The Swelling Ranks Of Things That We Look Back Upon: THE BELL THEATRE FIRE!

TIMES PICAYUNE NEWSPAPER ARTICLE PHOTO

AFTERMATH OF THE FIRE. I SAW THE PHOTOGRAPHER TAKE THIS PICTURE.

THE FOLLOWING IS A COMPLETE EYEWITNESS ACCOUNT OF THE FIRE WHICH CONSUMED A NEIGHBORHOOD THEATRE.

On the corner of Bayou Road and Grand Route St. John at the beginning of Gentilly Blvd. in the Gentilly area of New Orleans once stood a large, wood-frame movie theatre called the BELL. It originally opened in 1922, during the later days of silent movies, and was a favorite entertainment spot for the neighborhood. It was just over five blocks from my grandparents' house.

Although I did see quite a few first-run films there during the years, my best memories were of the Saturday Kiddie Matinees. Older movies with somewhat questionable cinematographic quality were cheap fare for us local kids. Admission cost only 25¢.

It was just after ten o'clock in the morning, the 9th of April, 1966. I was eating cereal at the dining room table. Being a Saturday, I was off from school, and since my mother had to work, often I'd go to my grandparents'.

I heard a siren in the distance; this was nothing unusual. However, there was a special way that the siren on the hook & ladder truck from the Paris Avenue fire station, Engine 21, sounded when it turned our way, off Paris Avenue and onto Gentilly Blvd.

It was coming near here! I was sure of it. The fire call was close by! I ran out to the front gate just in time to see both the huge hook & ladder truck and the pumper rumble by, speeding down Gentilly Blvd., sirens wailing.

Forgetting my cereal, and my grandmother's telling me to finish my food, I jumped onto my bike and peddled hard, heading down the street to see where the fire was. The trucks stopped at the old Bell Theatre. Out of breath, I stopped and realized I had arrived before most of the firemen had dismounted from their trucks.

I expected to see something, but instead, there was no sign of anything whatsoever amiss. All that huffing and puffing for what? There was just nothing to see. I had left a half a bowl of Cheerios uneaten for this.

A small group of the curious (mostly local kids like myself) commented among themselves: "Aww, it's just a false alarm." I figured if it was, it more than likely was a prank by some neighborhood bad-boy. I even had an idea who it might have been.

But then, a few minutes later, we began to notice a faint whisp of smoke, coming from the front vent of the theatre attic. Only that. Nothing at all, really. Certainly it wasn't worth all the fuss...

Strangely the firemen just stood around, and they did so for what seemed like a half-hour... DOING NOTHING!! I thought this was a waste of time, and had turned my bike around and was just about to go when there were sirens again, and two more fire engines arrived.

I wondered what the point was: I mean, the first two truckloads of Keystone Firemen had been wandering aimlessly, and sittting around as if they had no idea what to do. Maybe these guys that are coming will "light a fire" under their brother firemen and see what was "cooking" in the attic. Along with the two more units, a Fire Chief's car arrived. The BOSS will get some action all right.

And there was that smoke: now it was very visible, but still nothing to get excited about.

Rumor on the street had it that the firemen were waiting for the theatre owner or manager to show up with a key to let them in the door. They were still waiting! Nobody had shown up yet, and it became clear something had to be done, and done quickly to avoid a disaster.

The decision was made to break in. Some firemen grabbed axes and grappling hooks, walked quickly up the small flight of steps at the main entrance, and approached the plate glass doors next to the box-office. One firefighter then hit the door with his fire-axe, and it shattered into pieces with a mighty crash! Instantly the growing throng of youthful onlookers erupted into cheers!

After the glass from the broken door had cascaded down the front steps, the firemen, now numbering about a dozen or so, charged into the building and disappeared for several minutes.

Meanwhile, the air was filled with sirens, as a few more fire trucks were approaching from the distance. More and more people were gathering on the sidewalks, on the streets nearby, on porches of neighboring houses, and on the grass on the side of the theatre itself. There was a carnival atmosphere, with kids like me on their bikes, darting around the fire equipment. Entire families showed up to watch the commotion.

Suddenly, the team of firefighters who had so valiantly charged in to save the day just minutes before, reappeared in the glass-spangled doorway, exiting the theatre in a panic run, literally fleeing for their lives! Immediately thereafter, even more men, this time carrying fire hoses, charged in, only to re-emerge just as quickly as the first team had. It reminded me of how townspeople fled a horrid monster - a giant spider to be exact - I once saw on the Bell's silver screen in 1961.

"LOOK!" shouted someone from the group of onlookers.

