There were always a few cubes in ours. Maybe it was the contrast, being the only air conditioned space in town; at least that I frequented. Jumping off our bikes in July or August in Georgia and stepping into what the theater advertised as "Air Conditioned Comfort" could just about stop one's heart. We paid our nine or fifteen cents, got our cokes and milk duds, and stayed all day on Saturday, counting how many times the hero's sixgun fired without a reload. When the Legion Theater closed, and they were cleaning it out, my Grand Dad took me through the building. The wall behind where the screen had been was pockmarked with holes of various sizes. He told me that's where the bullets from the movies hit. I almost wanted to believe him! Ah, the good old days! Stan