40StudeDude
12-23-2005, 08:19 PM
CHRISTMAS MATINEE
The minute we heard the white, chipped limestone clinking off the fenders, bumpers and doors of Dad's’49 Mercury coming up the narrow road running past our home, we were ready. This night, unlike other nights of the week, was different…the three of us kids (actually four, but our older sister seldom was with us, she was “older”): two boys (one of them me) and one younger with a sister in the middle), would run to our driveway, south of the big old white house we'd lived in all of our lives...short as that was, to greet him. The second most important thing in our lives was to get a hug. When Dad turned into the driveway in his Mercury, usually about six o'clock Friday evening, we’d wait for those big hugs the very instant he swung his legs out. He hugged each of us and asked how we’d been or what we’d done all day…while answering, the first most important thing in our lives sprang forth…the very question we'd been waiting all day to ask Dad - "Can I have 15 cents for the movies tomorrow, Dad?" The Christmas Holiday was always the third most important thing for us kids…we could get two different matinees in the same week…if we could get Dad’s pocket change.
Dad was a mechanic for a trucking company in another rural Iowa community, twenty-seven miles east of our hometown, on Highway 30. He drove the Merc back and forth to work on that narrow two-lane every day, despite frigid Iowa winters and daily snows we got, on into the humid summer heat Iowa is known for….no such thing as an air conditioner for a ’49 Mercury in 1954.
The population of Denison, our western Iowa community, was a little over 4000. Carroll, our High School Homecoming football rival, had with just under 10,000 people. The entire town was shocked when the trucking company Dad worked for decided to move to that rival town. Dad worked for the trucking company ever since I could remember, its headquarters always had been located in Denison. Dad put in a lot of years with the company and didn't want to lose that by quitting, and none of us kids, nor Mom, wanted to move to Carroll, so he drove the 270 mile round trip to work and back each week.
I was eleven years old in 1954…Friday was 'grocery shopping' night. If Dad had a good week, he'd bring home a fat paycheck...as much as $125.00 -- livable wages in 1954. On those fat check Fridays, we didn't have to beg for his change for a Saturday matinee. But...if Dad had a bad week and his paycheck didn’t total $100, there was a strong possibility we wouldn't get his pocket change. When, and if, we got Dad's change, it became our special treat.
Mom didn't work, she’d have supper ready the minute Dad walked into the house...going out for supper was a rare treat (we called the evening meal “supper”…dinner was at “lunch-time” and breakfast was breakfast…that’s as it was in the Midwest). Sometimes Dad and Mom were so strapped for cash that Dad would scope out grand openings, birthday or anniversary celebrations at the newer/larger businesses in Denison, or nearby towns, then he'd hype us up about going to a 'special event' so we could get a free meal. He'd even carry on like he was going to buy something so the business owners didn't feel bad about feeding him and his family of five.
It was usually seven-thirty by the time we finished eating. The trip 'uptown' for shopping took all of five minutes from where we lived and always in Dad's family car, the one he saved for special occasions. Fortunately, the grocery store stayed open until nine o'clock on Friday, as did most of the other stores. Denison is the county seat of Crawford County and was the largest town around for 25 miles.
After the grocery buying was over...and oft-times it was a traumatic experience for us kids...simply because Dad was adamant about not spending over $25.00 for a week’s worth of groceries. That was one quarter of his paycheck. If the bill totaled more than $25.00, Dad would get angry, right in the store checkout line. Something had to be taken off the bill...given back so that the total was no more than the specified limit. There was no middle ground with Dad. Mom always had a tough time figuring what would feed a family of six for the week, she’d buy everything “on sale” whether or not us kids, or even she, liked it. That was fine with Dad, he’d eat anything!