We all saw it: the thick, black smoke was dense and now belching out of the vent as if from a locomotive's smokestack. It seems we had been paying so much attention to the firemen that we forgot completely about the fire! And, speaking of which, the sooty torrent of smoke was now joined by intermittant tongues of flame.

The air around the theatre was now somewhat smokey, and was filled also with the distant wails of even more approaching fire engines, plus some police units. I looked down Gentilly Blvd. and saw them approach - adding to the already extensive number of shiny crimson vehicles lined up for over a two blocks! The scene, with all its bright red and white lights of the emergency equipment flashing, became all the more dramatic when seen through the smoke-filled air.

I looked up toward the attic vent again. Flames now lept upward through it, and small flickers had begun emerging through some of the other vents as well, along with the customary black smoke. From all along the eaves of the building, grey, sooty smoke curled upward.

No doubt about it: this was going to be a big one!

Then, with a roaring noise like a demon from the depths of Hell itself, fire burst through the very rooftop and shot skyward! Ladders were hoisted into position and the batallion of firemen assumed new battle stations. Some brave souls mounted the high ladders, hoses in hand, ready to confront this now-raging inferno.

A new-fangled fire truck called a cherrypicker, arrived on the scene. None of us had ever seen this kind of fire engine before: it had a folding arm that hoised a firefighter aloft, and had an attached hose with a powerful nozzle. The cherrypicker raised the man aloft, high above the conflagration, and a deluge of water issued forth, streaming downward directly into the fiery pit.

With so many air and ground-based water hoses plying the fire from every conceivable angle, one would think that the fire could be brought under control quickly. It couldn't. FLASHOVER had already occurred, and the fire only intensified with each passing minute.

THE FIRE WAS WINNING!!!

It became clear to us that we had all seen our last show at the Bell. Overhead flew a couple of small airplanes, and at one point a helecopter circled above us. This fire was going to make the 5 o'clock news.

Then it happened: the roof suddenly collapsed with a violent, roaring sound. Giant tongues of fire, smoke, and glowing embers burst skyward, like an erupting volcano, engulfing the firefighters on the cherrypicker and on the ladders.

As for that cherrypicker, it was closest to the fire. The operator down below, seeing the roof collapsing, quickly jerked the unit sideways, removing the fireman above from harm's way, thus no doubt saving his life. The water from the powerful nozzle continued spraying - water streaming out of it with full force - even as he was jerked to the side. The stream swept over the crowd, bowling over dozens of hapless spectators, drenching over a hundred others.

The hook & ladder units were quickly retired to a safe distance, with less drama, but with equal care for those gallant combattants atop the ladders. They were redeployed when the fire subsided to a safe level. All hoses vainly attempted to saturate the raging cauldron, which by now had become more fire than building. Fed by the all-wood structure, cloth seats, and highly flammable film and related chemicals stored inside, the old, one-screen theatre's fate was sealed. It was now a glowing tinderbox!

Next door, another drama was being played out: the heat of the fire was so intense that an adjacent house caught fire, and its occupants, two teenage girls, unaware their house was being threatened by the Bell Theatre blaze, had to be led out of the smoke-filled house by firemen. They came out crying hysterically, bewailing the fate of their pet dogs, trapped in the rear of the house.

The girls' grandfather, Ernest Fortuna, well-known to neighborhood residents, arrived, and, once he saw to it the girls were all right, had to be physically restrained by police and firefighters. He was trying to get back into his house to rescue his boxers.

"I'm going in there, and you can't stop me!" everybody heard him shout, as he pushed and shoved, desperately trying to save his animals. "They've got to be still alive!" he could be heard hollering, above the din.

Some firemen tried to get the dogs out, but they themselves were attacked by the boxers and had to withdraw.

As the fire raged on, even the utility poles and adjacent trees caught fire. I stayed there until the fire subsided and was eventually extinguished. Now all that was left of the Bell Theatre was a black pile of smouldering rubble and cinders.

For us kids, it was exciting - for awhile - but there was a price to pay: there was the sad realization that the Bell was no more. We all knew that this was the very last show the old Bell would offer up to its loyal fans, and I had a front-row seat!

I wrote a letter to my uncle in Morocco and told him all about the fire. He replied saying he "lamented the loss of the Bell; Many a show I saw in that old barn!" I thought to myself: "Me, too."

Before I left, I saw Mr. Fortuna, petting his dogs; he got them out safe and sound.

The following week I went to the lot where the old theatre stood. I had always held onto hopes that someday a new Bell would rise out of those smelly ashes. It never did. The area was cleared, and the lot stood vacant for several years, leading to much speculation and rumor, but in the end, an office building rose in its place. The Bell was never rebuilt.

