News from the July editions of the Lemon Grove Review.
The Ace, Dismembered: The big fence came down. In the dead of night, in the blaze of noonday, in the murk of twilight, the hills were alive with the sound of crowbars as the old green fence encircling the defunct Ace Drive-In was dismantled -- some might say dismembered -- board by board and transported by divers means to unknown destinations, thence to be resurrected as domestic fortification.
Angel and Santiago Martinez, who lived opposite the Ace on Grove Street, said traffic at 1 a.m. had escalated since fence-swiping fever had seized the locals.
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"But they come around dinnertime, too," said Santiago. "The other day an entire family and their dog came. Each one took a board--even the dog pulled one--until there was no room in the car for people. The father came back and got the family later."
The Ace, while not exactly on a par with, say, the Sistine Chapel where looks were concerned, had nonetheless prompted a spate of nostalgic articles linking such places to American 'Fifties folklore.
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But one blunt 'Grovian, Arnie Rollins, was quoted as saying, "For appearance, on a scale of one to 10, the old Ace is a one. For entertainment value it's not on the scale."
There were others who felt that a steady diet of Graze Z flicks like "Cat Woman on Mars," "Godzilla Meets a Clone," and "Teen Rampage" did little to enhance the civic image.
"My canary has more culture," snapped Dot Andrews. "Which is why I dislike the phrase 'strictly for the birds'."
Joanie Weinstein concurred, noting, "In winter it's dark at 5 p.m. You pull off the freeway and the first thing you see is a huge screen showing somebody getting beaten, strangled, maimed or shot. They can't take the place apart too soon for me."
"They" was G.K. Grove Associates, a joint venture of Patrick Development and Guttman Construction. The trio turned the nine-acre site into a residential showcase called Grove Apartments (today, condominiums and very nice, too).
So, splish-splash, while you were taking a bath all on a Saturday night, the fence came down and with it the tattered remains of an image empire that had ceased to strike back.
In the summer of 1987, those still pining for the sights and sounds of a 'Fifties-era drive-in could dash to Berry Park and hear The Catillacs and their poodle skirt- ducktail laden ambience. And guess what? The Catillacs never went away -- they're back in the summer of 2013, fresh as a daisy.
Despite the disparaging comments of some 'Grovians about the Ace, the American drive-in came into being in the mid to late 1940s for distinct economic reasons tied to unfair monopolistic practices by Hollywood moguls. For a larger look at the story, you can order the Lemon Grove Historical Society's monograph on the subject.
The Historical Society also is home to Ace Drive-In artifacts--a speaker and stand, the snack tray that hooked onto the window, a menu, photographs, a door from a pink cadillac and a VHS of "Teen Rumble" starring Lemon Grove-bred actor, Bob Turnbull.
Closing Thought: Fare like "Attack of the Giant Leeches" aside, drive-in theaters were home to some of the best Film Noir movies in the world. Well written, well shot, well lit, well acted, with plot lines that moved at freight train pace, leaving you panting for more.
A Perfect Ten: On July 1, 1987 Lemon Grove turned 10 as an incorporated city (as a place with a name it was actually 95). But the auspicious 10, coupled with the July 4th weekend, made for bacchanalia galore all over town.
Councilwoman Lois Heiserman and votives of her 10th Birthday Committee tossed a party on July 3 in the church hall at St. John of the Cross. Tickets were $7.50 for lavish hors d'oeuvres, dancing to live music, and speeches and jokes by dignitaries.
The party continued on July 5 when the Marine Corps Band played in Berry Park and free lemonade, birthday cake, balloons and souvenirs were bestowed on all comers, and a giant Slip-n-Slide entertained moppets.
No town in the U.S. sported, then or now, a large plaster fruit on its main drag, or, as the Historical Society says, "The only giant fruit in America next to a mass transit line."
On July 4, 2013 our darling Big Lemon will be 85 years young. Salute as you go by, dear readers.
And so it went in the early summer of 1987 when a near-legendary American drive-in vanished, a casualty of a changing market and demographics, and a small town continued its upward trajectory as a real city.
About this column: Compiled by Helen Ofield, president of the Lemon Grove Historical Society, from newspapers archived at the H. Lee House Cultural Center. Each week, we take a peek at the past with some news and advertising highlights from a randomly chosen edition of the Lemon Grove Review. In 2012 Ofield was awarded second place in non-daily reporting and writing from the Society of Professional Journalists for the column.
