Odeon’s last picture show

Yesterday the York Odeon, the city's last picture house of the golden era, dimmed its lights for good.

"The Odeon represented a big part of my childhood," said Derek Atkins, a firm supporter of The Press petition to save the Odeon, signed by more than 13,000 people.

"I spent many a happy day there and I feel real irritation and aggravation it is closing.

"It was a magical place for a child."

The last customers welcomed through the doors paid to see the romantic comedy You, Me And Dupree, starring Kate Hudson and Matt Dillon.

The sadness felt by its closure was a far cry from the electric atmosphere of 1937, when York's grand first picture house opened its doors.

Former Sheriff of York Les Marsh joined the Odeon's staff, aged 15, as a pageboy.

"I lived at that time in the Crescent Working Men's Club just behind the Odeon," he said. "My parents were steward and stewardess there."

He remembers the opening in 1937. "My mother and father took me there. I remember the huge searchlight shining above the building.

"There was quite a lot of excitement that day; cinemas were the thing then. They were the entertainment."

Mr Marsh, aged 79, was paid less than £1 a week for his services.

"I wore a green uniform, with three rows of bright silver buttons and a flat cap," he said.

"It was war time and clothing and shoes weren't that available, so I didn't have black shoes to go with it."

His duties included polishing brasses, taking tickets and patrolling the queues in the foyer.

Once, he presented a bouquet of flowers to a rising film star. "I can't remember her name now though," he admits.

He even carried out fire watching duty at the cinema during the Second World War.

"During the war, I did fire watching alongside a young male projectionist. It involved sleeping on the floor, and we brewed up tea and saved the tea leaves so we could have another brew the following morning."

The inside of the cinema was grand, he remembers. "It was a magic world, quite different to the drabness of war."

It was subject to disrepair though - one projectionist put his foot through the ceiling.

Musicals were extremely popular, as were comedians Bud Abbott and Lou Costello. The queues to see their film were huge, he said.

In those days, you would see two films. It would often be followed by cartoons and a news reel.

"That was life back then and it was a lot of fun," he said.

"I still enjoy the cinema and often go with my grandchildren.

"I'm sad that the Odeon is closing, very sad. It served the people very well."

Derek Atkins liked nothing more than to sit upstairs in the Odeon circle during the 1960s, a large tub of ice-cream in his lap.

"It was a real family treat," he said.

"I remember being fascinated by all the beautiful lights that went out in sequence and counting them.

"The atmosphere was lovely for a child, it was really magical."

The colour scheme was cream and brown, he remembers, with plush coloured seating.

His family lived in Leeds, so they would travel to York on the bus. He enjoyed it so much he would save his pocket money to fund extra trips to the Odeon.

"It was like saving for gold," he said.

"When I moved to York in 1990, I even earmarked a house five minutes away from the Odeon."

Many youngsters were enthralled by the grandeur of the cinema.

As a nine-year-old, June Capaldi would visit the picture house every Monday evening with her grandma.

"Central aisle, three rows from the front, right-hand side, as my gran had problems with her eyes as well as her left leg," said Mrs Capaldi, now 70.

"She sat at the end seat so she could stretch her leg out."

Mrs Capaldi remembers the excitement in her stomach as the words "directed by" flashed on the screen.

"Sometimes I was bored stiff though," she admits. "My gran would keep telling me to sit still.

"I would like to go and see if there were any dishy young men in the films."

Some years later, when she was 14, the Odeon was showing Scott Of The Antarctic, featuring Derek Bond, who played Captain Oates.

He made a public appearance in York and Mrs Capaldi cornered him before he went in.

"I asked for three autographs which he gave me and laughingly said "mass production, like Rowntree's".

Over the years, many readers have shared their memories of the Odeon.

Writing this week, Mrs W P Carter, of Acomb, York, recalled family outings with her mother in the 1940s and 1950s.

"We nearly always had to queue for tickets as it was always full," she wrote.

"I remember there was a doorman who looked quite splendid in his uniform, which I believe included a top hat and white gloves, his job being to shout out how many seats became available as people left the first showing."

The prices were two and sixpence and the cheaper ones one and nine, she said.

Mrs Carter recalled watching A Night To Remember, a story about the Titanic disaster, starring Kenneth More.

"It was memorable because of the fact that the then manager of the Odeon had managed to find a couple of Titanic survivors, whom he paraded on stage after the film was shown."

One night, Mrs Carter's mother took her to see actor David Farrar, who was appearing at the Odeon.

"There was a large crowd waiting to see this big star, when he duly appeared wearing a long overcoat and a white cravat-like scarf which my mother said he must have worn to hide his wrinkly neck."

Mr Bell, of Rawcliffe, York, remembers catching a bus from Acomb to the Odeon to the Saturday morning club.

He would watch cartoons and the morning always ended with a Zorro film.

"At 15 years old, I became a projectionist at the Rialto, in Fishergate, from 1955 to 1961," he wrote.

"I used to have one day off a week and yes, what did I do with it?

"Go to the Odeon to see a different film to what we were showing.

"I love to ask people of today if they can remember when there were ten cinemas in York, and can they name them and where they were.

"It brings back memories to them."

Beginning of the end for the Odeon...

• October, 2003: Planners block proposals to alter traditional Odeon signs, despite warnings owners could shut cinema over issue
• November, 2003: Odeon reveals it is assessing York cinema's "economic viability"

• January 2004: The Press launches campaign to save the Odeon
• February, 2004: Thousands of readers back our petition
• March, 2004: Petition signed by 13,000 people taken to Odeon HQ in London, despite attempted snub
• October, 2004: The Press exposes shocking neglect at cinema, including disgusting toilets
• March, 2006: Cinema's boiler breaks down
• March, 2006: Odeon announces cinema is to close
• August 31, 2006: Cinema shuts.

End of an era comes too soon

• You, Me And Dupree, York Odeon. Ended last night.

IT might not be one of the great cinema catchphrases of all time, but as American screwball comedy You, Me And Dupree comes to its end, gummy-faced loon Owen Wilson says "My work here is done."

Taken on its own, it would sound triumphant, but last night it had greater significance: it was to be the final curtain for the last ever screening in York's last traditional picture house after almost 70 years.

Teenagers popped their popcorn and flicked their mobiles and laughed at Owen's goofing, like they would on any night at the movies but, inevitably, the comedy sagged on this low-key finale.

Staff and stalwart supporters in forlorn fancy dress were left to say their goodbyes and their mutual thank yous, and to wonder what will happen next to that still marvellous if careworn Screen One: a proper cinema, a cavernous space with a screen almost as far away as space and a sense of magical expectation that no multiplex cell can match.

Times change: the city carriage works close and the only carriages light up the night in Leeman Road in a commercially sponsored chair ride in the sky; in Blossom Street, a car showroom becomes a bar; down the road in Micklegate a church has turned into an arts centre and now another bar.

By contrast, it does not feel right that the Odeon's time is up, as the cinema chain's thriving counterpart in Harrogate would testify. Investment there made all the difference.

From today, sadly, Oscar Deutsch entertains our nation no more in York.

The end, for Dupree, you and me. What a waste.

Charles Hutchinson

The Press film critic 1989 to present day