Twenty-five dollars in 1954 is equivalent to approximately $250.00 in today’s currency and Dad had stipulations on that money, it had to include a half gallon of his favorite ice cream, at 39 cents 'on sale', and his case of beer -- twenty four returnable long neck bottles of Schlitz, or, if they were out, Hamm’s. Couple those two items and the cost approached $5, leaving Mom about $20.00 to feed the family. It got to a point in our young lives that Dad hated grocery shopping. Seemed every week something else went up in price, even though his paycheck hadn't. One Friday night it ended. Dad dropped us off at the door of the grocery store with the admonition - "I'm going to have a beer, I'll be back in a bit." No one argued with Dad, his word was law! He went to his favorite beer joint...bar, to us today...and 'beer parlor' as we kids knew it. When we were finished, usually about forty-five minutes to an hour. Dad would wheel into the parking lot to load groceries into the trunk.
When I say load, that's exactly what is meant. We‘d have two shopping carts full of bags, and the case of beer on the bottom of the cart. Dad would ask “What kind of ice cream did you get?” followed by, “Was it on sale?" Mom always got one of his two favorites, and it was “always” on sale...she was careful to hide the paper receipt tape in case he got curious about it being “on sale”…Dad never did catch on…sometimes us kids wanted another flavor besides boring vanilla and Mom helped us out a bit. Dad was never as concerned about the beer, if he didn't get his favorite, he got Carlin’s Black Label. Mom was shrewd enough to know a good deal, and Carlin’s was “on sale”...a lot. That meant she'd have a few extra pennies to spend on additional groceries. Dad never caught on to that one either!
When we got home, it was close to nine. That was the extent of our Friday night outing. Usually there was a good program on our 17 inch black and white television Dad wanted to watch…Sgt. Preston of the Yukon…Death Valley Days…or Spike Jones…or even…yuk…Lawrence Welk. If he decided not to go back uptown to his favorite haunt for a few more beers, it meant some of his ice cream while we, as a family, watched television.
If we’d been fairly good during the week, he’d shell out the 45 cents needed for the 'picture show', usually just seconds before our bedtime. We prized our 15 cents each and it meant a great Saturday afternoon matinee before our Christmas Day matinee. Our older sister seldom went with us, she had friends of her own by the time the three of us were old enough to go to a matinee alone. Dad would entrust one of us with a fifty-cent piece, and definitely expected his nickel change Saturday afternoon when we got home. Fifteen cents each was a lot of money for three youngsters in 1954... just to put things into perspective…45 cents would buy three gallons of regular gas for his ’49 Mercury. Gasoline was the least of our worries…ten cents each was earmarked for the purchase of a movie ticket. That left us with five cents apiece to spend in the Candy Kitchen, right next door to our favorite theatre, The Ritz. Once inside the Candy Kitchen, we didn't have to go back outside to get into the movie, which was great in winter. There was a door at the opposite end of the Candy Kitchen that led directly into the theatre lobby.
The 'Candy Kitchen' was a delight for young senses. The minute you opened the door, the smell of fresh chocolate hit you like you'd just stepped onto Main street of Hershey, PA. Neither Hershey nor Nestle chocolate companies had anything on this store. If chocolate wasn't enough to stop you in your tracks, the smell of fresh grilled hamburgers, french fries and onion rings certainly would.
The Candy Kitchen was known for making their own candies, not just chocolates, but toffee, anise, divinities, and especially peanut brittle during the holidays. They also made their own ice cream bars and sold their own ice cream by the hand-packed quart. The Candy Kitchen specialized in Cherry, Vanilla and Chocolate Cokes, and Lime Phosphates and malteds and went through a lot of them at lunchtime.
The High School and Junior High was only six blocks away and the Candy Kitchen was the local hangout after school, especially after every hometown football and basketball game. Even though high school students were full of hi-jinx most of the time, when they entered the Candy Kitchen there was absolutely none of it! The place was ruled with an iron hand, and more than once I recall someone was expelled for some minor infraction, including swearing and, particularly, smoking.
The original "Candy Kitchen' opened in the early 1900's in a wooden building on the southeast comer of Main and Broadway. At the same time, the fledgling committee of the Denison Opera wanted to build a new home. They chose the corner of Main and Broadway and negotiated with Jim Bartholomew for the property. As construction began, Jim's building was moved into the street, but he operated with the understanding he would move into the new brick building upon completion. When the sparkling new Denison Opera House was finished, Jim moved into his new storefront and re-opened for business on April 12, 1911 as the Denison Candy Kitchen.
