“Drive-in Entertainment”

By

Gerry Niskern

Outdoor drive-in movie theaters were numerous around the valley in the l950’s. One of our favorites was the Indian, located on the land behind the Northeast corner of 27^th avenue and W. Indian School Road. They charged per person unlike some who charged a fee per car.  A 7-11 convenience market was built on that corner later on and behind it covering the rest of the land was  a Motel 6.

There was always a little period of adjustment on the tilt of the car and then invariably moving to another spot where the speaker was actually working. The kids wanted to head straight to the snack bar.

I liked the drive-in because I didn’t have to spend hours on the phone trying to get a baby sitter just so we could see a movie. We could take them with. Most kids arrived in their pajamas. All the parents were counting on them konking out soon after the first feature started.  I remember one time that we thought for sure we’d out last the kids. Gone With the Wind was re-released and we planned on eventually enjoying some quiet time. At 1 A. M. when the music was building to a final crescendo and the credits were rolling, we looked back, and our three- year- old was still staring at the screen.

When I think about it, their dad wasn’t crazy about the drive-ins, period. At least once during every excursion he could be heard declaring, “This family doesn’t come to watch the movies, we come to demolish the car!”  That was usually after the knobs were off the window cranks, the wind- wing windows were no longer working and visors were hanging askew.

There was one reason daddy did like the Indian Drive-in. Diagonally across 27^th and Indian School was the Air Haven Airport. A Texaco station was built on the Southwest corner of the intersection later. Directly behind it is a giant microwave communications tower.

Back then Dad loved watching the light planes dropping in just feet above the giant screen as they descended into Air Haven. Talk about distractions and high obstacles!  One of the pilots who flew Globe Swifts and Fairchild Primary Trainers frequently into Air Haven in the l950s remembers it being exciting, considering the runway was only 2,600 feet long!.

“Let’s all go to the Prom”

By

Gerry Niskern

Among the paintings by Norman Rockwell is one titled “ After the Prom”. In the image a teenage couple is seated at the soda fountain of a drugstore. The girl is dressed in a waltz length pink gown with cap sleeves.  Her date is holding her purse and pink sweater while she adjusts her corsage. The soda jerk waits to take their order. A trip to the corner drugstore for a soda after the prom…imagine that!

I have some young friends in Paradise Valley who are getting ready for  their prom. The girls have been shopping for the right gown for weeks.  Strapless is a must. They plan to spend around $400 for their dresses, but with shoes, purse, makeup and hair the evening will run closer to $600. Their dates will be in a rented tux, of course. But  that’s just the beginning. He’ll be footing the bill for the dance, dinner at an upscale restaurant first and hopefully sharing a limousine with a group. Typically, they will go on to another party after the prom.

Our Junior-Senior prom at Phoenix Union High School was held in the gymnasium. My date picked me up in his low riding black Chevy coupe. The cool look was achieved by loading the trunk with sand bags.  A trip to Coney Island down on Central Ave for a chilidog or a ride out to the Ice Cream Polar Bar on North Central for a Zombie were a couple of the after dance options.

A friend of mine from Minnesota reminisced,  “My prom in the 40’s was held in May when the weather was good. My date picked me up in an Essex for the $6 dinner dance. My gardenia corsage was $3.  All the juniors and seniors went whether they had a date or not. The gowns were long and the boy’s suits were dark.”

We both share the experience of raising children of the 60’s who spurned the idea of anything traditional. They wore their hair long and their army fatigues baggy. Needless to say, since they worked hard at being anti-establishment, going to a prom was out of the question. By the time our free spirits had offspring of their own, the prom was popular again but prices had changed. Dress prices had quadrupled and tuxedos and limousines were a must.

Actually proms started changing in the late fifty’s. Another friend who went to Glendale Union High School remembers paying around $45 for her gown and of course, shoes dyed to match.  “My boyfriend showed up in a white tuxedo he had rented for $20. He brought white orchids.  The prom was a dinner dance at the Bali Hi Hotel in Phoenix.  After the dance everyone raced home and changed clothes. Then we drove to up to Yarnell, and had a sunrise breakfast at the old “Ranch House Café. Don’t ask me why!” she laughed.

Twenty or so years later, when their son went to the Glendale Hi prom, the ticket to the prom was $80 and included a sit down dinner at the Pointe Resort. During those days, getting a date for the prom was critical. If you didn’t have a date, you didn’t go.

It seems we’ve come full circle; because now groups go to the prom sans dates. Sounds good to me!

