Brogan: The Last Picture Show!

CONCORD, NH — Aug. 19 marks 25 years since the last movie to play the storied Concord Theatre opened. After 61 years of showing thousands of motion pictures of varying quality to millions of ticket holders, the theater, within 2 weeks would close its doors. From its 1933 opening with The Sweetheart of Sigma Chi until the last picture, Andre, Theresa Cantin had become a fixture on South Main Street.

Just as Barry Steelman was the face of Cinema 93, Theresa was the face of the Concord Theatre.

Today the former movie house has been rechristened The Bank of NH Stage and under the loving hands of the Capitol Center for the Arts, it has had new life breathed into it as another performing arts venue for a city that has embraced the arts with a passion.

In my new book, The Concord Theatre and Concord’s Love Affair with the Movies, I fondly recall that evening a quarter of a century ago. It’s a remembrance as much about our community and how it evolved as about an entertainment emporium that withstood the test of time.

From the book, here is a portion of Chapter 32.

“Friday evening, Aug. 19, 1994, was like so many other evenings for me. A new film was opening at the Concord Theatre, and since it was the first night and Theresa was hoping for a good turnout for the first show, I had offered to come down and help out as needed.

As I had thousands of times in the 27 years with which I’d been a part of the Concord Theatre, I walked to the theater on the route that had always worked the best for me. Down Academy Street and then a left on Cambridge, a right onto Spring and then a left at Center. I’d walk Centre to Green, turning right and then making a left onto Park Street where I’d walk until I reached the State House Plaza. I’d cut across the Plaza and take Main Street, crossing over Capitol, School, Warren and finally Pleasant. From there it was barely a block, and the whole trip took about 12 minutes, 15 minutes if I paused to check out any store windows. I made it a habit of standing and admiring the displays in the windows of Endicott Furniture, Theresa’s next-door neighbor.

That evening Main Street seemed eerily quiet but then in the latter part of August that was sometimes the case. Many locals took vacations the last two weeks of August, and Friday night was no longer the hubbub of activity and shopping that it had once been. There were now empty storefronts and less retail businesses. Across the street from the Concord, the Sears building still loomed, but it was no longer the center of shopping it had been for many years. When I reached the door of the Concord Theatre, I pulled out my key. As you faced the theater there were three doors. Only one, the door on the far left, had a lock that a key would fit in, and I unlocked that door and stepped inside. As was my habit, I removed what we called “the hook” from the middle and far right door. The hook was a heavy rubber tube through which ran a chain and two spikes one on each end. These were slipped into the two doors and held them, in my opinion, more securely than any lock.

I began walking up the long lobby, pausing to close the door on the old ticket booth which continued to sit where it had at the front of the lobby, for decades. Curious customers often opened the door a bit to peek inside and see what might be kept in there. When they realized it was only the letters that were used on the marquee, they usually went away disappointed, often leaving the door ajar.

I stopped to turn the lights on in the lower lobby and noticed that one was burned out. While there I checked the men’s room to make sure there were adequate toilet paper and paper towels and that everything had been flushed. Next I went into the switch room to reach up and push the lever upward to turn on the power to the upstairs projection booth. I then turned on the light inside the auditorium, both the ceiling lights and the smaller lights that illuminated the walls, and finally I turned on the ceiling light in the upper lobby where I then returned.

The ladies room received the same once over I’d had already given the men’s and I adjusted the red curtains that led into the auditorium, stepping inside to make sure none of the interior lights had burned out. I also made sure that the large industrial air conditioner was turned on and that the large fan located in the back of the auditorium area, was turned on. This ensured that the cooling provided by the air conditioner was being dispersed throughout the theater.

The steel door that covered the concession stand was then rolled open and secured with a latch. In 1994 it seemed like the easiest thing to open that door. Thinking back to 1967, I had thought at the time that I had better embark on a weight training program if I expected to open the door on a regular basis.

The light switch for the concession stand was then turned on and I perused the shelves of candies wondering which I’d like to enjoy that evening when Theresa inevitably asked me if I’d like to have some candy. The warmer in the popcorn machine was the next thing to be put on so that the fresh popcorn Theresa would make that evening would stay hot. Theresa and her sister Rena came down the stairs within minutes, Theresa carrying the trusty cardboard box that contained the bills and change for the evening’s business as well as a roll of tickets. Rena headed right to the concession stand where she began restocking the shelves. Twizzlers were the first order of business since their supply was almost depleted.

Customers started to trickle in about 20 minutes before the show was scheduled to start at 7. Theresa said she’d hold the show a few minutes if a lot of last-minute stragglers were coming in. There was no short subject or cartoon nor was there a trailer or preview since she didn’t know what the next attraction was going to be. She said she’d know more after the first weekend of Andre when she could gauge how long the picture might hold.

Less than 100, about half of them children, attended the first showing of Andre. Lured by the delicious smell of the popping corn, however, more than 80 popcorns were sold not to mention dozens of candy bars.

“Maybe we’ll make something on concession during this film,” Theresa stated.

I was scheduled to leave on Saturday morning for a two-week business trip to Los Angeles and after the show had begun and I’d used a sweeper to clean the upper lobby’s rug from the fragments of popcorn, I told Theresa I would see her in two weeks. She squeezed my hands as she wished me a safe and good trip. I still recall how cold her fingers felt and almost said something but didn’t. I didn’t know at the time that I would never see her again.

Walking home on the same route from earlier that evening, I paused for a few minutes on the State House Plaza and watched dozens of bats flying and swooping around the State House dome, clearly attracted to the light. I thought it was beautiful to see and noticed that there was just the hint of a chill in the air as summer began to wind down. I also could not shake a sense of melancholy.

When I returned to Concord two weeks later, I drove by the theater on my way home from Manchester’s airport, to see what was playing. Seeing Andre still on the marquee made me optimistic that perhaps business had been good after all and that Theresa had decided to hold the film for another week. I showed up the next evening to find the doors locked and the lights out and a homemade sign on the door stating, “No showing tonight.”

The next morning I called Theresa on the phone and she told me that business for Andre had been terrible and that she couldn’t get another booking right away.

“I think we’re going to be closed until Sept. 16.”

There was never to be another picture.