I saw my first 3-D movie in 1956. The House of Wax had been out for a few years, but this was close to Halloween, so the theater brought it back for an encore. My cousin Jock, Billy Roy, Georgie, my pal who was scared of everything and also our neighborhood firebug, and I rode our balloon-tire bicycles to the 7th Street Theater in Fort Worth. A ticket was 25 cents, and a Coke and popcorn were another 10 cents. We were set. The cheesy cardboard 3-D glasses were free.
I saw my first 3-D movie in 1956. The House of Wax had been out for a few years, but this was close to Halloween, so the theater brought it back for an encore. My cousin Jock, Billy Roy, Georgie, my pal who was scared of everything and also our neighborhood firebug, and I rode our balloon-tire bicycles to the 7th Street Theater in Fort Worth. A ticket was 25 cents, and a Coke and popcorn were another 10 cents. We were set. The cheesy cardboard 3-D glasses were free.
After two cartoons, a message on the screen said “put on your 3-D glasses now!” Man, we were ready. The music was scary, the credits and opening scenes were even scarier. Vincent Price looked about as evil as the devil, and the wax figures looked real, ready to jump through the screen. None of us would admit it, but we were scared to death.
Things started flying around the screen, then into the audience and over our heads. Floating orbs, spears and flying ghost. Old Vincent threw a fiery orb at the front row, and kids ran down the isle screaming, hitting the seats and falling, blind, still wearing their 3-D glasses. It was pandemonium. The manager stopped the film and brought up the house lights. That was it. How did the theater expect a bunch of little kids to react to such a weird movie?
We rode our bicycles home still wearing our 3-D glasses and looking oh so cool.
I wore those glasses for three days, and the world looked darn good in blue and red.
Notes From The Cactus Patch 