Plans to demolish the Palace Theatre in Lansford brought back a flood of memories, and this reminds us of the importance of our heritage and how it helped shape who we are.

As teenage residents of Summit Hill, my friends and I would often “bum” rides to Lansford to see movies at the Palace.(By way of explanation, “bumming a ride,” also called “thumbing a ride” means we would stand at a specific location at the top of the Summit Hill-Lansford hill —Route 902 — called the “bumming corner,” and, as cars went by, we would raise our right hand with the thumb extended pointing in the direction we were heading.)Most often, it took less than five minutes to catch a ride. At the end of the movie, sometimes as many as 50 youngsters would gather at the Lansford “bumming corner” to get a ride back to Summit Hill.Although it seems inconceivable today, because of the dangers associated with such a practice, the area would clear out in less than 15 minutes. Virtually every vehicle heading toward Summit Hill would stop to pick up a few of the “bummers.” To my knowledge, there was never even one incident.Our parents never objected to our “bumming” a ride. I can’t ever recall my parents or my buddies’ parents carting us around as parents do now. We were pretty much on our own to get from Point A to Point B.Since neither my friends nor I was old enough to drive, we walked around town, even walked to and from Lansford on occasion, but since “bumming” was so easy, we mostly used this as our means of transportation.The most memorable movie I ever saw at the Palace was “The War of the Worlds,” an adaptation of the classic book written by H.G. Wells. While the book was set in England, the movie, starring Gene Barry, took place in southern California.At age 14, the movie scared the bejesus out of me. When I came out of the movie on a bright star-filled summer night, I could have sworn I saw UFOs swooping down from the sky. I slept at the foot of my parents’ bed for two consecutive nights convinced that Martians were going to invade Summit Hill.One of my best friends, Paul Tocchet, and I were devilish. Both raised as Roman Catholics, we were expected to follow the Church’s Legion of Decency rating system on films, which was in existence from 1933 until 1980.In 1953, when I was 14 and he was 13, we made a pact to see a “condemned” movie. By early June of that year, the only movie the Legion of Decency condemned was “The Moon Is Blue,” an Otto Preminger comedy starring William Holden and David Niven.The plot involved the two men attempting to bed a young woman whom they had recently met. And — get this — the word “virgin” was actually said on-screen — a definite no-no, according to the Legion of Decency code.Off we went to the Palace, connived our way into the movie, and, after it was all over, wondered what all the fuss was about.Movies at the Palace were 20 cents, then the cost went up to 25 cents.Saturday matinees were 15 cents and featured usually a western feature film, preceded by a serial of 12 to 15 weekly installments — (we sometimes called them “Chapters”) – and a cartoon. Our moms would give us 50 cents, allowing us to get some popcorn and a soft drink, too.In the serial, the good guy and his girlfriend were about to meet their demise when the chapter ended. They either fell out of a 20-story building, their car ran off a cliff or they were shot, electrocuted or seemingly met some other horrible, fateful end. The next week, however, they magically survived.In those days, there were adult ushers who patrolled the theater aisles with flashlights. If I had my feet up on the seat in front of me, I would get called out by the usher. If I did it again and got caught, I would get kicked out of the theater. That happened just twice.The same was true if my girl and I were making out in the back of the theater. The usher sometimes would sneak up on us since we were paying attention to other things, and shine the light from the flashlight into faces and declare in a loud voice, “Knock it off.”The Palace was a beautiful theater in its day. A contract for construction of the Palace was awarded for $100,000 in 1922, according to The American Contractor magazine.The building was described as three stories tall, with dimensions of 50 x 150 feet, located at the corner of Coal and Patterson streets. The architect was John T. Simpson of Newark, New Jersey. The owner was listed as Panther Valley Amusement Co. (Vincent Quinn, president).In the magazine notice, the building was described as being of limestone trim with a tapestry brick front. The general contractor, who also did masonry and carpeting work, was King Lumber Co. Of Charlottesville, Virginia.The last movie I recall seeing at the Palace was “Rebel Without a Cause,” starring James Dean, Natalie Wood and Sal Mineo, in 1955.After that, most of my friends and I started driving and sought other activities to amuse ourselves. At the same time, television was becoming the dominant entertainment medium.Bruce Frassinelli, who grew up in Summit Hill, is now an adjunct instructor at Lehigh Carbon Community College. He is a contributing writer to the Times News.