THE cinema was a great form of escapism and Mam and my sister Peggy and I would go to the pictures two or three times a week.
When I got back home from school, Mam might say: “What’s on at the pictures?”
I would eagerly look on the inside of the front page of the Derby Evening Telegraph, where all the cinema programmes were listed. There were 17 cinemas in Derby during these years and most, but not all, of the suburbs had their own local picture house.
The programmes were usually Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and then they changed for the rest of the week. There were invariably two films – a B movie and a feature film – with the Pathe News and a cartoon in between. There would also be trailers for the following week.
At the end of the evening, they always played the national anthem and everyone stood up during this.
In answer to Mam’s query, I would search through the paper, looking at the local picture houses first. I knew what Mam liked and I would be trying to find something to tempt her. I knew I must be halfway there or she would not have asked me to look.
Very often I did not have to give the title of the film; I would just say something like “Humphrey Bogart’s on at the Coliseum” and that would be enough.
Mam and I had similar tastes in films but, whereas I just wanted to see a picture, Mam might just need a bit of relief after a particularly hard day.
Bogart, Cagney, George Raft and Edward G Robinson were always a certainty. There were also some great B-movie detectives like Boston Blackie, Charley Chan, Sherlock Holmes (starring Basil Rathbone, of course) and the Lone Wolf.
Almost any cowboy picture would appeal to Mam as well. She liked swashbuckling adventure films, too.
There were also some pretty good feature films which are still first-class entertainment today.
The year 1939 was known as the golden year of Hollywood as there were more classic films released that year than any other. The most famous was Gone with the Wind but there was also Stagecoach, which catapulted John Wayne to stardom, The Wizard of Oz, Goodbye Mr Chips and at least a dozen more. These were all on the big screen during the early 1940s.
If there was anything decent on locally, Mam would either say, “Let’s go and see that then,” or, if she was short of cash she would tell me to ask Dad if he would treat us. He always grumbled but never refused.
Our local “flea pit”, as these small cinemas were often called, was the Forum, in London Road. It had once been called the Cosy and later it became the Cameo.
To me, it was always the Forum. It is now the Anoki Indian restaurant which I visited recently with my family. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the figurines of the semi-naked ladies which had adorned the upper walls of the Forum are still there as part of the restaurant’s decor.
The cheapest seats at the Forum were 9d but they were right down at the front and caused eye strain. We always sat at the back, downstairs, which cost a shilling each. The upstairs seats were 1s 9d, but that was a bit too much.
There were at least four cinemas within a ten-minute walk of our Oxford Street home so, even if Mam was too tired to walk far, we still had quite a choice.
During the 1940s and early 1950s, there were always queues at the cinemas in town and even at the locals at weekends.
Sometimes you might queue up for ages and not get in at all. It is hard to believe with so many cinemas that it was so difficult to get in.
Sometimes you cold get in but had to stand in the aisle until a seat became vacant.
The two main categories were “A” (adult – children had to be accompanied by an adult to get in) and “U” (universal – children could get in unaccompanied). Children were not allowed in at all to see an “X” rated film. Some of the local picture houses did not enforce these rules too rigidly, though, but most of the big cinemas in town did.
Virtually all the cinemas advertised their “last complete performance” at 6.45pm. If you were in a queue, you might miss the beginning of the programme. The show was usually over by, or just before, 10pm.
For the first few days of the war, the cinemas were closed as a safety precaution, but this did not last long as the effect on public morale was deemed more harmful than the risk of bombing.
We did not get any bombing for about a year anyway and, by this time, wild horses could not have prevented us from our evenings at the pictures.
Due to the blackout, the streetlights were not switched on and a hand torch was an essential piece of equipment. Some obstacles, such as trolley poles, had white bands painted round them for safety. Once we had got used to it, travelling on foot did not seem to be too much of a problem.
I have many happy memories of an evening at the flicks followed by a cuppa in front of the open fire at home.
If we had the means, we would toast some bread on a toasting fork for supper. We would spread anything we could get on the toast. Dripping was the favourite but we would even use lard if we had any, or jam.
There was usually something good on the wireless to make the evening complete. Like the wireless, the wartime cinema was invaluable and one of the few things which really made life bearable.
Most of the old cinemas have been demolished now, although the old Gaumont on London Road is still there – I think it’s a nightclub now.
Like the Forum, some of the old buildings still exist, but for other purposes.
This is obviously due to television. It is very sad but understandable. I, for instance, could no longer sit through a film show due to the infirmity of age, but I will never forget the many hours of pleasure and relief they gave to us all, once upon a time.
It seems strange now, looking back, how these times of fear, hardship, sadness and austerity evoke such happy memories but the simplest things brought that degree of happiness which we were desperate to attain.
The favourite saying was: “It will all be okay after the war.” To some extent this was wishful thinking but it helped if you believed it.
