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It is estimated that at one time there were as many as 18 cinemas in Derby. You and Yesterday contributor Geoff Alcock, now living in Phoenix, Arizona, remembers his favourite childhood haunts.

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Contents 1 The Alex, Normanton Road 2 The Regal, East Street 3 The Gaumont, London Road 4 The Picture House, Babington Lane 5 The Hippodrome 6 The Rex, Alvaston 7 The Cavendish, Normanton 8 The Black Prince, Duckworth Square 9 The Odeon, St Peter's Street 10 The Popular, Mill Street 11 The Cosmo, Upper Boundary Road 12 Cinemas in Chaddeseden and Spondon 13 The Forum/Cameo, London Road 14 FEEDBACK

The Alex, Normanton Road

My first ever visit to a cinema or “the pictures”, as we referred to them back then, was very short-lived. The year would be either 1941 or 1942 and I was three or four years old.

During the war, Hollywood put out a lot of films that were intended to lift people from the drudgery of war for a couple of hours and transform their thoughts to a fantasy world.

Such films usually featured massive stage sets with dozens of women in glitzy gowns, dancing across the scenes.

Britain (Pinewood and Shepperton studios) tended to concentrate on love stories, more often than not involving people parted by war.

What film my mother had intended to see on our first joint visit to “the pictures”, I will never know. As we entered the Alex, on Normanton Road (above left) we made our way to the far end of the foyer to purchase tickets from the small box office.

Retracing our steps, part way down the foyer, my mum opened one of the double doors which led into the cinema. I still remember with great clarity the first images I saw on the screen. Some male athletes were running around the corner of a running track toward us. No doubt we had entered during the Pathe News.

Immediately, I began to cry. Don’t ask me why. Despite assurances from my mum, I could not be consoled and we had to leave as quickly as we had entered.

Looking back some 65 years, I can only conclude that the sudden darkness of the cinema as distinct from the sunny afternoon outside, brought fears perhaps related to the war and the nightly black-out enforcement.

Or maybe it was the sudden view of the huge screen. Television was non-existent back then and so this would have been my first experience of a moving image and quite daunting to a young child.

The Alex was eventually converted into a roller skating rink by the famous Derby entrepreneur Sammy Ramsden, who owned the Plaza Dance hall before, during and after the war. But it was not long before he stopped the skating and turned the rink into the Trocadero dance hall.

The Regal, East Street

One other time I cried at the cinema was at the Regal cinema in East Street, when I was four. The occasion was the first release of the colour film, Bambi. Bambi’s mother was shot dead in the first few minutes of the film, which was pretty dramatic for children in that era.

The Regal (above left) had a cinema organ that came up out of the floor in front of the screen at the interval. The rich sound of the organ would be the first clue, as all eyes focused on the front of the auditorium to catch a glimpse of the organ as it ascended. The reeded glass structure would reflect the internal lights which constantly flashed from red to orange, to yellow, to green, to violet and blue.

Regardless of what film was being shown, this was the highlight of the visit – perhaps because it was the only live music available to the masses. The big bands did not tour in Britain in those days. Radio was in mono sound and nowhere near the calibre of the rich tones that came from that magnificent, magical instrument. The sound just wrapped around you.

The introductory tune, played as the organ rose out of the floor, was Cruising Down the River on a Sunday Afternoon. My mum told me that eventually it became rat-infested, much of it being eaten away by the rodents.

The Gaumont, London Road

A second theatre which had an organ, I believe, was the Gaumont (left) which was about 500 feet beyond The Spot on the right of London Road. The Regal and the Gaumont were the favourite venues for late Sunday afternoon viewing of the latest release of films.

I can recall doing my college homework in the early afternoon while listening to the Top Ten records of the week on the radio. Then it was a quick wash, with plenty of time to get that hair groomed to perfection, and off to town on the trolleybus to meet up with my mate, Eric Chapman, and walk to the cinema of our choice.

