When Hot Dogs Danced on the Big Screen

by Karen Richman

It was the glory days of the ‘50s. Simple. Fun. Lots of cars. And the most fun was being with your family enjoying those simple, fun things to gether. Like Drive-In movies.

On a warm summer night, what could be more exciting than my father coming home from work and asking with a big smile, “Who’s up for the Drive-In tonight?” This was followed by a chorus of “Me! Me! Not just from us kids but with our mother leading the charge. We wolfed down supper as fast as we could, didn’t complain for one minute about having to do the dishes, and then raced to get ready, sometimes taking along a pillow or muchloved stuffed animal to hold fast should there be any scary parts.

“I can see the screen!” my brother would yell as our father’s car inched forward in the long line of vehicles that extended from the box office into the road. Once “inside,” we would shout over each other, “Park in that row! “No, the one in front!” “Don’t get behind the truck.” Daddy, being an extremely pa tient man, never let our shouts get to him, instead jockeying for what he thought was the best position right next to the speaker that hung on a pole. Daddy would roll down the window and carefully position it as Mom reminded him then and probably ten more times throughout the night not to drive away when the movie ended before replacing the speaker. Each time we went to the drive-in we’d laugh and point out the car that didn’t have a Mom like ours as they’d either rip the equipment or nearly strangle themselves when leaving. Once settled, our impatience would grow as we’d constantly ask, “How many more minutes till the movie starts?” Sometimes we’d be al lowed to get out and walk around for a short time but always told, “You have to be back before the movie starts.”

Finally, it was dark enough, and the music would begin but not before an animated short advertising the concession stand and how many minutes you had before the movie started. They had dancing hot dogs and happy boxes of popcorn singing, “Only eight minutes left, hurry!”Finally, it was time for the movie. We sat straight up and took in every single frame of the experience. Just when the “good part” was coming, or in the case of a double feature the next movie, the dancing popcorn, hot dogs, and green glass bottles of Coke would once again appear, and we’d start our whining, telling our parents that we ate supper so fast we didn’t have a chance to fill up, and we’d probably perish before we got home if we didn’t get at least a dancing candy bar.

The drive-in is an important part of American cinema history begun in New Jersey in 1910. In the ‘50s more than 4000 of them dotted the landscapes from coast to coast powered by the boom of car sales following the war years. It was a place for the whole family, even babies who didn’t need to be left home with a sitter.

Drive-in popularity soared briefly during the pandemic, a place you could still find entertainment with plenty of social distancing now evolved from FM radio sound to digital laser projection and 75-foot screens, wireless audio streaming to smartphones and tablets, and conces sion stands with everything from pizza to veggie burgers. Yet by the ‘90s, the appeal of the drive-in had dwindled as people were renting movies they could watch at home or going to a multiplex at the local mall with surround sound. The oncepacked fields and lots became housing developments, and today only about 300 drive-ins still operate. Still, the memories are sweet.

Like everything else back then it was a simple time, but a fun time. We didn’t have to have a lot of money to enjoy the entertainment, and we never cared what the movie would be because it was always great. It was the experience of watching a big screen with a speaker hanging on the half open window, with blankets brought along if we got cold, and a place we could wear our pajamas and no one would see, where our parents were free to smoke, and where we could laugh and giggle and be kids without disturbing others.

They were the days when for 25 cents per car and 25 cents for each person in that car we could be transported to the Wild West, sing and dance with Fred and Ginger, laugh with Bob and Bing, swoon over Rock Hudson, and at inter mission hot dogs would dance on the screen as fireflies danced overhead. It was a place where the stars looked di rectly into our car from big screens in a field and even more stars shone overhead lighting up the night and making glad our hearts.

As of this printing, 10 drive-ins are op erating in season within a 50-mile radius of Albany.