Come on, I’ll make the popcorn

A Story Worth Telling

• Come on, I’ll make the popcorn

“Is it OK to sit there?”

My question was about finding a place to land and enjoy a freshly brewed cup of coffee a few Saturdays ago. I was at the Farmer’s Market in downtown Center, where Stacy Riley’s coffee bar is a new addition to her business. Searching the array of fruits and vegetables, arts and crafts, and freshly baked goodies to find a chair, my eyes skidded to a stop on a row of old theater seats resting quietly against the wall.

The quest was a place to sit and enjoy the java, but I couldn’t stop staring at the antique seats. A friend joining me for coffee suggested a bistro-style table and chairs strategically situated in the middle of the building, likely there for snacking purposes. While I agreed that choosing not to roost on the row of antiques was the wiser choice, my attention was fixated on the movie house refugees. I couldn’t quit admiring them.

“Wonder if they might be for sale,” I whispered to myself. I could already picture them in my living room. My eclectic collection of relics I fondly call home furnishings — my refuge from formality. Where a unique application of “vintage fêng shui” pieces create a harmonious balance of well-being and positive energy.

No, I’m serious. Subtle touches. Like a four-foot tall working traffic light that once did intersection duty in Nacogdoches spans half the distance from the floor to the ceiling. A 1957 Mueller fire hydrant weighing more than three refrigerators that once graced a street corner in Boerne, down in the Texas Hill Country. A 1920s windup RCA Victor “Victrola” with a genuine 1950s “Nipper” display dog, both from the well-known Ken Woods collection.

To name a few. “Yes,” I smiled. “The theater seats would go perfectly with the set of drive-in movie speakers that is slated to be added soon.”

Excitement escalated when Stacy shared that the row of four folding wooden seats belonged to someone who purchased them a couple of years ago at a garage sale at the old ice house where her business is located in downtown Center, and never returned to pick them up.

It was meant to be upon learning that the purchaser and I attend the same church and have been friends for many years. Who would have guessed? One phone call and a deal was done.

The seats were headed to my house.

But wait! There was a bonus. A story. An antique is just an object, you understand, but an antique with a story becomes a treasure. Stacy said the theater seats were said to have once provided seating for movie patrons at Center’s almost 100-year-old historic Rio Theatre on the downtown square.

The Rio Theatre has a history of its own. It was built and opened in 1926 by the C.P. Smith family and has been in continuous operation since. It was originally named the Shelby but changed

“Saturday night at the movies Who cares what picture you see. When you’re hugging with your baby, In the last row in the balcony.”

— Song lyrics by the Drifters, 1965.” to Rio when a neon sign was added. As the story goes, the high cost of neon utilizing fewer letters made “Rio” half the price of “Shelby.”

Mike and Nita Adkison bought the Rio in 1975 and renovated it to keep its vintage appearance and feel. “I recognize this part,” Mike said, pointing to a cell phone photo of the seats. “And this part here,” he noted of the armrests. “I thought the sides were straight and these are curved, but that was a long time ago.”

“Yep,” he finally confirmed, “These seats came from the Rio. Replacing the seats was one of the first things we did when we bought the Rio.” Nita’s recollection added specifics. “Those are the seats that were in the balcony.”

I think I’ll invite friends over to enjoy a cup of coffee and a movie. A movie viewed from seats that, in all likelihood, were once occupied by Center movie patrons watching the alltime best movies to grace the silver screen over the years. Gone With the Wind in 1939. Citizen Cane in 1941. Casablanca in 1942. On the Waterfront in 1954. Lawrence of Arabia in 1962. Maybe even the Godfather in 1972.

Y’all come on. I’ll even make the popcorn.

------ —Contact Leon Aldridge at leonaldridge@gmail.com. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge. com