1946 Astoria, Oregon

Eileen Burton

Born 1943

Astoria Oregon

Interviewed on 2/8/2024

by Charlotte Harrington

The first movie I ever saw was… [dramatic pause] The Wizard of Oz. As it so happens, I believe it’s the 85th anniversary of its first showing. Right now, this week.

I was quite young. Probably around 3 years old. My aunt Joanne—JoJo, we called her—took me to the movie with her friend. She took me around a lot as a toddler. 

3 years old was pretty young to be going to a movie. But Joanne was about 12 years older than me, and she had friends in town. She would take me down in the stroller and they would teach me to say things like “Hubba hubba!” to the boys. I really was a part of their activities. JoJo’s best friends were identical twins, and I remember she would call them up on the phone. She’d say “Twin,” and it didn’t matter which one, as long as one of them came out. I remember thinking, “Oh, twin!”

I have distinct memories of being out with her teenage friends down in town—Astoria. She would always take me with her and include me in things. I was a prop, I guess: the baby in the stroller. The toddler.

Growing up, my family lived walking-distance from the movies. The Liberty Theater in Astoria, Oregon. It’s still there. It’s a historic site. They even have programming there today, as it’s a classic old-fashioned movie theater with chandeliers and things inside. I forget the exact interior, but I know It’s been preserved to this day.

[She turns to her husband. “You’ve been there. We went to see a movie there, I forget which one. Probably 20 years ago. They use it quite a bit in town for other things, too.” Her husband replies, “Well, when it’s the only theater in town, you know, they’ve got to make use of it somehow.” She chuckles.]

Well, back in the day there was another theater. The Paramount. Down on the other side of town. That one didn’t make it… But the Liberty, because of its beautiful architecture, has been preserved all these years.

For my first movie experience, Aunt JoJo and the twins had wheeled me to the theater in my stroller. I don’t recall much of the plot itself until suddenly, one moment, I remember being puzzled. I was being taken out! Rolled out in my stroller. I turned around to face the screen once more and I saw this green-faced witch! I was taken aback, and I was a little bit scared. 

I guess JoJo knew in advance that the Wicked Witch of the West was a scary bit, and she had been planning to take me out. We got out into the lobby and there was this little blond girl with very curly hair. She was standing alone, sobbing. 

So that’s when I knew—seeing that little girl cry—that this was something to be afraid of. I think they took me home after that. Actually, yes, I had begun to cry, and JoJo took me and the other little girl from the lobby, and we all walked home together. I’ve heard a lot of other people were traumatized by that particular scene, as well. And for a long time after that, I had nightmares about the Wicked Witch of the West. I can remember the dream even today. She would start to beckon to me…and there was a railroad track involved, somehow. I was supposed to cross over to her. The only way I got rid of this nightmare was, one night, when I was staying with my Aunt Pat, I woke up crying and told her, “the Wicked Witch is going to get me!” And she said, “Oh no, Uncle Fred will take care of that Wicked Witch. You don’t have to worry.” I never had that nightmare again.

At the Liberty Theater, they always had concessions. My favorite was probably popcorn. It’s hard to remember at that specific showing what I would’ve bought, but in later years, we always had a choice of things. The movie cost 15 cents, so if you brought a quarter, you had 10 cents left over. The big decision always was: do you get one 10 cent candy bar or two 5 cent bars? The 5 cent ones were usually things like Chuckles.

[She asks her husband, “Remember Chuckles?” He replies, “Ah, yes. Very well.”] 

They were gooey—a kind of gummy candy. Honestly, they weren’t that great. But they were cheap (and you got a lot of them). For the 10 cent bars, there was one I really liked. It was called Full of Almonds, and it had this luscious chocolate coating. Ah, the decision of what candy to buy… Junior mints were always a favorite. Butter fingers were good, too. Oh, and Mounds—they still make those! And they didn’t have any of those “miniature” trick-or-treating versions like they have today. It was all full-sized bars.

Growing up, I went to the movies every single week. Every Saturday, in fact. Not quite when I was three years old. But later, for example, when I was living on army bases in Panama or Japan—absolutely. Every Saturday without fail.

Actually, in my case, we were in the military, so we got the first movies out. They sent them for the soldiers so they’d have the latest movies. First-run stuff. And generally Saturday was for kids. They’d show those…what do you call them?…oh, serials. The Superman serials. And they always ended on cliffhangers—sometimes literally. Clark Kent would be hanging off the cliff by his fingernails and you’d have to wait until next week to see if he fell or not. So we’d watch that and then they’d play the movie, which was very often a Western, which was suitable for kids.

I was in Panama from ages 6 to 9. There was truly never a Saturday that we didn’t go to the movies. Every army base we lived on had a nice, big movie theater. They always, always had movies. Probably to keep ‘em quiet and keep ‘em out of the bar…

One of the funnier memories I have about the movies was my mother telling me that we were not supposed to sit too close to the screen. Adults always told us it was bad for you, you know, that it’d ruin your eyes. This backfired for me one time. We must’ve been in Panama. They’d brought a magician to perform, either between the serials, or maybe before the feature. And they called up kids to perform with him. All my friends were sitting up front, and I was the good girl sitting all the way in the back. So, of course I didn’t get called up to perform.

I went home and cried to my mom. She said to me, “Well of course you can sit in the front for that, silly!” I felt like an idiot in addition to having been denied the pleasure of working with the magician. But it was too late. The magician never came back after that day.

Eileen is my maternal grandmother.