Memories of Mayberry: Love and Horror at The Cook
Growing Up in a Small Southern Town
Memories of Mayberry is a series of stories about growing up during the 50s & 60s in Walterboro, a small town nestled deep in the heart of the South Carolina Lowcountry.
The phone rang.
“You going to the show?”, asked the voice on the other end.
This call every Saturday morning between me and my best friend, Richard was duplicated between friends all across our small community in the heart of the South Carolina Lowcountry.
“The show” referred to the Saturday Matinee at the Cook Theater, an icon in Walterboro since 1948. The last show, I’ve been told, was screened in 1983.
Every Saturday afternoon, the alleyway beside the Cook was filled with bicycles. No matter what was playing - western, horror, war, comedy, romance, or adventure, almost every kid in town from the 2nd grade on up was a regular at the show (There were no movie ratings back then.)
This was a time when few doors were locked. We were as likely to be disciplined by a neighbor or friend’s Mom as our own.
Kids would ride off on their bicycles for a whole day without causing alarm. The only real requirements were to respect our elders and be home before dark.
So, our parents had no problem with us going to the show each week. It was the perfect setup: for less than a dollar (50 cents for the show, 15 cents for popcorn, and a dime for a soda), the Matinee at The Cook offered a safe and inexpensive place for kids to gather.
It wasn’t uncommon to hear someone’s name called out during the show that they were “wanted outside”, usually meaning that their parents were calling them for something.
One year, early in the 2nd grade, my friend Joey's Mom included a show as a part of his birthday party. Around ten of us went.
That day, the show happened to be a horror movie called The Tingler.
A Wikipedia page had this to say about The Tingler:
The film tells the story of a scientist who discovers a parasite in human beings, called a "tingler", which feeds on fear. The creature earned its name by making the spine of its host "tingle" when the host is frightened. In line with other Castle horror films, including Macabre (1958) and House on Haunted Hill (1959), Castle used gimmicks to sell the film. The Tingler remains most well known for a gimmick called the "Percepto!", a vibrating device, in some of the theater chairs, which the onscreen action activated.
Several of our theater seats were rigged with this “percepto” device.
For 2nd graders, many of whom were still only six years old, this was so terrifying that the theater had to pause the show and refund their money. But that didn’t prevent the nightmares that resulted from the experience.
My only personal memory of that show was that it was filmed in black & white except for one color scene - that of someone turning a bathtub faucet on and blood came out.
Horror films, due to their nature, are not easily forgotten.
The one that got to me the most was The Brides of Dracula. I had occasional nightmares for years after that one (There are a couple of funny stories about this which I will save for another occasion).
Aside from seeing the latest films, The Cook played an important social development role in our lives. It was one of the few times friends could gather without our parents around.
Oh, the things we learned - And not just from the movies.
Those of us who were pre-teens were mesmerized by the teenage couples making out in the rows ahead of us. Sometimes we would toss popcorn or small spitballs at them. They were usually oblivious to that.
Seeing them literally mouth-locked for what seemed like hours, we wondered whether they even knew what show was playing. More than likely, they were just using the occasion to be together without parental chaperones.
This was supposed to be an expression of love. It was our first exposure to the strange feelings stirring in our young minds and bodies - Something we couldn’t quite process at our tender ages. The only thing that even came close was seeing our parents kiss. But, that was nothing like this.
In the middle of my seventh-grade year, we moved to the coastal village of Mt. Pleasant, in the greater Charleston metro area.
That was the beginning of far greater changes taking place.
With the advent and proliferation of Rock Music, the unpopularity and huge protests of the Vietnam War, and the first steps of racial integration, societal norms were being challenged and transformed in ways we could barely comprehend. A complete cultural upheaval was forcing itself into our lives.
While all this profoundly affected me, the Cook Theater played a significant role in preparing me for some of the coming changes.
For sure, it ignited an interest in the “fairer sex”. It also opened my eyes to a world beyond what my small-town life offered. It sparked a desire to see what else was out there.
Almost overnight, an era had slipped into the archives. Mayberry had become American Graffiti. Innocence was lost forever.
If you’re interested, you can follow the further adventures of this small-town boy who endeavored to venture beyond these humble “Mayberry-like” beginnings. A pursuit that eventually led me home:
Until next time, my friends - Thank you for subscribing to The Talking Pen, a creative writing site for fiction & non-fiction stories, poetry, art, and personal musings. While you’re here, check out my original ‘Stack: Life UnCorked, where we dive into the deep end of life from a Christian perspective.
...and thus were a generation of Baby Boomers introduced to the joys of film, some of whom would end up making them themselves...