The Denison Opera House didn't last long, culture was lost on area farmers and in the late twenties. The stage, orchestra pit, seating and balcony were refurbished to display the new “moving pictures” out of Hollywood, California…the opera house was renamed The Ritz Theatre and remained in constant operation from then into the 1980’s. The Candy Kitchen breezed through theteens and twenties and weathered the 30's. In 1936, after 24 years in business, the Bartholomews decided to move to California. Frank Peruzzi, a relative by marriage, and a great uncle - Albert Gasparetto bought the Candy Kitchen. After a few months of ownership, Albert decided he didn't like Denison…or Iowa. Frank, and Jim's son, Bart Bartholomew (and their families) became partners and ran the store until 1983.
The local hangout was exactly like those shown in movies about the fifties…the soda fountain was approximately twenty feet long. The countertop done in a smooth, green flecked stone, edged in gray and trimmed in thin strips of gold. The hand-operatedsoda fountains with their graceful curved swan necks and shiny black handles, arose elegantly from behind the stone countertop to dispense Coca-Cola, water, soda and flavorings. A large mirror, countertop to ceiling, ran full length behind the counter and gave the impression the store was larger. Typical fountain seating was traditional circular stools atop white porcelain stands, trimmed in red and gold vinyl, surrounded by a wide chromed band. The store wasn't much over twenty-five feet wide, but it ran to a depth of fifty feet or so. In the back of the store were booths for eating, or hanging out. I recall six total, reminiscent of high back church pews. Dark wood contrasted with red vinyl and gold piping. The booth’s tabletops were flecked gray Formica with a chromed band. Along the booth walls were mirrors and signs advertising Coca-Cola…one of the few advertisers that changed their displays monthly.
Of course, hamburgers, Cherry Cokes and popcorn was out of our price range on matinee Saturdays. With exactly five cents each, we’d head for the penny candy window. The window faced the theatre entrance and made up part of the entrance. The door to the candy trove was a large double-paned, hinged glass window with a latch up high so small kids couldn't open it.. One of the owners would open them and wait while the three of us took turns selecting penny candy from a variety so large it took forever to choose. Sometimes it did, then we'd hurry to catch the opening cartoon. Such a variety made hard and fast decisions impossible. At times we’d get lucky, several items were offered at “two for a penny”…we’d buy two cents worth. That gave us four pieces of candy and three cents left. If we chose carefully, we’d end up with both pockets full of penny candy, one of which had to be a piece of Fleer's Double-Bubble bubblegum, the one with the cartoon inside the wrapper. That was always the last piece we ate.
Those great candy temptations selling for 2 cents each we seldom bought, preferringto line our little pockets with at least six and sometimes as many as ten pieces of delicious penny candy, more than enough to last through a double feature.
Not only did we see a Roy Rogers/Rex Allen/Gene Autrey double feature, but we got a cartoon (oft-times two…usually one of them a “Christmas” cartoon), a newsreel, and previews of coming attractions…a lot for ten cents, and if we got seated at exactly two o'clock, it was close to five-thirty before we got out. Many a Saturday afternoon was spent in the Ritz theatre…and many a Saturday nite was spent in the balcony of The Ritz Theatre…after I got my driver’s license, that is!
Today, the Donna Reed Foundation owns the Ritz Theatre and the Candy Kitchen, now operating as Reiny’s Soda Fountain. Movie star Donna Reed (1921-1986) started life in Denison, Iowa as Donnabelle Mullenger…she and her sisters grew up on a farm just south of town and frequented The Ritz Theatre…it was in the Ritz Theatre she fell in love with motion pictures and determined that’s what she wanted to do with her life. The Candy Kitchen was one of her favorite spots as much as any teen that grew up in Denison. At the tender age of 16, she left Denison by train for Los Angeles to complete her formal education and to pursue her dream of becoming an actress. Her dream became reality…she captivated the country with her sensitive portrayals in films like the great American classic It's a Wonderful Life and From Here to Eternity, she won a coveted Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for that movie. Donna never forgot her hometown, she was proud of being an Iowa farm girl. She returned to Denison often throughout her career. Following her death in 1986, her Oscar® was donated to the City of Denison to be displayed at the historic McHenry House and a foundation was started in her name in 1987.
