Retro Shock: Drive-In Movies Rediscovered

Christopher Jackson knew something was up when his dad transplanted the white leather seats from their idled 1965 Mustang to the bed of the family pickup truck.

“I asked him why. He said we were going to the drive-in movies,” the 12-year-old recalled. “I started jumping up and down, I was so excited.”

And with that, Christopher became one of the legions of people who are discovering--or rediscovering--drive-in movies.

“It’s cool,” he said.

Since the Moberly Five & Drive theater reopened last spring, up to 1,000 moviegoers have come on some busy weekend nights.

Similar scenes are playing out around the country.

The Rustic Drive-In in North Smithfield, R.I., routinely turns away customers from the 580-car theater on Saturday nights during warm weather, said the owners, Clem and Beverly Desmaris, who met at the drive-in in 1954 and bought it in 1988.

“The great thing about the drive-in is that you can do things there you can’t in the cinema. You can smoke; the kids can make noise; you can sit outside in front of a big screen. Not a night goes by when someone doesn’t thank me for reopening the drive-in,” said Jim Lipuma, 31, who in 1995 bought and refurbished the Galaxy Drive-In in North Vandergrift, Pa. He also reopened the Moonlite drive-in in Brookville, Pa.

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Forty years ago, there were more than 4,000 drive-in theaters around the country. They were nearly driven to extinction in the 1970s and 1980s by cable television, VCRs, land developers and the comforts of climate-controlled indoor theaters. Many of those that remained turned to “B” movies and X-rated films for survival.

But today, the National Assn. of Theater Owners says there are more than 825 drive-ins, including many that have been reopened by drive-in theater buffs and preservationists trying to hold on to a piece of Americana.

The first drive-in opened in Camden, N.J., in 1933.

The Five & Drive project started when Elmer Bills Jr., co-owner of the B&B; Theaters chain, was building a new five-screen indoor theater on the acreage of his company’s old drive-in, which shut down in 1985 after 35 years of “B” movies and carload nights, where one price admitted all.

“We went out and looked around the site and the old screen tower was still standing, and we said we might as well put the drive-in back in operation. We sure had plenty of room,” Bills said.

There were changes, to be sure. Instead of the familiar crackling loudspeakers on stretching cables, movie soundtracks are broadcast by low-range FM radio. Visitors who don’t have FM receivers may borrow one at the box office.

In another change, some drive-ins now feature homemade and fancy foods at concession stands. Haar’s Drive-In in Dillsburg, Pa., offers fried oysters, chicken cordon bleu and hand-cut french fries.

The Five & Drive uses the snack bar and restrooms from the nearby indoor theater complex. A common projection room on the second floor means one projectionist can run the whole operation, including the movie to the wide outdoor screen. B&B;, which operates a string of movie houses across the Midwest and a generation ago owned 11 drive-ins, believes it now has the only hybrid operation in the nation.

Although first-run movies are featured, the drive-in is a little less expensive than the walk-up theater. A ticket to the walk-up theater costs $5.50 for adults and $3.50 for children, while the drive-in costs $3.50 for adults and $2 for kids.

The Five & Drive usually shows two features; on a Saturday last fall, the opening movie was the G-rated Disney animated film “Hercules,” and the second attraction, started after the very young fell asleep, was the PG-rated “My Best Friend’s Wedding.”

“We’ve found that’s a good formula, something for the grown-ups and something for the children,” Bills said. “It’s a fine evening of entertainment for the whole family.”

When the Jackson family arrived at the drive-in, there were 400 attending the Five & Drive. It was a humid, summer night. Rows of vehicles lined up well before sunset--classic cars carrying sentimental couples, vans driven by parents holding pajama-clad youngsters, pickups parked on the rear row by cuddling teenagers.

“They told me it was a special place, and that when you saw the windows steamed up, you knew not to bother them,” Christopher said as his parents grinned.

“Brings back old memories,” said his father, 39-year-old Pete Jackson.

Charles Eggers, 45, had just arrived in Missouri from Modesto, Calif., for a visit with his girlfriend in Columbia. In keeping with the evening’s retro feeling, they arrived in his 1969 Gran Torino.

“She wanted to run to the drive-in and I just said great because that’s all we had growing up,” Eggers said. “There’s nothing like a drive-in--a sweetheart in the front seat, you get bored with the movie, you neck a little. It’s a good evening out.”

Two generations made the trip: the son and daughter of Eggers’ girlfriend, and the son’s fiancee, who busily wiped the bugs from their windshield.

While the moviegoers were clearly satisfied, Bills recalled with glee the glory days of his drive-in, when the Missouri State Highway Patrol had to help direct traffic for one particularly popular feature, a country music movie called “Cotton Pickin’ Chicken Pickers.”

“It’s a rarity to see a drive-in open these days,” Bills said with pride, “but it’s been hugely popular.”