Nick Robinson's blog

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If I don't write about it, it didn't happen, right?

If I don't make a big deal about it, next week, I'll stroll up those steps and see all the regulars and we'll all go back into our little attic theatre and watch some messed-up exploitation film and have a blast, right? Then we'll come back the next night for Terror Thursday, right?

Ever since a Weird Wednesday midnight showing of Drum with Warren Oates, the Original Alamo Drafthouse has been a big part of my life. Most Wednesdays you could find me catching the free show having a blast, hanging out with the regulars and having all sorts of fun. Weird Wednesday will continue on at Alamo South Lamar, but most of the regular programs are on hiatus until we get the Ritz going, along with the specialty programming. No Terror Thursdays, Music Mondays, sing-alongs, Foleyvision, etc. Too many shows to list.

It still doesn't feel real. I was at the last show, I watched the sign come down (Pics here), but it still doesn't feel like it was something that happened. I haven't been back to 409 Colorado and seen the empty building yet, so that helps.

[Nick Robinson's Alamo Downtown Blog-a-Thon entry follows.]

I began collecting 16mm because of the absolutely fantastic experiences I've had at the Alamo Drafthouse. Mostly because of Weird Wednesday and QT-Fest. So many twisted, bizarre, wrong and wonderful movies that nobody's ever heard of - I had to start getting my own.­

Once I bought my 16mm projector (an Eiki self threader), I had to go home and visit my parents for a while. I told them about what I was up to, and after my dad got finished telling how stupid I was for starting this, he mentioned that he had a 35mm trailer in the attic that I could have if I wanted. Naturally, I did.

He explained that when he was in college at North Texas (then called ... something else, I can't remember) he knew this guy, Bob, who was a total scam artist (he's since run for mayor of Denton a couple of times, so some things never change). The kind of guy who knew when they'd visit their parents and have money and ask them for cash as soon as they got back home again. Bob always had a get-quick-rich scheme and could hustle pretty well. He told me about watching the guy talk to somebody, work his magic and get them involved in the scheme, while my dad was watching he couldn't believe that somebody would fall for such lines. As soon as he was finished, Bob turned to my dad, started working it and my dad paid up. His schemes would soon lead to my parents financing one of the earliest gay bars in Austin - the Griffin (maybe spelled Gryphon) on Guadalupe where the ATT parking structure is now, across from Clay Pit. Like all the other ventures they put their money into, it seemed like a good idea at the time and even met some initial success, but quickly failed.