These days, when I go back “home,” I always make it a point to stop in to the Candy Kitchen…the place is literally unchanged since I graduated…and I always buy a Cherry Coke…the taste of a Coca-Cola from those fountains is literally unchanged since then as well…next summer, 2006, my high school graduating class of 1961 is holding its 45th annual reunion…and its hard to believe it’s been 45 years since I graduated from that small Iowa town…I look forward to renewing friendships with classmates I so long ago left when I moved from my home town in search of a better life. Merry Christmas to all.
Copyright 12-2005 RAJetter
OK Kiddies...get ready for a NEW and IMPROVED version of the Friday Nite Read...coming your way...soon!!! Can't say anything more about it just yet...suffice to say it'll be rip-roaring, high speed lunacy from word to word...but first, a few words from your sponsor:
Wanna read some car stories set in the 1960’s?
Wanna know how it really went down back then? Wanna know what new ‘61 409’s, ’62 406 Fords ran like off the showroom floor? Wanna read about illegal street races, fist-fights, sock hops, real cruising and Premium gasoline? Wanna know how most of us spent our weekends back then? Wanna ride along with a lunatic?
If you do…this book will, at least, educate you to how it really was in the Midwest!
“Bangin’ Gears & Bustin’ Heads”…is a commentary on the late fifties to mid 1960’s…a series of 26 episodes, with each episode explained, between each story. Vintage B & W photos are included-- a total of 208 pages.
A personal, autographed copy is available at www.RAJetter.com (http://www.rajetter.com/) …or send check/ M.O. for $20.95 to: P.O. Box 440042, Aurora, CO80044.
The minute we heard the white, chipped limestone clinking off the fenders, bumpers and doors of Dad's’49 Mercury coming up the narrow road running past our home, we were ready. This night, unlike other nights of the week, was different…the three of us kids (actually four, but our older sister seldom was with us, she was “older”): two boys (one of them me) and one younger with a sister in the middle), would run to our driveway, south of the big old white house we'd lived in all of our lives...short as that was, to greet him. The second most important thing in our lives was to get a hug. When Dad turned into the driveway in his Mercury, usually about six o'clock Friday evening, we’d wait for those big hugs the very instant he swung his legs out. He hugged each of us and asked how we’d been or what we’d done all day…while answering, the first most important thing in our lives sprang forth…the very question we'd been waiting all day to ask Dad - "Can I have 15 cents for the movies tomorrow, Dad?" The Christmas Holiday was always the third most important thing for us kids…we could get two different matinees in the same week…if we could get Dad’s pocket change.
Dad was a mechanic for a trucking company in another rural Iowa community, twenty-seven miles east of our hometown, on Highway 30. He drove the Merc back and forth to work on that narrow two-lane every day, despite frigid Iowa winters and daily snows we got, on into the humid summer heat Iowa is known for….no such thing as an air conditioner for a ’49 Mercury in 1954.
The population of Denison, our western Iowa community, was a little over 4000. Carroll, our High School Homecoming football rival, had with just under 10,000 people. The entire town was shocked when the trucking company Dad worked for decided to move to that rival town. Dad worked for the trucking company ever since I could remember, its headquarters always had been located in Denison. Dad put in a lot of years with the company and didn't want to lose that by quitting, and none of us kids, nor Mom, wanted to move to Carroll, so he drove the 270 mile round trip to work and back each week.
