Story and photos by Jim Cockrell
I’m heading home to the Dallas-Fort Worth area from a motorcycle trip that took me out to West Texas.
About three miles east of Eastland, on the south side of the interstate, I glimpse the skeletal remains of a drive-in theater in the midst of overgrown pasture. The old structure seems to be calling to me, and I can’t resist exiting the interstate and backtracking to where the Mystery Drive-in used to provide outdoor movie entertainment for the Eastland County area. As I walk among the mesquite trees and poison ivy that now thrive where cars packed with movie patrons once parked, I begin to wonder if I’m really stumbling into one of those rattlesnake roundup reality TV shows. The crumbling remains of the old screen still stand defiantly against the forces of nature that will one day reclaim it. The undergrowth is so thick that it’s hard to envision what the drive-in might have looked like in its heyday.
Some of my earliest memories of growing up in Abilene revolve around the drive-in on Friday and Saturday evenings. Television was still in its infancy in the early 1950s, so family entertainment was not nearly as abundant as it is today. My dad’s job as a Texas Highway Patrol trooper kept him working most weekend nights. That left my mom and teenage sister in charge of the battle against boredom, and they enjoyed taking in the latest movies at any of the five drive-in theaters that served the area. My attention span seldom allowed me to get into the plots of the movies the way the grown-ups did, but I could happily entertain myself on the swings, slides, and seesaws that most of the drive-ins had.
As I got older, I learned to sit still long enough to watch cowboy or war movies. I cried when Old Yeller died, and I cheered when Liberty Valance got shot. My emotions were mixed when Tom Dooley got hung, but my patriotism was stoked when Cliff Robertson, portraying Lieutenant John F. Kennedy, saved the PT-109 crew by giving some native islanders a message carved on a coconut. When I got my driver’s license at age 14, my interest in watching movies at the drive-in with my mom was quickly replaced by a newfound interest: girls. I learned that some of them also enjoyed going to the drive-in with someone other than their parents.
The drive-in theater originated in Camden, New Jersey, when Richard Hollingshead opened the first one in June 1933. The idea caught on slowly at first. Texas claimed America’s third drive-in when the Short Reel Drive-in Theater opened in Galveston a year later. By 1946, there were just over 100 drive-ins, but within two more years, that number had exploded to more than 800 across the country. Ten years later—1958—is considered the “high-water mark” for the industry, with more than 4,000 operating drive-in theaters. Texas enjoyed the most dramatic peak of any state, with more than 400 by the late 1950s. What contributed to such remarkable growth? Consider that the end of World War II ushered in the baby boom. The American economy was on a historic upswing, and with the increase in the number of young families came the demand for family entertainment. A night out at the drive-in meant that you no longer had to dress up in your coat and tie to attend a movie at a downtown indoor theater. You could load the kids in the car—often dressed in their pajamas, since they would likely fall asleep before the movie was over—and if the establishment didn’t discourage such practices, you could bring in your own food and beverages, all while watching the movie in the privacy of your own vehicle. Privacy was the sought-after commodity for teenagers who were looking to explore their emerging passions in a way that was not possible at indoor theaters. I speak from experience on this subject, as it was at the Tower Drive-In in Abilene that I broached the issue of matrimony with Melody, who became my wife of 40-plus years. Who knew she’d take me seriously?
The sixties and seventies saw a gradual decline in attendance at driveins, and when cable TV and VCRs made it so easy to bring movies into American homes during the 1980s, the die was cast. At their peak, drive-in theaters were major competitors to indoor theaters, but the large indoor chains weren’t about to pack up and go home. Having revamped their marketing approach, they offered vastly superior audio, and the major studios began producing and strategizing film releases according to the mega blockbuster model that featured new sound technology like the Dolby Digital or THX system. In the face of this new approach, the majority of “mom-and-pop” drive-ins were forced either to resort to adult or occult films or to sell out to real estate interests, which could profit by converting the land to a different use. Some, however, remained in operation with limited or seasonal schedules.
As I reminisced about the good times I had at drive-ins, I felt a tinge of sadness that my children and grandchildren will likely never experience the uniquely American pastime of going to the movies under the stars the way I did. Only a few of the early Texas drive-ins have survived the decades, among them the Tascosa, which opened in Amarillo in 1952; the Sandell, lighting up in 1955 in Clarendon; and the Town & Country in Abilene, which showed its first movie in 1956.
On my last trip to Abilene, I decided to go by the old Tower Drive-In where four decades ago, I first asked Melody what she thought about marrying me. As we returned to the scene of the crime, we found a Sam’s Club now occupying the land where the Tower once stood. As we passed through Ranger on our way home, we found the skeletal remains of the old Ranger Drive-in, which seemed to have at one time been converted into a wrecking yard. Upon closer inspection, however, we could make out the small concession stand and a row of metal chairs up front, as if unseen patrons were about to take their places to view the next feature on the dilapidated screen.
Many of the drive-ins still in operation today reside in outlying rural communities, on land that has not yet become valuable enough to attract real estate developers. But even these are dwindling, since the major motion picture distributors decided in 2013 to quit making the industry standard 35mm films available to drive-in operators, in favor of digital videos. Many owners, already operating on tight margins, found it more advantageous to close their drive-ins rather than invest upwards of $100,000 to install the digital projector now required.
One such owner to face that difficult choice was JenniferMiller, owner of the Brazos Drive-in, in Granbury. When she purchased the Brazos some three decades ago, she devoted her youthful energy to doing whatever it took to keep families patronizing the Brazos, as they had done since its opening in 1952. When confronted with the “digital or die” bind, however, Jennifer resisted investing in a digital projector as long as she could, trying in the meantime to find an investor with the finances and the youthful energy to take the Brazos to the next level. But time ran out, and Jennifer had no choice but to acquire digital capabilities in order to protect the value of the Brazos as a viable business property. Today, the Brazos continues to show the most current studio releases, attracting families from Hood County and environs, who line up before dusk in order to secure a desirable parking space. According to Miller, the Brazos is still for sale.
Today, drive-ins are seeing a resurgence, even to the point that new ones are being built. Fueled in part by a consumer driven desire to experience the nostalgic flavor of outdoor movie viewing, owners also see the benefit of multifaceted business plans that don’t depend so heavily on movie ticket and concession sales to turn a profit. Fort Worth’s newest outdoor theater, the Coyote Drive-in, located on Panther Island near the Stockyards District, is an example. After opening in May 2013, the Coyote was the site for an ice-skating rink during that year’s winter holiday season. During the summer of 2014, it was the venue for a simulcast Jimmy Buffett concert. If the number of children who were in attendance the night Melody and I went is any indication, the Coyote is a magnet for families, all enjoying the under-the-stars experience that has attracted drive-in moviegoers for generations.
