Dave Wood

You’ve heard of the common problem of “Bowling Alone,” which bemoaned the fading communal activity of getting together with others to pursue a pleasant pastime. Today I’m bemoaning the end of movie-going as a means of meet-and-greet with neighbors and friends.

I was lucky to grow up in a small town, which had fine grade schoolteachers, skating in winter, swimming in the murky Trempealeau River, multi-lingual speakers (Polish, Norwegian, German and some English). Best of all we had a brand-new theater, The Pix, where the marquee changed three times a week for two films, all for 2 cents.

In nearby Pigeon township, on any given day you’d see a dog sunning itself under the Walter’s beer sign in the Dewdrop Inn’s parking lot; in Iver Ulysses Johnstad’s barbershop old-timers swapped lies about their catch of rainbows caught in Pigeon Creek. a young farmer bickered with auto dealer Ray Hagen over a spotless fender-skirted ’38 Chevy. A Farmall H baked in front of Oscar Sletteland’s Pigeon State Bank, waiting for its owner who was waiting for Clerk Thurman Fremstad to cash his milk check before which he had waited for Buttermaker Amundson to write out the check in his office at Pigeon Creamery Assoc. Sort of ho-hum, right?

But come Saturday night and dusk a screen was always draped over two telephone poles donated by the Pigeon Telephone Assoc. planted in the grassy lawn of the P. Ekern General Store, and cars came trickling into the hamlet. Soon the traffic from both directions was a torrent, and FreeShow was underway. Cars from all over the township parked on the side street leading to Northfield. Teenagers from Hixton (in Jackson County!) came in ’41 Fords with furry dice draped over rearview mirrors. Oldtimers from Schimmerhorn chugged up in mint condition model A’s. A newlywed couple from Sjuggerud Coulee arrived to show off their new Chevy sedan, its trunk handle announcing that it was equipped with “Powerglide. “You don’t even need to shift,” whispered one kid to another. Farmers clad in “town overalls” (which are striped), floral neckties tucked under the bibs, polished and pointed “Romeo” slippers leaned against the exterior of the Dewdrop. After “Are yew in town tew?” greetings, they lurked back into the Dewdrop for as many beers as they could safely down before wives came in search. Women scurried up and down the aisles of Ekern Store in search of easier game than husbands (i.e. Ball canning lids, thread and “boughten bread” for Sunday morning toast-- after worship in one of two Lutheran churches: one was of low persuasion and referred to as Upper Church (which was Low) and Lower Church (which was High).  

And the kids? We unrolled old blankets on the grass, anticipating the 10-year-old movie we were about to see. Would it be a Hopalong? A Red Ryder and his pal Little Beaver might appear, six shooter blazing and arrows whizzing enough to make the uninitiated pre-teen viewers duck in fear? We only hoped the film wouldn’t be so ancient that the film would burst into flames or splinter as it did when FreeShow ran “All Quiet on the Western Front” and thus we never found out what happened to the young soldier. And we went home early to face the dreaded prospect of Sunday chores.   

Sadly, the Pix closed down due to the advent of television, and we always felt bad for kids stuck with Ed Sullivan and Milton Berle. I was happy when I could hitchhike to neighboring Pigeon Falls for FreeShow (one word) or when I visited my cousin in Coon Valley, because that spunky little town also had FreeShow. 

But still in the firm belief that communal movie watching was almost as beneficial as either High church or Low church, Ruth and I began a modest foundation to fund random artistic projects, so the foundation purchased several classic movies with Wisconsin roots for showing at the well- equipped high school. TV’s popularity notwithstanding, we were optimistic about showing our Wisconsin based movies in the school’s auditorium. No doubt that Pigeon’s downtown years back was in its early cinema days on weekdays, but we looked with optimism to our new premiere opening of school year’s FreeShow. Our first monthly afternoons would feature a cartoon and films with the best actors and best directors Wisconsin had to offer. We looked forward to reviving that good old entertainment with crowds of people happy to watch a great movie together.

Tune in next week for the complete report on our venture’s success.