I was eleven years old in 1954…Friday was 'grocery shopping' night. If Dad had a good week, he'd bring home a fat paycheck...as much as $125.00 -- livable wages in 1954. On those fat check Fridays, we didn't have to beg for his change for a Saturday matinee. But...if Dad had a bad week and his paycheck didn’t total $100, there was a strong possibility we wouldn't get his pocket change. When, and if, we got Dad's change, it became our special treat.
Mom didn't work, she’d have supper ready the minute Dad walked into the house...going out for supper was a rare treat (we called the evening meal “supper”…dinner was at “lunch-time” and breakfast was breakfast…that’s as it was in the Midwest). Sometimes Dad and Mom were so strapped for cash that Dad would scope out grand openings, birthday or anniversary celebrations at the newer/larger businesses in Denison, or nearby towns, then he'd hype us up about going to a 'special event' so we could get a free meal. He'd even carry on like he was going to buy something so the business owners didn't feel bad about feeding him and his family of five.
It was usually seven-thirty by the time we finished eating. The trip 'uptown' for shopping took all of five minutes from where we lived and always in Dad's family car, the one he saved for special occasions. Fortunately, the grocery store stayed open until nine o'clock on Friday, as did most of the other stores. Denison is the county seat of Crawford County and was the largest town around for 25 miles.
After the grocery buying was over...and oft-times it was a traumatic experience for us kids...simply because Dad was adamant about not spending over $25.00 for a week’s worth of groceries. That was one quarter of his paycheck. If the bill totaled more than $25.00, Dad would get angry, right in the store checkout line. Something had to be taken off the bill...given back so that the total was no more than the specified limit. There was no middle ground with Dad. Mom always had a tough time figuring what would feed a family of six for the week, she’d buy everything “on sale” whether or not us kids, or even she, liked it. That was fine with Dad, he’d eat anything!
Twenty-five dollars in 1954 is equivalent to approximately $250.00 in today’s currency and Dad had stipulations on that money, it had to include a half gallon of his favorite ice cream, at 39 cents 'on sale', and his case of beer -- twenty four returnable long neck bottles of Schlitz, or, if they were out, Hamm’s. Couple those two items and the cost approached $5, leaving Mom about $20.00 to feed the family. It got to a point in our young lives that Dad hated grocery shopping. Seemed every week something else went up in price, even though his paycheck hadn't. One Friday night it ended. Dad dropped us off at the door of the grocery store with the admonition - "I'm going to have a beer, I'll be back in a bit." No one argued with Dad, his word was law! He went to his favorite beer joint...bar, to us today...and 'beer parlor' as we kids knew it. When we were finished, usually about forty-five minutes to an hour. Dad would wheel into the parking lot to load groceries into the trunk.
When I say load, that's exactly what is meant. We‘d have two shopping carts full of bags, and the case of beer on the bottom of the cart. Dad would ask “What kind of ice cream did you get?” followed by, “Was it on sale?" Mom always got one of his two favorites, and it was “always” on sale...she was careful to hide the paper receipt tape in case he got curious about it being “on sale”…Dad never did catch on…sometimes us kids wanted another flavor besides boring vanilla and Mom helped us out a bit. Dad was never as concerned about the beer, if he didn't get his favorite, he got Carlin’s Black Label. Mom was shrewd enough to know a good deal, and Carlin’s was “on sale”...a lot. That meant she'd have a few extra pennies to spend on additional groceries. Dad never caught on to that one either!
When we got home, it was close to nine. That was the extent of our Friday night outing. Usually there was a good program on our 17 inch black and white television Dad wanted to watch…Sgt. Preston of the Yukon…Death Valley Days…or Spike Jones…or even…yuk…Lawrence Welk. If he decided not to go back uptown to his favorite haunt for a few more beers, it meant some of his ice cream while we, as a family, watched television.
