Memories of Growing Up in Marysville
Editor’s note: We have heard from so many readers who enjoyed reading Bill Boyd’s columns about growing up in Marysville during the 1930s and ‘40s that we are going to rerun columns 1 through 52 on Fridays for the next year.
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Off to see the Wizard
Having grown up in Marysville during ...
Editor’s note: We have heard from so many readers who enjoyed reading Bill Boyd’s columns about growing up in Marysville during the 1930s and ‘40s that we are going to rerun columns 1 through 52 on Fridays for the next year.
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Off to see the Wizard
Having grown up in Marysville during the 1930s and 40s I must have seen hundreds of movies in the Avalon Theater. There were some great ones, some that were only so-so, and some real stinkers. But the one I remember most was my first “solo” movie, that is the first movie I ever went to by myself at night.
I had heard some neighborhood kids talking about this great movie that was coming to town called “The Wizard of Oz.” The more I heard them talking about it the more I wanted to see it, so I started working on my parents to take me to the movie. It didn’t take long, however, to find out that it was just not a movie that they wanted to see. So I started working on my sisters who were in high school, but they said it was just a movie for little kids.
I had one other option, namely to go to the movie by myself. This was going to take a lot of talking, however, as I had never even gone downtown at night by myself. Eventually my mother agreed, and she gave me a dime for my ticket, plus another dime for popcorn. I couldn’t wait.
When the day arrived, I didn’t eat much dinner. I was too excited. At the appointed time my mother gave me a kiss on the cheek, and I confidently walked out the door. I followed her instructions perfectly. When I got to Maple Street, I stopped and looked both ways before I crossed. When I got to Court Street, I waited for the traffic light to turn red before I crossed. I was really well prepared for the adult world. And with the street crossings behind me, I set out directly for the Avalon Theater.
I purchased my ticket and since it was warm weather, the theater’s popcorn booth had been rolled out onto the sidewalk where I purchased a box of popcorn. For the first time in my life, as I walked into the theater, I had complete control over where I was going to sit. I mean that was POWER. This was going to be a great night. I found a seat and sat there munching my popcorn.
Within a few minutes the screen lit up with the “Coming Attractions.” That didn’t take long, and then the movie started. It was black and white photography at first, and it seemed to be about some girl named Dorothy and her little dog named Toto. Then came a big storm. She got hit in the head and fell unconscious. She and her house were blown high into the sky. Then the house fell to the ground. Dorothy opened the door and stepped outside, and the whole screen turned into beautiful color.
There were trees and flowers everywhere. “This is great,” I thought to myself. That must have been how Adam felt when he first saw the Garden of Eden. Suddenly a lot of little people appeared. They were singing and dancing, as happy as could be. Apparently they were celebrating because Dorothy’s house had come down on some very dangerous lady called the Wicked Witch of the East, and it had killed her. I was happy for all those little people who were still singing and dancing. I thought this was great!
Then everything changed. There was a flash of red smoke, and the scariest lady I had ever seen stepped out of it. She was really mad, and her raspy voice struck terror in my heart. In fact I had never before seen anyone that mad. Suddenly I wished that my sisters had come to the movie with me so I could sit beside them. I looked around the theater to see if any of my friends were there to sit with. But I could see no one in the darkness.
The camera moved to the dead lady’s feet sticking out from under the house. She was wearing black and white striped stockings and ruby slippers. Suddenly the lady’s slippers disappeared and her feet curled up under the house. It was ghastly.
Then the slippers were suddenly on Dorothy’s feet, and the Wicked Witch of the West got so mad I thought she was going to explode. She threatened, then cackled, then threatened some more. She was not only going to get Dorothy, she was going to get that little dog, too. Then I suddenly realized that this whole thing had been a giant mistake for me. I thought this was going to be a happy movie. I didn’t know it was a horror film. They shouldn’t let kids see this kind of gruesome stuff.
So I got out of my seat and headed up the aisle and out of the theater onto Main Street. It was so nice to see that I was back in Marysville, and everything was normal. So I started walking home, but suddenly I realized I couldn’t go home. I had only been in that movie for maybe 20 or 30 minutes. If I got home this early, my sisters would surely put two and two together and know that I had left the movie because I was scared. And they would never let me forget it. So I had to find some way to kill about an hour and a half.
I walked around and looked in store windows for a while, and then I found myself in front of Butler’s restaurant on Fifth Street. I went in, walked through the restaurant and into the back room, which was a hangout for high school kids complete with jukebox and dance floor. The first booth I passed was occupied by boys who were some of my sister’s classmates. One was a boy named Bernard Diehl, whose nickname was “Fish.” Sitting beside him was a boy named Bob Henderson, who later became a Marysville dentist. I didn’t recognize the third boy, but Fish asked me to sit down and talk with them, which I thought was a great idea.
We talked for quite a while, and they asked me a lot of questions. Most of the questions were about my sisters, and they laughed a lot at my answers. Fish bought me a Coca-Cola and I thought this was pretty neat, sitting here with these high school boys and they were laughing at things I said, things about my sisters that I didn’t even realize were funny.
I was apparently having such a good time that I didn’t realize how late it had become. The movie had been over for quite some time and I didn’t show up at home. My parents called the theater to see if there had been a delay of some kind and they said it had been over for quite a while. They started to worry and sent my sisters out to look for me.
My sister, Maryann, thought she might find me in Butler’s “back room,” so that was one of the first places she looked. Bingo … she found me. As she escorted me out of the room, the boys teased her a bit about some of the things I told them about her that had made them laugh. I don’t think she thought they were very funny.
A few days ago, 76 years later, my sister, who now lives in Texas, and I were talking on the phone and the conversation somehow got around to that 1939 night at the Avalon theater. We both had a good laugh, and I apologized for telling those boys some of the funny things about her. Those were good days and it’s fun to remember them, but to be totally honest, today I still get a little antsy when I think of that Wicked Witch of the West.