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IX
How A Cinema is Run
The manager of the Empire Theatre, Leicester Square, London — one of the most luxurious of West End picture houses — describes the hundred and one duties xvhich fall to the lot of one who controls a super-cinema. Duties whose sole aim is your comfort.
by H. W. CrULL
THE cinema-manager, to most film-goers, is just a man in a dress-suit who stands in the foyer, bowing urbanely to occasional distinguished patrons, or waving an imperious hand to the brass-bound attendant. He looks decorative — but what does he do ? The manager is paid to secure the comfort and contentment of his patrons. This means You.
In my own cinema, I am responsible for the comfort and happy entertainment of between 50,000 and 100,000 film-goers every week. In common with most other managers of supercinemas, I find that it involves working about fourteen hours a day.
Let me describe an average day in the life of the manager of a " super." He arrives at the cinema at 9 a.m., in time to inspect the house thoroughly before the first show. He looks for defective bulbs in the dozens of houselights which spangle the theatre. He scrutinizes seats, carpets and walls for any sign of slack work by the army of cleaning-men who work from midnight until 5 a.m., or the charwomen v>'ho follow them at 6.30 a.m. He will be in his place to watch the first show at ten o'clock. He listens carefully to the sound and notes the intensity of the picture-beam. If he detects any fault, he communicates at once with the projection-room. He
satisfies himself that the programme is running satisfactorily, the lights are dimming and rising unobtrusively, and that a hundred details are faultless. Then he takes a last look round his gradually-growing audience, and moves off to his office.
There he finds the morning's mail awaiting him. The manager of a " super " receives hundreds of letters from patrons each week. One will suggest a new tune for the organist to play in the interval. Another has left a pair of gloves behind. A third indulges in some fulminating criticism at the expense of the gentleman who smoked an ultra-violent cigar in the next seat to hers last Friday matinee. Many letters contain helpful and constructive suggestions and these tbe manager always welcomes.
When he has read these and the dozens of business communications which arrive with them, he spends hours until lunch-time dictating the answers, fixing appointments and arranging last-minute details in the day's routine.
A hasty luncheon and the manager is back at his desk. Visitors arrive. First comes the representative of the sign-makers who look after the theatre signs. The manager goes over with him the designs for forthcoming display. Next come representatives from newspaper advertising depart