If we’d been fairly good during the week, he’d shell out the 45 cents needed for the 'picture show', usually just seconds before our bedtime. We prized our 15 cents each and it meant a great Saturday afternoon matinee before our Christmas Day matinee. Our older sister seldom went with us, she had friends of her own by the time the three of us were old enough to go to a matinee alone. Dad would entrust one of us with a fifty-cent piece, and definitely expected his nickel change Saturday afternoon when we got home. Fifteen cents each was a lot of money for three youngsters in 1954... just to put things into perspective…45 cents would buy three gallons of regular gas for his ’49 Mercury. Gasoline was the least of our worries…ten cents each was earmarked for the purchase of a movie ticket. That left us with five cents apiece to spend in the Candy Kitchen, right next door to our favorite theatre, The Ritz. Once inside the Candy Kitchen, we didn't have to go back outside to get into the movie, which was great in winter. There was a door at the opposite end of the Candy Kitchen that led directly into the theatre lobby.
The 'Candy Kitchen' was a delight for young senses. The minute you opened the door, the smell of fresh chocolate hit you like you'd just stepped onto Main street of Hershey, PA. Neither Hershey nor Nestle chocolate companies had anything on this store. If chocolate wasn't enough to stop you in your tracks, the smell of fresh grilled hamburgers, french fries and onion rings certainly would.
The Candy Kitchen was known for making their own candies, not just chocolates, but toffee, anise, divinities, and especially peanut brittle during the holidays. They also made their own ice cream bars and sold their own ice cream by the hand-packed quart. The Candy Kitchen specialized in Cherry, Vanilla and Chocolate Cokes, and Lime Phosphates and malteds and went through a lot of them at lunchtime.
The High School and Junior High was only six blocks away and the Candy Kitchen was the local hangout after school, especially after every hometown football and basketball game. Even though high school students were full of hi-jinx most of the time, when they entered the Candy Kitchen there was absolutely none of it! The place was ruled with an iron hand, and more than once I recall someone was expelled for some minor infraction, including swearing and, particularly, smoking.
The original "Candy Kitchen' opened in the early 1900's in a wooden building on the southeast comer of Main and Broadway. At the same time, the fledgling committee of the Denison Opera wanted to build a new home. They chose the corner of Main and Broadway and negotiated with Jim Bartholomew for the property. As construction began, Jim's building was moved into the street, but he operated with the understanding he would move into the new brick building upon completion. When the sparkling new Denison Opera House was finished, Jim moved into his new storefront and re-opened for business on April 12, 1911 as the Denison Candy Kitchen.
The Denison Opera House didn't last long, culture was lost on area farmers and in the late twenties. The stage, orchestra pit, seating and balcony were refurbished to display the new “moving pictures” out of Hollywood, California…the opera house was renamed The Ritz Theatre and remained in constant operation from then into the 1980’s. The Candy Kitchen breezed through theteens and twenties and weathered the 30's. In 1936, after 24 years in business, the Bartholomews decided to move to California. Frank Peruzzi, a relative by marriage, and a great uncle - Albert Gasparetto bought the Candy Kitchen. After a few months of ownership, Albert decided he didn't like Denison…or Iowa. Frank, and Jim's son, Bart Bartholomew (and their families) became partners and ran the store until 1983.
The local hangout was exactly like those shown in movies about the fifties…the soda fountain was approximately twenty feet long. The countertop done in a smooth, green flecked stone, edged in gray and trimmed in thin strips of gold. The hand-operatedsoda fountains with their graceful curved swan necks and shiny black handles, arose elegantly from behind the stone countertop to dispense Coca-Cola, water, soda and flavorings. A large mirror, countertop to ceiling, ran full length behind the counter and gave the impression the store was larger. Typical fountain seating was traditional circular stools atop white porcelain stands, trimmed in red and gold vinyl, surrounded by a wide chromed band. The store wasn't much over twenty-five feet wide, but it ran to a depth of fifty feet or so. In the back of the store were booths for eating, or hanging out. I recall six total, reminiscent of high back church pews. Dark wood contrasted with red vinyl and gold piping. The booth’s tabletops were flecked gray Formica with a chromed band. Along the booth walls were mirrors and signs advertising Coca-Cola…one of the few advertisers that changed their displays monthly.