The fire had mercifully put an end to an institution which was breathing its last gasp. The traditional, single-screen neighborhood movie houses were disappearing everywhere. They were being replaced by intergallactic, multi-screen cinemas in sprawling shopping centers. Had the Bell not burned that day, it would have had to close in a few years anyway; it's day had come and gone.

At least it went out in a magnificent blaze of glory!

Once or twice, in the years since that big fire, I'd see the ticket lady - the nice lady who worked in the booth when first I went to the picture show at age three. She was an old lady now, but still she remembered me. I go to the multi-screen theatres, but nobody there will ever remember me, or care if I went or not.

Today, a small, modern office building still occupies the site. Never again will giant spiders, cowboys, Vikings, elephants, or fantastic space men appear on a silver screen... not there, at least. Like Jerry Lewis and Don Knotts, the old Bell Theatre has gone to join the swelling ranks of things that I look back upon, and I will look back upon it with fondness.

Thanks for the memories!
_______________________________
The Stattler Brothers came out with a nice song, dedicated to a generic theatre in a generic town, whose day has come:

"To every silver cowboy who rode the silver screen:
Do you remember riding through the strand?
And do you remember me? I'm the front row kid,
Who galloped right behind you 'til the end.

And saved your life so often by callin' out your name,
When it looked like Blackie had the upper hand;
We saved those towns and ranches, in spite of threats of rain
While stayin' safe and dry inside the Strand!

The Strand it was a fortress in the heart of town;
It's marquee proudly boasted out your name,
Sendin' out a message to youngin's all around,
and each and every Saturday we came.

We came to watch our heros ride the silver screen,
In hot pursuit of Blackie's outlaw band.
I wish that I could walk up to that ticket booth again,
And buy just one more ticket to the Strand.

But our town is changing, and it seems we need
A parking lot to help our town expand.
Today I learned a lesson, like you I must be brave:
Today I learned their tearing down the Strand!

I wish that there was something, fellows, we could do!
One more effort before we disband:
We've saved those towns and ranches,
And now before we're through,
Seems we ought to try to save the Strand!

But they say it's over and I guess it's true;
They'll park their cars where horses used to stand.
I'll try to use the courage - that I learned from you,
Every time I think about the Strand!

That Happy Train that lead me through the Strand!"
Happy Trails!

THE BELL THEATRE AS IT APPEARED IN THE EARLY 1950'S
The Bell was renovated sometime in the mid-Fifties, and a new more modern front and box office was built, and a tile vaneer covered up the old weather boards.
FOREGROUND: The asphalt is relatively newly-laid. In future years of wear, old covered up trolley tracks - unused since the 1920's, gradually became visible.

I first went to the BELL as a very small child - probably as early as 1954. I saw "Motorcycle Gang" in 1957, "The Viking" in 1958, "Stop! Look! and LAUGH!" and The Magnificent Seven" in 1960, "Guns of Navarone" in 1961, "Gigot" and "Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation" in 1962, "Who's Minding the Store?" in 1963, and "The Disorderly Orderly" in 1964 - to mention just a few! I went to the Saturday Matinees and saw lots of hokey flicks - even saw "Plan 9 from Outer Space" there!!!!

My grandparents lived a few blocks away, and they knew the parents of Dorothy Lamour, who lived on Gentilly Blvd., in a wood-frame double house almost literally across Grand Route St. John from the Bell. When little "Dottie" as they knew her by grew up to be the raving beauty we movie buffs love and remember, she went to Hollywood and made movies. When another of her movies would come out, my grandfather would tell my grandmother, my aunt and my mother: "Come of, Ladies, let's go see Dottie!" I was priveleged to briefly meet Ms. Lamour in New Orleans in about 1984 - about a dozen years before before her death.

Clarinetist Pete Fountain also grew up in this neighborhood, and went to school with my mother. I am sure both Pete Fountain and Dorothy Lamour went to the Bell at some time or other - but it is unlikely they went at the same time. Dorothy Lamour was 15 years older than Pete Fountain, and when Pete was just an infant, Dottie had changed her name from Lambour to the more exotic Lamour, and had left for Hollywood and fame.

BELL TRIVIA:

AD: DEC. 9, 1961

The BELL Theatre was called "Bell" because the original location of the theatre was at the corner of Bell St. and N. Dourgenois Streets, just a few blocks away.

The last movie to play at the BELL was "The Ghost and Mr. Chicken."
I didn't get to see it... The theatre gave up the ghost, and the chickens got fried!