The Wednesday Night Drawing at the Palace Theatre
When young men or women enter high school, they are qualified to sit in the balcony, where they enjoy a bit of privacy from their parents and young siblings. Groups of girls, usually giggling, sit on the left side; groups of teenage boys, usually watching the giggling girls or teasing them, sit in the middle of the balcony; and to the right are the teenage couples, going “steady,” who sit prim and proper in their seats, until the house lights go down. Quickly, the young men put their arms around their girls who cuddle in their arms. There is some kissing and a lot of “necking,” but serious policing is un- necessary. Nevertheless, the tall slender proprietor walks slowly down each aisle, pausing now and then, his flashlight pointed to the floor, making sure that chatter is kept to a minimum, that young lovers behave appropriately.
With the drawing completed, the theatre begins emptying. The teenagers come bounding down from the balcony, sometimes colliding with parents and younger children leaving the main floor. Experienced customers exit through a side door. Outside the gas stations are dark, but the street lights provide plenty of illumination for the moviegoers to find their way home or to their cars.
They feel safe and secure because Arno “Slim” Dauma, the tall, skinny 70-year-old Elmwood policeman and former blacksmith, has parked his squad car across the street in Howard’s Standard Station. He keeps an eye on things. At least six feet tall and weighing less than 165 pounds, Slim looks like Barney Fife, the sidekick on the popular Andy Griffith Show on TV. Slim wears a dark blue “bus driver” hat, matching shirt buttoned clear to the top, dark blue pants, and black belt with holster, pistol, and night stick.
He leans back against his black Ford squad car, pulls out his package of Red Man, and stuffs tobacco under his lip. No doubt about it. He looks threatening, but he isn’t.
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