In the fall of 1934, a small theatre called the Lyceum, previously known as The Gem, burned to the ground. It was 22 years old. Six years later, another theatre was built, on that very spot and there it stayed open and family-run for the next seventy years. Johnsons, Deiblers and Whistlers all made a go at it. As the The Twentieth Century came to a close and priorities shifted from communal to individual (brought about by expense and availability of such personal devices as the iPod, the iPhone and the internet), from community to commercial (the mall), the Watson Theatre found there was no place left for it and in September of 2009, the Watson Theatre closed its doors.
I moved, along with my family, Mark, Teena, Darian and Kirsten, to 301 Elm St. Watsontown, PA, 17777 (we were told by a former resident that once you live in Watsontown, you never ever forget the ZIP code. He was right). I bought my first comic book at LeVan’s Newsstand (along with uncountable portions of penny candy). I saw a glut of films on the Watson Theatre’s screen. Hell, I was hit by a car on 1st Street, at the bottom of that hill, where the road makes a T. I knew the Yannaccones, the Wolfes and the Hills. The Burdens, the Bowers, Wayne and Roxanne (who had the Boxer dogs), Genny, the old woman who lived across the street from us and who was consistently robbed by “the Goddamned Gypsies.” I played on the bike path and in the forest. I saw my first nudie magazine, rotting under a tree that some other kid had stolen from his dad and hidden there.
We would play hide and seek on summer nights and the town was our playground. We would run rampant and our imaginations ran free. We created a trio of comic book superheroes. We went “corning” the night before Halloween, a time-honored practice that is likely still a perennial favorite. And good for you, if you do. The World needs a bit more corning.
But every weekend, no matter what movie was playing, we would go see a movie at The Watson Theatre. Offhand I can only think of two of them that we saw, but I can say that if someone mentions a movie title that came out sometime in the early 90s, odds are, I saw it at the Watson Theatre.
We moved, ultimately, to Lewisburg and it was from there that I graduated. My path took me from the Central Susquehanna Valley, to Lancaster, and back again. I moved to New York City, five years ago and since then I have been working as hard as I can to get to a point where I can live a normal life. I’m not there yet and lord knows when that will be.
Over the past month, I have had criticisms leveled at me ranging from “It’s too expensive,” to “the people just don’t care enough” to “Why did you only make it a month? That’s unrealistic” to “You only want to make money off this town” Fact of the matter is, I came up with the idea to buy the Watson Theatre and turn it into a non-profit organization in the span of one week, nearly 5 months after the Watson Theatre closed. I executed my fundraiser in 5 days, got it up and running and over the course of 5 weeks, I actually raised over $3000 from people from all over the country to help a community and a theatre that they had never heard of. I think that even though I didn’t make the money to buy the theatre, it’s obvious that this is needed, not just in Watsontown, but everywhere.
But I also got a lot of emails telling me that I should keep it up; that this is needed; that the people want it and need it and that they want their kids to go there and that they went there as a kid and Watsontown needs the Christmas party; and that, essentially, the theatre is the centerpiece of the town. I think that’s true.
It’s very easy to let the few sarcastic and hopeless folks get to you. I’ll be honest, today, I was feeling it. I was really ready to say, “You know what? I’m not even going to try. Nobody cares enough to keep the damn thing running when it was still running, why would I even think they would help get it back on it’s feet again?” It’s hard not to feel that way when you get these comments. The negative overpowers the good, and when you think about it, the good really did overpower the negative over these five weeks. Most people I talked to told me it was an amazing thing that I was doing.
So. Let me tell you what I want to do. You tell me if it’s worth doing. And in the future (not sure when, but we’ll figure it out soon), I’ll come to Watsontown and we’ll have a chat. But first, let’s talk about what I want to do.
I want to make a non-profit organization to buy and run the Watson Theatre as a community film center. That means I can’t possibly make any money on the theatre or on the town. I can’t make one cent. The money goes back into the theatre to make it operate properly for you. Let me repeat that: I will not benefit monetarily from this.
I want to show classic and independent films. I want to show films from the community. I want to teach classes for the community. I want to have a movie club for the community. I want to get people excited and riled up about movies. I want people to go to the movies and to feel that same sense of exhilaration that I do. The flickering picture on a giant silver screen gets me every time.
On his last show on his 7 month run on The Tonight Show, Conan O’Brien said one last thing to his audience before he got onstage to perform “Freebird” with Will Ferrell. I will never forget it as long as I live and his words stuck with me. He said, “Please do not be cynical. I hate cynicism. It’s my least favorite quality. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen.”
So, yes. I’m going to find a way to buy this movie theatre. And I’m going to work hard to keep it running and to keep you the audience attending films. And I’m going to let the negativity run off my shoulders because I’m taking Conan’s words to heart.
You should too.