My date for that prom in April, 1950 says the most expensive part of prom night was the price of the ticket he received for having straight pipes on his Chevy coupe that could be heard several blocks away. He thought that maybe the limousines aren’t such a bad idea.

Mini United Nations

By

Gerry Niskern

The Enchanted Island Amusement Park at Encanto has been in the news lately. It was in danger of closing for a long period of renovation for a new ownership. It will remain as is for another year.

But did you know that there’s been a mini United Nations gathering every weekend at Encanto Park for many years?

The delegates at these multicultural meetings in the heart of Central Phoenix are Middle Eastern, Asian, African American, Anglo, Hispanic, Jewish, Native American and many other ethnic groups.  As soon as a grownup  buys the tickets, the junior dignitaries  all race to be the first on the rollercoaster, merry-go-round or airplanes.

On a recent afternoon, everyone seemed headed for the roller coaster. High above on the platform a future doctor, with immaculate combed blonde hair was rushing to be in the first car on the Dragon; but so was a future chief, a little Native American boy. Suddenly an Asian princess with black braids tried to scoot by and take the front seat. They both  stopped, shrugged, let little Miss Saigon pass and then both climbed into the second car.

Nearby, down on the grass, a small gymnast in a purple leotard was teaching two little Middle Eastern girls, wearing  head coverings.  how to turn a cartwheel. It didn’t seem to matter if their new playmates wore clothes that were different. The color of their skin wasn’t important. Giggles were the universal language of the day.

I watched a tiny red head begin to cry as her bumper boat was rammed hard repeatedly while she was stuck in a tight spot. Soon, a bigger boy, wearing a Yarmukle,  guided his boat in and freed hers. Meanwhile, to my left, a Hispanic  toddler hurried over and gently rocked a cradle- carrier containing a crying Black infant. The mutual mothers laughed in approval.

While watching these kids, I thought back to how pleased my mother was when we moved to Arizona in l942 and we brought home Mexican, Asian, and Anglo friends. She loved the fact that the place we now called home didn’t seem to have the ethnic prejudices of our little hometown back East.

While I was growing up here, the population was exploding at record speed. All newcomers found room to breathe and prosper in the welcome Western atmosphere.

The Enchanted Island at Encanto Park on any weekend afternoon is a tiny snap shot of the diverse culture of our city in the heart of Arizona.!

“Growing Pains”

by

Gerry Niskern

The northeast corner of 1^st Avenue and W. Washington in downtown Phoenix is now part of Renaissance Square. Pink granite pillars with brass trim adorn the premises.

When I was growing up in Phoenix in the l940’s, Newberry’s five and ten cent store stood on that corner, always bustling with shoppers.   Regardless of your mode of transportation, streetcar or bus, everyone who went uptown eventually dropped into the variety store that carried everything. Newberrys was an early version of K-Mart or Target for shoppers in the valley, only on a smaller scale.

My cousin worked behind the candy counter after school.  She remembers the Native American women who sold their pottery and jewelry on the sidewalk along Washington coming in to buy the orange marshmallow cookies by the pounds. They were a favorite of mine too.

Walking home from Phoenix Union we stopped in  Newberrys to buy sheet music from the lady in the basement who was playing the piano to demonstrate the latest hits.

A few years later we went back to  Newberrys to purchase Christmas tree ornaments for our first tree. I also found a small crèche that still graces our living room all these years later during the holidays.

My resident historian and I also went to Newberrys for our baby’s first little  pair of shoes. The infant department was in the basement too. If it hadn’t been for a kind-hearted saleslady showing us the right method, we would have never managed to get those white high tops onto those stubborn, little feet. Hint: You have to go at it sideways!

My resident historian always said that  Newberrys  carried the best selection of model airplane kits in town. He loved to tell the story of once, when he was around ten years old, he had saved two dollars for a new airplane model. He didn’t spend a nickel on the streetcar, and walked uptown instead, in case he needed every cent for the long awaited purchase. He clutched his two dollar bills as he browsed the model counter. If he was lucky, he could find one there with Balsa wood. During the war it became scarce and the model companies started substituting harder woods. It was really a banner day when the five and ten had a new shipment of hard-to-get straight pins to use in your model building.

When he finally made his big decision he realized he didn’t have the two dollar bills in his hand. He searched the entire store, to no avail.  Needless to say, he walked home too.

Years later he was driving by as they were demolishing the old Newberry store building. He always laughed and  said he felt like stopping and telling the construction crew, “Hey, if you guys find two dollars under those floor boards, they’re mine!”