The Dell Theater

THE DELL THEATER
in the early 1950s, Philadelphia

The neighborhood movie house was located on Girard Avenue, midway between 40th and 41st Streets. It was born as the Grant Theater, and reincarnated just after WWII as “The Dell@.

Movie houses in the pre-TV era were important community and social centers. Each neighborhood theater reflected its communities, and the Dell was no exception. Its customers were evenly split between the Italian community, occupying the West side of 40th Street and Jewish community which lived on the East side. The ethnic divide continued into the theater, which consisted of a wide center aisle and two narrower side aisles. Seating conventions were rigid. From the back of the theater, as you looked at the screen, the left side aisles were populated by the Italians, the right side aisle by the Jews. Older people, couples and dates occupied the center. The youngest movie-goers sat closest to the front. Teenagers sat about half way back, and moms and dads sat behind them. The center front had some spill over between the younger Italians and the Jews. As I entered puberty I learned that it was the place to sit if you wanted to meet a Jewish girl from the other side of 40th Street.

Neighborhood theaters like the Dell were usually smaller than the large Hollywood Studio owned theaters of center city. Big studio productions from MGM or 20th Century Fox were first released at a down town theater owned by one of the major studios. After a run of several weeks, in some cases months, the big production movies would drift into the neighborhoods where they could be seen less expensively and locally. Downtown theaters could charge more than one dollar. Neighborhood theaters like the Dell charged much less. We paid .39 per adult and .20 per child for admission, an increase from the Grant=s wartime charge of .25 per adult and .10 per child.

No one seemed to mind the price increase, and the Dell did a booming business. The changeover was spectacular; new red tile facade, maroon and gold wall to wall carpeting which even extended into the renovated lobby, a rejuvenated and enlarged candy/popcorn counter, soda machine, redone men and lady's rooms, and uniformed ushers, a job I took at about age 14.

While the Dell=s main entrance faced busy Girard Avenue two fire exits, mandated by the city Fire Marshall, were placed on either side of the screen at the front of the theater. The fire exits were always closed from the inside, but when opened, they let out onto the "Court", which was a space of about one house width between 4023 and 4027 Cambridge. We soon learned that the exit could also be used as an entrance, and devised a plan whereby we could enter the movie house without paying. The plan was fairly simple, and we never abused it. To my knowledge, no one was ever caught "sneaking in", and management never discovered the gambit. It required some guts and the full cooperation of all involved. ... One person would pay his way into the theater. He would take a seat on the left hand side in the very front row. He would wait until the show started, and under cover of darkness, would crawl from his seat squiggle under the heavy velvet curtains that hid the barred exit corridor. Once safely behind the curtains he would lift the bar from the door, freeing the door lock. This being accomplished, he would knock softly to let those outside know that the bar had been lifted and the door could be opened. The outsiders waited two or three minutes to permit the inside man to crawl back under the curtains and return to his seat. Those times in which I acted as "Inside Man", I added an elegant touch by not returning directly to my seat, but by sauntering to the candy counter where I would purchase my candy bar while being as far from the scene of the crime as the dimensions of the movie house would permit.

As I said, when I was 14 years old I finally landed the coveted usher=s job. Sadly, it lasted only a few months. I liked it well enough, but if truth be told, I abused the privileges associated with ushering. Like most neighborhood theaters at the time, the Dell usually showed three different features per week. This meant that the theater marquee had to be changed to advertise the new features. The usher couldn't do the job alone so he was permitted to hire an assistant who received no wages, but who had unlimited free movie rights. The job as usher's assistant was considered a plum and I made the proper initial choice, selecting my friend and school chum and Cambridge Street pal, Anthony Peruto for the job. Anthony was amazing, he could climb the ladder and hook himself onto the top step with one leg, stretch almost horizontally and place letters with startling speed and accuracy. I, on the other hand had a carefully concealed fear of heights, and soon turned over the second story job to Anthony while I ran the needed letters up and down the ladder. We were a great team, and usually got the marquee speedily in place. My boss, Mr. Rubin, the theater manager was well pleased. But, I couldn't leave well enough alone. I hired another assistant, my friend Nick Nero and then a third, my cousin Jim Perretta. No combination worked as well as Anthony and I. In truth no combination worked as well as Anthony and anyone else. Too many people were receiving free movie privileges. It couldn't last, and it didn't. Mr. Rubin terminated my employment.
Jim and I took it out on the new usher, a fellow named Bob who wasn't even a 40th Streeter. He came from the other side of the train tracks to get to his job. I am ashamed to report that Jim and I roughed up Bob one night as he and his assistant were engaged in putting up the new marquee. The truth of the matter is that I followed Jim=s lead here. I wish I hadn=t. I still regret it. To this day Jim maintains that it was my idea to beat up Bob. Who knows? There are three realities, the event, the event as remembered and the event as retold.