It was a hot summer afternoon in Enid, Oklahoma as I stood in line outside the Chief Theater to see Jaws (1975.) This would not have been my first time, although I don’t remember my first time. I saw it repeatedly, but there’s something about this particular day that sticks with me. I don’t remember who was with me; chances are I was alone. Not only did I see movies multiple times as a kid, but I would also go by myself. There wasn’t much else going on in Enid, Oklahoma that interested me. Play outside? No thank you.
I was 12-years old and can still picture my place in line, along Independence Avenue, midway between the edge of the theater and the next building, separated by the parking lot. I remember watching people arrive and take their places in line behind me. I’d look back and think they should have arrived earlier; they might not get in. Then I’d look forward and count the people in front of me. Would I even get in? What time was it? What if the movie started before we got in? Would I get a good seat? When was the line going to move?
Of course, none of these things were of real concern. I’d love to travel back in time and have a bird’s eye view of myself. I’m certain the line wasn’t long, I was there in plenty of time to get a seat, and I didn’t miss a single moment of the film.
I clearly remember the inside of the theater. I wonder, though, how many seats were in the single-screen auditorium. Years later, the Chief would be divided into twin screens, but for Jaws, it was a “huge” auditorium that seemed to grow gradually darker from the back to the front of its angled floor. I’ll never forget the glow-in-the-dark clock on the audience’s left side of the screen, lit in purple all the time, even though you had to squint to read the time clearly. If you sat in the center, you almost couldn’t see the first row or the last.
The Chief Theater was the home away from home where I saw House of Dark Shadows (1970), It’s Alive (1974), and Halloween (1978.) I may have seen Halloween the most times of all; at least my memories of individual experiences three years later are more clear. The Esquire theater was catty-corner across the intersection. Normally you couldn’t see it from the front of the Chief, but from my place in line, I could turn and see the marquee. (My memories of the Esquire are of watching more family-friendly moves with my siblings, although that’s where I saw Carrie and Burnt Offerings a year later.)
Needless to say, I loved Jaws. Influenced by pop culture hype from that day to this, I still have my original magazines from the time period. It wasn’t on the cover of Famous Monsters of Filmland #128; however, there was an article about Jaws called, “Shark Theater.” (Jaws didn’t appear on the cover until 18 issues later when Jaws 2 was released. It’s a beautiful “Jaws vs. Ape” cover painting by Bob Larkin.) Neither was it on the cover of Quasimodo’s Monster Magazine #6, but the inside contained two articles about it, one called “Fact or Fiction?”
The humor magazines I collected took better advantage of cover real estate with their spoofs of Jaws. Mad Magazine #180 had “Jaw’d” and Cracked Magazine #129 sunk its teeth into “Jawz.” (I never found Crazy unless we went to Oklahoma City, but they advertised on the cover of #43, “Just when you thought it was safe to buy Crazy again.” Sick was even harder to find, but the cover of #107 advertised the “biting” satire of “Jawz.”) I still own the Screenstar Jaws Souvenir Poster Magazine and even a Sharks (An Argosy Special) magazine.
My mother was a member of the Book of the Month Club, so I got to read the original novel in a nondescript hardback version, sans the iconic movie poster art. I wish I still had it, but I do have my own paperback of The Jaws Log by Carl Gottlieb, co-author of the screenplay. To this day, this book is the source of any knowledge that remains in my brain about the troubled production with Bruce the shark .
One thing I remember of which I have no physical evidence is the 45 RPM novelty record, Mr. Jaws, by Dickie Goodman, in which he interviewed that characters from the movie, including the shark. Their responses, as those from the characters in the subsequent recording, Kong (1977), were provided by clips of popular songs of the times. Thank goodness for YouTube! I can now enjoy them both over and over gain. (I have to say, I think Kong is better.)
They say there’s no such thing as a perfect movie, but Jaws is as close as they come. I loved it as a kid, and although I’m not quite as enthusiastic about rewatches these days, it holds up for me in every way. I watched it again on Independence Day with the intention of writing about why it’s a perfect movie. Obviously, I got sidetracked when I sat down the next morning to write this. That’s OK, though. It’s intimidating to write about such an iconic film, even though I believe anyone can bring a fresh, personal perspective to it.
I’ve written a lot of notes that I’ll have to accumulate at some point. For today, though, I share these memories. Sure, they’re a little fuzzy, but the overall experience is there: I stood in line to see Jaws when it was first released to theaters! Speaking of memories, I no longer have a singular memory or a favorite scene from Jaws, but I can tell you exactly what it was back then. It was the scene I described to those who had yet to see it… when an arm sunk in the water and you didn’t know it was disconnected until you saw the bloody stub.
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