I shall never forget one incident that happened a few seconds into the screening of a film at the Gaumont. We had just settled comfortably in our seats when the film started.

The opening scene was a man who ran into a house and shouted: “I’ve killed a man, I’ve killed a man.”

This must have had a dramatic effect on a large man in front of me, who suddenly lurched to a standing position, throwing his arms above his head, before slumping to the floor. People had to move from their seats as St John Ambulance men, usually on duty at theatres, came to carry him out.

One of the many films I saw there was Pete Kelly’s Blues. Although in colour and reasonably entertaining, I did not realise, until a few decades later, that this was a true depiction of American jazz. The famous jazz singer and junkie Billie Holiday was one of the stars.

Violence, even at the lower end of the scale, was not a thing in Derby. And when a bobby arrived on the scene, everyone became well-behaved – that is, until the screening of Blackboard Jungle at the Gaumont, in 1955.

It was normal for most of the teenage crowds, exiting from the cinemas in the late evening, to make their way to the Market Place on Sunday. There they would form groups and just talk and enjoy themselves until it was time to catch the last bus home.

But on this Sunday, after watching this rather provocative film, the adrenalin was flowing in the veins of some lads. A small altercation broke out on the Market Place, opposite the office of the Derbyshire Advertiser.

Quickly a bobby was there to quell the outbreak. But for the first time in my memory, a lad struck out and knocked off the policeman’s helmet. Well, the lad was up before the magistrates on Monday morning, having cooled his heels in Full Street jail over the weekend.

But most people, including teenagers were well-behaved in those times and even this “monstrous” event did not provoke any copycat behaviour.

In later years, when the Regal was remodelled to become a multi-screen cinema, it was renamed the ABC. However, the Regal name was preserved and allocated to what had been the Gaumont.

The Picture House, Babington Lane

In my earlier years, my visits to the pictures was with one or both of my parents. Easter was observed strictly as a Bank Holiday when families would usually visit the park or the cinema. Businesses and shops were closed except for newsagents.

I can still picture sitting in The Picture House, in Babington Lane, and when the lights came up at the interval on that particular Good Friday, my mum took out some hot cross buns from the bag she had brought with us and we all tucked in. I can still savour the taste even though it has been years since I saw or ate any. My mum used to tell me how, in earlier years, men used to come round the streets at Easter, with large trays of Easter buns perched on their heads, crying, “One a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns”.

The Picture House was a place we would visit fairly often. Apart from one time, when uncle Les took us to the upstairs café and then into the expensive seats, on his return from the war, we normally queued up to the right of the building and paid 8d to get in.

Once we had got our ticket from a window in an internal side passageway, we would hurry down to the double doors and be shown to the front. Looking up, craning our necks, trying to take in the entire screen, was a challenge but this was entertainment.

The Picture House was eventually renamed The Babington Lane Theatre, not to be confused with the real Grand Theatre almost opposite, which had live plays. That was the place which was the highlight of any child’s year when we were taken to see the Christmas pantomime.

The Hippodrome

The Hippodrome (left) was also a theatre before it became a cinema. Sir J. Arthur Rank was a forward-looking entrepreneur.

He not only made and distributed films but also owned the cinemas where they were shown. He realised that, with the advent of television in the mid-50s, the cinema-going audience would eventually dwindle but they would still eat.

He saw there was a need for a major change in the food retail market and that the sites of his cinemas would be ideal for a new type of food store – one which sold every type of food under one roof, a supermarket.

The first one to open in Derby was on the site of the Babington Lane Theatre.

After I got out of the Forces in March, 1962, each Friday night I would walk up Hillsway to catch the bus at Chain Lane, get off outside the supermarket, do the shopping and go home on the next bus. Of course, the amount we bought in those days would look miniscule compared to today’s shopping list. One wicker shopping basket, plus maybe a plastic bag, would be all that was needed. Others quickly followed. The Broadway, at Allenton, was turned into a supermarket and still survives as such today.

