By Steve Crum

A few months into 1970, after being drafted into the Army, I found myself stationed at Fort Polk, Louisiana. Basic Training at Leonard Wood in Missouri was history. It was summer. I heard that the local Leesville movie theatre, the Polk, was running a re-release of a movie I had never seen before, Gone With the Wind. The 1939 film is legendary, having won multiple Academy Awards.

Even then I was a true movie buff, yet I had missed seeing GWTW all my life. The only way to see it those days was via an MGM re-release, a booking at select theatres across the country—for a limited time of perhaps one week. Then the 35 mm reels would be shipped back to the MGM vault for yet another release in maybe five years. And so on.

These were the days of no DVD, no VHS, no cable TV, and no streaming channels. We had only small screen TVs operating on tubes. So I decided to see it where it was made to be seen—on a large screen.

Alone I drove to the Polk (none of my buddies cared about the movie), paid my admission, and sat in a half-full house in a main floor aisle seat, center section. In front of me, a junior high history teacher and her 15 or so students sat. She reminded them that what they were going to see is a history of the South, and to pay attention quietly. A “history of the South”? I was amused. GWTW is a documentary?!

The Polk was a typical neighborhood theatre showing its age. But it had a large screen and OK speakers. I watched the lengthy movie, and enjoyed it. MGM had supplied a very good print.

Most of the audience, including the history class, had exited by the time the finale music ended. Then I left.

Walking to my car, I noticed a somewhat long line waiting a few yards away at a different door than I had entered. I asked someone what was going on. “Oh, they’re in line to see Gone With the Wind. That’s the Colored line. They sit upstairs in the balcony.” Hmm. Come to think of it, there were only Whites seated around me. I did notice there was a small balcony, but then paid it no attention.

Note that there was no sign posted like “Whites Only” or “Coloreds Only.” This was more subtle, more locally understood…

Racism.

I never returned to the Polk Theatre. Nor will I ever forget it.

∞∞∞∞∞

The Polk Theatre closed a few decades ago, and is now a church. (See photo.)