow in the UK. We travelled there by train from Harrow and Wealdstone station on what was fondly known as the ‘Stanmore Rattler' - running on a single track railway. I remember my brother was eager to see a John Wayne war movie. It was more realistic than any of the later cinemascope or 3D movies could ever have been. We had been warned by a message on the screen that an air raid was going on outside, that it was up to us if we wanted to disperse to a shelter. But the film was so thrilling we decided to stay watching. Just as John Wayne fired a huge cannon large chunks of masonry fell onto the stage after a huge explosion. A neighbouring building had received a direct hit. Needless to say we never did see the rest of the film - until much later when it was on TV!
I remember those times with great affection and thanks to all those stars of the time who made our young lives so joyous. I also recall the words to the song we sang:
"Every Saturday morning where do we go.
Getting into mischief oh dear no
To the Mickey Mouse club
With our badges on
Every Saturday morning at the Odeon!"
Despite the awful bombing and a couple of near misses when a string of bombs exploded near my family home that is what stood out, the spirit of the time.
