Lynne's Lens
Gemini Theatre Sign
Photo taken 1985 or early 1986.
If you were a kid growing up in Dallas from the 60s - the mid 80's, you probably remember going to the Gemini on hot summer Monday nights, when it was $1 a carload to get in, and almost every car was packed to the brim with kids contorted in all kinds of strange ways. I remember sweating to death in the trunk with two friends waiting for what seemed like forever in the long line that went around the block to get in. The experience was so traumatic that I don't think I've been able to stand small, enclosed spaces since.
People would show up in their Pintos, Mavericks, Chevelles, Pacers, Skylarks, Novas, tiny Honda Civics, El Caminos, mom's station wagon (that was me -- I was so cool), whatever mode of transportation they could take to get to the Gemini and grab a prime spot before sundown.
Once there and settled (with plenty of beer, or, if you imagined yourself a wine drinker, Boonesfarm or Riunite), you'd meet up with your friends and with kids from TJ, White, Smith, Turner, Pierce, Lake Highlands and other area high schools.
The Gemini was a three-screen theater, with every spot at every screen taken long before the sun set and the movie began. If the action at your screen seemed a bit lame, you could always make the trek to one of the other screens to see what was going on. And, usually, it wasn't much. Just large groups of teens completely ignoring the feature and hanging out by cars with stereos blasting every type of music imaginable.
You'd walk by a bunch of cowboys and hear twangy guitars and singers lamenting their latest break up then head to the next group head banging to Def Leppard or Van Halen (the REAL Van Halen with David Lee Roth). Just as your hair would be flying all over the place and your face would be turning red from shaking your head up and down to the beat of the bangers, you'd stroll by the spiky-haired New Wave kids, whose cassette tapes would be blaring The Beat, The Pretenders (not me baby, I'm too precious, so...), The Cars, etc. Then, you'd come across the stoners listening to Led Zeppelin or Pink Floyd, and keep going to the next group, which was comprised of the band geeks discussing the meaning of Rush's 2112 and how to play as well as Alex Lifeson. Finally, as you'd approach the snack bar, you'd find people dancing to Bob Marley or Rick James or U2.
Then, you'd get to the snack bar, wait in line forever, and grab an order of fries before heading back out among the throngs of teens back to your group's spot, hoping, with the darkening sky, that things had picked up since you left, and maybe that special person you had a crush on was waiting there to share a fry or two with you.
Gemini Theatre Sign
Photo taken 1985 or early 1986.
If you were a kid growing up in Dallas from the 60s - the mid 80's, you probably remember going to the Gemini on hot summer Monday nights, when it was $1 a carload to get in, and almost every car was packed to the brim with kids contorted in all kinds of strange ways. I remember sweating to death in the trunk with two friends waiting for what seemed like forever in the long line that went around the block to get in. The experience was so traumatic that I don't think I've been able to stand small, enclosed spaces since.
People would show up in their Pintos, Mavericks, Chevelles, Pacers, Skylarks, Novas, tiny Honda Civics, El Caminos, mom's station wagon (that was me -- I was so cool), whatever mode of transportation they could take to get to the Gemini and grab a prime spot before sundown.
Once there and settled (with plenty of beer, or, if you imagined yourself a wine drinker, Boonesfarm or Riunite), you'd meet up with your friends and with kids from TJ, White, Smith, Turner, Pierce, Lake Highlands and other area high schools.
The Gemini was a three-screen theater, with every spot at every screen taken long before the sun set and the movie began. If the action at your screen seemed a bit lame, you could always make the trek to one of the other screens to see what was going on. And, usually, it wasn't much. Just large groups of teens completely ignoring the feature and hanging out by cars with stereos blasting every type of music imaginable.
You'd walk by a bunch of cowboys and hear twangy guitars and singers lamenting their latest break up then head to the next group head banging to Def Leppard or Van Halen (the REAL Van Halen with David Lee Roth). Just as your hair would be flying all over the place and your face would be turning red from shaking your head up and down to the beat of the bangers, you'd stroll by the spiky-haired New Wave kids, whose cassette tapes would be blaring The Beat, The Pretenders (not me baby, I'm too precious, so...), The Cars, etc. Then, you'd come across the stoners listening to Led Zeppelin or Pink Floyd, and keep going to the next group, which was comprised of the band geeks discussing the meaning of Rush's 2112 and how to play as well as Alex Lifeson. Finally, as you'd approach the snack bar, you'd find people dancing to Bob Marley or Rick James or U2.
Then, you'd get to the snack bar, wait in line forever, and grab an order of fries before heading back out among the throngs of teens back to your group's spot, hoping, with the darkening sky, that things had picked up since you left, and maybe that special person you had a crush on was waiting there to share a fry or two with you.