Sunday Afternoons at the Majestic: How the Other Half Lived

Sunday afternoon movies at the Majestic taught us how the other half lived. On Sunday mornings in church Father Heimann and Pastor Toepel tried to teach us to stay in our own half  on the straight and narrow, which probably wasn’t what the other half was doing.

Postmarked 1919

There were no “B” grade movies on Sunday afternoon, but there were Broadway musicals and movies with night clubs, gangsters, singers, dancers, tuxedos and whatever made the east coast the other half and important in our small-town-kid minds. The “coast” to the savvy among us meant New York. Maybe California if it was a Bing Crosby movie. All that singing and all that dancing went on in night clubs where patrons sat at small round tables with light provided by the tiny lamps in the center. We always wondered where the electricity came from, but even more astounding was that the telephone could be brought right over to one who was important. Our telephones were on the wall. New York was so important that they even figured out how to get a telephone way across a room. It was a time when we heard ladies say, “Well, I never……” but we never heard the what. Maybe it was something they never heard of, like telephones that could stretch.

Kewaunee County didn’t have anything close to a night club with palm trees unless we counted those in the bier garten at the Dug-Out. We learned from Bing Crosby in Holiday Inn that show dancers were “kids” who were “hoofers.” Any Kewaunee County kid knew where to find a hoof and lots of kids saw far too many! The hoofing Jane, Ann, Jan, Nancy, Sandy and I did was around a Maypole when we danced for the Women’s Club. We didn’t have a band but we had Annette at the piano. She was blond and beautiful.

The folks, Norb and Lorraine, and no doubt others, would go to Milwaukee where the aunts and uncles lived. If we kids went along, we were put to bed before the adults went out. To a night club. We learned from the Majestic just how ritzy our parents really were. They even saw hat check girls and bought cigarettes from girls in satin shorts and shirts with little satin caps perched on their blond curls. Everybody who was anybody was blond. A tray of cigarettes was suspended by cords looped around that gorgeous, curvy, blond’s neck. Smiling, she walked through the night club selling packs of Lucky Strikes, Camels and more. Smoking in a night club meant the cigarettes came with a book of matches with the logo and address on the cover.

People in the movies always had stemmed glasses. We never knew if our folks got to drink out of such stemware, but they did bring home little paper umbrellas that actually opened. We could never understand what doll umbrellas did in a night club, but we knew we were playing with something special

Going to a night club meant suits, ties, dresses, spike high heels and hats. The men checked theirs but the women kept their hats on. A man’s hat didn’t mess up his hair while women in the movies didn’t dance wearing hats unless they were hoofers in costume. Night clubs had other beautiful blond women walking around with cameras taking photos of patrons. They were sold so one could tell friends they were snapped at such and such, a prominent Milwaukee place in which to be seen. One could also prove he was there by off-handedly using the logo matches to light another’s cigarette. Unspoken one-up-manship. There were lots of pictures taken at the Dug-Out, however they were for the Record Herald and all the subscribers – well over 5,000 when the Heidmanns wrapped it up in the 1980s – knew who was dancing at the Dug-Out. And, wearing a hat.

The movies had big bands on stage. Bob Crosby, Jose Iturbo, Desi Arnez, Guy Lombardo and the list goes on. That’s where Algoma caught up to New York. Algoma was no backwoods Wisconsin place. The Dug-Out with its dark paneling and palm trees in the softly-lit bier garten saw the likes of Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians, the Bob Crosby Orchestra, Lawrence Welk’s Orchestra conducted by Myron Floren and more that were touring the country. Germans, Bohemians and Belgians who made up the county love to dance and Kewaunee County had its own superb polka dance bands that were not exactly like the big bands. Alice Faye and Rosemary Clooney sang with the big names, but the beautiful blond Eileen sang with Russ Zimmerman and it didn’t get much better than that.

It was about that time that some kids started tap dancing. When Sharon came to visit her aunt and uncle, who were our neighbors, she always got on the picnic table and put on a show. We were impressed in a jealous sort of way. Her Aunt Pearl made costumes that were satin just like those in the movies. Her costumes even rustled. Then another Sharon and Ramona took tap and twirl and that was even more impressive. But, they had the same kind of satin costumes. We got batons for Christmas and tried hard to be like Carol, the high school majorette. We knew we couldn’t twirl because we didn’t have the satin shorts and top, but Carol had long pants and a matching jacket and she could do it. Something was wrong.

Years later there were musicals such as Beach Blanket Bingo with Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello. Frankie Avalon was one of the major heart throbs who came to the Dug-Out. Macy’s Thanksgiving parade was broadcast on TV. Drum majors strutted their stuff though not wearing satin shorts and tops.Even though they were men, their outfits were like Carol’s.

Nobody snapped photos of those trying to be seen at Mousy’s, Red’s, Pine Lodge or anyplace else, but Mr. Heidmann was chronicling history all around the county. Nobody was selling cigarettes from a tray and everybody in town knows more than a few who died of lung cancer. But, some of those were asbestos related. If anybody made it hoofing on Broadway or filled in for Ruby Keeler, Ginger Rogers, Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire, it wasn’t in the paper. Busby Berkley and Debbie Gibson aren’t calling the shots however there are plenty of county kids hoofing today in the top quality  area high schools’ theatrical productions. Polyester means you won’t hear rustling satin. If a night club scene required a telephone being brought to a table for a high school musical, would anybody ever be able to figure it out? And if it was figured out, how would it be staged? Telephone? Cords?

Kewaunee County still doesn’t have night clubs, but there are sports’ bars and just plain bars. If the county ever had a cigarette girl, her unemployment compensation would have run out years ago because few smoke. Cigarette smoke and liquid manure fumes are both the smell of money, but these days manure fumes are more acceptable. There are no little tables with the linen tablecloths and table lamps but there are high tables and stools that aren’t quite so easy to jump up on.  Big bands have been replaced with jukeboxes with choices from country western to rap. Here and there a big band sound can be reproduced with the right computer programs and mixing. A budding Bing Crosby or Rosemary Clooney might have a chance at Karaoke night while an aspiring Cyd Charisse, Ginger Rogers, Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire would be in some dancing with the stars contest.

Some of us still bask in the glow of having parents who did what the real people on the coast in the movies did. The post World War ll era led to changes in almost everything and almost unparalleled progress. Nearly 70 years later the lights on the nightclub tables are battery-operated. Everybody carries a cell phone. The world is not like Sunday afternoons at the Majestic.

Postcards and photos are in the blogger's collection.