Danger and delight in the golden days of film

A film-maker, whose studies of life in wartime Britain have become mini classics, will be remembered in Brighton tomorrow. The Duke of Yorks cinema is staging a tribute to Humphrey Jennings, whose documentaries informed and entertained audiences during the Second World War. Here, Brighton writer Sarah Tobias recalls the halcyon days of the silver screen, when Brighton cinemas were packed despite the threat of air raids.

At the beginning of war on Sunday, September 3, 1939, the Government closed all cinemas for the duration.

It was thought the terrible consequences of a bomb falling on a crowded theatre would be just too awful.

But it was soon obvious the public wanted entertainment to boost morale.

On Saturday, September 9, the Evening Argus reported: "All cinemas in Brighton and Hove opened early this afternoon and will be open until 10pm daily in the future."

Brighton was a restricted area. The seafront and beach were out of bounds, covered in barbed wire and mined.

Sections of the Palace Pier and the West Pier were cut out to deter enemy boats from using them as landing stages. People required a pass to get in and out of town.

At first, the restrictions and the threat of air raids deterred people from going to the cinema. But not for long.

Cinemas flourished and remained full throughout the war. There was little else to do and seats were cheaper than in the theatre.

After the first few warnings flashed on the screen when an air raid was imminent, hardly anyone heeded them and remained in their seats.

Cliff Higham, 14 at the outbreak of war, said: "I was so absorbed in the film I did not worry about raids. There was a warning given and you could leave or stay. I stayed with my mate. I didn't want to lose my thruppence."

There were tales of cinema staff getting up on stage and entertaining the audience, who would join in with a sing-song. If they were unable to get home because of a prolonged raid, the audience was sometimes invited to sleep in the cinema.

Although there were few holidaymakers, there were many members of the armed forces stationed in Brighton or nearby, which was one of the reasons that cinemas were so full.

The Lewes Road barracks, demolished and now a retail complex, was not far from the Gaiety cinema, later known as the Vogue and now the site of a pub.

The average price for a cinema seat was 1/9d, or about 8p.

Ted Jempson was a projectionist at the Savoy cinema (later the ABC) in East Street, where he met his wife, Dorothy, who was an usherette. They have been married for more than 50 years.

The projectionists were not aware of what was going on, even if there was an air raid, because they were cocooned in their sound-proof projection boxes.

The staff had to take their turns fire-watching, which meant spending the night in the cinema. Joan Swann, who was an usherette at the Gaiety, slept on a settee in the foyer.

She said: "If the sirens went, the projectionist shone a light and we usherettes had to go on stage with a huge board which read: "Sirens have just sounded. You may leave the cinema if you please."

But few people ever got up. Mr Jempson recalled the time a bomb dropped on the Astoria where he worked. It landed in the basement but did not explode.

He said staff were scared at time because they were so close to the seafront and planes used to come in very low over the cinema.

The Odeon, in Kemp Town, was destroyed when a bomb exploded on Saturday, September 14, 1940. A total of 59 people died, many of them children.

Mr Higham was in the cinema on the day. He said: "The balcony fell down and killed the children. They lined the bodies up in Paston Place."

Projectionist Bob Matthews was on duty and recalled: "The matinee had finished and cartoons were being shown, including The Clock Cleaners, with Goofy and Donald Duck."

Suddenly the screen disappeared and when he looked through the portholes all he could see was dust.

But Mr Matthews said: "There was no panic, no panic at all."

The surviving staff of the Odeon were taken to Denham Film Studios in Buckinghamshire, as a gift from owner Oscar Deutsch to help erase their horrific experience, and during the visit they met Rex Harrison and a very young Deborah Kerr.

Dennis Williams worked as a projectionist and manager, wearing a dress suit in the evening.

He said few people could afford newspapers or a radio, so they would go to the cinema to watch newsreels.

There were also Ministry of Information short films, advising on fuel shortages and security, but people became tired of these.

They went to the cinema to be entertained. It gave people a short time to forget what was happening in the real world.

l The tribute to Humphrey Jennings (1907-1950) will be shown at the Duke of Yorks tomorrow at 1.30pm. It will be followed by a question and answer session.

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