Of course, hamburgers, Cherry Cokes and popcorn was out of our price range on matinee Saturdays. With exactly five cents each, we’d head for the penny candy window. The window faced the theatre entrance and made up part of the entrance. The door to the candy trove was a large double-paned, hinged glass window with a latch up high so small kids couldn't open it.. One of the owners would open them and wait while the three of us took turns selecting penny candy from a variety so large it took forever to choose. Sometimes it did, then we'd hurry to catch the opening cartoon. Such a variety made hard and fast decisions impossible. At times we’d get lucky, several items were offered at “two for a penny”…we’d buy two cents worth. That gave us four pieces of candy and three cents left. If we chose carefully, we’d end up with both pockets full of penny candy, one of which had to be a piece of Fleer's Double-Bubble bubblegum, the one with the cartoon inside the wrapper. That was always the last piece we ate.
Those great candy temptations selling for 2 cents each we seldom bought, preferringto line our little pockets with at least six and sometimes as many as ten pieces of delicious penny candy, more than enough to last through a double feature.
Not only did we see a Roy Rogers/Rex Allen/Gene Autrey double feature, but we got a cartoon (oft-times two…usually one of them a “Christmas” cartoon), a newsreel, and previews of coming attractions…a lot for ten cents, and if we got seated at exactly two o'clock, it was close to five-thirty before we got out. Many a Saturday afternoon was spent in the Ritz theatre…and many a Saturday nite was spent in the balcony of The Ritz Theatre…after I got my driver’s license, that is!
Today, the Donna Reed Foundation owns the Ritz Theatre and the Candy Kitchen, now operating as Reiny’s Soda Fountain. Movie star Donna Reed (1921-1986) started life in Denison, Iowa as Donnabelle Mullenger…she and her sisters grew up on a farm just south of town and frequented The Ritz Theatre…it was in the Ritz Theatre she fell in love with motion pictures and determined that’s what she wanted to do with her life. The Candy Kitchen was one of her favorite spots as much as any teen that grew up in Denison. At the tender age of 16, she left Denison by train for Los Angeles to complete her formal education and to pursue her dream of becoming an actress. Her dream became reality…she captivated the country with her sensitive portrayals in films like the great American classic It's a Wonderful Life and From Here to Eternity, she won a coveted Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for that movie. Donna never forgot her hometown, she was proud of being an Iowa farm girl. She returned to Denison often throughout her career. Following her death in 1986, her Oscar® was donated to the City of Denison to be displayed at the historic McHenry House and a foundation was started in her name in 1987.
These days, when I go back “home,” I always make it a point to stop in to the Candy Kitchen…the place is literally unchanged since I graduated…and I always buy a Cherry Coke…the taste of a Coca-Cola from those fountains is literally unchanged since then as well…next summer, 2006, my high school graduating class of 1961 is holding its 45th annual reunion…and its hard to believe it’s been 45 years since I graduated from that small Iowa town…I look forward to renewing friendships with classmates I so long ago left when I moved from my home town in search of a better life. Merry Christmas to all.
Copyright 12-2005 RAJetter
OK Kiddies...get ready for a NEW and IMPROVED version of the Friday Nite Read...coming your way...soon!!! Can't say anything more about it just yet...suffice to say it'll be rip-roaring, high speed lunacy from word to word...but first, a few words from your sponsor:
Wanna read some car stories set in the 1960’s?
Wanna know how it really went down back then? Wanna know what new ‘61 409’s, ’62 406 Fords ran like off the showroom floor? Wanna read about illegal street races, fist-fights, sock hops, real cruising and Premium gasoline? Wanna know how most of us spent our weekends back then? Wanna ride along with a lunatic?
If you do…this book will, at least, educate you to how it really was in the Midwest!
“Bangin’ Gears & Bustin’ Heads”…is a commentary on the late fifties to mid 1960’s…a series of 26 episodes, with each episode explained, between each story. Vintage B & W photos are included-- a total of 208 pages.
A personal, autographed copy is available at www.RAJetter.com (http://www.rajetter.com/) …or send check/ M.O. for $20.95 to: P.O. Box 440042, Aurora, CO80044.