The Rex, Alvaston

If you travelled from Allenton to Alvaston, you would find the Rex cinema, on the next corner to Brighton Road when travelling out of town. I only went there once. I think it became the first cinema in Derby to show Indian films.

The Cavendish, Normanton

Yet another cinema that succumbed to the supermarket invasion was The Cavendish, aptly named after its location at the Cavendish (left).

A place that I did not frequent was the Normanton cinema, at the Vulcan Island. It was named a fleapit by many. I read more recently that it was one of the earliest places of entertainment in Derby, with a long history.

The Black Prince, Duckworth Square

The Empire cinema was near the entrance to Duckworth Square. An older theatre, it was the place that we as a family visited most in the late 1940s and early 50s, mainly because it carried 15-minute weekly episodes of Superman.

Sometimes, we had to go twice a week, when the Sunday-until-Wednesday film was followed by a different one from Thursday to Saturday. It was converted into the Black Prince (above left) and was the first cinema in Derby to show a widescreen film, The Robe, complete with quadraphonic sound.

The Black Prince was pulled down to make way for another supermarket, though, according to my mum, it was owned by the Prince Littler Group, so was probably not a J. Arthur Rank enterprise. A new cinema sprang up across the road in Colyear Street, called, I believe, the Odeon Pennine.

That is where I saw one of my favourite films, The Sound of Music. It was also the place where I took our children to see A Hundred and One Dalmatians. I fell asleep during the film. It must have been all the spots I counted on the dogs!

The Odeon, St Peter's Street

One other popular cinema in the centre of Derby was the Odeon in St Peter’s Street, just above Boots corner. My mum used to tell me that it was previously the Whitehall Theatre. Whether it was a theatre or a cinema in those days, I am not sure.

The Popular, Mill Street

Another old cinema that stood at the corner of London Road and Bradshaw Way was the Coliseum. Even further along London Road, just before Midland Road, was the Forum (later named the Cosy) and serving the West End of Derby was the Popular in Mill Street. Later, it became the site for The Talk of the Midlands, which brought top performers from around the world to grace its stage.

The Cosmo, Upper Boundary Road

On that same side of Derby, just off Uttoxeter Road, on Upper Boundary Road, was the Cosmo. Due to its close proximity to our home in Elms Avenue, this was another favourite venue for us.

It became a mini market selling “end of line” products, such as towels, crockery, soap powder and the like.

Cinemas in Chaddeseden and Spondon

Chaddesden sported two cinemas, the Gloria (later called the Essoldo) and the Majestic. I went to the latter, as a teenager, with my friend, David Spibe, and Uncle Les to see Audie Murphy’s biography of his war years, To Hell and Back.

We sat in the circle and, at the intermission, Uncle Les started to tell us of his experiences in North Africa as a tank commander. But he had hardly started before he stopped. His experiences were too gruesome to recall.

Further along in Spondon, the Sitwell cinema served the community.

At one time, there were 18 cinemas in and around Derby. Not counting the ABC or the Odeon Pennine, which were later additions, I think I have recalled most of them. In those days, entertainment had to be good to tempt people to go out and they certainly would not pay money to see rubbish. Today, we can see films in our own homes but, in most cases, they are poor by comparison.

The Forum/Cameo, London Road

Percy Brown, of Shelton Lock, adds: I went to Traffic Street or Castle School and was a frequent visitor to the Cameo. It was the Forum when I first went.

When I left school, I continued to go regularly and, as Bill said, the programmes changed on Saturday and Wednesday. Apart from the feature film, there was a B-picture in support, Pearl and Dean adverts, Movietone News and trailers for the films.

The trailers were very exciting and designed to ensure you went back.

The programmes were continuous and it was not unusual for people to sit through the feature film twice having bought sandwiches to sustain them.

That part of Derby was part of my childhood and the length of London Road between Midland Road and Traffic Street still evokes many memories.

It is much-changed now and life has moved on but it never fails to take me back to my childhood whenever I find myself in the area. Happy days!

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