In 1995, my wife and I almost bought the historic theatre in downtown Augusta, Georgia. We were planning on selling our house to buy the soon-t0-be-auctioned property. I had already turned in my resignation.
But then the phone rang. Twice.
The first call was from our real estate agent in Augusta. He had walked through the property on our behalf. When he opened the door on the projection room, the sky greeted him. The roof had caved in. Ouch. What should we do now?
The second call was from our architect . I had hired a local firm to put together a restoration plan and budget. The city government and the historic council were chipping in $250,000. I was hoping our price tag would be around $250,000. Boy, was I wrong: $1.1 million to do what we wanted to do.
I begged for my job back and pulled our envelope from the auction.
Dream dead. Or at least postponed.
When the Franklin Cinema went on the market, several friends called me and urged me to buy it. “This was your dream,” they’d say.
I’d reply, “But I don’t have the money.”
Soon, the papers announced the Historic Preservation Society’s plans.
Dream dead. Or postponed again.
Two recent news stories have piqued my interest in this crazy dream.
I receive a newsletter from an organization in Alabama. They recently invested in Village Roadshow’s new cinema venture coming to the United States. I love the sound of these theatres.
A few days ago, I heard NPR talk about the resurgence of drive-ins.
Oh dreams, stay with me long enough. Maybe in the next 20 years, I’ll make it.
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